Becoming Hank: A Trellis Family Novella (Building the Circle) Page 8

  "My wife once saw her get a young man clearing tables fired from a high-end restaurant because he bumped her bag as he walked by her chair." Canton's voice was cold with disapproval. "She's a horrible person."

  "So, the numbers have seen a slight increase during the market slump. Your portfolio—"

  "I'm sorry, Henry. I let the cat out of the bag, putting you in a bad position. I apologize."

  "It's not your fault, sir. It was never going to end well," Trip said quickly. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about this. "Darla would not have been acceptable to my family under any circumstances. I knew that. It's why I hadn't mentioned her to J.R. before that day. The short stint of pretending like my family cared about my happiness was fun, but it was an illusion. Better it ended when it did. It's hard enough now. I can't imagine what it’d be like months from now."

  Canton sighed, looking at his plate. "Grace!" he called.

  "Ten minutes," a woman's voice yelled back. It took Trip a moment to realize Canton was yelling for his chef.

  "Tell me about the portfolio," Edward said, resigned.

  Two plates of eggs benedict and a whole pot of coffee later, Canton was walking Trip to the foyer. From the other wing of the house, the muffled sound of heavy metal music found them.

  Trip's lips twitched. "That's still funny. Your heiress, the headbanger."

  Canton tipped his head, leading Trip away from the entryway. "Stay quiet."

  Walking up the stairs and down a hallway, the music got louder as they went. Finally, Edward stopped outside a door and cracked it to peek inside without knocking. He grinned, opening the door wider.

  At an encouraging gesture, Trip awkwardly peeked into the room. Vanessa was blaring music... while painting.

  Eyebrows raised, he looked back to Edward. At another nod, Trip walked into the studio room full of natural light to get a look at the artwork in progress. A mashup of muted oils was transforming into impressionistic roses, just starting to wilt.

  Focused, Vanessa remained unaware as Trip looked around. The room was filled with canvases, primarily oils and charcoals, with a few pastels mixed in. Vanessa herself had smudges of paint on her face, in her hair, and all over her clothes. Hair unbrushed, tied up in a bun, there wasn't a bit of actual makeup on her face, and the nails were gone.

  Vanessa Canton, the perfect, pristine heiress, was a mess. Without the sneer and the nails, she was a real person, more beautiful for the imperfections.

  Trip turned back to Edward, a question on his face. Which version of Vanessa was accurate?

  Canton smiled. "Hi honey," he yelled over the music.

  Vanessa turned to greet her father, then yelped at the sight of Trip, dropping her paint palette and scrambling for the music.

  "Hi! Hi!" she yelled as the music went silent. "Sorry. I-I-I," she stuttered, gaze darting between her father and Trip. She took a deep breath. "I didn't realize we had company. I'm sorry to disrupt your meeting."

  "Not at all," Edward said, kissing her on the forehead. "We just came up to say hi before Henry left. Sorry to pull you out of your happy place."

  "I wish you would have told me we had company," Vanessa bit out, glaring at her father.

  He shrugged. "It's more fun like this. Henry, my family is hosting a private art exhibit of impressionistic work at a small gallery over the weekend. Would you care to join us?"

  Vanessa bit her lip, hesitating and obviously embarrassed. "Daddy mentioned you're seeing someone. She'd be welcome, as well."

  Edward squeezed her shoulder gently.

  "Or not," Vanessa said, eyebrows raised at her dad.

  "I'd be glad to attend," Trip said finally, voice tired. "But it'll be just me."

  Eyes darting back to Trip, she frowned. "Are you okay? You look terrible. What happened?"

  13

  "Daddy said not to worry about it," Vanessa purred, her arm entwined with Trip's as they walked down Michigan Avenue. "He'll take care of it."

  "He shouldn't have to take care of it," Trip muttered, watching where they walked. Three days before Christmas, there were people everywhere. With the first snow came ice and slippery pavement.

  Vanessa adjusted her scarf to more fashionably cover her face. "No. But he will. He says your dad's a snake."

  "My father is a snake without scruples. He doesn't care who he hurts."

