I pushed the folder back to him. “Screw you. I’m not reading anything. I thought you were a kind man, but I was wrong. Anyone who has no qualms about ruining my life is just a plain old asshole in my book.”
“I’ll be back in after you’re done cutting me down. Read what’s in the folder, Erica.” He walked out, leaving me to sulk on my own.
After battling with myself for a few minutes I opened the folder and saw a letter addressed to me. I unfolded it and noticed that it was handwritten.
Erica:
It’s taken me a while to figure out what I wanted to say to you. Since our time that we spent together, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. In all of my travels I’ve never met someone that had such a hold on me.
That day I left was hard, because I knew you didn’t want to see me go. Trust me when I say that driving away from you was difficult, to say the least.
In the weeks that we’ve been apart I’ve considered contacting you at least ten times a day. Since I didn’t know your last name, or your real address, I had no means of getting in touch with you.
Then I remembered how much you wanted to sell the bed and breakfast. Low and behold I found the listing on the internet and pursued it as an interested buyer. I thought that if I could see you again I’d be able to explain myself in an effort to get to know you. If you’re reading this letter than you’re probably fuming at me. If selling the bed and breakfast was really your goal, you wouldn’t be holding this letter.
You’re probably telling yourself that I’m just a stranger, that in fact we have nothing in common. In so many ways you are right, but in this circumstance I believe you’re wrong. You see, I could tell how much the house meant to you. I also saw how conflicted you were about where your future was going to take you.
You needed time to decide it for yourself.
I needed to accept that, after all of my time feeling like I didn’t belong, I’d finally discovered something that felt right. You may or may not believe this, and after everything I’ve seen in my life, I have to believe that something powerful out there exists. It wasn’t an accident that I stumbled upon your house that night, and it also wasn’t an accident that you and I were drawn to each other.
Erica, the guy you met that night was looking for a life to settle into. I told you the truth when I said that I’d been traveling looking for a place to call home. That bed and breakfast has potential. You were so conflicted over it. I’m not trying to take it from you. It’s the opposite. My hopes were that if I bought the place you could come and visit on the weekends, so that it would never be out of reach for you. It wasn’t just about the business. It was about being able to see you again.
Whatever you decide just know that I don’t want to be strangers. However this turns out, I want to see you again. I hope you want that too.
Reed
He came walking inside right as I was finishing up.
“Um, were you planning on telling me that you owned a investment company?”
“It wasn’t important. I’m part owner of a rundown bar in the Keys. It was a bad investment that I made to help out my cousins. Does it really make a difference anyway?”
He had a point. We were strangers, and it was more apparent than ever. “Pack up your briefcase and get out of here, Shawn Reed.”
“If that’s what you want?”
I nodded. “I can’t look at you without wanting to rip your dick off.”
Reed gathered his belongings and walked out of the room. I spotted him giving word to the realtor. He seemed extremely annoyed, and came in to fire at me. “What the
hell is going on here? Ms. Swanson, you’re under a legal binding contract. You can’t just back out of a deal like this.”
“Look, I’m sorry for the trouble, but Mr. Reed and myself will not be seeking any kind of legal battle. We’ve agreed that the bed and breakfast is no longer for sale. As far as your commission goes, well I’ll write you a check for your troubles. I’ll give you more than the small percentage that your firm would have given you. I’m sorry for all of this. It’s a conflict of interest, really. It’s nothing that you did.”
He put up his hands. “Freedom Investments just gave me a check. I don’t know what just happened between the two of you, but I’m done here. I need a damn drink.” He walked out of the office, leaving me sitting there alone.
When I got to the parking lot my car was the only vehicle left. Reed had gone, and part of me was happy about it. I had nothing left to say to him.
Two weeks after refusing to sell the bed and breakfast, I was busy painting and redecorating. The ad that I’d put in the newspaper had been answered by eight different men, and none of them seemed capable of being a good grounds keeper. I was sure that most wouldn’t pass a criminal background anyway. I still had one more interview, but my hopes weren’t very good about it panning out.
My first guests were due to arrive in one week, and I wasn’t near being ready for them to come. I had cleaning, painting, decorating, and shopping still to do. With my family being busy with their own lives, I was buried deep with a long list of things I’d never be able to finish. Still, I stayed motivated that I’d do my best, and not give up until it was all finished.
After working a long day, I was covered in tiny drops of paint from rolling a ceiling. I poured myself a large glass of tea and went out on the porch to sit on the swing. An afternoon storm had begun, and the cool breeze brought the rain drops onto the deck. I looked out into the yard, appreciating that the hot temperature was finally dropping. Later I would open the windows and air out the new paint smell in the front of the house.
The sun finally set, after the storm was miles away. I went inside to wash out my glass, and head up for a long awaited bath. Just as I turned on the sink I heard a motor coming down the dirt lane. My stomach dropped as I slowly made my way back to the front of the house. The porch door swung open and I watched as his helmet was being removed from his head. I put my hands on my hips, ready to stand my ground. “What do you want, Reed?”
He walked toward me, stopping at the foot of the stairs. “I hear you’re looking for some help.”