Page 19 of Denying Davis
No use in fighting a battle you won’t win.
“Okay,” I replied with a heavy heart. “I’ll move to Pennsylvania. And I’ll show you what I can do.”
“I sincerely hope you do. Just remember, all of this is riding on how you perform. Our future depends on what you do with the next few years of your life.” He surveyed the pool and patio as if they were part of the empire he’d spent his whole building. There are livelihoods tied to all of this. People rely on us.” His gaze floated back to me. “You’re my only heir. One day, all I’ve built will be yours. You’ll have the board, of course, and the team I have in place to help you, but the companies will be yours to run. Yours to maintain.” He studied me. “It’s a big responsibility. And you can’t let me down, Davis.”
“I won’t,” I promised. “I won’t let you down, sir. That’s the last thing I want to do.”
I didn’t have much time to think about leaving Davis at The Hamburger Stand. Maybe that was a good thing, because it kept me from ruminating on something I wouldn’t be able to change. The agreement my mother and I signed had been ironclad. It would never expire. Spending time with Davis Armstrong III would be stupid. One misstep would mean disaster.
Besides, I had every reason to think Davis wouldn’t stay in the area for much longer, and once he left, I’d resume my lifestyle away from his. We didn’t live in the same town, for one thing. I spent my time in West Palm Beach; when he visited South Florida, he almost never left Palm Beach, and more than that, he rarely left the estate.
Our futures wouldn’t cross.
By the time I drove from the restaurant to the pharmacy, picked up my mom’s prescription, and returned to the apartment, I had decided that yes, I could do this. I could live my life without Davis Armstrong in it. Soon, I might not remember he’d tried to reenter it.
“Mom, are you awake?” I called out in a whisper as I crept through the front door of our unit.
It was very late, and she often went to bed much earlier. I pulled the door shut and tiptoed across the living room. When I reached the bedroom entrance, though, I was surprised to see a small reading light coming from it. I gave the door a small tap to push it open.
“Sam,” Mom said through some heaving breaths. “You’re home.”
“Yes.”
Mom smiled. She wore her portable oxygen mask, and the machine gave a small whirl as she sent air in and out of her lungs. The device was one of the many things that had eaten through what remained of our money in the last few months. It had cost over a hundred bucks out-of-pocket after the insurance payout, even after we’d been able to find a refurbished one. Still, she needed it, and I would have done anything to provide her with whatever she required to keep her comfortable.
“Did you go out after work?” she asked.
“I stopped by The Hamburger Stand, but I didn’t stay long.” I didn’t add that I drove around aimlessly afterward, thinking. Instead, I took the prescription bag out of my purse and placed it on the nightstand. “Here’s your medicine.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” Her eyes searched my face. “You look tired.”
“How can you tell? You can barely see me.”
“I know my kid.”
“Yes, you do.” I felt some tension leave my shoulders, but I didn’t know how long it would stay away. At least the day was over, and I’d soon be able to get to sleep. Not that I expected to sleep very well. “Listen, it’s been a long day. More tomorrow.”
We said goodnight, and I kissed her on the cheek then headed to my room. On the way, I glanced in the broken mirror that hung over the bathroom sink. She was right. I was tired.
Tired beyond my years.
I was still exhausted and weary for days. When I arrived at the Society of the Four Arts for an extra shift Nicole had scheduled at the last moment, I estimated I’d probably gotten about sixteen hours of sleep totally for the week, far less than needed. Insomnia, coupled with intense worry, would do that to a person. I hadn’t heard from Davis again, and part of me had been disappointed. But the logical side of me knew it was for the best.Besides, I couldn’t think about that. I had work to do and bills to pay.
Always the bills.
“Okay, Sam,” I told myself as I got out of my car, “perk up. Just get through tonight.”
I locked the door with my key fob and strode across the street toward the back entrance. A large catering truck emblazoned with the Haute Holidays logo was parked in the parking lot, a safe distance from the Four Arts building and the large accompanying garden. A balmy breeze blew through the trees, and I suspected most of the party would take place in the garden, between the tropical leaves and manicured flowers.
When I arrived in the catering kitchen, I found it abuzz with activity.
“Oh God,” Nicole said, barely giving me a glace as she arranged a large platter of spanakopita. Several other staffers rushed around making final preparations, and they murmured a few greetings as I entered. “I’m so glad we gave you this extra work, Sam. It turns out that we needed you. They’re expecting double the original guests.”
“That’s a lot,” I remarked as I washed my hands in the small service sink near the catering kitchen entrance. “Can I help you with that?”
She shook her head. “I need you to work on that plate of brie tartlets.” She pointed at a tray with her elbow. “If you would, please place the them in a large circle around the pineapple slices.”
“Right away.”
