Yours, For Good (Cozy Latine Billionaires #4)

16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Date : December 26 To : Mr. Smith From : Eleanora Subject : You'll never guess...

Dear Mr. B.,

I've had a series of talks with Mrs. Semple and they've been utterly illuminating. Her experience is giving me a new perspective that will add great depth to my business plan.

She talks about the children and youth with whom she worked with such affection! She explained the delicate politics of protecting the children's interests, while assuring their caregivers that the children were being both challenged and supported, stimulated but not over-stimulated, etc. She told me how difficult it was to say goodbye sometimes, and how she stayed in contact with many of them. She shared that the house we're in was a gift from one of the children she tutored, which I think speaks to how close a relationship between a tutor and the child can be. Receiving this gift let her retire early and securely, she said and, really… receiving a house? As a gift? I think it's a big deal.

But that's only one part of what's been on my mind non-stop.

After dinner last night, I decided to look around the house library, trying to research the history of the place. I discovered a couple of books with labels inside, including a children's book that looked well read and with a clear name in the inside lapel of the dust jacket. I asked Mrs. Semple about it and one thing led to another and…

Do you know who used to own this house, Mr. B.? Do you know the family, and is that why you sent me here?

Do you know a Mr. Javier Pendleton?

Apparently, Mrs. Lizzie Semple used to be his tutor and they spent a lot of time together in this house. Years went by and he grew up all the way to his six feet and many inches, and wanted to show her how much he appreciates her via this token of gratitude.

And somehow, you sent me here of all places. Which, again, wonderful . Mrs. Semple exceeds the requirements for the kind of research and connection in the field that I was looking for. But now I'm ???? and !!!!! and ?!?!?!?! and trying to put it all together.

I suppose I shouldn't be thoroughly surprised; I've known for a while that the number of families that have the background and resources to sponsor people to the incubator are few and, thus, you all probably know each other. If that's one circle in the Venn diagram, and there's another for the people who are in the high spheres of society who worked with Mrs. Semple, then the overlap must be huge and both you and the Pendletons exist within it.

Did you know Julia would be in the incubator with me? Did you let out an elderly chuckle when I mentioned Julia's uncle in my letters?

I can imagine it. You're reading about me meeting him, and you scoff in a humorous way. Oh, that young man Javier, it's been ages since I've seen him at the golf club. I should ring up his old grandfather for a game.

Anyway. I have so many questions!

If you do know him, now I'm feeling awkward about telling you about Julia and Javier. I hope I haven't been inadvertently indiscreet, or that I have complained about someone who could be your fellow country club member's grandchild.

Not that when I complain about people you don't know it's magically better…

With a troubled mind,

Nora

Javier

Fuuuuuck. Who would have guessed that Lizzie had kept the whole damn library intact? Many years ago, the last time I visited, I didn't even think to check what she had kept or what she'd given away, when I gifted her the house. I assumed she would have replaced my childhood books with her own. But she didn't, and now Nora was a few clues away from putting it all together.

I made for the third floor of my townhouse, two steps at a time. I entered my home office and plopped myself at my desk. Before I had fully sat down on my chair, I had already put on my glasses, opened my drawer, and gotten my journal out. It lay open in front of me when a faint whiff of Nora's smell reached me.

Fuck.

I put pen to paper and poured my thoughts and feelings into my writing. What the hell was I supposed to do next? It seemed like every time I made a decision, I got myself into a deeper, darker hole. It was damp and looked more like I dug my own grave each time I gazed around.

A text dinged on my phone, but I ignored it until I finished writing down my fears: that Nora would figure it all out, and cast me away for good when she realized my duplicity— rightfully so. That she would abandon the program out of pride and hurt, and lose on the support I could give her, and a life-changing chance to start her business the right way, right away. That the founders and investors of the incubator would finally realize I was bending the rules by sponsoring people like Nora, despite the efforts I made to prevent that from happening. That they would kick me out, and ruin the opportunity for future John Grier Home students. That it meant I wouldn't be able to open the doors for people who could change the world from within, to be let in to begin with. That my confused heart and body were making it harder to know the right thing to do.

I placed the pen in the seam of my journal and sighed. My fingers were stiff when I rubbed my eyebrows, and my hands cold when I took off my glasses and I covered my face.

