Jordan (Season Two: The Ninth Inning #5) (4 page)

“Thank you, Jordan.” Heidi smiles, probably the first genuine smile she’s given me in a long time. “Thank you, very much.”

“Okay, vacation house to Mrs. Johnson. Check that off the list. Um, this is a little different, but not too strange for me. There are three burial plots in a South Carolina cemetery. However, one has been used and each of you owns either side of it. So, is it a parent in the used plot and are we the selling the other plots?”

“Not a parent.” I swallow hard and say, “It’s our daughter.” It takes everything in me to not look at Heidi. I don’t want to see her pain when I can’t comfort her.

“Oh, all right then, are we selling or keeping?”

“I’m not selling mine. I want to keep it.” I hear Heidi sniff and a brief glance shows her watery eyes. Her answer doesn’t surprise me in the least.

“I don’t know about mine. I guess if we’re not together, I should sell it, but I don’t know.” I really don’t want to give it up because when I die, I’d want to be near my daughter. We bought them together because we’re a family. What am I supposed to do now since we’re getting a divorce? Since we’ll no longer be a family?

“You don’t know?” Heidi asks incredulously. “It’s next to Eden. You bought those for us to be together. It was the point of buying all three of them together.”

I scoff. “So, the only way for us to be together is if we’re dead? I wasn’t unsure because it’s next to Eden, I was unsure because I doubted you’d want me to have it.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but stops, her eyes hardening. “I’m keeping mine and if I have to buy it from Jordan, then I will, but I want mine.”

“Mr. Johnson, will you sell one of the plots to Mrs. Johnson?”

“Yeah, she can have it.”

“Okay, so next on the list is the Above A Dream hair salon—” Mr. Armstrong begins, but Heidi cuts him off.

“What? The salon is mine!” The panic is clear in Heidi’s voice.

“Which you purchased during the marriage. It’s an asset, as is everything else on this list. Mrs. Johnson, what do you want to do?”

“It’s mine,” she says fiercely before frantically looking at me. “Jordan, you don’t want anything to do with it, do you? You won’t take this away from me, right?”

“Mr. Johnson is entitled to half of the business,” Mr. Armstrong points out.

“I don’t want anything from it. It’s all hers.” There’s no need to make her freak out more or have Mr. Armstrong point out that I could have part of it if I wanted. I haven’t had a thing to do with her business. The success she’s had is all hers, and I wouldn’t take that from her in any way.

Heidi relaxes. “Thank you, Jordan. I owe you one.”

“Did you honestly think I would try to take it from you?”

“I...I don’t know. I bought it without you knowing. I didn’t know if you would take it from me. It’s all I have.” Her sadness irks me.

“It’s not all you have, Heidi. It’s just the only thing you want.” Somehow, I manage to say it without anger invading my tone. It’s simply a fact.

Mr. Armstrong clears his throat. “Shall we move on to the cars, or should we pick up next time?”

“Pick up next time. I need to get going.” Not necessarily right this second, but I remember Gemma telling me to prolong it if I could.

“What day is good for you, Mr. Johnson?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve got a lot coming up.”

“Okay. Call my office and we can arrange something. Is this okay with you, Mrs. Johnson?”

“Yes, I know how busy he is, and I don’t want to mess up his baseball schedule.” She smiles at me, but I don’t return it. She isn’t doing me a favor by catering to when I can or can’t meet with this stupid arbitrator.

“So, we’re done for today?” I ask.

“Yes. Hope you both have a good week.”

I stand and quickly leave, getting to the elevators before Heidi can. I left this morning with a plan. With only have a small window of time, I knew I needed to be prepared so I could leave without Heidi catching me. I pull the picture and note from my wallet. When I reach Heidi’s car, I tuck it underneath the wiper. My note is simple and I hope her answer is yes.

I want to be this happy again. Don’t you?

THERE’S A GLASS of wine in one hand and the picture in the other. It’s the two of us on the beach. It was taken right after we signed the papers for the vacation house. I can’t even describe how happy we look. Bright smiles, gleaming eyes, wind blown hair, and it’s all perfect.

“What are you doing?”

I turn to see Mom standing in the kitchen.

“Jordan.” It’s all I can get out. I hand her the picture and take another large gulp of wine.

“He loves you.” She hands it back to me.

“I don’t love him anymore.”

“Heidi, you’re lying.” Mom stares at me. “You need to realize he only wants to help you.”

“He wants kids!” I abruptly yell. “He wants more kids. He wants to put me through all that heartache and pain again.” I drop my head in my hands and sob into them.

I feel Mom’s arms awkwardly hug me; she can’t wrap her arms around me because I’m still in the kitchen chair. She strokes my hair and repeats over and over that I’ll be okay.

When the doctor told us Eden was stillborn, my heart shattered into a million pieces and it will never be repaired. About two months later, Jordan began talking about having more kids and I couldn’t bear the thought. I can’t go through it again. I can’t, and I won’t do it.

“Heidi, have you eaten today?” Mom asks once I calm down a bit.

“I’m not hungry.” I reach for my wine, but she takes it away from me. “What are you doing?”

“Wash your face. Get cleaned up. We’re going out. Now.” Her short, commanding sentences mean I’m not going to argue. I do as she told me.

When I come back from the bathroom, Mom is standing by the door, purse on her shoulder, and she’s holding my purse out. I take the bag from her hand and follow her out the door.

“Where are we going?”

“Out.” She has my car keys in her hands.

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

Mom glares at me for a second. “I know how to work a GPS. However, it’s unnecessary right now because I know how to get to the airport.”

