Ford takes a deep breath, clear eyed, focused. It’s two in the morning, and we haven’t slept a wink, haven’t even considered it. We’ve bounced from room to room, sharing memories. Reconnecting. Talking about life. “I need your help,” Ford says. “I thought I could do this on my own, but with Dad retiring, I’ve felt lost. I’ve had Larkin, but there’s only so much I can burden her with. I need you both to carry on the legacy. I can’t do it without you. I don’t want to do it without you.”
“What are you saying?” Palmer asks as hope springs in my chest.
“What would you think about . . . I don’t know, working for the company?”
“In what capacity?” I ask.
Ford drags his hand over his face. “I don’t know. I would love to hear what your thoughts would be, what you would want to do.” He glances down at his hands and says, “All I’ve ever done with you two is dictate, tell you what to do. Being the older brother, I thought that was my job, but now, I want to hear what you two think, what you believe would help the company, help me.”
I glance at Palmer, whose lips are turning up in a smile.
“Didn’t think I would ever hear him say that.”
I laugh. “You and me both.”
“Hey now,” Ford says. “Take it easy on me, okay? This is all new to me, but after coming to Marina Island, there is one thing I know to be certain: I can’t do this on my own, and not only do I need your help, but I want it. I want both of you by my side. So let me hear it—what do you want to do?”
I rub my hands together. “I would love to have a creative role in the company. Help with branding and work with merchandizing the store brand. And honestly, after speaking with Larkin and seeing the kind of knowledge she has, I think you should have her in a different position. She’s too advanced to be your assistant.”
Ford scrapes the side of his cheek. “You’re right. On both accounts. You would be wonderful in branding and merchandizing, from the brief glimpse of what you’ve shown me. And Larkin needs to spread her wings, do more.”
“She should do something with purchasing,” Palmer says. “She’s always had a keen eye for the latest and greatest equipment and apparel.”
Ford nods. “You’re right, Palmer.” He then tilts his head and studies her. “What about you?”
Shyly, she says, “Well, you know, your social media presence could have a lot more appeal, and I happen to have a lot of experience in that department.”
“That you do,” Ford says. “That would be an ideal position for you. And that would make you happy?”
“I think so.” I bite down on my bottom lip as Beau crosses my mind.
Ford seems to read me well because he says, “You could work remotely, from Marina Island.” When I give him a confused look, he says, “Tell me if I’m wrong, but I think you need roots. You need your family, and your family is here, in the PNW. What better way to highlight the store and the brand, the experience, than where it first started? Plus, it might give you the chance to patch things up with Beau . . . that’s if it’s something you’re interested in.”
She sheepishly smiles. “I do. I like him a lot.”
“Well, the job is yours if you want it.”
“Seriously?”
Ford nods his head. “Seriously.”
Palmer throws her arms around him while I give him a pat on the back. “You might regret this later, when we’re constantly up your ass,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Nah, this is exactly what I need.” And then he pulls me into a hug as well. We stay like that for a few seconds before he releases us, his eyes misty. “Okay, we have a party to plan, money to spend, and people to win back. Think we can do it in the next . . . twelve hours?”
We all exchange glances and nod.
We got this.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
LARKIN
Pound. Pound. Pound.
Bleary eyed, I sit up in bed, rub my eyes, and try to comprehend what that sound is.
Pound. Pound. Pound.
The door.
Someone is pounding on the door. What the hell time is it? Getting out of bed, I check my phone and see that it’s six in the morning. What is going on?
I switch on a light and open my door, where I find Cooper jogging in place on the other side. He’s holding a stack of envelopes and is a sweaty mess.
Very sweaty.
“Cooper,” I say. “Is everything okay?”
“Great,” he says with such liveliness in his voice that I’m worried he might actually have had eighteen cups of coffee in an hour. “Feeling great. How are you?”
“Uh, tired,” I answer, hugging my arms around my waist. “You realize it’s six in the morning, right?”
“Very much aware. Have a busy day ahead of me—it’s why I can’t stay and chitchat.” He hands me an envelope. “Your presence is requested. Well, not just requested, more like kindly demanded.”
“Where?” I ask, flipping over the envelope.
“It’s all in there.” He holds up the stack of envelopes. “I’ve got a lot more to run around the town. Don’t have a car, so I’m getting in the exercise this morning. See you tonight.” And then he takes off down the stairs without another word.
I shut my door and walk over to my bed, where I open the envelope. I pull out a homemade, scrapbooked card. It’s cream and a mossy green color with a C on the front. When I flip it open, a handwritten note invites me to a wedding anniversary party tonight at the Chances’ home. Below that is an arrow that points to the back. I flip it over to find Ford’s familiar handwriting.
Larkin,
I know I’m the last person you probably want to hear from, or do a favor for, but I would be forever in your debt if you attended my parents’ anniversary party tonight. I have something I desperately want to say to you, and I know my parents would be grateful to have you at the party, especially since they know how much you mean to me. How much you’re my future . . .
Please attend. Hopefully I’ll see you tonight.
Ford
Twisting my lips to the side, I read his note a few more times and then lie back on my bed, staring up at the canopy of flowers. What are those Chance kids up to?
Guess there’s only one way to find out.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
DR. BEAU
“Good morning, Doc.”
“Jesus Christ.” I jerk back against my door, the coffee in my mug sloshing around. “Ford,” I say after taking a deep breath. “How long have you been waiting there?”
His eyes are bright, his smile a little creepy, and his energy more than what a man should have at this hour. I’m about to head down to the office early to get some precharting done before appointments start. I definitely wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the stairway of my apartment.
“Not long. Was about to knock on your door. You saved me from pounding with my fist.”
Composing myself, I give him a polite smile. “Well, glad to oblige.” I walk down the stairs, Ford on my heels, and then open the office for the both of us. “Is everything okay? You seem very . . . sweaty.”