Better Not Love Me Read online

  Nate looked at the façade of the store and the big empty windows that held the annual holiday displays. It was beautiful and there was history in the place, but history doesn't sell. Cheap toys with bright flashing lights from China sell. This is why he pushed for the chain model in the first place. Low cost overhead meant more profit. The Spokane store was grand, but impractical.

  So, no, he wouldn't be bothered if the store closed. But he did care for Amelia. He owed her. For her, he would try although he knew the chances of success were slim to none. He knew how much Amelia cared and he wanted to make her happy, even after her lapse in judgment with Josh the day before. He thought back to the kiss he saw and how ready he was to pack up and leave. It made him sick to think about.

  But the fact that she came clean to him almost immediately afterward took some of the sting out, but not all. He felt like there was still an unseen connection between Josh and Amelia that he couldn't replicate. The connection was obvious—Marcus and Susanna. Where did he fit into that situation? Amelia and Josh have kids together. They shared something that no one else in the world can claim.

  He thought of his late wife, Stephanie, and the connection that they shared—their daughter Chloe. His daughter looked like Stephanie and it almost pained him to watch her grow up and blossom into a woman who looked more and more like her mother. Despite the circumstances Nate felt like he was open to love—to Amelia's love—but he didn't want to hurt her or take her away from something or someone else if that's what she wanted.

  He wondered if a connection between parents could ever really be severed. Or was it always waiting to be reconnected when the time came? Is Josh waiting for Amelia to be his again? Or is Amelia wishing for his return? The kiss indicated that yes there was something there, even if she denied it.

  Nate couldn't return to his love Stephanie. She was gone. But Amelia's Josh was still there. Waiting. He had to trust her that there was nothing going on between them. And who was he to be demanding anything from her anyway? But he did have a right to question, just as Amelia had a right to question him, that's how a relationship worked.

  He knew that she would be watching him as he looked into this store closure order. She would be waiting to see if the old Nate showed up or if the man she met at the lake would take up her side and fight. Would he take the shot like his grandfather encouraged him to do? Or would he miss and avoid the pain and potential for a letdown.

  Nate knew the answer, but would she believe him?

  * * *

  Graham Barnes let out a loud cough directly into the receiver. Nate held the phone away from his ear to avoid direct contact with the sound. The phlegm gurgled and rolled around until Barnes cleared his throat and ceremoniously spit out the mucus to places Nate obviously couldn't see over the phone. The effort was for show, Nate was certain of that. What a jerk.

  "Nate Rosen, you old S.O.B," Barnes' voice rattled as he spoke. Nate was ten years junior to the man. Why was he dubbed the old S.O.B? "I thought you were off somewhere on a vision quest or something of that nature. Word round these parts is that you're finding your inner child at sea or some nonsense."

  Nate wasn't certain how his leave of absence was portrayed to his colleagues after his departure. He was sure he had never used the phrase "vision quest" or told anyone that he was trying to find his inner child at sea. When he left, he didn't say goodbye to anyone or explain why he was leaving. He just filled out a form in HR and left. Obviously in the absence of communication, people filled in what they wanted to hear.

  Barnes wouldn't have remembered anyway, Nate was certain of that.

  "Oh, I just took the summer to spend some time with my daughter, Chloe. I believe you met her at the company barbecue last spring."

  Nate recalled that event clearly. Barnes was ogling one of the young interns playing volleyball and absentmindedly ran into Chloe, spilling a plate of food into her lap. Chloe's shirt and shorts were covered with barbecue sauce and potato salad. She was humiliated and didn't have a change of clothes. As a result, Nate and Chloe left the event immediately. Barnes, the big oaf, never uttered one word of apology. His silence spoke volumes.

  "You know, Rosen, I meet a lot of people," Barnes said. "Can't say I recall your daughter."