  "Daddy said don't worry about it. So, don't worry about it. Changing topics! I was thinking, after Christmas, maybe we could get away. Some friends are heading to Hawaii for New Year's."

  "I don't know if I can, Van. I have work."

  "I can ask Daddy..." she offered, pulling a teasing smile.

  Trip's lips twitched, now understanding her humor better. "I don't work for him, Vanessa."

  "Not yet. But you could ask Daddy..."

  "Not yet."

  "Soon?"

  "Probably," Trip hedged.

  "And... Us?" she asked, stopping him in the crowd so he'd look at her. "I don't want to be friends forever, Henry."

  He swallowed. "I know."

  "Okay," she said, tugging a bit on his scarf so she could kiss his cheek.

  "Your nose is freezing," Trip said, laughing with her. "Maybe actually use the scarf as more than an accessory?"

  "Oh, stop! I'm adorable. Look at me." Trip's heart stopped as she took a turn in front of him. His mind jumped back to the first date with Darla, twirling in her dress before bowling.

  In front of him, Vanessa caught the edge of a bit of ice. He barely caught her before she hit the pavement.

  Startled, arms around his neck, she smiled up at him. "My hero!" She grinned wider.

  Trip cleared his throat as he stood them both upright.

  As if she sprang from his memory, Darla stood before them, except real Darla came with a severely pissed-off Sue.

  "I'm going to kick you in the balls so hard they come out your nose," Sue whisper-growled.

  Darla smacked her roommate. "Hi," she said calmly, eyes darting between Trip and Vanessa.

  "Who's this?" Vanessa asked brightly.

  Trip still hadn't moved, his eyes glued to Darla.

  "Henry?" Vanessa waggled their joined arms.

  "Sorry. Uh. Vanessa, this is Darla and Sue."

  "Oh." Vanessa recognized the names. Her eyes also stuck to Darla.

  Darla sighed as she made her way around them. "See you around, Trip."

  He flinched at the name but still reached for her hand. "Darla?"

  She turned back.

  Without another word, he handed over his gloves for her bare fingers.

  She blinked back sudden tears, staring at the gloves. "I'll never understand."

  And then she was gone, lost in the crowd, though Trip could hear Sue raging.

  Next to him, Vanessa sighed, then kissed his other cheek. "Friends forever. Call Daddy, Henry."

  "I quit," Trip said the following morning, not even bothering to close his father's office door behind himself. "Effective immediately."

  "What? What are you talking about?" J.R. asked, startled out of his morning paper.

  "I quit. I'm done. I don't want to do this. I worked through the night to leave my accounts in good shape with clear notes for the next steps. I divided them up between the other brokers and left the files on their desks. Nothing left for you to worry about but Canton. I don't know what you want to do with that, but the account's probably already done. Vanessa told him about you screwing over the nurse and construction worker."

  "You can't quit. You're family!" J.R. bellowed.

  Trip shrugged. "I already did. It's done. I don't want to be a part of this. Good luck, Dad." He turned to go.

  "HENRY! GET BACK HERE!"

  Trip turned back, eyebrows raised.

  "I'll pay the construction worker. Get over yourself with this drama. Shut up and get back to work."

  Trip shook his head. "Nope. I'm done. Bye, Dad."

  "You're serious?"

  "I am. Coming here makes me feel il
l. I'm not doing it anymore."

  "I'll cut you off," J.R. threatened. "Your mother, too. You know she will."

  Trip sighed. "I've thought a lot about this recently. It turns out I don't need much to be happy. I don't care about the money. I'll take the trust left to me by Grandpa Trellis and see what I can make of it. I'm pretty good at investments but not cut-throat enough for Monopoly."

  "Is this about that broad? The short one? The waitress? That's not a cow to buy, Henry. Get the milk for free and move on. The Canton girl's crazy about you and is worth all kinds of money."

  "Please don't ever equate a woman to a farm animal again. It's ugly. Have some dignity and respect for others, Dad." Trip turned to go again, pulling his tie loose around his neck.

  "If you walk out of here, don't come back, Henry. You aren't welcome back." J.R. yelled at his son's back.

