“We’ll see,” she said.
We’ll see was a soft no. “When you’re ready, I’ll give you a ride. Not until.”
“If it’ll fix whatever’s broken, it sounds like a good idea. If this house sells before the deadline, I’ll swallow my reservations and climb on. How’s that?”
“I’ll hold you to it,” I said.
“I’m sure you will.” She finished the drink and looked at the empty glass. “I think I’m drunk.”
“Do you do this often?” I asked.
“What?”
“Get drunk at lunch?”
“Not really.”
“How frequently is not really?”
“It’s just. When I talk about that last guy I dated, it upsets me. I do this when I get upset. I run from my emotions. I ran the other day when Margaret said she was going to pull the listing, and I’m running now.”
“Why don’t you try to talk about them? Your emotions… What bothers you?”
“I don’t want to be criticized,” she said. “I hate rejection. I’d rather keep it all bottled up inside until it eventually goes away.”
“What about him upsets you that much?”
“He was screwing half the town.” She waved the back of her hand toward the parking lot in the distance. “Maybe more.”
“Beating yourself up about it only lets him continue to have control over you. You ended the relationship and walked away. Leave him and everything about him in the past, where it belongs.”
“Easy to say, hard to do.”
“Why?”
She let out a sigh. “It just is.”
“There’s a lot about my past that I don’t like,” I admitted. “I choose not to think about it. It doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, but it does prevent me from punishing myself repeatedly for it.”
“Everyone kept telling me he was screwing around,” she said in a barely audible tone. “Every time I asked him, he denied it. Then I met a client at a home he was selling because he was out of town. She started telling me about this guy she was dating. How nice he was. How attractive he was. How perfect he was. In fact, they were moving in together. Into the home she was buying. Guess who her boyfriend was?”
“Your guy?”
“Yeah. I was crushed.”
“I’m sure you were,” I said. “But he’s gone now, and you’re undoubtedly better off without him. Let him go. Again, to hold on to the grief is to let him continue to control you. If you’re truly disgusted by him, releasing him—and his memories—is the best revenge.”
“He took almost…basically, he took…he took everything. He screwed me out of over seven hundred thousand dollars,” she said, nearly choking on the words. “It was supposed to be a real estate investment. Some land ownership thing that they were going to build condos on in Marco Island. It never panned out. I’m out the money. My bank account is a constant reminder of him. Letting go isn’t that easy.”
In my wildest dreams, I wouldn’t have imagined it was as bad as it was. The money had to be somewhere. Either he had it, or he had whatever he’d purchased with it. I’d take that up with him when I found him.
“Where’s the money?” I asked. “He had to do something with it.”
“He was conned out of it.” It seemed talking of it was draining the energy from her entirely. Looking defeated, she continued. “We were supposed to be buying into a land deal on Marco, but it fell through. He trusted the wrong people.”
There was no doubt someone trusted the wrong person, but I doubted it was him. My guess was that he never invested a dime and used someone else as the scapegoat.
“I’m sorry that happened,” I said. “Out of curiosity, where is he now?”
I hated to ask but felt I must. If I hadn’t heard the story already through Kate, I would have asked without a second thought.
“He’s still selling real estate in town.” She met my gaze with glassy eyes. She was on the verge of crying. “He’s been in a few times.”
“Been in?” I asked. “Where?”
“The office.”
My eyes went wide. “Excuse me?”
She dabbed her eyes with her index finger. “He’s been in on a few co-listings and when he’s sold property I’ve listed. It sucks, but it’s part of it, I guess. He sold one of my listings the other day. He’ll be in again soon.”
He might have used real estate as an excuse to come into the office in the past, but he wasn’t going to do it in the future. Finding him and resolving matters was going to have to happen sooner than I expected.
Seeing her go through such grief was difficult. Knowing she’d have to do it anytime he came into the office made matters much worse.
I reached for her hand. “I need to ask you to trust me, okay?”
She squeezed my hand lightly. “Okay.”
“I’m going to take care of this,” I assured her. “Believe me. I will. But you’re going to have to tell me his name.”
“I don’t want you to—”
“Listen, Teddi. I like you. A lot. I want to fix this. Trust me when I tell you I can. But you’re going to have to tell me his name.”
“How are you going to fix it?”
“I’m resourceful.”
“Your biker friends?” she asked. “You’re going to have them beat him up?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
“I look at things this way. You’re my responsibility now. To take care of you, I have to take care of this.”
“I like being your responsibility.” She managed a soft smile. “His name is Britt Wescoff. He’s easy to find.”
“Thank you.” I leaned over the table and gave her a kiss. “You won’t regret this.”
I hoped like hell I was right.
Chapter Fourteen
Teddi
Being blindfolded by a man had been on my wish list for a long time. Being blindfolded and led into one of my listings didn’t quite qualify. Holding Devin’s hand in mine, I stumbled along the brick drive.
Upon stepping inside, I was met by a faint odor of fresh paint. “It smells like paint.”
“I took the liberties to have them do a little painting when they were in here,” Devin said. “I hope you like it.”
“I hope I do, too,” I said, surprised he’d take the initiative to paint without consulting me. After a few more steps, I paused. “Can you take this thing off yet?”
“We’re almost there,” he said. “I want you to look at it from the kitchen.”
Having promised not to visit the home until it was finished, this was the first time I’d seen the interior since the work began almost two weeks earlier. I hoped like hell the changes would allow me to market it to a wide range of clients. I had less than forty days to sell the home and save my career.
I tugged against his hand. “Are we there yet?”
He released me. I felt him fidget with my scarf. Then he pulled it free. When my eyes adjusted to the light, my mouth flopped open. “Oh. My. God.”