The Hardest Fight

Dylan could read everyone. Everyone except for Lucy. The woman was a complete mystery. He never knew what was going on in that pretty head of hers, which was what had drawn him to her in the first place. Her mind was a fascinating place when she let him in. Lucy was smarter than most people assumed.

Lucy wasn’t going to stop him from making a good impression. If Dylan could help Prime get this property, he would prove himself to everyone at his firm, especially his boss, who just happened to be his mother. Their familial relation didn’t give him any advantage in pleasing her. Results were all that mattered to Clarissa Stevens-Hunt. So, whatever it was that Lucy thought, it wouldn’t keep the board from taking Prime’s offer if Dylan had anything to say about it.

Elizabeth held out her manicured hand, waiting for Dylan to place the offer he had drafted in it. “I think you will find our offer more than generous.”

Dylan wouldn’t call it generous. It wasn’t nearly what the property was worth, but it was surely enough to entice a needy organization such as this one. He watched as Elizabeth’s assistant slid copies of the offer across the table. Ms. Clayton passed hers off to Lucy without even looking at it. Obviously, it was too tempting. Lucy was the one who would do the negotiating, of course, because she was the tough one.

She had been Dylan’s biggest competition in law school. He had thought she hated him when they met. Turned out she had been more interested than she’d let on. They had dated the last year of law school and for two years after that. Dylan had believed she was the One, and everything she had said and done told him she felt the same way. That was how he had learned about the tiny glitch in his superpower. She had broken his heart without any notice. Actually, she’d ripped it out, stomped on it and driven over it with a steamroller just to be sure she’d done the job thoroughly. She was tough, all right.

“Generous?” Lucy questioned with a tilt of her head after reading the offer. “I’m guessing you assumed we were too busy ‘do-gooding’ to have done our homework.” She folded the piece of paper in half and set it in front of her. Ms. Clayton glanced at it but didn’t pick it up. “The members of the board are educated businesswomen. This is insulting.”

Elizabeth uncrossed and recrossed her legs. She ran her tongue over her teeth, a sure sign that Lucy had struck a nerve. She took a breath before replying. “We aren’t looking to offend anyone. What would it take to get your interest?”

“We aren’t interested in selling,” Lucy answered, but Ms. Clayton bit her lip. The director clearly wasn’t as sure as the legal advisor.

“Well, not all of us are interested,” Tanya Robbards, one of the board members, corrected. “Yet.”

It was Dylan’s turn to negotiate. “We aren’t here pretending we don’t know the predicament Open Arms has found itself in. Surely, you understand that if we wanted, we could wait a few months until the house goes into foreclosure. What we’re offering you—” he pointed at the folded paper, hoping Ms. Clayton would simply look at it “—is a chance to continue to do your work in this city.”

“We don’t need your money to continue our work,” Lucy cut in. The cold, level gaze she gave him did nothing to cool the heat that had crept up his neck. He hated that she could get under his skin so easily yet be so unaffected herself.

“You don’t, or Open Arms doesn’t?” he challenged. “If you foreclose on the house, you gain nothing. If you sell, you have enough equity to keep the rest of the organization running smoothly.” He sought to prey on Ms. Clayton’s fears. “You wouldn’t have to worry about losing this place, as well. So many women and children would still benefit from what you do.”

Ms. Clayton’s gaze drifted back down to the paper and the offer she hadn’t even seen yet. Her fingers tightened around the arms of her chair. She needed one more tiny push. He gave Elizabeth the sign she had been waiting for, and she went for Ms. Clayton’s jugular.

“Add another five thousand to that number,” Elizabeth said. “I’m sure that will help Open Arms purchase a new house in another neighborhood.”

With wide eyes, Ms. Clayton glanced over at Lucy. Her lip had to be bleeding given how hard she was biting it. She was just about to break and glance at the number when Lucy stood up, snatched the paper off the table and crumpled it up.

“We appreciate that you’re so concerned about keeping Open Arms’s doors open. Perhaps you’ll consider donating. We accept all major credit cards and love it when corporations match an employee’s gift.” She opened the door and waited for them to leave the room.

“I suggest you carefully consider what we’re offering,” Elizabeth warned.

“Safe Haven is very important to this agency,” Sharon Langston, another board member, replied. “We’ll be in touch if we’re interested.”

“We promise,” Lucy added.

“Ah, you say that, but do you really mean it?” Dylan asked. She had made promises to him in the past, like she would love him forever and wanted to change the world with him. She hadn’t meant that, now had she?

She didn’t answer. Her expression was pained. Again, he couldn’t tell what that meant. Did she realize how badly she had hurt him five years ago? Did she feel any remorse?

“Well, you have thirty days,” Elizabeth said. “After that, the offer will be off the table for good. Then, like Mr. Hunt explained, we will simply wait for it to foreclose.”

Elizabeth and her team all stood and exited the office. Lucy seemed to be holding her breath as Dylan approached her. He, on the other hand, took her all in. She still smelled like lilacs. The lilac bushes that edged the front gate of his greystone always made him think of her in the springtime.

“Say hello to your family for me,” he said as he walked by. The Everharts were some of the nicest people Dylan had ever met. The first time Lucy had invited him to spend Thanksgiving at their house, he had wanted to be adopted by them. Her dad was so down-to-earth and her mom made everyone feel at home under her roof. Dylan had prayed for her every day when they found out Maureen had been diagnosed with breast cancer.

Even though Lucy had been so brave, she had broken down more than once in his arms over the possibility of losing her mom. He had been so grateful she had survived. When Lucy left him, he had mourned not only the loss of her but of the whole Everhart family.

