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“What? Quade—”
“I was in fact planning to take you to Iowa City for something really special tonight.”
“But Quade…I’m tired. I…don’t want to spend that much time in a car tonight. Please…”
“So…my Rolls Royce is too tiring for you to spend time in?”
“That’s not what I said!”
“Fiona, I wouldn’t thwart my plans if I were you.”
“Is this some kind of a threat?! Gee I’m sorry if you feel thwarted, Quade. I mean…I’d never intentionally thwart a guy!”
“Okay, okay Cookie. Are you gonna let me take you to a nice place and talk things out, or what?”
I feel my resolve slipping as the words leave Quade’s mouth. Is he honestly trying to give me a platform to discuss everything that’s gone down between us? Does he somehow not know that I’d like control over my own money and life? What will he ask of me for the privilege of letting me keep my store, the product of my own blood, sweat, and tears? And most importantly, if I turn down his offer tonight…will he punish me for it?
I’m an inch away from saying yes, but can’t quite bring myself to get into a car with the guy who stalked into my house, into my bedroom, held my wrists while I panicked, then followed me across town threatening me as I scurried barefoot and naked through the streets. The memory hits me of Quade’s voice coaxing me to get into his car that night, and how I was almost afraid for my life at the time.
After so many months of being left alone, it seems fantastical now…like a nightmare I had, or maybe a misunderstood encounter my mind blew way out of proportion. Then I think of the cameras and phone. No, I’m not the crazy one, and the nightmare is real.
“Quade, let’s be reasonable,” I say in the most soothing tone I can muster. “I’m tired and I’ve got to be in the showroom in the morning. How about you meet me at Shokai and we’ll get that little table in the back where we sat last time. I’m looking in now and the place is practically empty…I’m sure we can get our table.”
“I don’t want our table, Cookie. I want to take you somewhere special. Please don’t make me resort to anything regrettable. All I want is an audience with you in the atmosphere of my choosing.”
He sounds as calm as a summer breeze, yet his phrasing is downright disturbing. How can he expect me to respond nicely to this?
“Quade, I’m tired and I’m going to have to say no. If that forces you to do something you regret, it’s on you,” I say in a voice that feigns confidence.
He lets out a huffy sigh. “Okay, I’ll meet you at Shokai. Be there in a sec,” he replies before disconnecting. I knew the bastard was bluffing.
When Quade walks in I’m seated in the back, as promised, pouring a cup from the tea service that’s already arrived. I struggle to hide the instant state of repulsion his presence puts me in. His body looks bulkier than ever…thick, rounded muscles bunched stuffily onto a frame that can hardly support them, his face revolting. I never thought Quade was good looking, not even in our early days, but I’ve never seen him through these eyes of knowing before. I pray for the strength to hold a civil conversation in his overbearingly distasteful presence.
“Hi,” Quade says breathlessly, as he stares in wonder like he’s never seen me before. “You look stunning.”
As he comes around to kiss my cheek, while removing his coat, I try to make it unapparent that every cell of me is cringing away from him. I thank my lucky stars I changed into a conservatively high-necked sweater this afternoon. He sits across from me and continues gazing, taking no interest in the menu. I crack a smile in an effort to act decent. If I’m going to agree to meet Quade, I may as well pretend I still think he’s human.
I pick up my menu and instinctively hold it in front of my face, hoping it will magically deflect Quade’s gamma rays. After some minutes he succumbs to picking his up, and together we select five rolls of sushi…in our traditional collaborative manner. After placing the order and making a short trip to the ladies room, I’m out of activities to hide behind. So I force myself to participate in Quade’s gaze. He has the nerve to stare at me as though waiting for me to begin a conversation; I meet his eyes with an expectant glare until he gives in first.
“Well Cookie, I guess you’re wondering why I’ve decided to take charge of our finances.”
“Our finances?”
“Well, technically mine, but I have every intention of sharing.”
“How very generous of you,” I respond, seething.
“Let me spell something out for you Fiona…I didn’t ask Victor for your money. I didn’t have to. He thrust it into my lap because he wanted me to have it from the bottom of his heart.”
“From the bottom of his insane, senile heart.”
“Now that’s not fair. Victor may be slipping in his final years, but he’s always made it clear how he felt about me. And frankly, I wasn’t surprised when he announced that he wanted me to inherit his financial legacy. I feel honored.”
“Oh good for you Quade! Bravo for winning over a dying chauvinist on his last brain cell.”
“Thank you,” he says, smugly folding his arms across his chest and sitting back in his seat. “Now, about what I plan to do with our money. First of all, I’m investing in your new home. The Victorian was turning into a money pit…I had to get rid of it,” he says, catching me way off guard. My violent anger simmers ever so slightly. “Second, I’d like to open another store in Iowa City. How about turning Fiona’s into a small chain?”
My jaw drops. “Oh my God, Quade! That…yeah…that would be a dream come true. With Maxine, I could get out from under all shop duties here and just manage the two stores.”
