Authors: Catherine Madera
Flashes of color suddenly caught Taylor’s attention outside the ferry windows. Clutching the rails and peering into the fog stood three girls of around thirteen years. They wore orange and purple and red, fingertips flashing matching snatches of color as they brushed tendrils of damp hair from laughing rosy cheeks.
From behind Taylor could see the subtle signs of emerging woman
hood blossoming in rounding hips and thighs broadcasted proudly
under figure-hugging denim. They turned in unison to greet a passenger
holding the leash of an enormous Newfoundland. Taylor watched one of the girls, a blond whose wide smile glinted silver with orthodontia, kneel and passionately hug the neck of the dog as if she were a small child. It was an unselfconscious, vulnerable gesture that made Taylor smile even as her heart tightened.
Don’t grow up.
The thought popped into her brain unbidden. For the first time it occurred to her that perhaps Ian’s affection, though she still grieved it, was not the thing she missed most. What she missed was the girl that had been lost, the innocent girl who stood at the railing of life and looked to the future expecting to discover something beautiful, the girl who opened her arms wide and loved without holding back. That girl did not hide inside a bottle of Corona.
The fog horn split the air, startling the threesome outside. They jumped and giggled, then high-fived as Port Townsend’s coast line slid into view.
After parking in a strip mall lot, Taylor made her way to a small office.
She looked in vain for the silver Lexus and tried to remember the last time her mother had been late. For anything.
“Taylor Ann.”
A male voice boomed across the parking lot. She turned to see the hulking shape of Steve shut the door of a black El Camino and make his way toward her. As he approached an unmistakable scent filtered into her nostrils
:
Obsession for Men.
It was an aptly named fragrance for Ian’s favorite cologne. Forget that it now drifted from the body of a man she despised. Taylor couldn’t stop herself from inhaling deeply as memories popped to the surface like reincarnated ghosts ready to possess her physical body. She pushed them away, but not before she remembered falling asleep on Ian’s chest, the spicy cologne a shadow of scent on his skin, warm and sleepy under the covers. She missed him suddenly in a feral, visceral way that denied rational thought.
Smell was one of the more powerful senses, she’d read somewhere. It had to be for her to crave the smell of the bulging man beside her who walked like a giraffe. Taylor looked at the sweat circles already spreading under Steve’s arm. The sight brought her abruptly back to reality, a cold splash of water when one has taken leave of their senses.
“Why are you here?”
“I don’t get a ‘hello’ from my favorite assistant?” Steve dropped his keys in a pant’s pocket and winked at her.
Taylor ignored him. Between the winking and using her mother’s way of address, she was done being polite for the day.
“I’m supposed to meet my mother here.”
“Not coming.”
Steve put his hand on her elbow and attempted to steer her in the direction of a sandwich board advertisin
g
Agent Marketing Semina
r
. Taylor shrugged him off.
“Do you mind? I’m not a five-year-old.”
“Aren’t we bitc… I mea
n
touch
y
today.” Steve scowled and raised his arms, showing her the palms of his hands.
His attempts at friendliness never fooled Taylor. A subtle dis
respect for women simmered beneath a façade of chivalry, like the undertow
at Deception Pass. It swirled openly anytime his precious pride was threatened.
“Your mother had something come up. She called and asked me to escort you through this seminar. I’m her
e
for yo
u
.”
“Right.” Taylor stared hard at him. “Well, I don’t need babysitting. We clear?”
“Crystal.” Steve narrowed his eyes and enunciated the word slowly.
Without further conversation they entered the building and took seats on opposite sides. Taylor rummaged through her purse and found a stray piece of gum. She popped it in her mouth and thought of the little talk she would have with her mother about Steve. Soon.
At break time Taylor slipped outside and lit a cigarette. She felt Steve approach just as she took the first eager drag.
“So, what do you think?”
His tone again friendly, Taylor slowly exhaled and counted to ten. No sense being rude.
“It’s okay. I guess I just don’t like the thought of treating everyone like,” she thought for a minute, “like a
resource. You know? Always working an angle to get a sale. Just not me.”
“Everyon
e
i
s
a potential resource. Don’t be naïve, Taylor. You’re not a five-year-old, remember? Or do you think all your ‘friends’ on Facebook are actually friends?”
He laughed, hard and jeering.
“Obviously t
o
yo
u
people are resources. Not everyone thinks that way.”
Taylor took another drag off the cigarette and blew it toward Steve’s face. He fanned the air but stood his ground.
“Listen, if you want to succeed as an agent you better change your attitude. And I’m saying that for your own good.” He looked serious
for a moment, then a slow grin turned up the corners of his lips. “Besides,
nothing wrong with being a resource o
r
usin
g
a resource. Long as everyone gets what they want.”
Taylor wondered what kind of dates the man had ever had
.
Dat
e
, come to think of it, was probably too decent of a description.
As Steve walked back to the room Taylor considered what he said. There was truth in it, unfortunately. And that was no doubt the key to the reason behind Steve’s position of head broker at
Northcoast. Her mother was obtuse, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew how to use a resource.
Chapter 17
“S
o, don’t talk too much today, okay?”
Taylor shut the door of the coffee stand and walked toward her car with Melissa following.
“You’ve told me not to talk twice now. Why are you being so bossy and weird?” Melissa stood at the passenger side door of the Toyota and stared hard at Taylor.
