Vacancy: A Love Story Read online

  “So what happened with you two?”

  “Why do you think something happened?” Tension returned.

  Poppy’s eyes widened and she smiled.

  “Those super powers are strong. We dated and broke up toward the end of college.”

  “Bad one?” She winced.

  “Is there ever a good breakup?”

  “Not really. Wait, she’s Mitch’s niece. Eddie is letting him keep her car in that small garage he has off the restaurant. I guess she was sort of messed up when she got here. Was that your doing?”

  Matt shook his head and turned to look at Hollis. “I haven’t seen her in almost twelve years. I’m in the clear.”

  “Huh, well, she looks incredible now.”

  Yes, she does, he thought but did not say. The line grew and Poppy was busy. Hollis’s back was to him as she typed and spoke into the headphones dangling from her ear. Why the hell was she back, sitting in his coffee shop, still working, and looking like she was waiting for her overpriced lunch to be delivered from The Sentinel?

  It wasn’t his business. This was temporary for both of them, he kept reminding himself. Poppy would be back full-time in a couple of months and Hollis would surely sort out her situation by then, if not before, and be on her way. “She was sort of messed up,” he heard Poppy’s words again in his head. Whatever it was that brought her back must be powerful because he’d never managed in all these years to lure her back, not that he’d tried all that hard.

  Hollis squeezed the cord and removed her headphones. Matt grabbed his coffee cup and, like those idiots on YouTube who try to feed a bear then wonder why they lose an arm, he went to sit with her.

  “Are you ever going to tell me why you’re here?” Matt drank his coffee and tried for the same casual tone he’d mastered when talking to potential clients.

  “Probably not.” Hollis didn’t even look up from what she was typing.

  “I guess that’s better than a flat out no.”

  “Are you going to tell me about your wife?”

  “No.”

  She looked up. “No probably?”

  He shook his head.

  “Any kids?”

  “No.”

  “One-syllable answers, wow. You know the first year of my master’s program I had this professor who preached if you wanted information from someone, you needed to be willing to share information. It was obvious advice and the class was boring, but somehow you’re bringing it all back.”

  “Who told you?” he asked. He gripped his coffee cup with both hands because it felt like they were starting to shake.

  “I read that you were getting married. There was an announcement, don’t you remember? When was it? Like two years after we graduated?”

  Matt knew it sounded sick, but when her sarcasm drifted briefly into pain, his heart felt somehow vindicated. Like it was possible he wasn’t alone drowning in his stupid feelings.

  “Two thousand and six,” he answered, now looking into the last small pool of coffee at the bottom of his cup.

  “Well, there you go. Didn’t waste much time, did ya?” She returned to typing. “It’s been great catching up, thanks for stopping by, now if you’ll excuse me.”

  Matt stood, prepared to leave, but he quickly sat back down, desperate to relieve them both from the chill of the conversation. “I thought you would come back.”

  Hollis stopped typing but kept her fingers on the keys. Her eyes slowly met his and there she was, no corporate training or bitter wit. He was looking into the shining, shocked silver eyes of his Hollis, and then she was gone.

  “You told me to be happy.”

  “I wanted you to be happy, but I thought you would go and then come back to tell me you couldn’t do that without me. Eventually.” He felt like his chest was going to cave in. He wasn’t supposed to share this with her. Ever.

  “Is that why you asked me if I was happy the other night? Because I never came back?”

  Ding. Hollis hesitated for a minute, her eyes still on him, and then like an addict she checked her laptop screen.

  With her focus somewhere else, Matt tried to back away from the whole conversation. “I guess. I don’t know. Forget it. I’m glad you’re happy.”

  Hollis closed her laptop. “Classic, Matt. Let’s tie this all up with a nice bow so we don’t need to deal with it anymore, right? You’re in big trouble, buddy, because I can’t even find the bow that goes around my clusterfuck of a life. How about this?” She leaned in and he could see the dare in her eyes. “No. No, I’m not happy. I’ll do you one better. I don’t even know what that means anymore. I thought I was following all the steps to happy, but it appears none of it has worked because when you’re—” She shook her head and unplugged her laptop. Cords dangling, she made her way to the door then turned back. “Are you happy, Matt?”