  "I promise I'm not coming back. Tell Mom I love her, too, but I sincerely hope I'm not around for Christmas."

  Later that same day, Trip stood outside Darla's apartment door, aligning his thoughts. It'd been almost thirty hours since he'd seen her on Michigan Avenue—easily the longest day of his life.

  Taking a deep breath, he lifted his hand to knock. Before his hand made contact, a voice yelled out at him.

  "Tell me why I should open this door, jackass!"

  Trip blinked. He thought he might see Sue but wasn't expecting her to be the gatekeeper. He paused, then smiled. "I'll let you win at board games for the rest of my life."

  There was silence as she considered.

  "You know you screwed up my trend, right? I said she'd be gone by New Year's!" She continued to yell through the door.

  "Tomorrow's Christmas Eve. Maybe right on schedule?" he called back.

  The door opened. "That's going to take some serious next-level groveling. I'm not sure you have it in you."

  "I'm willing to give it a try or six."

  "She's at work."

  Trip frowned. "It's Monday."

  "She's been picking up every shift she can. I think it's easier for her when she's busy. She gets off in an hour. We're supposed to go to the movies."

  "Hmm."

  "If the groveling goes really well, do you think you could get her out of here before January first? I had someone else on the hook as a roommate. She hasn't found another place yet. It'd work out well."

  "Hmm," Trip said again, turning to go.

  "It's gotta be good, Hank. You can't grunt your way through this!" Sue yelled down the hall.

  He waved without turning back.

  Trip stood outside the restaurant, staring at his shiny shoes again. The sidewalk was wet and dirty with melting snow as the sun set. Undoubtedly, it'd be unpleasant for groveling.

  Particularly in a suit.

  But this was a suit occasion.

  He stared at his shoes, waiting. He'd know soon if this was just going to take a lot of groveling or if this was going to be an uphill battle, requiring massive levels of groveling.

  Sue might be right. He might not get the words in the correct order. He'd keep trying so long as Darla would listen.

  He'd been a fool. She was absolutely right. Everything felt wrong without her. He knew it that night, as soon as she was gone from the car. He'd done the wrong thing, tried to force the wrong kind of happiness for her.

  "You just going to stand out here staring at your shoes?" Darla asked from the doorway.

  Trip smiled, not lifting his head. She had taken the bait. "Thinking about it."

  "The people sitting at the window table think you're a weirdo. You should probably stop staring at your stupid shiny shoes and go home." Her voice was chillier than the wind.

  "Come with me," he suggested. He knew her eyes rolled, even without seeing it.

  "Vanessa's gorgeous."

  Trip snorted. "But sometimes she has claws. Friends forever. That's it."

  Darla touched the arm of his coat, drawing his eyes. "I don't know what to do here. You wouldn't watch your mom make me miserable. I won't watch you make yourself miserable. What's the story, Trip?"

  He flinched, drawing another sigh from her.

  "Trip does what he's told and carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. My Hank is kind and gentle, attentive and funny, but his own person. A few weeks ago, Sue pointed out that Hank was likely a mirage... Someone you and I both wanted to know but who didn't actually exist. I can't change who you are. You need to decide what you want in life. When you do, let me know." Darla turned to walk toward the apartment, away from him.

  Not much groveling at all, he thought, already knowing the right words—the words they both needed to hear.

  "Funny story," he called to her back. She turned around as he walked toward her. "It turns out I'm more of a 'Hank.' I quit my job this morning. The day before Christmas, I told my dad to have some dignity and walked out the door. I hated that job. I thought I needed it, but I don't. You had it right that night in the car. You were so incredibly right, and I was so utterly wrong; all I need to be happy is you. I don't want to be parted from you again, Darla. I'm sorry for so many things, but most sorry for failing you so miserably that night.

  "If we get to choose how we spend our time and energy, if we get to choose the people we include in our lives, then I choose you, over and over, just you. You and me. Let's build our own family and our own happiness."

  Hank paused, wiping tears from her cheeks.

  She didn't say anything.

