Page 28 of Middle Ground
What little money I’ve managed to save for retirement is officially being earmarked for bail. Because I’m one self-righteous remark away from wrapping my hands around his pretty boy neck, and not in the fun way.
I knew trying to be business partners with Jackson would be hard, but I didn’t expect to feel so out of control. He’s only been back for a week, but I’m already wishing the six months had passed and Jackson would be returning to the city, tail tucked between his legs.
A futile wish, though, since the powers that be seem hellbent on ignoring me.
Instead, I’m left to suffer. The man rearranged my office.My sanctuary. My mother hadn’t spent much time keeping things orderly when she was in charge, too busy being present with the staff. I followed her lead. Everything had a place, even if that place didn’t make sense to him.
Now, I spend half my days searching for the things I need and letting out a curse of frustration when Jackson tries to explain his theory of organization. I usually tune him out.
Pippa doesn’t react to my outburst. Even wearing mismatched pajamas with her long red hair trapped in a messy bun, she still exudes poise. She may get flustered and blush something fierce from time to time, but she’s self-assured. I envy that.
I pick up another slice of pizza and shove it into my mouth. Even the greasy comfort food from the pie shop downtown can’t erase my bad mood.
Pippa sighs. “What happened this time?”
“He keeps trying to change things,” I reply. I frown as I pick at a piece of pepperoni. “Just because he’s got a fancy MBA and I don’t doesn’t mean he’s better than me.”
All of my insecurities—about failing my mom and running the inn into the ground—gain strength when Jackson talks about optimization strategies and efficient processes.
Well, screw optimization and efficiency. The Ellison Way works just fine, and it willcontinueto work just fine.
Pippa dropped out of university when she came to Fraisier Creek with Atticus, so she knows all too well what it’s like living in a world that overvalues post-secondary education.
“That’s true.” She nods. “It’s not a matter of one of you being better than the other. You both have your strengths.”
I snort. “Yeah, and his is being a pain in my ass.”
An amused smile crosses Pippa’s lips. “You know, for hating the guy so much, you sure do spend alotof time discussing him,” she muses. “He’s really all you seem capable of talking about these days.”
“Are you for real?” I say, my voice muffled through my mouthful of food. I swallow. “Pip, he’severywhere. In my office, at the restaurant. No matter what I do, he’s justthere. So I think I have a right to complain.”
She takes a bite of her own slice—smaller, much more graceful than me. As she chews, she contemplates. Unlike me, she doesn’t talk at all until she has swallowed.
“What he’s suggesting… Is it really so bad?”
I cringe, hating the flicker of betrayal I feel. “Not you, too…”
Tears prick my eyes. I will them away, gaze focused on the pizza I suddenly no longer have an appetite for. I toss my half-eaten slice back in the box and wipe my fingers on my pants. They’re black, so at least the grease won’t show.
“Meyer,” Pippa says softly, “don’t shut down on me.”
I sniffle. “Change makes me itchy.”
Pippa’s lips quirk slightly. She places a hand on my knee and gives me the loving mom look she’s perfected for Atticus. And me, I guess. She may only be two months older, but she’s taken to parenting me from time to time.
“I know, babe. But like it or not, you’re not in this alone.”
“I choosenot.”
At this, she laughs. “Clearly. However, since neither one of you seems keen on walking away, you’re going to have to figure something out. You can’t just veto everything he suggests. Just like he can’t bulldoze his way in and change everything you love about the place.”
I huff, crossing my arms. “Quit saying such reasonable things.”
Deep down, I know Pippa is probably right. Seeing as there isn’t anything I can do—legally, that is—to get rid of Jackson, I’m going to have to learn to live with him for now.
Pippa sets a hand on my arm. “I know it’s hard, but maybetryto meet him halfway. Some kind of middle ground. If he’s the type of guy I suspect he is, he’ll follow you there.”
I raise a suspicious brow. “How would you know what type of guy he is?”