  “No,” he said after a moment of hesitation. She said she wanted honesty.

  “You should probably talk to your wife about that,” she said and walked out.

  Kerensky’s Hardware made small-town hardware stores look big. Kerensky went by his last name. He was sort of like Madonna, if Madonna wore overalls, had a tape measure clipped to her pocket, and a wax pencil behind her ear. His store had three rows of old-school aisles complete with handwritten price signs and small plastic paint buckets fastened with zip cords to hold “odds and ends,” as Kerensky often called them. The aisles were so narrow Hollis almost had to turn sideways, so the home improvement men who made up most of his clientele all but shimmied to the back service counter. They didn’t seem to mind and she didn’t blame them. It was impossible to care about a little scooting in a place that reflected such obvious character, complete with three wheelbarrows attached to the wall. When Hollis was little and her dad would bring her into Kerensky’s, she’d stare up at those wheelbarrows. Did he ever sell them, and if he did, how hard was it to get up there and unfasten them? She’d asked Kerensky one day and he explained that they were “For display, darlin’. The ones we give customers are in the back.”

  Standing at the back counter looking up at the wheelbarrows now, the little girl in her that she often kept tied up was still fascinated. That’s ridiculous, she told the Hollis in her head, the one still in braids and braces. Look at the sophistication of the businesses with which you currently work. We are talking about wheelbarrows hanging from a smudged white wall? Please, grow up.

  Kerensky smiled, most likely because Hollis was gazing off into nowhere and arguing with herself again. “Done and paid for. Great to see you, Little Miss Hollis.” He tilted a wood bowl toward her. “Too grown up now for a lollipop?”

  She looked in the bowl and before she knew it, her fingers were searching through Dum Dum “lollies,” as Annabelle called them, looking for grape, her favorite. Once she found it, she tore the wrapper off, threw it in the brown plastic garbage can to the side of the counter, and enjoyed the rush of sweet that filled her tongue. Little Braids Hollis stuck her tongue out at adult Hollis and she smiled, allowing herself a moment of young.

  “Thank you. May I use your restroom?”

  “Sure, back through there, you know where it is. I’ll load this stuff up for ya.” He hoisted the box on one arm and grabbed the paint with his other hand.

  Right as Hollis pushed the gold sticker that read Toilet on the bathroom door, her phone vibrated. It was Reese, so she threw the half-licked Dum Dum in the bathroom trash because it was grown-up time. She was certain the call was prompted by an e-mail she’d sent explaining her schedule for the next few weeks. Walking past the tiny sink and into the single stall of the bathroom, Hollis answered.

  “This is Hollis.”

  “Hey, long time no talk. You’re pissing people off here, Jeffries. I mean first the sloppy vetting of these pretty boys and their crazy man, and now it seems like you’re what? On an extended vacation?”

  Hollis sat on the toilet and looked down at her feet. The soles of her flip-flops were starting to separate, and f
ence paint had all but taken over what used to be an every-two-weeks pedicure. It was difficult to find her badass with her running shorts down around her knees while she stared at a bathroom wall with the endorsement, Oscar the Grouch for Pres, scrawled in black pen, but she had extra reserves of attitude specifically for these types of situations.

  “I’m sorry, is there something you need, Reese?” Hollis asked, hoping the bathroom echo wasn’t obvious.

  “I need a lot of things, and if it was up to me, I’d join you wherever you are, sweets, but Megan and the boss are not so forgiving.”

  “And you’ve been chosen as a liaison? Sort of like a little errand boy to check up on me?”

  Hollis stood. She was angry to the point that she no longer cared if he knew where she was, so she flushed.

  “Hey, don’t get all scratchy with me,” Reese exclaimed, oblivious as usual. “Megan asked me to call you and she’s merely answering to the big boss. You remember how it is, don’t you? She wants me to get a real ETA. Her words, not mine.”

