Page 21 of The Estate
Rachel felt a brief flutter of anxiety, but she couldn’t think what he could possibly find funny. It sounded like they were both in Jennings this morning. She wasn’t sure where the post office was, but logically, it would be somewhere near the center of town.
“Imagine my surprise,” Cal continued, “when I saw someone I thought I may know sitting in their car, chowing down on what looked like some sort of brownie or maybe even a blondie.”
Rachel felt the blood drain from her face. There was no way he’d seen her. No possible way. Not that there was anything wrong with someone eating a blondie. In their car. During their morning commute. She pushed back the twinge of anxiety she felt at the off chance someone had witnessed her all-consuming stress eating. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” she deflected.
Cal stepped closer, taking up all the space and air. He leaned forward, so he was eye level with her, a devilish spark in his eye. “I’d just about convinced myself I was mistaken when the evidence walked right up.”
Rachel wasn’t following his words. Largely because internally she was screaming ‘no, no, no!’ and praying he hadn’t actually seen her stress inhale a baked good this morning while sitting in her car. Not how she hoped to start off the first day of working with him.
When she didn’t respond, Cal reached out with his thumb to swipe the left side of her mouth. “You’ve got some jam, right there,” he said.
The brush of his thumb made her skin tingle. The mortification that he’d seen her caused her face to flame. Taking a shaky step back, she reached into her pocket for a tissue, grateful that she had a clean one on hand. Her movements were jerky, but she wiped all around her mouth. She refused to look him in the eye. That was too much to ask for right then. Instead, she glanced in the general vicinity of his face. “Did I get it all?”
Cal had also retreated and had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Yeah. You got it all.” He ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Pie in the Sky?”
Rachel wasn’t sure why she was surprised he knew where she’d been. It sounded like Lottie was correct and Cal had spent time in Jennings. She nodded. “Do you live in Jennings?”
“Not anymore. But my parents still do. I live the next town over, but Pie is still one of my favorites. The PBF blondie?”
“How could you possibly know it was the peanut butter fluff blondie?” she exclaimed, her embarrassment diminishing momentarily.
Cal shifted on his feet, looking chagrined. “You also had a touch of fluff on your lip.”
Rachel was all for turning around now and just going home. She couldn’t possibly salvage this day. Before she could make good on her escape, Cal offered, “I love that blondie. It’s so good. Not as good as Mrs. S’s oatmeal raisin cookies, but still a solid choice.”
With their working relationship off to a rocky start, maybe baked goods would help them reach common ground. “I haven’ttried those yet. My friend Lisa said she’s holding out for the blueberry buckle Mrs. S is working on.”
Cal’s eyes widened. “Really? She’s working on one. Oh man,” he groaned. “I want some of that right now. A nice Americano coffee with a piece of warm blueberry buckle.” He continued talking more to the universe than Rachel. Cal hesitated a moment before shaking himself and addressing her again, “So, why don’t we start in my office?”
“Please,” she replied. “Lead the way.”
Cal swung the door open and invited her into the foyer. A large ornamental staircase curved up the left-hand portion of the wall while the doors to the ballroom stood open on the right. Past the foyer sat the sunroom with its delightful garden views while the hallway to the kitchen disappeared toward the left. Rachel admired the obvious craftsmanship of the original structure and the painstakingly diligent restoration.
Cal closed the door and joined her in the middle of the foyer. “When I took over White Hall, no one had really used the building since my grandfather passed.”
Rachel saw the grief written on Cal’s face. She’d seen the same look in her mirror. He had undoubtedly been close to his grandfather. “Please accept my sympathies for your loss.”
“Thanks,” he said, his voice rough. Clearing his throat, he started walking. “In the two years I’ve been in charge, I’ve concentrated on renovating enough space to use it for functions. So, this front foyer space, bathrooms, the ballroom. That sort of thing.”
Walking toward the rear of the building, he gestured to a hallway that ran to the right. “The eastern wing is essentially bedrooms and has not been touched.” Turning left, he wentinto the hallway she knew would lead them to the kitchen. “We haven't renovated the kitchen, or offices for me and Trace yet. Just gave them a cleaning and got them in working order.”
They moved past the kitchen and Cal opened a door on the left. As they walked in, Rachel wondered why given all the rooms at his disposal he’d picked this one as his office. It was small. A large desk dominated the space, along with a few four-drawer file cabinets. The sheer amount of paper and items splayed across the desk made it look like a tsunami of office clutter, ready to drown any unsuspecting guest.
Cal moved a stack of papers off a chair, gesturing Rachel to take a seat. Sitting in his own chair, he stared at her intently. “So, what specifically do you need from me?”
“Let’s start with a general overview of the business.” Rachel opened the notebook she’d brought. She searched through her bag for a pen she knew she’d put in there this morning. “Later, I can dive into your financials to look for inefficiencies and improvements to be made.” Spying her favorite pen, she grabbed it and looked up at Cal, surprised to see his grumpy face in full force.What happened now?
She was already sick of seeing the grumpy face. “What?” she asked tersely.
Cal’s jaw tightened and Rachel was certain she could hear his teeth grinding. He gave a sudden jerk of his head, but didn’t respond.
She had officially lost her patience. “If you have something to say, Cal, then just say it.”
His eyes flashed before he leaned forward to put his arms on his desk. The intensity hit her. She would have admiredhis green eyes, but he opened his mouth and any thought of admiration fled.
“My parents are wasting all this money on outside consultants to tell them what the best deal is. And the first thing I have to do is tear myself away from my very busy business, where I’m trying to reach their financial goals, and teach you all about running an event space. If I succeed, and convince my parents to keep White Hall, they will commit this place to a future trajectory that takes us farther and farther from our roots.”
He abruptly sat back and rubbed his face. “Sorry,” he murmured. When he let his arm fall and looked at her, he waved. “Let’s just get on with this.”
