My Fair Lacey
Chapter 13
Threshold
Lacey quickly discovered that Professor Gold was more than capable of pleasant behavior, but just chose to be a complete and utter ass much of the time. He seemed to enjoy irritating people and didn't find it worth the effort to be nice to others. He was also incredibly bright and talented and tended to disdain the lazy and the ill-prepared.
At the same time, she began to realize that many people did not hesitate to make demands and requests and ask for special leniency from him, intruding into his privacy without a second thought. No wonder he could be such a jerk – his attitude and demeanor would sometimes keep some of the leaches at arms length.
She also remembered that he had lowered Granny's rent when he'd found out she was feeding homeless people with her leftovers and knew, she just knew, there was a kind and wonderful man in there.
She did find that much of their work together was simply conversation, that and taking him out in public where she would continually have to remind him to interact with people without insulting them. She did her best to give him gentle guidance focused on bringing out the good man that was inside of him. She tried to help him see the humor in otherwise aggravating situations. She struggled to help him gain perspective, to attend to the bigger picture, to not take things personally.
Restaurant behavior had emerged as a particular challenge for the man. She explained why it just made sense to treat the servers with kindness and respect.
"It's a hard job," she explained, "Often with low pay and few benefits. And you have to put up with jerks."
"They're paid to bring me the food that I've requested. It's not rocket science," he complained.
"Well, you need to remember that they aren't the ones that prepared the food and if there's a problem, it just might, maybe be in the kitchen."
"So, I should convey my dissatisfaction to the kitchen staff?" he asked.
"Unless it's flagrant, I'm telling you to suck it up and take your future business elsewhere."
"But how will they ever improve if they don't get feedback?" he asked.
"It doesn't work that way," Finally, in exasperation, she told him, "I will tell you that if you act like a jerk, they might spit in your food."
"They wouldn't?!" he was appalled.
"Who's to know? They get even and you get spit," she explained.
"You need to get lunch more often with my mother. She could benefit from this lesson," he told her.
"Your mother is always courteous to wait-staff," she told him. "She figured out the spit-thing a long time ago."
Applications
Then there was her own future that kept coming up. At Gold's insistence, even while working with him, Lacey had applied to begin the coursework for the realtor's license and was able to pick up hours with online and a few live courses. She'd also applied for the Fall semester at UNC and was stunned when she was accepted into their Returning Learners Program.
"I'll help you with the tuition," he promised her. "I owe you that much."
"I . . . I don't know that you should. It would mean that I would owe you," she stammered. "I'm sure I can get a loan."
"Lacey, you know I can never repay what I owe you," he told her sincerely. "If it would make you feel better, I can loan you the money. I'll give you a better rate and much more generous terms than anyone else will."
"I'll think about it," she promised him.
And the next morning she found, along with the usual fresh red rose, a briefcase – for her studies, he'd explained.
Neil
They were nearly a month into his re-education and Lacey wasn't sure if she was his teacher or his social secretary. She made sure that he kept up his contacts with his son, sometimes joining him with Neil and Emma to make a foursome, other times, getting he and Neil to do something - just the two of them – long drives with their cameras up in the mountains, a mis-begotten canoe trip together (Neil had a great time, Gold complained about . . . well, everything), the occasional scientific lecture or literature reading and, most often, just quiet lunches at local restaurants (Neil would be sure to give her a detailed report on his father's behavior).
Gold always came back from these excursions quiet and pensive.
"I missed so much with him," he told her late one afternoon. They were in his library where Lacey had been working on one of her online courses. "Maybe I should have worked harder to save my marriage to his mother."
"I was told that she was sleeping around on you," Lacey reminded him.
"But perhaps for his sake, I should have forgiven her and taken her back." He was moping.
"She left you, didn't she? I don't know that any amount of forgiveness on your part would have persuaded her to return."
