Page 53 of Merging Wright

Suddenly, Fischer’s intentions become a little clearer. He wanted to place a woman between my brother and me again.

+ + +

“Did you know about this?” Standing opposite Jane in the dining room of Ma’s house the next morning, I toss Myles’s business card on the table and slip my hands into my pockets.

“I didn’t suggest him because I didn’t want to upset you.” Jane holds my gaze, waiting out my reaction.

She’s mostly correct. The suggestion of using Myles would have upset me. Only, I don’t know if I’m more upset that she knew about his business and didn’t mention him. Or Ma suggested him. Or Fischer had a plan I’m slowly piecing together.

Then again, I appreciate Jane admitting she didn’t want to upset me. She’s taking my feelings into consideration, something that shouldn’t happen in business. We have a job to complete. Emotion shouldn’t play into the process.

City plans, building blueprints, and rough sketches from our creative team at Impact are spread over the table. We’ve asked Impact for some ideas with minimal interruption to our current clients. Tucker has been very understanding.

“But we need help, Mach.” Jane’s voice softens. “We both know that in a small town connecting with tradespeople, really knowing them, is half the battle in getting things done in a timely manner.”

And the clock is ticking. If I want us out of here, the sooner we get things done, the better for all of us.

“You’ve never told me about your small town.” I’m hit once more with all I don’t know about Jane. Where is she from? Why did she leave? What was she doing with that fuckwad Ripley?

Jane lowers herself to a dining chair while I remain standing. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail today. Her shirt is one of my old flannels paired with skinny jeans. She looks different. Still stunning. Still professional but different. Something about her . . . glows.

“I grew up in River City, Missouri, a town not too different from this one. The river was the focus but so was a factory. My granddad worked in that factory his entire life. When my father left, Granddad took on more responsibility, working overtime. He was suddenly helping my mother raise four kids. He provided for us when he should have been done with raising and supporting children.”

Jane reaches for her ponytail, curling the hair around her fist then dragging her hand down the length. I want my fist there. I want her story more.

“I know this might not make sense to you, but this project means something to me. My hometown was rundown like this one, but it had so much potential. Granddad gave his life to a factory, and he’d never want a power plant to take over a town. I don’t want an energy plant to take this one.” Jane swallows, as if quelling the sudden emotion claiming her voice.

“Why didn’t you stay in River City?” Maybe the answer is obvious—a factory was its focal point.

Jane bites her lip. “Granddad wanted bigger things for my siblings and me. He sent us to college so we could have more, be more. Garrett went to California. He has the Midas touch. I didn’t need to be rich, I just wanted to be successful, and Granddad saw I’d fall into a rut if I stayed in River City. I’d already taken on so much responsibility, sort of second in command to my mother. She struggled with my father’s absence.” Jane glances away, hinting there’s more to her mother’s side of the story, but I only want Jane’s. “You’ve met Mae, who is more of a free spirit. And then there is Lindee, who is a bit of a drifter. We’re best friends but clash on occasion as our personalities are so similar.”

“You mean you are both bossy,” I teasingly mock the take-charge woman I know.

“Determined.” She grins but it quickly fades. “I’m a survivor. Someone had to be in charge, and it was often me. Worry and fear were ingrained in me.”

“Worry?” Fear? I’ve never seen a trace of either. She’s one of the strongest women I know next to Ma. Her tears on our wedding night were a total surprise.

“The next meal. The next paycheck. We weren’t destitute, but my mother was open about our financial constraints. There was an underlying threat, a fear, that we’d lose our home, have to move away, and . . . I don’t know . . . fend for ourselves, maybe. I never wanted to be that concerned about food and shelter again. Of course, I had unspoken faith that Granddad wouldn’t let anything happen to us.”

It was strange to hear some of my youthful concerns echoed by Jane. The difference in our stories might be my mother worked hard but never complained. She went from sweeping clippings to washing hair to fashioning updos and owning the place. Camilla Wright was a survivor. We didn’t want, but we knew we had less. Fischer made certain we knew we were less than others. Jane’s granddad sounds like a dream.

“What did you want most as a kid?”

Without a blink, Jane answers. “I wanted to be taken care of.”

Like a sucker punch to the sternum, the comment hits hard. I’m not taking care of Jane. She doesn’t need my money. She doesn’t lack food or shelter, but I’m not providing her the reassurance that she can rely on me. I’m here for her. Hell, she’s been here for me. She fucking married me.

Why did she do it?

The partnership whispers through my head.

“Look, we need Myles.” Jane’s quick topic shift has me blinking. I don’t want to hear these words, but the truth settles like a slow dripping faucet. Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. I don’t want to deal with Myles, but I might not have a choice.

Shaking my head skeptically, while tightening my grip on the chair before me, my shoulders fall in concession. I don’t like it. I don’t want it. But with a heavy sigh, I cave. “Fine.”

“Really?” Her voice cracks, but there’s something more in the sound. Not only is she surprised, she’s . . . happy.

My head pops up, registering her enthusiasm to work with Myles. Dammit. “You’re going to be here for more than a month.”