“Airport?”

“Your dad is landing soon.”

“I’m surprised he waited this long.” I giggle.

Mom smiles. “He misses you too.”

I nod as Mom drives off toward the interstate and heads to the airport.

On the drive, I mainly stare out the window and when we finally pick up Dad, they talk more to each other than to me. It’s fine. I know they haven’t seen each other for almost a week. They don’t tend to be away from each other for long periods of time.

It’s love that keeps them together.

It’s a love I want to have one day. I thought it was there with Jordan, but he’s constantly talking about babies and having a family; it’s something I’m not ready for. When I became pregnant, it was everything I wanted at the time. Now, it’s not.

I have the salon. I have my own goals and aspirations. I could open more salons or become a modern day Elizabeth Arden or a female Paul Mitchell. Hell, I can be anything because I’m not tied down with a husband and kids. I did want a husband and kids, but not anymore. I haven’t gotten over Eden’s death yet, but I know what I need to carry on and that’s to think about me.

Dad demands we go to a steakhouse and I give directions to Mom to the nearest one. Dad rattles on about how hungry he is. I’m thankful the place isn’t busy because Dad is still moaning about food.

After the waiter takes our order and brings us our drinks, Dad turns to me and jumps right in. “Why are you going through with this dumbass idea?”

“What?” I sit my water down.

“This divorce thing, or whatever you’re doing to Jordan.”

I roll my eyes. “Dad, I know how much you and Mom care about Jordan and I love that about you because he needs family. However, I’m not doing anything to him. This has been coming for a long time, and I finally made the first move.”

“He loves you,” Dad says.

“And you love him,” Mom jumps in.

I sigh. I can’t have this conversation for the hundredth time. “I care for Jordan. He will always have a special place in my heart, but we’re divorcing. There’s no need to continue talking about it or trying to get me to change my mind. It’s happening and this is over!” I realize I raised my voice and catch a glance from the table next to us. “Sorry.” I politely smile.

Mom gently grips my hand. “We just want to see you happy. Both of you.” Her tone is soft and caring for and not just for me, but Jordan as well.

“Let’s not talk about it.” I put back on a big smile. “Dad, tell me about your latest golf outing.”

I turn the attention away from me, and the rest of the night is much more relaxing. And there’s no more talk of Jordan.

“Now, we’re moving onto the cars.” Mr. Armstrong clicks his pen a few times before heading down the list. “The Honda CR-V, who is keeping this one?”

“I am,” I answer quickly. “I mean I’d like to because I use it the most.”

“Mr. Johnson?” Mr. Armstrong asks in his normal stern voice.

“Yes, she can have it.” He glances at me, but I try to avoid the hurt in his eyes. All there seems to be is pain. I know he’ll find someone to erase the hurt I’ve caused him.

“All right. The Silverado?” Mr. Armstrong ticks another on the list on his paper.

“That’s Jordan’s truck. It’s his to keep,” I answer for Jordan.

“Okay. Then we have a 1969 Ford Mustang.”

“It’s Jordan and my dad’s.” I smile at the memories. Jordan and my dad bonded over old junky cars. In the years we’ve been together, they’ve fixed up several of them. It’s their hobby.

“I’d liked to keep it, Heidi,” Jordan says.

“Of course. I wouldn’t take it from you.”

“Okay, the Ford is Mr. Johnson’s. Then there is...wow.” For the first time, Mr. Armstrong shows a real emotion other than his sternness. “1950 Cadillac Coupe Deville. Really?” His eyes are wide.

“Yes. Sam, Heidi’s dad, and I are working on it this year.”

“Now that’s a nice car.” Mr. Armstrong composes himself and looks at me. “Mrs. Johnson?”

“It’s Jordan’s.” I nod.

“Moving on, then.” Mr. Armstrong scratches a few notes and I can feel Jordan staring at me, but I don’t look up at him. “We will move on to the biggest and argumentative part of this. Money and cash.” He sighs and clicks his pen again. “Let’s start with the checking account. There’s one joint and then Mrs. Johnson has her own.”

“That one is for the business,” I inform him.

“There is not a business name on it, and even if it did, you’re still bound to disclose it to Mr. Johnson,” he cuts right back at me.

“She can keep the account and the money in it. I’m not taking it.”

“Well,” Mr. Armstrong quickly writes down a few notes. “Here’s the big issue. Mr. Johnson, you’re currently worth ten million dollars and Mrs. Johnson, even with the business, only forty thousand.” I feel like dirt when he says my number in his tone. “This entitles Mrs. Johnson to alimony.”

“Okay,” Jordan says without Mr. Armstrong even telling him how much I’d get.

“No. No. No,” I repeat over and over, shaking my head. “I don’t want it.”

“You’re taking it.” Jordan narrows his eyes at me.

“I’m not taking your money. I have my business and my own account; I’m fine.” I glare at him.

“All right. All right.” Mr. Armstrong holds up his hands. “Let’s try this. Mr. Johnson, why don’t you give Mrs. Johnson a one-time settlement payment of one million dollars and there won’t have to be any alimony.”

“Done.” Jordan nods at the same time I say, “No.”

“Heidi, take the money. You want this divorce, so you are taking this money. Open more salons or invest it; I don’t care, but I
need
to know you’re taken care of.” Jordan voice isn’t mean. It’s firm and tight.

I hate to think of how the money could really elevate Above A Dream, but I push the thought out of my head. I can’t use Jordan’s money to make my business. I received the loan for the salon on my own. But could I get another? Even with the salon doing well, the majority of the profits go right back into the business. It could be a safe cushion for me.