  "No problem," Nate said, ignoring the man's idiocy. "I'm calling about Mr. Z's. Sounds like you've taken over my responsibilities on Riddell's behalf. This is a lot of responsibility added to your plate, but I'm sure you're up for it."

  Nate knew that buttering him up was always a good strategy even if he didn't feel the man deserved any kudos. He'd always wondered what really propelled such a person to higher and higher posts at a company, especially when they're universally disliked.

  "You know," Barnes said. "You left that little business a real mess. I mean a real dilly of a mess. Had to call myself off the bench to save the day with that one. Save it or trash it, that's what I always say."

  "Trash it?" Nate asked.

  "You said it. We can't be in the business of being in every business," Barnes said. "You catch my drift?"

  "I'm not sure I do."

  "I guess that's understandable. That's why I'm the top dog," he said. "You see, this toy franchise is a loser. I've been telling you that for years, but you wouldn't listen. It was a loser from the day our dear founder, Walt Riddell, signed that contract with that Edwin fella. Money and mercy. Pathetic. Nobody gives a crap about some mom-and-pop toy store malarkey. That's why it's dying on the vine. The whole dang thing."

  Nate could see the handwriting on the wall. Barnes couldn’t help but spill his guts if it made him look smarter, and Nate was all too happy to let him show his cards.

  "So you're intentionally tanking it?" Nate asked.

  "Hey, now we don't use terms like that," Barnes said. "We're exploring potential income streams in a variety of ways, attempting to recover and expand our investment in this fine small business—at least that's what the Mr. Z's Corp. Annual Report will say."

  Nate knew that corporate line was code for exploring an exit strategy. He wanted to ask Barnes if he had ever seen one of the Mr. Z's Toys franchise locations or even visited the Spokane store, but he knew the answer would be no. Why would he ever visit? Nate estimated that Mr. Z's occupied Barnes' thoughts for no more than five minutes a day. And that was being optimistic.

  Barnes was positioning the company for a bankruptcy filing. It was obvious. Nate himself had done the very same thing with another line of business—a chain of auto part stores—years ago. You make moves to ensure failure, but you have to be crafty about it. It's not ethical by any means, and a smart auditor might uncover it if you're not careful. Obviously Barnes was being careful. Riddell was a large enough company with dozens of subsidiaries which operated nearly 50 retail brands across the globe. Losing one line of toy stores was nothing to Riddell, especially one that was bleeding cash.

  Another strategy is to simply sell the company, but doing so meant opening the books and explaining to investors why you had been pumping cash into a business that you were trying to get rid of. Instead, you feign ignorance to your poor business decisions and ultimately let the store fail and write it off.

  "So, when's your vision quest over with?" Barnes asked, with a chuckle.

  He was trying to rile Nate and continued.

  "And I'm not sure what you're planning to come back to. Your position's been filled. By me. I kinda like getting my hands dirty again and two jobs pay better than one. HR says I've gotta take you back at some point, but I can stick you wherever I see fit. I'm still working that all out. So when's it gonna be?"

  "I'm still hunting the Great Whale at sea, like you said. It's going to be a while," Nate said, playing into the earlier jab.

  "What's that now?" Barnes replied, sounding a bit surprised.

  "You have a nice day, Graham. Good luck with your bankruptcy. And don't worry, I'll be back soon enough."

  He hit the button to end the call. Nate wasn't sure how he was going to
break the news to Amelia and Derek. Riddell was definitely dumping Mr. Z's.

  It wasn't just the Spokane store they would close. Every Mr. Z's Toys was done.

  Chapter 30

  "Without a corporate backer, we're toast," Amelia said that evening back at her cabin. "Riddell provided the capital we needed to purchase merchandise. They covered marketing and distribution. Everything was run through them. If they pull out, all those stores will close and all those people will lose their jobs."

  "And Riddell will end up ahead, even in bankruptcy," Nate said. "They've got an army of lawyers who will find a way to get back tax money or credits from the government even after they deliberately sink the company."

