The Perfect Gift

C H A P T E R 🎄3

L I S A

After the tense reunion with Rosie at the art gallery, I'd felt more than a little discombobulated.I headed to a coffee shop, got a latte and a gluten-free bagel, and headed back to my hotel room at the dubiously named Dew Drop Inn.

I ignored the Wi-Fi in favor of my unlimited data plan. My experience with hotel internet connections had been less than satisfactory, even at the finest of hotels.

I needed a strong connection because I was about to have a vital call with Rich, a senior member of the board of directors for my company and a perpetual thorn in my side.

Whenever anyone, myself included, proposed something, Rich was always the first to ask how much it would cost.

My phone was buzzing in my pocket before I even made it inside my room. I threw my briefcase down on the bed and put the phone to my ear.

"Talk to me, Dick."

"You and I both know," he said in his Southern drawl, "that I prefer to be called Rich or Richard. Pretty much anything but Dick. If this is your way of buttering me up to allow the hostile takeover of Stereo-Dyne, I have to say, it's a risky negotiating tactic."

"I don't need to butter you up, Rich."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because you know the same thing that I do. This buyout is a whip- smart investment that's going to pay dividends for years, even decades, to come."

"Stereo-Dyne makes video games, Lisa." He sighed. "Videos games are among the riskiest investments in this market. You know that."

"They're about to explode onto the stock market scene. We have to get his shares," I said, my voice increasing in volume to emphasize the point.

"It's too risky, Lisa."

"With great risk comes great rewards—"

A knock came at my door. I ignored it, figuring it was that innkeeper again.

The knock came again and didn't stop.

Why is Janie pounding on my door?

I couldn't take it anymore. I stalked over to the door on legs stiffened by anger and flung it open.

"I'm kind of the middle of something," I snapped, fully prepared to throw in for fuck's sake if necessary.

Rosie stood there, holding Miles's hand. I closed my mouth on the rest of the vitriol brewing in my throat.

Oh, God. What's she doing here?

"Um, Roseanne ... can I help you?"

"You can help me by keeping your voice down and having consideration for your neighbors."

She spoke in the eerily calm yet utterly terrifying voice that mothers used the world over to avoid being too loud in public even though they were very angry. I could feel the anger coming off her in waves, almost like she was radioactive with it.

Obviously, she didn't want to upset her son. I could respect that.

But she also wanted me to know in no uncertain terms that she was pissed. The fuck. Off.

And what was she pissed off at me about? Well ... pretty much everything, I guessed.

This wasn't about me being too loud.

It was the art gallery in which I'd just bought a controlling interest. It was the history we shared.

And I'd bet it was something to do with the fact that she was raising that little boy alone.