  Swallowing hard, he sank to one knee. "I don't have much. Some money in trust from my grandfather. Maybe enough to buy a house? Maybe. I think Edward Canton would hire me to do something. I don't know what it would be. I didn't call him. I didn't want to jinx it. But all that I have, all that I am, it's yours. I'm lost without you. Please marry me, Darla?"

  She blinked hard, sniffling in the cold as she looked up at the sky for a second. She met his eyes again.

  "No."

  Hank's mouth dropped open. "No?" The word sounded like a death rattle.

  "Do you know how cold it is out here? The wind chill's gotta be in the single digits, Hank. The sun's going down. You know I don't dress for the weather. I'm freezing my butt off. You couldn't give me your coat before you started groveling? Jeez. Get up. You look like an idiot. The whole restaurant is staring at us."

  Hank looked around, confused. The windows of the restaurant were stuffed with the faces of strangers, all watching the wayward proposal unfolding before them.

  "Um."

  "Gah, you're an idiot. But you're my idiot. I love you. Of course, I'll marry you. Get up!"

  "Oh. Oh!" Surging to his feet, he swept Darla up in a hug, swinging her feet wildly. "I love you!" he yelled.

  Throwing her head back, Darla laughed, glowing with joy and love. "You totally deserved that."

  "When we tell our kids this story, we're leaving that part out!" Hank yelled, laughing.

  Darla's face scrunched up. "Kids? Really?"

  "Maybe one or two?"

  She made a "we'll see" face as the people in the restaurant cheered.

  "So, Sue wants you to move out before New Year's."

  "Want to get married tomorrow?" Darla asked, eyebrows raised. "Would your parents attend? I think we can get married on Christmas Eve. It's not an official holiday."

  Hank snorted. "My parents won't be in attendance. Even if they wanted to be there, they're not invited. Tom will come."

  "So will Sue...."

  Interlude — Sam

  Sam pressed his cool hands to his face. This part was always hard. His brain's refusal to focus gave him a headache. The wedding was fine, but dinner with Tom, Claire, and Sue afterward was fuzzy. He winced, concentrating again.

  14

  "A toast!" Tom yelled through the pizza place. "A toast to my best friend and the woman that's way too good for him! To Henry and Darla and a lifetime of happy years to come!"

  The scattered holiday crowd cheered in good humor, even though they had no idea what
they were toasting.

  "That toast was wrong." The man sitting two tables away sniffed in disdain, looking at his companion. "Idiot got it wrong. It didn't ring properly."

  "They're perfect. Admit it. They're perfect. He is everything gentle and kind. She is hearth, home, and strength. They're perfect," the woman purred.

  "I think there's better," he replied. "We can find better."

  "No, this is it, James. This is who we need. Can't you feel the raw life and love pouring from them? They'll bring us a Walker worth having."

  James rolled his eyes.

  The woman huffed.

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  "I'll give you Clyde," she blurted. "We'll go with Clyde and the girl. Ava."

  "Really?" James perked up, looking at the woman again.

  "Yes. I agree Ava is right. You can have Clyde. It's fine."

  "Clyde and Ava together will produce sight and—"

  "I know," she cut him off. "But I want Henry and Darla for him. Please? They're the right parents."

  He rolled his eyes again. "Like I ever tell you no, Evie." He grinned, climbing to his feet. "And that's wrong, too—wrong, wrong, wrong. Don't worry. I'll do it right."

  Interlude — Sam

  Sam blinked again, queasy.

  He could never clearly see the couple, couldn't see their faces.

  No matter the perspective, they always turned away from him.

  But Sam knew them. He knew they were important. All these years removed from the day, he could still feel the words echo in his brain.

  15

  "I can't believe you just did that!" Claire laughed as Tom sat down. "Have another drink, Tom!"

  "I don't mind if I do." Tom grinned. "My best friend got married today."

  He belched. "MY BEST FRIEND GOT MARRIED ON CHRISTMAS EVE!" he shouted. "Someone had to make a toast!"

  "I agree," the man chimed in, suddenly standing between Hank and Darla. He waved to Sue like he knew her. "There definitely needs to be a toast for newlyweds who shine with this much love."