  "You sound like you've done this before," Amelia said, cautiously, not wanting to offend Nate, but knowing it was likely true.

  "It's just business, but yes."

  Amelia wondered what it would be like to sit in a corner office and make decisions that would impact hundreds if not thousands of people who rely on the stores for their paychecks. Sure, these people worked retail, and when sales are down less people were needed, but still. She'd gotten to know many of the people in these stores over the years. She traveled so often that some days she'd forget what city she was in. The Hilton hotel rooms all looked the same no matter the location. The rental cars were always standard sedans and every franchise store looked exactly the same. Plain. Boring. Sterile. But the people inside? They were different. Some of them actually understood what Edwin and Mary Klein wanted for their toy store. They wanted to inspire people and teach a new generation about learning and the fun of imagination and a simple gift. Those employees stood out in contrast to the cookie cutter stores.

  "We had 47 stores open when I left, right?" Amelia asked.

  "It was an even 50 when I took my leave," Nate said. "We just finalized the deals in Atlanta, Orlando and Richmond. Why do you ask?"

  Amelia's place as the President of Mr. Z's Corp. had always been a ceremonial one. She would show up to the grand openings of the stores, cut a ribbon, and maybe talk to a business reporter about the new store. She told her story about Edwin, but it seemed to be less impactful each time. Time and place took all that away. The chain stores weren't what the flagship store in Spokane represented and no plaque on the wall telling about Edwin and Mary could make up for it.

  Amelia wasn't allowed to make unilateral decisions about the other stores or the brand. She couldn't even direct the buyers on what merchandise to stock for the seasons. All of that was taken care of by someone else at Riddell. Oftentimes it was Nate she needed to gain approval from for a decision; but they had rarely talked so she became reliant on other employees at Riddell who would guide her to making savvy recommendations. She'd only present a decision to Nate after gathering information from other employees. That's the only way he'd listen. These interactions were always through email. Four years is a long time to learn though. Eventually she stopped asking for help and just went with her gut. Nate never noticed that she was doing it on her own, or at least he never mentioned it.

  She hated being under his thumb because that meant she wielded no real power. She knew she was capable, but she'd never had the real chance to shine on her own. She again wondered what it would be like to be the one behind the big desk. What decisions would she make? She'd never say it's just business, that wasn't her style.

  "I was just thinking about the employees," she said. "What happens to them when Barnes pulls the plug?"

  "They're out of a job, I guess," Nate offered. "They liquidate the stores by selling off everything they can, all the way down to the fixtures, decorations and even the cash registers."

  "This doesn't bother you?" Amelia asked, noting how business-as-usual Nate was acting about the whole thing.

  "It's not my decision."

  "That's lazy and you're not answering the question. Does it bother you to see something you built get destroyed?"

  Nate didn't reply immediately. He took a sip from a bottle of water and seemed to be crafting a reply. She noticed that he did that when he was stumped. She imagined it came from years of navigating the politics of a boardroom.

  "I don't see that I built any of those stores," he said. "Sure, I was a part of the process, but I was working on a dozen other businesses too. Each of the company leaders, either presidents like you or Chief Operating Officers or CEOs, reported up to me on behalf of Riddell. I wasn't in on every decision because I couldn't be. I was just skin deep in all of the companies, so it's difficult for me to take any ownership in their individual performances, even when you add up all columns in the spreadsheet."

  "These stores are more than just assets, they mean something. They are a living thing, not columns in a spreadsheet. Do you know how incredibly cold that sounds?" Amelia asked with a soft tone, stroking his arm. She was trying to show him affection, even if she wasn't feeling it at the moment.

  "Yes I do, and that's why your words were so powerful to me when you left Mr. Z's. It made me reevaluate what was important to me. That's why I left soon after."

  "So if you had it to do all over again would you make the same decisions? Would you serve the almighty dollar above all else?"

  "Well, I can't change the past."

