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“We’ve talked about this before, but I want to buy you out. I still have the paperwork and it’s a very generous price.” I pick up the contract. “I’m even open to a counteroffer, although I'm sure once your lawyer looks this over, they’ll tell you it’s a great deal.” I thrust the papers at her.
She doesn’t take them. Her head lifts higher, chin in the air, and voice haughty. “I tell you what; I will buyyouout.”
Surprised, though I don’t know why, I jolt back a step. “What? Dot, this ismybusiness. These are my custom designs. I hired each and every one of our workers.” We have a factory not too far from here that I manage. “And I’m the one with the contacts to scale up when needed.”
I’m trying to impress upon her what a gross misstep it would be on her part to try and take over the business. She may not like me or want to have anything to do with me—fine—but Iamthe Nest. Not the other way around.
“Hang on a sec.” She places a hand on her hip, chin pointier than before. “Do you think I didn’t learn anything from working with you? That I’m not capable of running a business? I have those contacts too. I know every one of our workers, and I’m the one who sent birthday, condolences, and holiday cards. I know how to run a business. I don't need you to be successful. We built the Nest together. Kind of ironic considering what we have now is far from any kind of nest.”
Somewhere in her rant, something smacks me in the face and leaves me hopeful and speechless. Dot’s talking about buying me out. Does this mean she’s finally accepted that we are over?
There is satisfaction in this, albeit small. While she may be resigned to the end of us, she still isn't relinquishingmybusiness.
“I won’t walk away from the Nest so easily.” A part of me wants to; it would be less complicated for Wren and me if I did. If I could simply let her buy me out. But it would also mean only working internationally—which I am prepared to do, if Ihave to.
Knowing Dot the way I do, this would only be the beginning. Once she catches wind of me working abroad, she would likely move into Europe and any other territory I’m operating in and try to undermine me. Dot still in the custom furniture business would only mean trading one bad situation for another.
Her withering glare is all she offers, no counteroffer or anything else. Once again, I put too much hope and faith in her doing the right thing. Why did I kid myself into thinking this meeting would go well?
“Dot, it feels like we’re at that stage where we have to go the legal route. If court is how we settle it, so be it.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Whatever. You do what you must and so will I.” She then marches out the door.
Infuriated and on edge, I call Kendall, my lawyer, to give her a heads-up on the incoming Netherlands contract and my conversation with Dot. I need to strike and I want her advice on my next move. Then I try to focus on work and fail. When lunch rolls around, I walk over to the Grill, welcoming the fresh air and needing company, or at the very least to be surrounded by people who aren’t out to get me.
As soon as I enter the restaurant, I notice it—the air shifts, tension spikes, and a fiery current zips through the place. Far too many eyes fall to me. Most are disapproving and judging, gazes sharp as razor blades.
An unnamed voice inside my head tells me to leave, but before I can, Percy rushes toward me. Talon-like, her small hands tighten around my forearms, fingernails digging into my coat. “Oliver, we need to talk now.”
She drags me through the door marked Employees Only, and while away from the gawkers, we aren't alone. A server perches on a bench, probably on her break, on the phone. This doesn’t faze Percy.
“You lied.” Her voice is a near yell and her face in flames.
The server whips her head in our direction, eyes startled like a deer caught in the crosshairs of a rifle. She quickly murmurs something into the phone and disappears through a back door.
Percy slams her palm against my chest with enough force that I'm rocked back onto my heels. “Jesus, what are you talking about?”
“You. Lied.” She punctuates each word with a hard smack to my chest.
I bat her arm away from me. “Knock it off, Perce. What the hell is wrong with you? I didn’t lie about anything.”
Alarms blare in my head. It’s the same accusation Dot made against me last night to Wren. What the hell is going on?
She wipes at her nose and sniffs, still incensed. “Really? Guess who you just missed? Who was just in the restaurant copying you with their own big announcement.” She pulls the bar towel from her back pocket and wrings it in her hands. Anger and sorrow storm her features.
“What are you talking about?”
“Dot. She was telling everyone how much of a liar you are. How could you do this to Wren?”
My jaw clenches and a growl rips from my chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Explain. Now.”
“She had proof you are the father. A DNA test, and she even had Doc Miller look at it and confirm the results for the entire Grill to see.” Tears now stain her cheeks. “She said how you cheated. You were having an affair with my sister. You’ve made Wren the town pariah. How could you?”
The anguish and heartache in her voice punch my gut as my mind swims with this news.
“None of that is true. Did the doctor come in with her?” I have no reason to believe the doctor would go along with one of Dot’s schemes, but it would certainly explain a few things.
“No. He was already here, having his lunch. She called him out and made him explain what he was looking at.”
