CHAPTER 23: THE PLAN

CHAPTER 23: THE PLAN

After the lawyers I sat in the BMW with the folder on my lap and did not start the engine for a long time. When I finally drove I took the long way round, and by the time I reached Charles's street it was four hours since I had left the office tower.

I should have known from the corner. Reporters had worked out that I came to the bakery every day, and now a crowd waited outside the shop with cameras and microphones. A man stood on the pavement describing the building to a lens as if it were a crime scene.

I parked a block away and went in through the back lane. Charles had the door open before I knocked.

The shop was dark except for the kitchen. Chairs sat upside down on the tables. The display cases were still full of croissants and bread and snacks that should have sold out by now. Not one tray was empty.

"Is it always like this now?" I asked.

"Since the leak." Charles shrugged but his shoulders were stiff. "Half my regulars stopped coming. The other half buy a roll and take a picture of me."

That afternoon I had read a comment under one of the articles. It said my friend and I were evil twinks who liked to cling to rich men and that we had planned the whole thing together. I had told myself nobody would believe it. Now I looked at the full cases and understood that people did not need to believe it to stay away.

Charles baked from four every morning. He had thrown away more than he sold all week and he had not said a word about it until I asked.

"Charles, I'm so sorry." My throat tightened. "All of this is happening to you because of me. You didn't do anything. You only stood by me."

"Soren."

"No, listen." I pressed my hand to my chest. "I'm the one who has to sort this out. You can't keep taking losses for my problems. I won't let you."

"Don't." He put a mug in my hands. "Drink."

I held it and did not drink. Steam rose between us and I said it before I could lose my nerve. "I'm selling Mercer Holdings."

He didn't ask if I was sure. He only asked who to, and when I said James he closed his eyes for a second and nodded as if I had confirmed something he already knew.

"Does James know?"

"No. And he can't. If he knew he would try to stop me and the company would keep bleeding." I set the mug down. "The lawyer says I can sell it quickly and quietly. But my father signed the power of attorney. He can take it back with one signature if he finds out before it closes."

As if the thought had summoned him, my phone buzzed on the counter. I turned it over and saw my father's name. I let it ring out and then played the voicemail on speaker because I wanted Charles to hear it.

"Soren." His voice was cold and tight. "Do you have any idea what the papers are saying about this family. Call me tonight. If I do not hear from you I will revoke every signature I ever gave you."

The message ended and neither of us moved.

"He's watching," Charles said quietly.

"Which is why it has to be fast." I stood up too quickly. "Once the sale starts I can't stay here. Not in the house and not in this city. If I'm gone the story has nowhere to go, and you and James can both stop losing money because of me."

"You think that's what James wants."

"I think James would never ask." My voice shook. "That is why I have to do it for him."

The baby kicked then, once, sharp and sudden. A cramp pulled low in my stomach and I gasped and gripped the counter.

"Soren?"

"The baby." I pressed my hand against myself and the pain came again and my knees began to give. "Something is wrong."

Charles was already moving. He caught my elbow and grabbed his keys and hurried me out through the back lane to his van before the cameras at the front could notice. I remember dark streets and his hands tight on the wheel and my own breath coming in short frightened pulls.

Dr. Harris met us at the clinic's side door. He did not ask questions in the corridor. He took my wrist and settled me on the table and turned the monitor toward me.

A quick steady rhythm filled the room. It was fast and strong and entirely ordinary.

"He is fine," Dr. Harris said at last. "A strong heartbeat and good movement." He put the probe down and looked at me over his glasses. "But what you felt was real. Your body is under severe stress and pain like that is a warning. If it continues I won't be as calm as I am now."

I stared at the ceiling. "What should I do?"

"Rest. Eat properly. And whatever is making you this afraid, I would get away from it."

Charles waited until we were back in the van with the engine off. Then he turned toward me.

"My cousin lives in another town," he said. "She runs a small shop and she has been asking me for years to come and expand it. Two hours away. Nobody there reads the financial pages." He swallowed. "I called her while you were with the doctor. She said yes before I finished asking."

"Charles."

"The moment the sale starts we leave. We open a proper bakery there. Something that stands on its own and keeps the three of us." He looked at my stomach and back at my face. "You are not doing this alone."

My eyes burned. For the first time in weeks someone had given me a plan I could stand inside.

I took out my phone. The voicemail icon still glowed. I held down the button until the screen went black and the glass turned dark in my hand.

"Tomorrow," I said. "Before my father calls again."

"Tomorrow," Charles said.

Outside the windshield the streetlights came on one by one. I told myself this was only until the storm passed.

I did not believe it.