Page 37 of As a Last Resort
I closed my eyes to reset.Here he was, acting like this normal human being again.Well, a normal human being who would buy mice in bulk to infiltrate someone’s house.It was quite charming actually.But I’d never seen him so pale.Tiny dark bags clung to the bottom of his eyes and even though he cracked jokes, they didn’t have the bite they normally did.
“On a serious note, you really need to listen to your nurses.I’ve got a few places on the docket to grab pictures of tomorrow but a team brainstorming meeting would be great in a couple days if you’re up for it.I’d love to start pitching a few ideas and thoughts I had on what’s missing here, but also cover what’s working really well.”
“I will, I will.Scout’s honor I’ll keep my butt in bed.”The hospital bed squeaked as he crawled back in it.
“Andbelieve it or not, I would like your opinion on a few of the financials I’m sending over later tonight.While I don’t want to encourage patient disobedience, if you can sneak your laptop for a little, let me know if I’m missing any major line items for the new development.”
“Aw, are you requesting my help, Leigh?”he asked.
“You mean, your help on the project you’re supposed to be heading up?I would never.”
“I will if you saypretty please.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
He gave a hearty laugh that rolled into a coughing fit.He sounded horrible.“I’m sure I can take a peek.My night nurse loves me.I’ve already bribed her with a date when I break out of here in exchange for the red Jell-O.The orange is gross.”
“You’re predictable.”
“You’re jealous.Hear from Jack lately?”he asked.
“Goodbye, Robby.”
I hung up the phone and against my better judgment, I let myself laugh.
12
SAMANTHA
Three days of poison from the one-pot Mr.Coffee was all I could stomach.I was shriveling away from lack of human contact and hadn’t ventured out much yet, and it was only a matter of time before I ran into someone I knew.But I was desperate.
I had somehow gotten through my first big meeting.Even though the call with the owner of the land we were buying had gone a bit haywire.At the last moment he’d backed out citing a stomach bug, but connected me with his daughter, who apparently was dealing with the sale for him.She lived in Chicago.She was whip-smart and super organized and knew every single answer to any question I had and was more than happy to be accommodating with requests from my end.
Her father had owned the land since he was in his early twenties, inherited it from his grandfather.He used some of the land to construct a little fishing post on the northernmost corner of the island.It sat next to the lighthouse his grandfather had built with his own two hands.Her father was a bit of a hermit, she said.He had no desire for building or managing anything that would lure more people to his sacred spot, so he just held on to it.But he was getting older, filling his days with shuffleboard in a retirement home on the other coast.She had no desire to move to Florida and wanted to sell.He hadn’teven seen the property in over ten years and had no idea what was still standing or not, so he gave her his blessing.
Somehow I got through that meeting bushy-tailed, but I was wearing down.I needed espresso.I put on my best incognito outfit and walked the two blocks to the Mug.It had changed ownership since I had visited last, and what I walked into completely surprised me—white walls filled with subway tile, rustic natural wooden beams, and an exposed black ceiling with huge windmill fans slowly whirling around.The baristas wore gray linen aprons with little embellishments of brass and worn leather.I walked into a little haven protected from the outside world of palm trees and starfish.I was in heaven.
And I smelled espresso.
The girl behind the counter looked like she had stepped right out ofBarista Magazine, beaming at me through vintage wire frame glasses.There were little cups of coffee painted on her green headscarf.
“This your first time in here?”she asked after I gave her my order for a triple vanilla latte, extra hot.
“Yeah, just visiting for a while.”
“Cool, cool.First one’s on the house.What’s your name?”
“Sam.”A woman’s voice came from behind me.“Oh, but apparently it’s Samantha now, right?”
My stomach somersaulted.I’d know that voice anywhere.
Being back on island, there were two major things I was dreading.One, my mother in any and all forms, who I’d barely avoided thus far.And two, Lexi.
I turned around slowly, some unknown organ in my throat with no idea what to expect.
“Hey.”
She stood there and blinked.This person who knew every bit of my lifebefore.The braces, the bang phase, and the immediate regret of said bang phase.She was there to witness the acne that bloomed on my face overnight when I was twelve and didn’t go away for years.I was there to witness the fallout when Travis McGlowen lost his virginity to Tiffany “Doormat” Dornment in her dad’s Volkswagen, and the love of her life was officially taken off the market.She rode sidecar to my obsession with wearing different color tube socks.She was the rock when my dad was diagnosed.And when he was no longer there.And when Mom was no longer there, either.