He sighed, "I guess not. I still blame myself for the breakup of my marriage. I've always thought . . . that . . . if . . . I had somehow been a better person, a different person . . . "
"I'm biased, you understand," Lacey had gotten up and came over to him, sitting down beside him on the sofa. "But I think that Milah was an idiot. She didn't appreciate what she had with you."
"She wanted more," he told her.
"Well, she got Killian Jones – who lives on her family's money and, I happen to know, cheats on her using said family's money to pay for his wayward ways. How is that better than what you were offering? I can't see it. As I said, I think she was an idiot."
Gold sat a moment and sniffed. "It haunts me that I can't move on. I blame myself and I'm angry, furiously angry at her for what she did – not so much to me, but to Neil."
"How does Neil feel about his mother and . . . you, for that matter?"
"He's told me that when he was younger, he used to wish that we'd stayed together as a family, but as he's gotten older, he's gotten more understanding. He realizes that his mother and I weren't good for each other." Gold sighed and sat for a moment. Then he looked up at her. "Neil likes you. He's told me that he thinks you're good for me."
Lacey was falling into his soft brown eyes again. It would be so easy to lean forward just a little bit – that would bring her into contact with him. She took a deep breath and pulled back.
A Real Test
The next morning, along with the fresh red rose, there was a package. She opened it and found an old copy of Pride and Prejudice. It wasn't a first edition, but it was a vintage book and he'd stumbled upon it and thought she might like it, so he'd bought it for her, he explained in a rush.
"I think you might be ready for a real test," she told him.
"Like when I sent you into my mother's card playing coven?" he asked.
"Something like that. My father has let me know that he wants to start his own business and he's meeting with David Nolen this morning. He's asked that you be present – since you're the one that ruined his life and all." She shrugged. "I really think that he's wanting your advice, but doesn't know how to properly ask for it."
"What business is he starting up?" Gold asked her.
Lacey closed her eyes for a moment before sharing, "Well, apparently Mr. Nolen advised him to think about what he likes to do and build on this."
"Your father likes drinking and talking," Gold said.
"Exactly." Lacey agreed. "Should be an interesting business meeting."
He was not looking forward to the meeting. He felt he was on decent enough terms with Lacey's father, but he also felt the guy was a dumbass redneck. And, as for David Nolen, well, he was a nice guy, but Gold didn't think he would be particularly savvy at dealing with unscrupulous folks.
He'd wanted to down a half-bottle of good whiskey before showing up, but Lacey had insisted he show up sober. She could be a mean woman sometimes. She'd also made him wear a suit, one of his Armani's.
She looked him over. "You sure can wear a suit."
"It's just a suit." He wasn't sure why she seemed to take her time looking him over.
"Yeah, but you make it look fine. Now, you're going to be one of the two adults at this meeting – the other being Mr. Nolen. You need to help my dad make some sound decisions. You've got the business skills and experience to help my dad get things right."
"But what if I don't want to," he complained.
"This is all part of you becoming . . . pleasant," she reiterated before she sent him off with a quick kiss on the cheek.
Moe's New Partner
He'd sat down, taking a chair to one side of Nolen. He stood up to greet Mr. French when Lacey's father lumbered into the room.
"Gold," the other man greeted him. "Thanks fur comin'. I've done asked fur me new business partner t' come in fur this meetin'. Seems like he's runnin' a bit late."
"Who is this new business partner?" Nolen asked.
"Oh, someone I've known fur a while, off an' on. He knows lots 'bout bus'ness an' stuff."
"Does this man have any verifiable credentials?" Nolen asked French while they were waiting.
"Whut?"
"Is he really what he says he is?" Gold translated.
"Well, yeah . . . I mean . . . I guess so," Maurice had evidently never considered things beyond their face value.
"We should have the man vetted," Gold said to Nolan who wrote himself a note.
"Now, how does this 'partnership' work?" Gold asked.
"Well, I'm th' idea man an' he's th' executioner."
"What? Did you meet this man at a bar?" Gold asked, curious about how this partnership had launched.