Five seconds. I could give myself five seconds to panic, before I placed all my worries in a box, filled it with packing peanuts, added a couple of silica bags, and sealed it tight in the attic of my mind. Fear wouldn't help; decisions and actions would.

I grabbed my phone once my breathing normalized. My heart quaked again when I read the message.

Nora : Hey! I don't know if you're in need of rescuing where you are, but I wanted to show you the picture below. Looks familiar?

The picture was an outside view of Lock Willow.

Several things happened at once. My chest did a somersault. My stomach dropped. I smiled. Warmth cloaked my shoulders, at the sight of the old house.

Yes, Nora had texted me, and I couldn't help the small burst of excitement it sparked in me.

It also forced me to decide how to proceed, before I evaluated every thought and feeling that collected like storm clouds inside.

I couldn't ghost her. That would confuse her at best, hurt her at worst— an immediate harm I'd inflict on her. Continuing the friendship was the alternative, even if I was pushing every reasonable argument to even call it friendship. My feelings didn't feel exclusively friendly, after all.

What a trap. Still, the only possible step forward was to continue as-is. Self-denial in action.

I crossed my fingers that acting natural would steer her away from realizing Mr. Beanpole and I were one and the same.

Javier : I know that place! I have many happy memories of being there.

Nora : I'm staying here for the holidays :) I found this book: The Adventures Of A Child Archeologist. It has your name inside.

She texted me a picture of it.

Javier : Wow. I didn't know I left that there. You're making me nostalgic.

Nora : How long has it been since you've been here?

Javier : Many years. Far too long. Say hi to Mrs. Semple from me.

Her response came a few minutes later, and it included a picture of Nora with Lizzie. There were many new lines on the older woman's face and her hair had lost most of its blonde luster. Nora smiled and, even through the picture, I could see her eyes shining bright.

Nora : She says hi back! She's telling me stories about you, now. I think her opinion of me has increased exponentially, for the mere fact that I have your phone number.

I leaned back on my chair and smiled. I started a reply, but another message of hers came through.

Nora : She wants me to tell you that it's been too long and that you should come soon; that you'd be welcome to stay any time.

Javier : I don't want to impose.

Nora : You said it's been too long, just two minutes ago. You'd like to come, wouldn't you?

Crap.

I pursed my lips. I may hide things, but I didn't lie.

Javier : Yes

Nora : Then check your calendar! Let's not disappoint Mrs. Semple!

I didn't need to check my calendar. In two days I left for the lake house to spend Christmas with my friends and Gabe's parents, like every year. The original plan was to stay there until very early January, but Max and Eva planned to go back to Laguna Island for a New Year's community event. Maybe I could take the opportunity to do my own thing for the night, too…

Javier : I could come for NYE

I bit the inside of my lips. The suggestion had escaped me without much consideration, but it was easy to rationalize. Nora and Lizzie were inviting me and I couldn't reject them. Nora had said she hadn't wanted to admit to Sally or anyone else she had planned to spend the holidays alone. I had promised I would keep an eye out on the times when she needed the extra friendly support. If I forgot about Mr. B., Javier would have been happy to spend time with a casual friend and reconnecting with Lizzie.

Dancing dots appeared on the screen. I held my breath as I waited for her response.

Nora : Mrs. Semple says we can fit you in on the 29th, if you're okay with not getting one of the fancy rooms

Javier : I assure you I can manage

Nora : Mrs. Semple says you should email her. She still has the same email address, she said.

Javier : I will, that way we're not using you as a messenger

Nora : I don't mind :) but yeah, email her! It'll be fun

Welp. I would spend New Year's Eve with Nora. Make the friendship label we'd agreed on real… and yet, it wouldn't last.

With my glasses on once more and with blue ink on paper, I wrote about my destiny in all of this: to let her go. One day, she'd be done with the program and she'd be on her way to everything she'd dreamed of. With time, she'd meet people who'd be happy to be her friends, and this guy she met while at the sponsorship would fade into the background. He may have danced with her one time and spent New Year's with her, but he never took the initiative. He even gave off weird vibes, once in a while.

I would have to let it happen. This could never be about what I wanted. Not when it would mean taking things from her she might have not wanted to share, had she known the truth.

She had every reason to hate my guts if she discovered the whole of it. I would do well to remember that.