Better Not Love Me (3 page)

Chapter 4

Mr. Z's Toys
Spokane, Washington
Four Years Earlier

Amelia was excited this morning. Today she would finally be able to meet with the representatives from Riddell Industries and discuss the future of Mr. Z's as a franchise. For nearly a year, she'd been left alone to run the Spokane store with little contact from the corporate office. She hadn't even met her boss. It had been quite the ordeal learning how to run the small business. Her one month of experience with Edwin was all she had to draw from; no one was more qualified than she in that regard, but that was scary in itself. It had been a bumpy ride to say the least.

Riddell's infusion of capital for inventory kept the store in the black, but she knew those were inflated numbers even though the store was busy too. The brand recognition of Mr. Z's had grown significantly since Edwin passed. A new stream of curious customers would often visit the store, drawn by the heroic tale of Edwin Klein. They would come in and share their memories of where they were, or who they were with when they first heard of Mr. Z's Toys that fateful Christmas Eve.

"Grandma had just served her homemade pumpkin pie that night," one customer said.

"I had just put the kids to bed and was placing gifts under the tree, when I saw the story on the TV," said another.

Telling these stories made them feel connected to the generous act and Amelia was happy to listen. But as might be expected, the customers also wanted to talk about when they learned of Edwin's passing too.

"Such a tragic thing to happen to such a good man," one said.

"Thank heavens he was there to save those boys on that frozen lake," said another.

Amelia didn’t know if it was purposeful, but very few people ever made the connection that one of "those boys" was her son Marcus or nephew Max. Or how she was involved in Edwin's story at all.

She would nod and listen to each story, as if it was the first time she had heard such stories from a customer. No one cared much who she was and that was OK. Each day was a challenge and today was no different.

"Derek!" Amelia called from the backroom. "Did you unlock the door yet?"

"Shoot. No, I will right now," he shouted back from deep in the store.

Derek Conway had worked side by side with Amelia since last year. He knew Edwin and his late wife Mary from years back. He showed up at Mr. Z's the first day Amelia opened the store alone. He said he owed the Kleins a debt he could never repay and wanted to help in any way he could. Amelia hired him full time and he'd been a great worker—except for forgetting to open the door most mornings.

The man from Riddell was supposed to arrive at 10:30 this morning. He was originally scheduled to come in the previous day, but for some reason postponed it until today. She wasn't given a reason. It didn't matter. Amelia could hardly contain herself. She was full of ideas. She had questions, too. Like why the company waited for a year and a half to get her input, even after opening stores in Seattle, Portland and San Francisco. The parent company did it all on its own. The only person she had spoken with from Riddell was the elderly founder of the company, Walt Riddell. But that was just on one visit before Christmas last year and then again in a series of short phone calls.

Walt was in his 80s and gave rambling advice to Amelia about being herself and finding the heart of her business. He had a wealth of business acumen somewhere inside him, but he didn't share it with her. He was a very nice man and she enjoyed talking with him even if it was just to chat.

The core business of Riddell Industries was scooping up failing companies and either propping them up through tough times or selling them off bit by bit. They'd been doing it for decades. Thankfully the five-year contract Edwin signed was intended to keep Mr. Z's alive, not tear it apart. She'd hate to have Riddell as an enemy. There were four years left on the contract and Amelia was anxious to get started.

The contract was all a little mystifying for her, but Riddell was the corporation that saved the store, so they must know what they were doing.

She had no idea what she was in for.

* * *

At exactly 10:29 a.m. a handsome man in a black suit and maroon tie entered the store toting a leather briefcase. The man had light brown wavy hair slicked back on the sides of his head like some young male model from an Abercrombie & Fitch advertisement. The hair was a bit too hip for Amelia's taste and he was old enough to be that young model's father, for gosh sake. Amelia attributed the fashionable suit and fancy haircut to the man being from some other city where that sort of thing might be trendy.

