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“Mr. Levine, it’s almost finished. It’s got one more coat and then I was going to call you.”
“I don’t want it. I want nothing from here, and you will no longer get any of my business, much less anyone else’s in this town.”
“You can’t…” I start to say, but he leaves just as abruptly as he arrived.
Eddie blows out a harsh breath. “Oliver, stop the bleeding before this gets out of hand. You’re going to lose business left and right the longer this goes on.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”
Despite my sarcasm, he chuckles. “I can only imagine how hard this is for you. You’ll figure this out, and I’m here if you need me. I’ll tell anybody that dares say shit about you that they don’t know what they’re talking about.”
I scrub a hand down my face. “Thanks. I know I’m not alone. It means a lot.”
“Anytime, bro, anytime. How are things with Wren?”
“They’re okay. I don’t know how to prove the child isn’t mine when Dot’s supposedly got results that say otherwise. I’ve tried talking to Dot, to lay my eyes on these DNA test results, but she’s hiding.”
“Well if that doesn’t tell you something, I don’t know what would. And Wren, how’s she doing with all this?”
I rub at the back of my neck, chest aching at the pain and damage I’ve caused her. “She’s getting just as much hate as I am. She may lose her job because of this, and the program she submitted to the town is going to get rejected.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“I know, and I think with the results and everything, Wren may be doubting me.”
“Give her time. She'll come around.” He shoves a hand into the pocket of his jeans. “Hey, I can't blame her. When I first heard the news, I thought, ‘please don't tell me my little brother is that stupid to get Dot Malone pregnant.’”
“Shut up.” I toss a random piece of paper at him.
This time he belts out a laugh. “Well, my work is done here. I'll leave you to this.” He saunters toward the door. “Bro, I'm here for you and will help in any way. Just say the word.”
I tear my gaze from the dining table in the far corner of the workshop—Levine’s dining table—and wonder how I’m going to recoup the cost. The materials, time, and money I stand to lose.
To make matters worse, because he was a long-standing customer, when he insisted I not only design it but also build it rather than get someone at the factory to do it, I readily obliged.
“Thanks. I appreciate you coming by, and I know you’ve got my back.” As my brother pushes through the door, I shiver at the brisk outside air as a dark thought springs to mind. “Listen, Eddie, you tell me if you get any backlash because of this.”
His garage has been a staple in town since I was a toddler. My brother is well respected and damn good at his job. He’s successful in his own right, and I’d hate for my garbage to impact his business.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” He tips two fingers at me in goodbye and then he’s gone.
At the same time, the laptop rings with an incoming video call. I sprint to the desk although I don’t have anything planned. On the screen, Ton and Famke Pfeiffer wait for me to answer.
The contract. I’d forgotten all about it with the chaos of yesterday. Last I checked, nothing had come in. I accept the video.
“Hey Famke, Ton. How are you?” I quickly flip from video to email in case I missed the contract, but nothing has come in from them since we last talked.
“Oliver. We’re going to get to the point.” Ton’s tone brokers no room for pleasantries and I’m immediately alarmed.
“What’s wrong?”
“We got a call from your business partner after we sent the contract.”
Contract? Business partner? What are they talking about? “I never received a contract.”
“Yes, we realize that now. We sent the email to the Nest in error.”
Like witnessing someone dig my own grave, a shudder skitters through me. Dot saw the contract and most likely deleted the email because I go into the Nest email many times a day and never saw anything from them.
