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He’d put in a call to Pershing’s principal soon after Marisa had fled his offices several days ago. He’d covered for her by taking the heat for their meeting falling through. Hell, it was the least he could do after finding out the truth about fifteen years ago. And, he was willing to humor Pershing’s principal to get the job done. Never mind that he thought reviewing the plans for prior construction jobs was a waste of time. Every job was unique; everybody knew as much.
Still, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Marisa. All these years he’d hated her. No, that wasn’t right. He’d built up a wall and sealed her off from the rest of his life.
Now he understood the choice that Marisa had faced in the principal’s office. And yeah, she’d been right on target about the way he’d been in high school. He wouldn’t have wanted to hear her confession. Because he’d been a callow eighteen-year-old to whom a high school championship had meant more than it should.
In contrast, Marisa had been an insightful teen. She’d shown that understanding when it had come to Mr. Hayes, and Cole had spurned her for it. But the truth was, Cole had fallen for her back then precisely because she’d seemed self-possessed and different. She’d stood outside the usual shallow preoccupations of their classmates. The truth was she’d been more mature—no doubt because she’d had to grow up fast.
Cole cursed silently.
Marisa had been wrong about one thing, though. All you cared about was the hockey championship. He’d cared about her, too...until he’d felt betrayed.
In the storage room, she’d looked at him with her limpid big br
own eyes, and he’d stopped himself from touching her face to reassure her. He was sure that if he’d reached for her pulse right then, it would have jumped under his touch.
Then she’d rocked him with her explanation about being called to the mat by Mr. Hayes, and he’d kissed her. The lip-lock had been as good as he’d fantasized, and even better than his memory of high school. She had a way of slipping under his skin and making him hunger...
His pulse started to hum at the thought...and at the anticipation of seeing her again. He just needed to make it happen.
He took out his phone and started typing a text message. She’d called from her cell phone when she’d needed to set up the meeting at Serenghetti’s offices to review construction plans, and he’d made note of the number.
Told Dobson our meeting cut short b/c I had other business. Let’s reschedule. Dinner Friday @6. LMK.
As soon as he hit Send, he felt his spirits lift.
Spotting his foreman coming toward him, he slipped the phone into the back pocket of his jeans and adjusted his hard hat. There was unfinished business today, and there would be unfinished business on Friday. But first he had a meeting today that was a long time coming.
As soon as his consultation with the foreman was over, Cole drove to his parents’ house. He made his way to the back garden, where he knew he’d find his parents, based on what his mother had told him during his call to her earlier.
Serg was ensconced in a wrought-iron chair. Bundled in a jacket and blanket against the nippy air, he looked as if he was dressed for an Alaskan sledding event. Because if there was one thing that Camilla Serenghetti feared, it was someone dear to her catching a chilly, as she liked to say. It came second only to the fear that her husband or one of her kids might go hungry. She hovered near a small round patio table littered with a display of fruit, bread, water and tea.
Cole took a seat and began with easy chitchat. Fortunately, the stroke had not affected his father’s speech. The conversation touched on Serg’s health before veering toward other mundane topics. All the while, however, his father appeared grumpy and tense—as if he sensed there was another purpose to this visit.
Holding back a grimace, Cole took his chance when the talk reached a lull. “I’m looking for buyers for the business.”
Serg hit the table with his fist. “Over my dead body.”
Cole resisted the urge to point out that it might well come to that—another stroke and Serg was finished. “We’re a midsize construction company. Our best bet is a buyout by one of the big players.”
Then Cole could get on with his life. Nothing had panned out yet, but there were coaching positions available, and he wanted to grow the business investment portfolio he’d begun to put together thanks to his NHL earnings.
“Never.”
“It’s not good for you to get upset in your condition, Dad.” He’d thought he could have a rational discussion with his father about the future of Serenghetti Construction, because Serg was never going to make a one-hundred-percent recovery. So unless Serenghetti Construction was sold, Cole wouldn’t just be a temporary caretaker of the company, but a permanent fixture.
“You know what’s not good for me? My son talking about selling the company that I broke my back to build.”
Camilla rushed forward. “Lie back against the pillows. Don’t upset yourself.”
“Dad, be reasonable.” Cole fought to keep his frustration at bay. He’d waited months to have this conversation with his father. But now everyone had to face reality. Serg was not going to show more significant improvement. Maybe he could enjoy a productive retirement, but the chances that he’d be fit to head a demanding business again were slim. The discussion about the future had to start now.
“What’s wrong with the company that you want to sell it?”
“It needs to grow or die.”
“And you’re not interested in growing it?”
Cole let silence be his answer.