From the entrance, the man visually swept the store and even smiled as he held the door for a customer who was leaving with her purchases. He was attractive, no question, just a little out of place in that suit and fancy haircut. He made eye contact with Amelia who was leaning against a doorframe near the register. The smile remained, but then it was gone in an instant. It was a curious thing. He was happy and smiling one minute, but upon seeing Amelia, he flipped a switch to serious and disinterested.

He crossed the store and extended his hand to Amelia.

"Hello, Ms. Cook, I'm Nate Rosen. I'll be reviewing your files today," he said in a tone that was all business.

"My files?" Amelia asked. She was expecting something different from the nice man with the smile, but this man's demeanor was anything but nice.

"Yes, the packet we couriered over?"

"I didn’t receive any packet."

"Of course you didn't," he spit the words back at her. "I've prepared for this and brought along the necessary documents out of an abundance of precaution. This isn’t the first time a business owner decided to stall this process, delaying the inevitable."

"I don't understand. I didn’t receive any packet," she said.

"That's what you said. I heard you," he retorted. "I'm only here for a few hours, then I'm headed to Chicago for another appointment."

"Maybe if you had come yesterday, this wouldn't be such a rush. You cancelled on me, remember? And what does your next meeting have to do with our meeting?"

"It means, Ms. Cook, that you'll need to review this documentation quickly so this trip to Spokane was not a complete waste of my time."

Amelia didn’t understand why this man was being so short with her.

"Why are you really here,
Nate
?" she emphasized his first name to counter his using the formal, Ms. Cook, to address her.

"There are several documents that you need to approve as the new President of Mr. Z's Corp. and as a member of the Mr. Z's Corp. Board of Directors."

"I'm the what, now?"

"Had you reviewed the packet we sent you, this would be clear," he said, the tone slithering out of his mouth.

"Yes, this magical packet of yours wouldn't have given you a modicum of manners too, would it? What pages refer to not being a jerk? Or is there an addendum on courteous interactions? No? None?"

He took a deep breath, but declined to reply to her crass remarks. He rubbed the crook of his right arm over his suit jacket. Amelia took this action as a nervous tick, which seemed very much out of place for such a well-kept man. He momentarily glanced at his arm, realized he was doing it and abruptly stopped.

He took another breath and Amelia wasn't sure if he was pausing to collect himself and continue his barrage of comments or to apologize. His next comments made it clear.

"Riddell Industries has purchased Mr. Z's Corp., the subsidiary formed from Mr. Z's Toys, previously a sole proprietorship owned by Edwin Klein. You were selected as President and a voting member of the Board. It's a checks-and-balance system set up for the length of the contract. The remaining Board members are officers at Riddell. It's a common practice. And outlined in your packet."

"Yes, the packet," she mimicked sarcastically.

"The documents require your approval for the new franchises in Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Chicago and New York," he said.

"I've never even been to those places, how am I supposed to approve anything?" she asked.

"Well, you're in luck. I have your travel itinerary right here. You leave next week."

"Next week? To where?"

"Hmm. We'll need to work on those listening skills, won't we? I believe I just said Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Chicago and New York."

"All those places?"

"For starters," he replied.

"But I have kids here. I can't just leave them."

"I'm afraid that's not my department; but as president, even in your figurehead capacity, you need to be in these cities starting next week. The rest of your schedule will be couriered over to you."

"Right, because it worked so well the first time you tried to courier something to me," she said. "I thought we were going to talk about my ideas for the store?"

"Oh, we can talk about whatever you want in our two-hour window, but it's our corporate marketing department that will be making the final decisions about the store."

"But what about the storefront windows at Christmas? Surely they aren't going to design that."

"You still do that here? How quaint," he said. "The fleet of stores will maintain a uniform look for brand consistency which I imagine does not include your amateur window displays."

"Has Walt been informed of these decisions?" Amelia was shocked.