  “I think my e-mail about an hour ago was clear. I’m not in the office for the next few weeks, but I will be working and attending meetings per usual. As for your nasty, meddling bitch of a boss, tell her I don’t report to her and she can shove her fucking ETA up her perpetually tight as—”

  Hollis lost her words as she opened the stall door to a woman, slightly younger than her, and a little girl of six or seven. Hollis was never good at guessing ages of children. From the look on both of their faces while the mother held her hands over the girl’s ears, the specifics hardly mattered.

  Hollis hung up on Reese, slid the phone into the pocket of her shorts, and began washing her hands. She glanced up in the mirror at the mother, who was still glaring at her.

  “Are you even going to apologize for your… disgusting language in front of my child?”

  Hollis shut off the water and turned for a paper towel. “I am sorry. That was the office, and you know how people can be.”

  “No, I don’t,” the woman said.

  “You didn’t wash your hands the right way,” the little girl added. “Three minutes in very warm, soapy water.”

  Who in the world had three minutes to wash their hands? Hollis thought but did not dare say. Instead, she smiled at the petite blond girl with the bumblebee on her T-shirt and turned the water back on.

  The mother sent her miniature hygiene analyst into the stall and stood by the closed metal door as if that extra level of protection made her Mother of the Year. She was still glaring. Lady, give it a rest! Somehow guilted into still scrubbing her hands, Hollis wondered which useless government agency came up with three minutes and why this little girl bothered filling her tiny mind with such stuff. Shouldn’t she be thinking about sandcastles and swing sets? “There are Dum Dums on the counter!” she wanted to yell. Maybe the child was so pent up at an early age because her mom was a nasty bitch in comfort shoes. Hollis grabbed for another paper towel and continued rationalizing her own behavior until the mother spoke again.

  “You obviously have no moral compass if you walk around spewing things like that in public places. I’m sure you don’t care one bit about me, nor do you care what my daughter hears. You probably don’t even have kids. I’m so tired of you out-of-towners thinking you own the place.”

  Hollis was ready to say something, poised to fire back, but she couldn’t speak. The words that would have put this obviously nothing-to-do-on-a-workday woman in her place, that would have told her exactly who she was dealing with, were right there on Hollis’s lips, but—Maybe taking people down, making them feel less than is why you have no one at work to help you with your current situation? stupid self-reflection’s voice said. Hollis dried her hands, quietly apologized one more time, and left the bathroom.

  After waving to Kerensky, who was now helping another customer, Hollis climbed into her uncle’s truck. She went to pull out of the lot, but her hands were shaking. She had that feeling a person gets when she’s narrowly missed a collision and needs a minute to collect herself before continuing to drive. Hollis was a vice president of one of the largest venture capital firms in the country, she managed assets in the billions, but standing in that dingy bathroom, she had no words because the simple fact was that she was wrong. She’d lost control with Reese. If she was honest with herself, she’d lost control of everything over a month ago and right there in the hardware store, a stranger called her out.

  If she was ever going to rescue herself from this… predicament, she needed to think about doing things differently, approaching her life from a different angle. Maybe she needed help. No. Help would require disclosure, and that was not an option.

  Alone in a truck she would not have been caught dead in a few weeks ago, Hollis tried to conjure up every kick-ass affirmation she’d ever told herself. If her personal code had allowed it, she would have cried, but crying, as her mother told her when she was seventeen, never helped get anyone anywhere—certainly not a woman.

  Chapter Six

  The long Memorial Day weekend brought out the Jeffries clan in full force, minus Meg, of course, who had recently left Africa for Canada where she was now tracking and photographing the “illusory spirit bear,” their father had explained over a group text message. Hollis showered, shaved, and thought about blowing out her hair for about a minute before deciding wavy mermaid would have to do. Shortly after tidying up her cabin and stepping out to walk over to the Innkeeper’s Cabin, she saw Sage exit a rental car, followed closely by her fine-looking and evidently stupid-in-love new fiancé. Even from a distance, Hollis could see her sister’s happy as bright as the afternoon sun.

  “My God, look at you. Regular sex is working for you, sis,” Hollis called out, swallowing back so many emotions she almost choked.