Lucy didn’t respond to his request. She probably wouldn’t do as he asked. She didn’t care about him or his feelings. She never had.

* * *

BACK AT THE OFFICE, Dylan did everything he could to avoid his mother. Open Arms hadn’t signed on the dotted line and Elizabeth was less than pleased. That meant the same would go for his mother.

Clarissa Stevens-Hunt was one of Chicago’s top corporate lawyers. Stevens and Ellis had been the city’s most prestigious law firm since Dylan’s great-grandfather founded it back in 1924 with his partner, Roger Ellis. Great-grandpa Stevens passed it on to his son, who passed it on to his daughter, who couldn’t wait to bring her son into the fold.

Since the day Dylan was born, it was his destiny to work at Stevens and Ellis whether that was what he wanted or not. Clarissa had never allowed Dylan to consider any other possibilities. The only thing he was supposed to worry about was meeting her high expectations. He’d spent the past seven years trying to prove to everyone, especially his mother, that he deserved his position at the firm and wasn’t just there because of his heritage.

He stared at the stack of case files on his desk. This was Dylan’s reality—a lifetime of business law, white-collar criminal defense and sometimes a little real estate. There had been a time when he thought he might actually do something worthwhile, maybe convince his mother to let him dabble in some environmental law so he could advise corporate clients on sustainability issues and green standards. He had to get in her good graces before he dared to approach her about it. Securing this deal for Prime was about the only thing that could do that.

Clarissa Stevens-Hunt was the exact opposite of someone like Maureen Everhart. Warm and fuzzy were not character traits anyone would use to describe his mother. Dylan rarely saw her while he was growing up. She worked day and night, weekends and holidays. The woman had a smartphone before anyone else in the world knew what a smartphone was. Her phone was the last thing she checked before she went to bed and the first thing she looked at when she woke up. She’d missed family events, birthdays, vacations, even Dylan’s high school graduation. Her job was always the most important thing in her life, and that was how Dylan was supposed to think, too.

Only, Dylan had vowed he’d never put work above the people in his life. He was going to come home for dinner every night, ask his kids about their day, maybe even coach little league baseball. Dylan didn’t have a family of his own; but today, he needed to get out of work by five if he was going to make it to his neighbor Jeremy’s basketball game by six. Missing the game was not an option.

Jeremy was eight years old. His father had never been a part of his life and his mother’s addiction had led her to relinquish her parental rights. His maternal grandparents had taken him in and raised him as their own since the boy was three. Eugene and Gwen lived below Dylan and had sought his legal advice when they were trying to take custody of Jeremy. A year later, Gwen had been diagnosed with ALS and was told she had only three years to live. She survived for two.

It was during those two years that Dylan had bonded with Jeremy. They each filled an empty spot in the other’s life. Dylan had dreamed of having a family with Lucy. When she left him, that dream went with her. Being there for Jeremy while Eugene had been taking care of his wife had meant fewer hours at work and disappointing his mother, but it had been the most worthwhile period of Dylan’s life.

“If anyone calls, I’m unavailable until tomorrow,” Dylan told his assistant. He’d be up all night finishing some briefs, but seeing Jeremy play would be worth it.

“And if your mother calls?”

“My mother will call my cell if she wants to reach me, so you won’t have to worry about that.” He would have to worry about that, but Bridgette would be off the hook.

“How did your Prime meeting go?” Bridgette asked as Dylan shut down his computer.

Other than seeing the love of his life looking better than ever, it had gone the way he thought it would. Part of him had hoped Lucy would be a disheveled mess. The other part knew she would have thrived without him. She had definitely blossomed into a strong and independent woman.

“They didn’t sign. No one wants to accept a loss, but they’re smart women, they’ll take the money and start over somewhere else, I’m sure.”

Bridgette smiled. Her hair was a different shade of red than it had been the day before. She must have gotten it colored, but since she hadn’t mentioned a hair appointment yesterday, Dylan knew not to say anything. She was one of those women who told people she had never seen a gray hair on her head.

“Well, if anyone could tell what they were thinking, it’s you,” she said, picking up his coffee cup from earlier this morning. She was always taking care of little things like that for him. “Have a good night and don’t forget that tomorrow your eight-thirty got moved to seven-thirty and your eleven is now three-thirty.”

He couldn’t thank her enough for the reminder. Bridgette was excellent at her job. It often made him wonder if she had been assigned to him because his mother thought he needed someone like Bridgette or if he had worked hard enough to deserve her. Some people in the firm thought he was treated differently because he was the boss’s son, but Dylan had never considered that a good thing. Being treated differently didn’t always mean being treated better.

Dylan managed to make it out of the building and all the way home without crossing paths with his mother. By six o’clock, he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, sitting next to Eugene in the bleachers of Whitman Elementary’s gymnasium.

Eugene leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He was in his sixties and one of the gentlest souls to walk the earth. The man had been to hell and back, between losing his daughter to a world of drugs and his wife to disease, but somehow he’d maintained his positive spirit. He was a true inspiration and Dylan’s only real friend over the age of eight.

Eugene gave Jeremy a thumbs-up when the little boy scanned the crowd for his two biggest fans. With his hands cupped around his mouth, Dylan cheered loud enough for the entire gymnasium to hear. “Let’s go, Big J!”

“He’s nervous even though I told him all he had to do was have fun out there,” Eugene said.

“He’ll have fun once they get started.”

Jeremy was a bit of an anxious kid. He could be shy around new people, but once he got to know somebody, his true personality would shine through. The other kids on his team were joking around during warm-ups while Jeremy and another boy passed the ball back and forth.