"I’m afraid Mr. Riddell doesn't bother with trivial matters such as these. He's very much removed from the day-to-day operations of the subsidiary corporations and even the business as a whole."

"But I've spoken to him several times. In person and on the phone."

"Yes, that may be, but the truth of the matter is that Mr. Riddell isn't in complete control of his faculties and no longer makes decisions for Riddell Industries."

"But it's his company. So who's in charge, then? I want to talk to that person."

"The Board meets quarterly. I think this year's meeting is at HQ in Dallas. There may be an opening in the Q4 agenda. I'll have to get back to you on that."

"You do that, Nate."

"Maybe there's been a misunderstanding," Nate said.

"Yes, I think that's the case."

"Your role at Mr. Z's Corp. is as a figurehead only," he said. "That's the agreement that Mr. Edwin Klein signed before his passing. You will take direction from the corporate office regarding this store, but you are allowed to have input on the other stores as we expand."

"But no authority," she confirmed.

"Now you're with me."

"Why would I agree to that?"

"You, Ms. Cook, didn't agree to that; Mr. Klein did."

"Well, this sounds like a completely terrible set up. And what's your involvement in this whole mess?"

"Yes, I didn’t fully explain my role, did I? I'm the Chief Acquisitions Officer and Vice President for Riddell."

"Which means what exactly?" she asked.

"It means you work directly for me now," he said.

"Well, isn't that just fantastic news?" she said, tossing her sketchpad of Christmas display-window ideas into the waste bin.

Chapter 5

Present day, back at the lake

"Do you have any questions?" a young man asked Amelia. She was sitting behind the wheel of her rented power boat.

The question went unanswered. She was in a bit of a daze.

It wasn’t the fault of the instructor that Amelia didn’t listen to a word he was saying about how to operate the boat. She was reliving the past few years and the torment of Nate Rosen.

The boat had arrived in the late afternoon, prompting Amelia to finally emerge from her bedroom where she had successfully avoided her family for several hours. She hadn't explained her behavior to anyone yet and she didn't want to.

Amelia had been so fixated on pretending to be calm, and ignoring the news about Nate staying next door, that she blocked out what the instructor was saying. She caught words like rudder, vessel, chine and transom, but didn’t connect them to full sentences or how they could possibly fit into a lesson about a boat.

So did she have any questions? Probably, but she hadn't taken the opportunity to get any of them answered.

Afternoon turned to night and it was time to head out onto the water. Amelia regretted being so distracted. Her failure to learn how to operate the boat may not have been a big deal under different circumstances, but the kids were excited about getting on the water for the fireworks display and she couldn’t even figure out how to start the darn thing.

Marcus, Susanna, Priscilla and Amy watched her struggle from their seats in the boat.

“Maybe you’ve got to move this thingy,” Amy said, pointing to a lever to the right of the steering wheel.

“I tried that,” she said sheepishly as the boat continued to rock gently against the dock. “Nothing.”

Nate’s boat sat on the opposite side of the dock, empty. She took childish satisfaction that his boat had seen better days. It was old, chipped and cracked. The Plexiglas windshield was scratched and foggy.

The sun was starting to set and she didn’t really want her first time on the water to be in the pitch black, even though she knew the return trip would be in the dark. She continued to work the controls, but it wasn’t starting. She was embarrassed and growing ever more frustrated with each minute.

“Marcus, can you Google how to start this thing?” she asked.

But he wasn’t listening. She followed his gaze and discovered why. He was watching Nate, but more so his bikini-clad daughter Chloe descend the steps toward the dock. In just seconds, Nate would be on the dock too. Amelia tried again to start the boat, but this time it gave a faint sputter before going silent. She was getting closer to how to do it, she thought. Maybe the sputter was a good thing and she could zoom away before Nate walked onto the dock.

But it was too late for that.

“You guys watching the fireworks too?” Nate asked in Amy’s direction. "They're going to be great this year."