“I’m not trying to be bossy. Steve is just … you’ll see. I want him to be on our side. I’m a new agent so any deal we can make for you to buy this place will be a ‘team’ effort with Steve as the leader.”
Taylor started the car and looked at her friend before easing out
of the parking lot toward a late afternoon meeting at Northcoast Realty.
Melissa had dressed special for the appointment: knee high lace-up army boots hugged shapely legs encased in skin tight purple plaid pants. An equally snug black v-neck sweater was accented by a
chain choker that dangled with charms—hearts and pistols. Highlight
ed with a flush of purple eye shadow and extra thick liner, Melissa’s eyes seemed
darker than usual. Steve was gonna love her, maybe more than the hippy lady.
“You think I’m too young, uneducated
,
tack
y
, to buy a business?”
Melissa’s voice was even but her tone leaked a confrontational edge, defensive and hard. When Taylor heard the old, pre-friend voice return she thought, as she had many times, that Melissa was a girl used to fighting for any scrap of good fortune that came her way.
“Of course not. I’m your friend, remember? This guy is a putz, that’s all. I’ve been working on my deal-making pitch for days now. I just want the chance to practice it.”
She smiled at Melissa and, after a solemn moment, her friend smiled back.
“Hell,
I
a
m
too young and uneducated.” Melissa picked at fuzzy pills on her sweater then rested metallic green fingertips on a three-ring binder that said “Business Plan” in neatly printed block letters.
“You have a business plan? That’s pretty impressive.” Sisterly, protective feelings swelled inside. Taylor felt like a butcher leading a lamb to slaughter.
“Peter helped me with it. And he’s got a contact who’s a mortgage broker.”
“So you and Peter are going to finance the coffee stand together?”
“Nah. Peter’s not interested. After graduation he’ll be going to South America for a couple months. Some environmental study. He’s supportive but … ” Her voice trailed away.
Taylor filled in the blanks in her head
.
But we aren’t at the point of planning a future together.
After parking the car, the girls walked to the office. Even from outside Taylor could feel Steve watching them approach. She took a deep breath and pulled open the door.
“Hey Steve, this is my client Melissa that I told you about. She wants to discuss putting in an offer to buy Holy Grounds.”
Instead of rising from his leather computer chair, Steve remained seated, his eyes roaming up and down Melissa’s body. He took a swig of an extra large can of Red Bull and finally rose to his feet and extended a hand.
“Steve.”
“Melissa. Nice to meet you.”
“Are you prequalified?” Steve ran a large hand through his thinning hair then checked his Blackberry as if waiting for an important call.
“Um, not exactly. But I’m heading to my mortgage broker after this. I thought that, maybe, we could discuss offers. Then I’ll know how much to try to qualify for.”
Steve did a poor job of hiding a smirk. “No sense talking about offers when you don’t have any money, Sweetheart.”
“Melissa knows the coffee business, Steve. She’s perfect for this place. I thought it would be helpful to go over some of the steps of putting in an offer, what to expect from the seller, etc. I’m sure she’ll get financing.”
There were few things Taylor was less sure of, but she stared hard at Steve. “I’ve already talked to my mother about this deal. She said you’d be willing to go over details, even without prequalification. For practice.”
Small lies were only venial sins, easily forgiven. Taylor watched Steve’s eyes narrow slightly before roaming over to Melissa again.
“Have a seat.” He pulled over two chairs and got out a pad and paper.
“I have an appointment, but here are some things to expect. Bank is gonna want to see some history on this place, profit and loss.” Steve scribbled illegible notes on the paper.
“I’ve put together a business plan.” Melissa offered the binder to Steve. He ignored it.
“As for offers … $89,000 is the asking price,” Steve paused, “which is absolutely ridiculous. Definitely shouldn’t pay more than 80, even with the equipment included as a total package.” He seemed to be talking to himself, “$89 thou and its not even a real business … for crying out loud. You have money to put down, right?”
He allowed Melissa only a second to respond before continuing, “Cause you’re gonna need at least ten percent. Don’t waste anyone’s time if you can’t get money—as in cash—to put down.”
Melissa swallowed. “Okay. I’m going to work on all that today. Then you—and Taylor—will put an offer in for me?”
“Sure thing. Taylor will get right on that, Sweetheart. You let us know how you make out at the bank.” Steve grabbed his Blackberry. “Now I’ve got some calls to attend to, thanks for coming in.”
He allowed his eyes to rest somewhere below Melissa’s neckline
before punching at the numbers on his phone. Taylor squeezed Melissa’s
arm and they made their way out the door.
“Wow, that was stressful,” Melissa fanned her face with the binder.
Fighting the urge to curse, Taylor considered her friend. It was
strange to see Melissa vulnerable. They rested in silence beside the Toyota
for a moment before getting inside. Melissa buckled her seat belt then looked at Taylor.
“What an asshole.”
Taylor laughed out loud, relieved to see the scrappy barista she knew reappear.
“Was he totally checking me ou
t
an
d
treating me like an idiot?”
“Yeah. You should work with him all day. I’m a candidate for the freaking sainthood after the last couple months. Swear.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here. I’m going to go to the bank, get that loan, and stuff it right in his baldin
g
hea
d
.”
“Don’t you mea
n
fac
e
?”
“Whatever.”
Taylor glanced at Melissa reapplying purple lipstick. “You don’t have to use me as an agent, you know. Seeing as I come with such unattractive baggage.”