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Sisters by Choice Page 19
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“I don’t know what you’re asking,” she admitted, thinking she really didn’t like the question.
“Dugan says...” Sophie pressed her lips together. “That’s not important.”
“You’re right,” Amber told her firmly. “We’re talking about my ideas and how much I get for my cut.”
“No on the pillows and the linens weren’t your idea. Or at least not exclusively. I have notes on ideas for linens going back three years, Amber. I’m sorry.”
Amber’s eyes filled with tears. “Why are you acting like this? Why are you being so mean?”
“I’m not mean. I’m telling you that I—Why are you crying?”
“Because you have everything and I have nothing. It could have been me, you know.” Amber wiped her cheeks. “If I hadn’t gotten pregnant, I would have been the one to go to college. I would have found the cat and CK would be mine.”
“You going or not going to college has nothing to do with what happened to me,” Sophie said gently. “We’re four years apart in age. CK’s mom wasn’t even born then.”
“Then I would have found another cat.” Amber glared at her. “I don’t understand why you think you can come around here, lording your success over all of us. No one is impressed, Sophie. You think you know more than everyone else, but you don’t.”
Heather waited for Sophie to get upset or lash out, but she only seemed to shrink a little in her chair.
“Is that what you think?” She looked from Amber to Heather.
“No,” Heather said quickly. “Sophie, you’re amazing. You’ve built CK from nothing. Look at where you are, and all by yourself. You’re a role model.”
“Suck-up,” Amber grumbled.
“I’m not a suck-up.” Heather swung back to Sophie. “What I said is true. All of it. I admire you so much.”
“She’s not all that.” Amber waved her hand. “She doesn’t have anyone in her life.”
“None of us do.”
“Oh, I could if I wanted.” Amber sounded ridiculously confident. “I’m just not interested in a man right now. There’s too much going on.”
“Sophie has Dugan.”
“You always take everyone else’s side, Heather. You’re really a wretched child, you know that?” Amber turned to Sophie. “You should buy this house. You’ll feel better.”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “What?”
“From my mother. I don’t think she’s going to sell, but if she decides to, you should buy it and give it to me. So I’ll have a home to call my own. You can certainly afford it and we’re family. You owe me, what with stealing the idea for the linens. Plus, her selling the house is your fault.”
“Mom!”
Sophie straightened. “You’re crazy. It’s not my fault. None of this is my fault. I’m working my ass off every single day and all I hear is how I’m screwing things up. Well, you can forget it. All of it.”
She sprang to her feet and raced out of the house. Heather stood and stared after her.
“I have no idea what that was,” Amber said. “If you ask me, she’s losing it.” She smiled at Heather. “Did you see how I put it out there? You don’t get what you want if you don’t ask for it. Sophie’s going to buy the house for us. You’ll see.”
“Oh, Mom.”
“Don’t ‘oh, Mom’ me. I know what I’m doing. You could learn a lot from me.”
She was still talking when Heather headed down the hall to her room. Something was up with Sophie, that was for sure. But what? And what, if anything, should she do about it?
There weren’t any answers, so she pushed away the questions. Rather than worry, she opened her laptop and loaded the City of Boise website, then began to search for apartments for rent.
Chapter Seventeen
Kristine had debated printing out her material and posting it on large boards on an easel. But she wasn’t sure multicolored pie charts would help her cause. Jaxsen was either going to support her or he wasn’t.
She’d prepared one of his favorite dinners—pork chop casserole—and made sure she was up-to-date on the state of play in the basketball world to ensure fun and friendly dinner conversation. After the boys had helped with kitchen cleanup, she’d retreated to the basement to get set up.
Grant went up to his room while JJ and Tommy went downstairs with her. They threw themselves on the huge sectional, both watching her as she organized her materials on the coffee table.
“You’re going to do great, Mom,” Tommy said. “When you get the bakery opened, I’ll help on weekends. So I can be saving for my car.”
Kristine smiled at him. “I really appreciate the offer, but you’re four years away from being old enough to drive a car.”
“Time goes fast. You turn around and it’s been fifty years.”
She laughed. “Where did you read that?”
“In a book. You know the teacher still makes us read books.”
“I heard that. Are you horrified?”
“We could download them from the library, but she wants us to have real books you’ve gotta carry around. Just like you do with our bedtime books. It’s so primitive.”
JJ shifted so his back pressed against the seat of the sectional and he was staring at the ceiling, his feet high in the air.
“I thought women weren’t supposed to be in business.” His voice was matter-of-fact.
Kristine stared at her oldest. “What are you talking about? Look at Sophie. She’s incredibly successful, all on her own. Of course women can be in business. They should be. Everyone deserves the chance to follow his or her dream.”
Where on earth had JJ heard otherwise? Before she could ask, she saw Tommy jab his brother in the ribs and shush him.
JJ immediately looked guilty. “You’re right, Mom. It’s going to go great.”
Right on time, Jaxsen walked downstairs. At the sight of him, the boys headed to the main floor.
“We’ll be in our rooms,” Tommy called. “Far, far away.”