  "I know, but humor me," Amelia urged.

  "I would do things differently. Yes."

  "That's what I wanted to hear," she said. She couldn't hide the coy smile that crossed her face.

  "Why do I get the feeling that you're up to something," he cocked his head in curiosity.

  "You know, you're more than just a pretty face, right?" she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  "Aren't you a tease?" he said playfully.

  "There's something I'd like to show you tomorrow. It's something I think you need to see. It might just change your mind about things being just business," Amelia said. "Can we leave around ten?"

  Nate's eyes quickly sank to the ground, but immediately returned to Amelia's gaze.

  "I've actually got to take Chloe into Spokane tomorrow. She's got another check-up," his words were deliberate and choppy.

  "That'll work out great then, because Spokane is where we need to go."

  "Oh, sounds good then," Nate replied cautiously.

  As the words left his mouth, Amelia got the strangest feeling. Something about his reaction was off. He was hiding something from her.

  * * *

  Later that night, Nate was alone in his room. He took a big drink of water from a tall glass to wash down the pills the doctor had prescribed him. He didn’t like taking the pills. Heck, he didn’t even know if they were doing him any good, but he downed them anyway. He knew better than to mess with his regimen of medication. That's one thing the cancer doctors didn't allow—no deviation from protocol, even when you felt fine. Unfortunately Nate did not feel fine. He was weak and got dizzy easily. The tests said he was anemic again. This wasn't the stable recovery he was supposed it have.

  He hated lying to Amelia and he wasn't sure how he would be able to get away with it either, not after her sudden announcement about their plans for tomorrow. He loved that she was spontaneous and up for anything, but her adventurous spirit was about to catch up to him.

  She wouldn't want to be involved with a sick man, so he decided it was best to keep it from her. His medical troubles would go away one way or another and after a while he wouldn't have to worry anyone anymore. But he didn't want to think about that time yet.

  He felt awful for hiding his illness from Amelia, but he didn’t want her to be out of his life. He wanted to make the most of his days. If at some point he needed to let her go—so he wouldn't burden her—he would do it. It was the only fair thing to do.

  So tomorrow he'd have to find a way to visit the oncology doctor without Amelia knowing. He'd have to involve Chloe again and she wouldn't be happy about it. Not one bit.

  Chapter 31

  Amelia pulled the car into the lot of the Annex, thankful that the 45-minute car ride fr
om the cabin to Spokane was finally over. Nate fidgeted in his seat. It was easy to see he was on edge. Maybe because she hadn't told him where they were going? Or maybe she was kidding herself and he was hiding something from her. She cared about him. Was it love and she was already blind to his actions? How would she even know? She wouldn't be fooled again into caring for a man who wouldn't give her that same care in return. That much she knew for sure. These thoughts danced through her head, but she put aside her divided feelings for Nate and glanced toward the backseat to face another challenge.

  Amelia had decided to take Marcus along for the trip. Partly to keep an eye on him, but also because she thought it would be good for him to see what she was about to show Nate. Marcus didn’t see it that way. He moped and complained. The heavy metal music blaring from his ear buds was loud enough to hear outside the car. Her repeated requests to have the volume lowered were completely ignored.

  And then there was Chloe. The girl decided to paint her nails inside the car during the drive, which was probably the most teenage thing she could do. Amelia had seen Chloe and Nate arguing before they left. Nate didn’t share what they were talking about, but given the toxic smell in the car, she guessed the situation remained unsettled. She wasn't going to get into their relationship, but something was awry there too.

  Maybe the girl just didn't like going to the doctor? That's what Nate said they needed to do later this afternoon. Amelia hoped that when the time came, years from now, that Susanna would avoid this particular stage of rebellion and skip right into maturity. She doubted it would happen, but she prayed it might.

  The four of them piled out of the car, escaping the nail polish smell left trapped inside. They convened at the rear bumper of the car.