Page 35 of The Renter
26
Thursday, May 19th
“Thanks for making coffee,” I say to Dad, who’s sitting at the dining room table, coffee cup in hand, scrolling through his phone. I’ve barely seen him since moving back home a couple of weeks ago.
His eyebrow arches in surprise. “She speaks before coffee?” It’s unlike me, always sticking to my strict “no talk before coffee” rule—especially with my parents.
“Mom,” I call as she steps into the kitchen, making sure I have her attention while she prepares her lunch for work. “Dad,” I continue, drawing his focus away from his phone. “I’ll be spending a few days in Chicago for meetings.”
“That’s great!” Dad says.
“Anything else on your agenda?” she asks.
I take a deep breath. “I’m going with that guy I mentioned—Adam. He’s set up a lot of meetings for me. He has to be there for work anyway, so the timing worked out perfectly.”
“Adam?” Dad echoes. “Who’s Adam?”
My parents know we raised venture capital atShirts, but I’m not sure I ever told them the money came from Harris Ventures. Even if I did, I doubt they’d remember. They never quite understood why we needed to raise money or what that meant in the first place.
“Adam runs Harris Ventures. He invests in a lot of companies, many of which need marketing help, so I’m hoping to win some new business.”
Mom chimes in, “How did you meet him?”
Does it really matter, Mom?I sigh, frustrated that I have to explain this to Dad. “He’s renting Linda’s cottage. I met him when I borrowed some cups, and we’ve been on a few dates.”
Dad glances at Mom, clearly seeking her take. She offers a small shrug.
“If he’s so successful, why is he renting the cottage?” Dad asks, his tone carrying a subtle challenge.
The cottage costs five times more than this house! I want to scream. I don’t need to justify Adam’s choices or prove his wealth. “Google him, or don’t. Whatever.”
Dad’s superiority complex, oblivious to how it comes across, is endlessly frustrating. Who’s he to question anyone’s success? What has he accomplished? Oh, right—the only thing he’s done successfully is get clean.
“I’m too old to be sneaking around and lying to you,” I say, and it’s awkwardly silent. “So, on Sunday, I’m leaving for Chicago for a few days.”
“Focus on work,” Mom advises.
I nod, the weight of my recent failure with Shirts still weighing on me. “I just need a few more clients, and then I can leave here. It won’t be much longer.”
“Maybe you could interview for some open marketing roles while you’re in the city,” she suggests.
“I’m not interested in a nine-to-five,” I snap. “I want to build my own path.”
“Most businesses fail. Look at Shirts,” she points out. I roll my eyes, irritated by my parents’ risk-averse nature. They’ve always played it safe, selling themselves the lie that they’re middle class when, in reality, they’ll never be able to retire. I don’t want their life.
Dad rises from the dining table and places his hand on my shoulder. “Please be cautious, Dani. You dive headfirst into everything. That’s why you’re back here—not enough caution.”
I know he means to be reassuring, but his words sting, replaying in my head as I sip my coffee. Yes, I’ve been impulsive, but this time feels different. Now, I have someone like Adam—someone successful and knowledgeable—guiding me. But deep down, I know my parents’ concerns are valid. They’ve watched me fall before, and they don’t want to see it happen again. Still, I’m determined to prove, not just to them, but to myself, that I can do it. Be successful on my own terms.
27
Sunday, May 22nd
Pulling into Dani’s driveway on Sunday morning, I observe her childhood home. It’s very small, far different from where we’ll be spending the next few days.
Should I knock? Are her parents here? This could get awkward fast.I can’t meet them.As these thoughts raise my stress level, Dani appears out the front door, her large backpack almost comical in size compared to her petite frame. I smile and get out to help her, loading the bag into the trunk of my Porsche.
She slides into the passenger seat, and I lean over to kiss her.