“Yes, as soon as we can get this boat started up,” Amy said as Amelia continued to fiddle at the controls behind her.

“I’ve almost got it,” Amelia said through clinched teeth. She didn't look up.

Amy, oblivious to her sister’s discomfort, then did the one thing Amelia didn’t want.

“Say, you’re a boat guy. Think you could give us a hand?” Amy asked Nate.

If looks could kill, Amy would be dead in the water. Amelia's eyes narrowed at the gall of her sister.

“I’d be happy to,” Nate said, hopping into the boat from the dock just as Amelia turned to protest.

His sudden added weight to the boat caused it to rock, shifting Amelia off balance. She stumbled toward him. Nate caught her in his arms. Her momentum propelled her toward him until they were sandwiched together against the passenger seat of the boat in an uncomfortable embrace. She immediately felt how hard his chest and abs were, but pushed herself off of him immediately.

“I said I had it,” she snapped.

Nate stole a glance at Amy who was giving him the
what’s her deal
? look.

“OK, but if you want to get this thing started, you might want to try moving the throttle into neutral. Otherwise you’re going to send it right into the beach,” he said. "And, that's why it’s not starting too."

“And that was exactly what I was about to do,” Amelia said, unconvincingly.

“Well OK, then. You guys enjoy your night,” he said, stepping onto the dock, content to leave the fuming Amelia behind. 

Amelia started the engine, which bubbled out a hum into the water.

“Thank you,” Amy said to Nate over the short expanse of the dock.

“That’s what neighbors are for,” he said, then went about his business starting his own boat.

* * *

The water in the middle of Lake Coeur d'Alene was littered with all types of watercraft from sailboats to jet skis and even some adventurous people floating in inflatable rafts. Amelia had managed to maneuver the boat to the edge of the cluster. Music, blasting from nearby boats, echoed off the surface of the water. The joyous chatter of the boaters nearby only ebbed when the sun set and night engulfed the lake.  

The girls were each sprawled out on the flat seats in the bow of the boat. Susanna and Priscilla chatted and pointed at the other boats that were only illuminated by white, evening running lights. It was a beautiful, all-American scene.

Marcus used a life jacket as a pillow and just stared up at the stars. Amelia had wondered if Marcus was up for a night on the lake. She'd never thought to ask him. He'd been tentative on the water ever since that Christmas Day nearly six years ago when he fell through the ice at Rocktop Lake. She had noted the first thing Marcus did when he entered the boat was to remove a life jacket from the side storage compartment and place it on the seat next to him. He didn't put it on, but it was never too far from his side. He was a proficient swimmer, but she had not taken him out in a boat since he was a toddler. She wondered if he was protecting himself with the life jacket and if he still had emotional scars from Rocktop Lake and Edwin's death. She needed to be more considerate of what he may still be going through. She'd failed to mother him the way she should.

Amy handed Amelia a plastic cup filled with red wine. They ceremoniously touched the cups together. Amelia smiled appreciatively before taking a large gulp.

"Two Buck Chuck?" Amelia asked, holding up the cup.

"Only the best for Boat Captain Cook."

"Nice," Amelia said.

"So what was all that about back at the dock?" Amy asked. "I get it. You know him somehow, obviously. And you didn't want his help, but you sort of cut the poor guy's head off." 

Amelia didn’t want to spend the night catching up her sister on what a terrible boss Nate was to her. It meant she'd have to relive the experiences herself too. She didn't want to talk about how she'd called him out on all of his BS before finally quitting Mr. Z's Corp. She'd gone out in a blaze of glory and thought that her actions were far behind her. So when he showed up here at her place of sanctuary, she was shocked and angry.

But Amelia knew she had to tell Amy about Nate.

"That was Nate Rosen. My old boss. The guy I complained about for the last four-plus years."

"That was him? No horns or a pitchfork. Not what I pictured. He's pretty cute."