  Sage blushed, and Hollis loved her so much it was a little painful. Sometimes she felt like she had all of these pieces of her heart spread out over so many people that it was easier to hide behind ambivalence than it was to acknowledge the truth of her feelings. There were moments Hollis understood why people wanted to be alone: it was easier. Loving was hard work.

  “Wow”—she bumped shoulders with Garrett when they met—“Look at you go, Farmer G, rush wedding. It’s almost shotgun. I’m so proud.”

  They laughed, as people often did when Hollis was on and entertaining, and Garrett put his arm around her. “I hear the circus is on tour. Not a bad place to set up a tent for a while.”

  Hollis nodded, taken by the warmth of his arm and the concern that filled his eyes. “Indeed. I’m cleaning the elephant sh— poop these days, but I’m hoping to fold myself back into the box again very soon.”

  “I think you look incredible out of the box.” Sage touched Hollis’s hair and then pulled her into a hug.

  “Thanks, sis.” Hollis swallowed that same relentless love lump again. “If this wedding is because there’s a bun in the oven, you can go ahead and thank me for the baby making. I did buy the naughty book after all. You’re welcome,” she said to Garrett.

  “There’s no bun.” Sage smacked her arm and looked to Garrett. “We don’t want to wait.”

  Yeah, right.

  Garrett put his arm around his future wife, and Hollis was so happy the big lug had finally figured things out. It gave her hope for her own happily-ever-after. Eh, not really, but it was a wonderful day, so why not get all mushy?

  “Kenna was supposed to be next,” he explained as they walked toward Uncle Mitch’s front door. “But she and Travis are taking Paige to Yellowstone, and then she’s spending a week with Adam’s parents over summer break. They don’t seem to be in a hurry. We are.” Garrett kissed Sage and if it had gone on for a second longer, Hollis was going to turn away and find them a room. Middle One was definitely pregnant.

  “I like the adventure part of the wedding, at least what I’ve heard from Mom. Ceremony at the barn and then we’re flying to Napa?” Hollis asked.

  Sage nodded and before Hollis cou
ld ask for more details, their uncle sprang through his front door wearing blinding orange shorts and a lavender polo. He looked like some crazed fan who didn’t care if the team colors looked good, he was wearing them. After open arms and lots of hugging, any conversation was lost as he interviewed Garrett and pelted him with little anecdotes the rest of the family had long forgotten. Later, Uncle Mitch asked his “favorite niece” to whip up a batch of her sangria, and Sage obliged.

  “She’s the favorite? I cleaned toilet bowls for you,” Hollis exclaimed, shaking her head at their uncle’s exaggerated shrug and the laughter of her family.

  Hollis walked out to the porch of the cabin and rolled her eyes at the still half-unpainted fence. Who would have thought painting would be her greatest failure? Well, at least as of that moment. She couldn’t figure out why being around her family brought up her looming problems at work, but Hollis guessed it had something to do with the inherent pressure of being a Jeffries. Both of her parents were architects. Her two middle sisters Sage (Middle One) and Annabelle (Middle Two) were brilliant each in their own right. Sage was an engineer turned bartender, and Anna was an English professor at UC Berkeley. Their youngest sister, Meg, could have been the typical wild child, but in the Jeffries house that translated to a National Geographic photographer. The worldview her baby sister shared through her photographs often put the rest of their lives into rather harsh perspective.

  Then there was Hollis. She was the oldest and with that came the pressure of being first, showing by example, and staying on top. It was often lonely from her family perch, but she was not about to give it up now. This morning, she’d already put in a call to a Santa Clara-based company that specialized in disaster recovery specifically with gaming companies. She felt confident they could help get Zeke back on track. If not, Hollis would have to visit the little turd herself.

  She looked out over the bay toward the restaurant. They were busy for lunch and she hoped Uncle Mitch had staffed with the long weekend in mind. Still unclear on why she cared other than the cove was special and compared to what was currently spinning around in her head, filling rooms and hosing off patios was a cakewalk, Hollis closed her eyes to soak in the sun.