Jaxsen joined her on the sofa, his expression quizzical. “Do they know what this meeting is about? Because I sure don’t. You were very mysterious when you mentioned it.”
Nerves made her slightly sick to her stomach. She ignored the sensation. She and Jaxsen were going to have a simple discussion about something important to her. He was her husband and he loved her—of course he would be supportive. They would discuss his concerns and be calm and loving toward each other. She was sure of it.
Almost.
He glanced at the folders she’d placed on the coffee table then at her. A slow, sexy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“I get it,” he said, nodding. “You’re determined to have that girl you always wanted. We agreed on three kids but you want to try for a fourth. I’m game if you think we can handle it financially. But I have to warn you—I’m not sure I have any girl sperm in me, so you’d be taking a chance.”
“What? Another baby? Are you insane? I’ve been begging you to get a vasectomy ever since Grant was born. At some point I’m going to have to go off birth control. My God—another kid? No, thank you.”
Jaxsen sat up a little straighter. “You don’t have to be so mean about it. I thought you liked kids.”
“I do. We have three. That’s plenty.” She held up her hand and consciously lowered her tone to something she hoped was more warm and friendly and less horrified. “Jaxsen, I want to talk about leasing the bakery space in town.”
She handed him one of the folders. “I’ve been working on my business plan for a while now. When the space became available, I went to see it and as I’d hoped, it’s perfect.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The bakery in town. The Blackberry Island Bakery. It’s available and I want to lease it so I can move my business there.”
He frowned.
“You don’t have a business. You bake a few cookies and sell them on weekends. That’s not a business, that’s a hobby.” He tossed the unopened folder onto the coffee table. “This is crazy, Kristine. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His immediate dismissal shocked her. “Jaxsen, I do know what I’m talking about. I took classes at the community college. I’ve been working on my business plan for over two years. I ran the numbers past Sophie and she agrees with me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, well, if Sophie says it’s okay, then who am I to disagree?”
She pushed the folder toward him. “Jaxsen, please. I want to do this. It’s my dream and it has been for a long time. Right now I’m constrained by space and time and everything going on in the house. If I had a designated space, I could have a set schedule. I could ship to customers and really make something happen. I’ve run the numbers and even after all my expenses, I would be able to pay myself a real salary.”
“What about the kids? Would you ever be home?”
“More than you are now,” she snapped.
His expression tightened. “I’m working, Kristine. I’m supporting this family. Your job is to stay home and take care of the kids.”
“They don’t need me home every second of every day. JJ is fourteen. In two years he’s going to be driving. I need more than cleaning house and ironing. I need something that is fulfilling.”
“Most women are fulfilled by their families.”
“Actually, Jaxsen, they’re not, and you know it. What’s going on here? Why won’t you listen?” Frustration grew until she was afraid she was going to cry. “I put hours and hours of work into my proposal and you won’t even look at it.”
He glanced at the folder, then back at her. “What happens when you fail? What happens when we have to pay for a lease for the next three years because you couldn’t make it? Debt like that could drown us.”
She didn’t appreciate that he’d gone directly to her failing, but knew it was a legitimate question.
“I’ll get a job working in retail,” she told him. “That way it’s a net neutral for us. The only thing lost is my time.”
His gaze turned suspicious. “You’ve already done it, haven’t you? You’ve already leased the space and you’re coming to me after the fact.”
“What? No! How could you even ask me that? You’re being unfair. I don’t get it. I’ve been successfully selling cookies and brownies for years. I sell out by noon every single weekend. I’m responsible, I’m hardworking and I’ve done my research. Why won’t you even consider supporting me on this? Why can’t you see I deserve a chance to have something I can be proud of, something I’ve created on my own?”
“Something that’s more important than your husband and your kids?” His tone was sharp. “When did we stop being enough for you?”
“Why are you constantly twisting my words? Why do you keep going there? I love my family. I’m only asking to have a chance to fulfill my dream. Why can’t you see that?”
He grabbed the folder and opened it. He scanned the pages so quickly, she wasn’t sure he was actually reading them. Then he pulled one out and waved it in front of her.
“Where are you getting the money to do all this? It’s going to take thousands of dollars.”
She ignored the anger in his voice and pulled out another piece of paper. “It’s all here. The remodeling costs, the cost of equipment and supplies.” She hesitated. “It’s about twenty-five thousand dollars.”
Not much more than a tent trailer, but she didn’t say that.
“I suppose you want to take it out of our line of credit. So we’d be at risk for that. What if there’s an emergency or a—” His gaze swept the page, then he threw it down and glared at her.
“Your grandmother’s money? You’re spending it on the business? Is this what you’ve been hoarding it for? I should have guessed. You’re so damned selfish, Kristine.”
She sprang to her feet and glared at him. “No,” she said loudly, her hands curling into fists. “No. I won’t accept that. You’re wrong. Totally and completely wrong. I’ve always supported you, Jaxsen. Whatever you wanted, I made happen. Whatever was important to you was important to me. But it’s never been reciprocal, has it? You’ve never once supported me or my dreams. Not even on something as ridiculous as what I drive. I wanted the Subaru, but you wouldn’t hear of it and insisted I get an SUV. I didn’t want an SUV, but it mattered more to you, so I gave in.”