"Oh my Lord, Amy. It doesn't matter that he's cute. He's the evil boss from the Dilbert comics. He made Mr. Z's unbearable for me."

"Then why did you rent a cabin next to his?" Amy asked.

"How was I supposed to know he had a cabin here? He lives in Dallas where Riddell is located. There's a million other places he could have owned a cabin, but no. It had to be here in Idaho."

"That's a mighty big coincidence, Sis," Amy said, stating the obvious. 

"I didn't plan it, if that's what you think."

"No, that's not it. I just think it's a big coincidence."

But there was something in the way Amy said it that sounded like she was hinting at something else.

"Is he single?" Amy asked.

"I have no earthly idea. Probably. He doesn't wear a ring and it looks like it's just him and his daughter. "

"Well, this summer just got a little hotter, didn't it?" Amy said, sipping her wine. "Yet, he's not really my type anyway. I go for guys who are flabby and in need of a job. They are easier to find around dinner time."

"Promise me you won't chase this guy," Amelia said. "He's bad news. He might look like an underwear model, but he's pure evil inside."

"One hundred percent pure evil beefcake!" Amy said, chuckling.

Amelia reluctantly returned the laugh. She had to admit, Nate wasn't bad to look at. But it didn’t matter. He was an awful person all around.

* * *

The family ate dinner on the boat. Amy had made fried chicken and macaroni salad. Since she owned a diner back home, she was quite the whiz in the kitchen, so anytime Amelia could get her to whip up a meal, she did so. Amy made so much food that she even shared the leftovers with the guys on the boat next to them. They were a couple of college-age boys who were drinking cheap beer and had taken a liking to Priscilla. Amy made sure to tell the boys that her daughter was under age, if only just barely.  This put an end to the overt flirting, but Amy kept an eye on them anyway.

It was nice to have a relaxing evening on the water, as a family. Even if it was just for a few hours. Over the last few days, the only time the kids and adults were together was for dinner. Amelia was glad the boat kept them from running off. Or swimming off, as it were.

The first pops of fireworks lit up the sky about 9:30 that night. The show was choreographed to a set list played by a low-frequency AM radio station. The boats with radios, including Amelia's rental, tuned in, adding an immersive element to the display.

Amelia was never a huge fireworks fan, but it didn’t matter. She didn't need spectacular light show to keep her entertained. She just wanted the family all together. She watched the show, but also the reflection of the bright colors on the faces of her children and niece. The kids were kept in rapt attention and pointed out their favorite explosions in the sky  It meant so much to her that they had a good time. And they did.

When the last spark faded and the music died out, the rumble of boat engines erupted around them. Amelia didn't want to pilot the vessel through the wakes of the other boats because of the darkness and her unfamiliarity with the controls. So she waited quite a while before beginning the process of starting up the boat. It was now pitch black with the absence of the other boats nearby them. A single running light on a three-foot mast illuminated their boat and several feet around it.

Amelia first flipped on the bow lights to look at what was ahead in the water. Then she checked to see that the throttle was in neutral, which was her undoing earlier.

"Here goes nothing," she said as she turned the key to start the boat.

But nothing happened. Again.

"You've got to be kidding me," she mumbled under her breath.

"Check the throttle Mom," Marcus said, trying to be helpful. "Like Chloe's dad said."

"Yeah, I did that. I'm not doing anything different from before."

She turned the key and didn't hear anything. Not even a click to indicate the starter was engaging, but not firing up.

She knew all eyes were on her. The fun gift of renting the boat was her idea. But she was completely unprepared to make that gift actually fun. The simple process of starting the boat had eluded her. She was embarrassed, like she was standing at a podium about to give a speech and no words would come out.

Come on, just work. Let's end this day on a high note.

On the next turn of the key, the single white running light illuminating the boat flickered and went out, as did the lights on the bow of the boat. The faces of her family quickly faded into the blackness. In just seconds the boat was completely black and Amelia realized just how alone they were, drifting helplessly on the dark water.