Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
I stare at the young girl. Heck, she’s not a girl anymore. Clearly, Vanessa’s a full-grown woman who’s leveraged her intelligence and street smarts into a lucrative career. Or maybe I should have expected it because the curvy girl’s always been resourceful and self-motivated.
Remember, Vanessa was Hartsville High’s valedictorian and student body president, the voice in my head reminds me. This isn’t coming out of nowhere. That’s true because I remember how gorgeous she looked at graduation with her valedictorian’s medal hanging about her neck. It was a shame that Renata didn’t attend.
I shake my head at the memory because I still can’t believe that Renata was a no-show. I arrived for the ceremony, expecting to meet up with my ex in the back of the auditorium. But I couldn’t find the damned woman, and gave up after about ten minutes. If that woman was going to be late for her daughter’s graduation, then that was her problem.
As a result, I took a seat in the audience, and soon the lights dimmed and the ceremony began. Sure enough, there was Vanessa striding across the stage, beaming in her dark purple cap and gown. As valedictorian, she gave a wonderful speech that was both uplifting and inspiring, without falling into the usual old cliches of “follow your dreams” and “find your passion.” Instead, her speech was original and thoughtful, and I’m proud to say that I helped her write it.
But after the speech, my stepdaughter’s pretty features fell when she saw that I was alone.
“Congratulations,” I growled, depositing a big bouquet in her arms. “You were great, and your speech was magnificent. I was on the edge of my seat, every word.”
Vanessa’s eyes were fixed on her feet.
“Thanks, Gray,” she mumbled. Then she looked at me again, peering a bit over my shoulder. “Is my mom here?”
I took a deep breath.
“It doesn’t look like it, but I’m sure Renata will catch up with us later. I told her to meet us for lunch at Wexler’s and I’m sure she’ll turn up then. She’s probably just experiencing car trouble. She asked me to front her some money for repairs a couple weeks ago, but knowing your mother, Renata has yet to take her Volvo to the shop.”
After all, I’m the one paying my ex-wife’s living expenses. The pool boy is obviously broke, and I’d be surprised if he’s able to do much to support their lifestyle. As a result, I’m the one paying their bills, as perverse as that sounds. Fortunately, due to the short length of our marriage, the judge settled on five years of support and soon, my obligations will be over. But still, that didn’t alleviate my stepdaughter’s disappointment.
“Yeah, it must be car troubles,” said Vanessa in stilted voice. “I’m sure that’s it.”
I could have beaten my ex at that moment. I wanted to take Renata by the shoulders and shake her until her head bobbed back and forth, screaming at her to pay attention to her daughter. Didn’t she see how talented Vanessa was? How intelligent and resourceful? And how much she needed her mother?
But Renata’s a crazy one. Beautiful yes, but when she gets it in her head that she wants something, she doesn’t let go. She was dead set on starting a new life with Jeremy the pool boy, and there was no stopping her. Last I heard, they’re living in a sad, run-down apartment on the edge of town with the air reeking of weed at all hours. Oh yeah, Jeremy got her hooked on that stuff. They’re now total stoners from what I understand.
But it’s not my business. Vanessa is my business, especially since she’s just offered to extend a lifeline to my company.
“Are you sure you can afford it?” I ask in a low voice, coming back to the present. “You don’t need to re-invest in your business or anything?”
“Oh no,” my stepdaughter says in a light voice. “There’s no reinvesting in real estate. Well, not in the way that you’re thinking. I just need some good equipment and lighting, and I’ll be fine!”
That’s strange. Why would my stepdaughter need equipment and light fixtures for buying and selling homes? Perhaps for some comp cards, I muse. Or maybe staging? I get flyers in the mail all the time from brokers hoping to drum up business, and they’re always accompanied by a flattering headshot, not to mention gorgeous pictures of the property for sale. That must be it. Still, don’t brokers generally use professional photographers for this kind of work? But I push it out of my mind. I’m grateful and turn to the young woman, nodding with gratitude.
“If you’re okay with it, then I’d be grateful for the help, Vanessa. Trust me, I don’t want to be in this position, but Thomas Builders hasn’t been in a good place for a while now. That’s why I reached out to Joanna. She’s a rep with Countryside, and they’re known for extending short-term bridge loans to distressed companies. I just need some cash until I get my feet underneath me.”