"How'd ya know? I did. Got to talkin'. 'Magine my surprise when I found out who he wuz."
"And just who was he?" Gold asked.
And, at that moment,the fourth man entered the room.
"Sorry, I'm running late," the man said in a smooth, cultured voice.
Gold had frozen. How in seven hells had this happened?
"Rumple!" His father greeted him exuberantly. "Fancy meetin' you here. I was totally pole-axed when French here said how he knew you. Fortuitous. Most fortuitous."
"Yeah . . . fortuitous," Gold muttered, wanting more than anything else to vault out the room. Had Lacey known about this?
Peter Gold was a con man, a mediocre, mostly unsuccessful con man. Gold knew that his father could exude charm when it was in his favor, but he also knew that nothing, absolutely nothing, that his father said could be trusted.
"See you're out of rehab," he remarked quietly.
"Better than jail, I can attest. I'd gotten a little problem there, just a little one mind you, with using . . . uh . . . stuff. Completely straightened out now."
"I'm sure," Gold said tightly.
"Yeah," French nodded in agreement. "I been knowin' Pete here fur a while an' while I wuz still mullin' on what t' do wid all me money, Nolen here suggested I follow my heart – great advice that – whut did I like to do more than anythin'. I wuz puzzlin' over it, ya' know whut I mean? Pete suggested that frum whut he'd knowd 'bout me, I liked drinkin' an' talkin' more than anythin'. So, we come up wid this idear t' do city tours wid a platform bus an' we'd serve booze, an' he an' me, we'd give 'em a talk. Lotsa tourists in this town, ya know."
"Isn't this like the pubcycle?" Gold asked.
"Somewhat, but you have to bring your own refreshments for the pubcycle," his father explained. "And they don't give you any tour guide information."
"An' ya gotta pedal," French added. "With us, you jus' haffta ride an' drink an' listen."
"Mr. French does have a flair for storytelling," Nolen shared with Gold. "And he has a remarkable and unexpected knowledge of the city, many backstories on different businesses and such."
"We thought we'd start small, with one bus, which we'll have to refurbish for the job. We'd also want to hire a driver, but that shouldn't be a major concern," his father had pulled out a notebook and was going down his list of things they needed to do. "And French here is working on his spiel, trying different versions out."
"What would your role be, Father?" Gold asked the man.
"Me? Oh, I'll be taking care of the business end of things, special licensing, financing, advertising, booking tours – with Mr. Nolan's inestimable assistance, of course."
"Mr. Nolan will need to be meeting with you once a week . . ." Gold began.
"Once a week?" his father interrupted. "How about once a month?"
"Once a week," Gold insisted. He turned to Nolan, "Let me be clear. You will need to crawl up his arse with a flashlight once a week. You will need to go over his books with a fine-tooth comb and make him account for every penny. Bills and payments should match exactly . . . and be timely. Oh, make sure any driver salaries that he takes out are going to real drivers and not into his pocket."
"Oh, son, you wound me," his father said in dismay. "All that is behind me."
"Well, it could catch up to you any day now." Gold had had enough. "Mr. French, good luck with this venture. Be careful working with this old fox," Gold warned him. He turned back to Nolen, "Is there anything else you need from me?" He had to get out of here before his head exploded or he did something that he might regret . . . or get him arrested.
Nolan shook his head. "Thank you. I'll be following your advice," he called to Gold as he walked out the door.
It would be too much to hope for that he would get out of the accountant's office before anything else happened.
His father followed him. Of course, his father followed him.
"It's good to see you, son," he began.
"Father, you understand if I'm not equally thrilled to see you," he told the man.
"I do. I completely understand. I've let you down too many times. You and your mother. Speaking of your mother . . . ."
"Last I heard, she was dabbling in a lesbian relationship. I guess she wanted a change of pace."
"A lesbian relationship," his father repeated. "Interesting. I wonder if . . . "
"I don't think they'll want you watching," he said to his father.
