“Why not?” Spencer looked surprised.
“Because there isn’t enough money in this deal for him and his investors. It’s peanuts to them. This was all about you from the beginning. And if he kissed you and didn’t sleep with you the other night, I can tell you for sure the man is in love with you. Men don’t sleep with you when they love you, but they do sleep with you without a second thought when they don’t. It’s ass-backward, but that’s how they are. He could have had sex with you the other night after the hospital, and he didn’t. Instead, he sat up all night in a chair and watched you. Now it makes total sense, and he’s not going to want seventy-five or eighty percent ownership of your store without you. That ten-year contract was practically a marriage proposal. He won’t want this deal without you. I’m sure of it.”
“You don’t think he kissed me to make me take the deal?” Spencer asked.
“Absolutely not,” Marcy replied.
“So, what do we do now?” Spencer asked her, looking baffled, but Marcy was a very smart woman, and she was usually right.
“You wait. That’s all you do. For him to come out of the woods where he’s hiding and declare himself like a man. And if he doesn’t, you don’t want him anyway. But I think he will, and you’ll be hearing from him soon.” Marcy sat back in the cab with a smug look on her face, and Spencer laughed.
“I think you’re crazy, Marcy Parker. But I hope you’re right. If you’re not, I just handed him my grandfather’s business on a silver platter, and I’m out of a job.”
“Don’t worry, you’re not.” Marcy patted Spencer’s hand, and looked out the window with a knowing smile.
Chapter 14
Spencer spent the morning in her old office at the store, thinking about her exchange with Mike the day before. Marcy and Paul were in their offices too, and their secretaries had come in. The rest of the store was empty. There wasn’t a sound in the building, and Spencer left her office to walk through the silent store, going from floor to floor, remembering her grandfather and the many times she had walked the building with him, and the wise things he had told her. She sat down on a couch in the designer dress department, laid her head back, and closed her eyes. She could almost feel her grandfather standing next to her and hear him in her head.
“Fight for what you believe in, Spencer,” he always told her. “Never give up.” “Don’t sell yourself short.” “Even if you’re the only one left standing, keep fighting.” And she hadn’t. She had given up, and given in to Mike the day before. She was handing over the store to him and everything it meant to her. She couldn’t let that happen, but she had.
There was no sensible way for them to stay in their location. She could no longer protect the building from what the neighborhood had become. She had to move forward with the times, she knew that too, and instead she had handed it all to Mike and was willing to walk away. She had given up. She had let the flame go out, in herself. She hadn’t signed the deal yet, but she had given him her word. She was willing to give him seventy-five percent ownership in the business, and he didn’t deserve it. No one did. He hadn’t built it, she had, and her family had. The store was seventy-three years of her family’s history, and she was letting it slip away. She was ashamed. And what would she tell her sons one day? What would she teach them? To fight? To hold on? To be strong and brave, or to give up and run away? She was running and she knew it was wrong. But how was she going to find a new building? Where would she find the money? She had nothing to sell except a store full of beautiful objects. But she didn’t have enough to buy a new building, or even lease one. And moving uptown or downtown would be so expensive. She kept trying to think of a way out that didn’t mean giving up three quarters of her business to Mike Weston and his investors. They were going to ruin everything.
When the store was gone, all she’d have left was her project for the homeless. She had emailed the others who had helped her, and they were meeting at the garage that night to hand out the new shipment on schedule. The others had gone there the night before to pack the bags. The bags were ready to hand out, and she had told the team she’d be there. She wasn’t in the mood to see anyone. She had failed. She had nothing to be proud of. But that was no reason to deprive people who so desperately needed help and what she had to give them.
She went back to her office and sat at her grandfather’s desk and felt unworthy of it. She felt humbled by everything that had happened, and everything she’d done, and all her mistakes. She didn’t feel worthy of the legacy her grandfather had left her. She felt like a failure.
And so did Mike Weston. He had called his father that morning to ask if he knew of a building. Max always had good ideas, and sometimes he knew about unusual deals. He was the master of hidden treasures and ingenious solutions, which was the reason for his success.
“What kind of building?” Max Weston asked his son.
“Unusual, beautiful, elegant, for a very high-end specialty store,” Mike explained.
“You’re dabbling in fashion again? That’s risky business.” It was one kind of investment that had never appealed to Max, although his wife loved it. “There’s a house on the market unofficially right now that no one wants. It’ll probably be torn down one day. I bought it as a foreclosure because I thought your mother would love it, and she told me I was crazy. It needs some work, but it’s what you just described. I own it. I’ve tried to sell it a few times, and no one wants to be bothered. They take one look, roll their eyes, and leave.”
“You never told me about it.”
“I forget about it. I felt stupid after I bought it. Your mother told me I had delusions of grandeur. She’s probably right. And you know your mother, she likes modern.” They had bought an ultramodern triplex in a new building instead, on the fiftieth floor. And they loved it. It was grandeur of another sort.
“Where is this place?” Mike was curious.
“On Fifth Avenue, squeezed between two apartment buildings. You don’t even notice it as you drive by. It’s grand inside, but relatively discreet outside. It’s a hundred-twenty-year-old mansion, six blocks down from the Met. One of the Vanderbilts built it in 1900, and then moved to Newport.”
“And Mom didn’t want it?” Mike was surprised.
“It’s dark inside. She loves lots of light.” They had three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views of the city in their apartment. It was a whole different style. “You’d have to put in a lot of lighting.”
“I don’t think that matters. It’s for a store,” Mike reminded him. “Most stores don’t have daylight.”
“The house has had nine lives, as a museum, as an embassy, and a school. I don’t think a family has lived in it since they built it.”
“Can I see it?” Mike asked him. He had been sitting in his office brooding, thinking of his meeting with Spencer the day before. He felt guilty for what he had gotten her to agree to, giving up three quarters’ ownership of her family legacy. And she had eluded him completely by refusing the management contract for more than a year. So, what was the point? And what did he want out of it anyway? He wasn’t sure.
Max Weston looked at his watch. He had a lunch date at one, but he was free until then. “I could meet you there now.”
“Do you mind? The store owners have needed to move for a long time and haven’t faced up to it. There was a shooting in the store the other night, six people killed. Now they have to move in a hurry.”
“You’re buying the store?” Max sounded surprised.