He stood and faced her. “That’s not fair. You said you didn’t care.”
“I fought you for two weeks before giving in. Why do you have to get so damned involved in my car? It’s mine. Not yours. I don’t tell you what to drive.”
“Then we’ll buy you a damn Subaru.”
“That isn’t the point,” she yelled. “The point is you want things your way and you don’t care about me or my feelings. You don’t support me.”
“I do. I don’t give a damn that you stay up every Thursday night so you can bake your stupid cookies and sell them for a nickel apiece. I don’t care that I had to buy an industrial mixer and cookie sheets and whatever, and that you’re gone every Saturday morning, to sell your damn cookies. What did you make last year after expenses? Ten thousand dollars.” He waved his hands in the air. “We’re in the money, now. All that did was push us into a higher bracket and your ten thousand dollars got eaten up by taxes.”
The hits came so hard and fast, she didn’t know how to protect herself. “That’s not true,” she shouted. “You pay taxes on the margin. And the taxes aren’t the point.”
She turned and walked to the far side of the room. “I’m such an idiot. I listened to you and did as you asked. I live my life in service of you, Jaxsen, and you don’t give a shit about me or what I want. That’s what this comes down to. You say the ATV or the tent trailer is for the family and that I’m a bad person for not seeing that. But it’s not for the family. It’s for you. You’re lucky that the boys want to play the same way you did, but even if they didn’t you’d still buy all that crap.”
“Because it’s my money,” he roared. “I earn it while you sit on your ass here at home.”
His words echoed in the basement. She felt the blood rush from her head and wondered if she was going to faint. She’d never fainted before and didn’t know what it felt like. Not that it could be worse than the hole that had just opened up inside her.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, taking a step toward her. “I’m sorry, Kristine. I shouldn’t have said that. It was wrong.”
“It was, but it’s also what you think. I suppose every stay-at-home mom wrestles with that question. What does he really think? I know I did. At least now I know.”
She walked to the coffee table and picked up the folders. She held them against her chest, like a shield, and faced him. “I’m opening the bakery. I’m going to do this, Jaxsen. It’s the right thing and it’s fair and you have no reason to be anything but supportive.”
“It’s a dumb idea.”
“Dumb or not, I’m doing it. Either help or get out of the way.”
He studied her for a long time. “Is that what we’ve come to?”
“I guess it is.”
He started for the stairs. When he got there, he looked back at her. “You’re asking me to choose. I’d be careful about that if I were you. You may not like what happens.”
* * *
Sophie spent the next two days fuming about her fight with Dugan. No, not a fight. That would require a level of engagement they simply didn’t have. He’d gotten some attitude and he’d said things and now they weren’t speaking. It was no big deal.
On the bright side, Mrs. Bennet’s litter of kittens was doing incredibly well and she and Lily had started making friends. Maybe tonight Sophie would leave the two bedroom doors open so the mother cats could hang out at wil
l.
She finished up reviewing the orders for the week and then leaned back in her chair. It was nearly six and most everyone had left for the day. She supposed she could go home, too. Or maybe she should take a few minutes to figure out what she was going to do about hiring a sales director.
She didn’t know why Maggie had been so stupid, but she had been and there was no going back from that. CK Industries was a great company. If Maggie couldn’t see that, then she obviously had no vision and didn’t belong here, despite what Dugan had said.
He’d been so incredibly wrong, there wasn’t a word for it. He’d been quadruply wrong with whipped cream and a cherry on top. He was—
She opened her browser and typed in his name. The list populated immediately. She started at the top and prepared to wade through an entire herd of Dugan Phillipses until she found the one she was looking for, only the very first entry was for Phillips Consulting.
That was followed by articles in everything from the New York Times to the Wall Street Journal. One headline in particular Business software genius gives away millions made her heart sink. What? No. He wasn’t a software guy. He couldn’t be. He lived on Blackberry Island and taught Tai Chi on the beach. Yes, his house was really nice, but the man wore sweatpants.
She clicked on a couple of the articles, her sense of chagrin deepening with every word.
Software developer Dugan Phillips announced he would be selling the company shortly after his business partner, Eric Lui, died unexpectedly of a heart attack. Phillips issued a press statement saying that half the proceeds would go to Lui’s family. For his part, Phillips said he would give away most of his fortune and “figure out the rest of it as I go.”
The article was dated four years ago.
Sophie tried to make sense of what she was reading. She’d heard of the business software Dugan and Eric had created. It wasn’t as big as Windows or anything, but it was still a game changer. And he’d given away millions?
She clicked on a link to his consulting business and winced as the main page loaded. There was Dugan’s picture. He wore a suit and tie, but it was still him. His company offered a variety of consulting services. Dugan himself didn’t take on any clients, although he did seminars a few times a year—at several thousand dollars a person. Assuming even two hundred people attended, that was over a million dollars for three days of work.