His father sighed, "A man can hope." Gold turned to leave but then his father spoke again. "I'd like to have lunch with you sometime."
Gold closed his eyes. He really detested this man. But he knew Lacey would tell him that he could at least have lunch with him. He should at least have lunch with him.
"You have my number. Give me a call and I'll try to get you on my calendar." He walked off but paused a moment, "And good luck on this business venture." There, he'd been nice. Lacey would be proud of him.
Bail Him Out of Jail
"My God. My father and your father." He insisted on a glass of whiskey when he got home. He sat on the sofa in the library and Lacey had come over to sit next to him.
"I had no idea my father had taken on a partner, much less that the partner was your father," Lacey told him. "I would have told you, please believe me."
He looked into her deep blue eyes and what choice did he have - he believed her.
"They're in business together. I keep expecting to look out and see a red sky and hear Gabriel's horn. The world is turning upside down."
"It is rather terrifying. Are they going to do too much damage?" she'd asked.
"Doubtful. Nolan's looking over their shoulders. I suspect this will all end up as a business loss on your father's tax forms. And my father, as he always does, will lose interest or be distracted and will wander off into something else. So, this partnership shouldn't last long."
"You did well, I think, very well. No police intervention. No restraining orders."
Gold bit his lip and then took a deep drink. "My father wants to have lunch with me," he told Lacey.
Lacey waited for him to share more but when nothing more came forth, she spoke, "You don't want to, do you?"
"I hate that sonofabitch, Lacey. I really hate him. He was abusive, physically and emotionally. He let me know how unwanted I was, how disappointed in me he was, how he wished I'd never been born."
"Oh, Rumple," Lacey told him, her hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry. My family wasn't the most functional, but I knew that my mother loved me unconditionally."
"My mother . . ." he started. "She let me know that she didn't want anyone to know I was her son. Neither one of my parents ever let me know they loved me . . . and, I think . . . it was because they didn't."
He shook his head, "I just can't bring myself to think that he really wants a relationship with me. It's more like that he wants to be sure I'll bail him out of jail next time he gets arrested."
Lacey blinked back tears. This poor man. She ached for the abandoned little boy inside of him.
"Lacey, will you think less of me, if . . . if I don't want to have a relationship with my father?"
"It's not my place. I'm just concerned how this is eating you up inside." She hesitated. "You know, they say that forgiveness is not so much for the person who is forgiven but for the person who offers the forgiveness. It takes away the power, takes away the control these people have over your life, if you can forgive them."
"I don't know that I'm ready for that," he confessed. He looked at her and she could see tears pooling in his eyes. "Am I a bad person? Am I going to hell because I can't forgive the bastard because I don't want a relationship with the sonofabitch?"
"Oh no," she assured him. "If you aren't ready, if you aren't able to forgive your father or make a connection with him, I can't judge you for that. To be honest, I can't imagine what you had to grow up with."
He nodded. "I just feel that if I could only be strong enough, brave enough, I could get over this and deal with it and move on."
"That's not how it works. And you are one of the bravest men I've ever met."
He snorted. "Lacey . . . no, I'm not."
"You are," and she leaned over and kissed him gently on his cheek. He turned his head and slowly, slowly, the kiss made its way over to his mouth. And then his arms were around her and she was pulling him to her. The kiss deepened, her mouth opening to his and her eyes closing. She realized she was clinging to him.
The kiss ended, and she felt shy.
"Come with me," she whispered. "Come up to my room."
He didn't say anything right away. Then, "My room," he told her.
"Sure," she agreed. She would agree to anything at the moment. She got up and he followed her up the stairs.
He stopped right before they stepped into his bedroom. "We are . . . we are going to . . . "
Lacey nodded, "Yes if you want."
"You aren't doing this because you're feeling sorry for me, are you? This isn't a . . . what? a pity-fuck?"
"Oh God, no," she managed to get out. And she felt him drag her across the threshold and over to his bed. He pushed her down and very nearly pounced on her.