Bab 6: Chapter 6
MARI
Pierce dropped the three bags he carried in from the car in the middle of his living room. From the outside, the Kensington family home held a traditional East Coast façade as a big white home with lots of windows, but inside someone took the time to update it over the years. Therefore, everything looked modern once you passed the front door.
Big columns broke up the space with tall ceilings and dark-colored hardwood floors ran the entire first floor. The living room, which boasted a TV the size of one wall, was framed by white couches that looked too pristine to sit on, but I knew from experience were comfortable.
The home was stately, expensive, yet somehow well-lived in at the same time. To be honest, it didn’t fit Pierce. It was more laid-back than many of my expectations of what an East Coast high society man would be. His house didn’t fit it, but Pierce himself did. He was stiff and stuffy compared to his cousin.
Oliver walked in after Pierce and dumped a few more bags on the floor. "Hey, be careful. Those contain shoes," I said as a box slipped from one bag as it fell to its side.
They were a nice pair of shoes. I purchased considerably more clothing than I planned to when I agreed to a shopping trip, but every time I tried to put an item back, Oliver reminded me of my new position for the next six months and I couldn’t stop thinking of the price each item would fetch on eBay.
I was strictly back into the get-back-to-Guatemala-as-fast-as-possible plan I’d started this adventure with. Something warned me the longer I stayed and the more comfortable I became the harder it would be to leave. And I had to leave. I refused to fall back into my old Mari ways.
"It’s rough being a Kensington. Isn’t it?" Oliver asked as he flopped on one couch and tossed his legs up over the end.
Pierce narrowed his eyes at his cousin and used a hand to swipe his feet off the furniture.
I laughed for probably the millionth time that day at the two and their antics. They were more like brothers than cousins. As shameful as it was to admit, I’d never had such carefree relationships—at least not until I landed in Guatemala, but certainly never with someone in one of my social circles in America.
And to be honest I loved the clothing I’d been able to pick out from the mall. I refused to fall back into stuck up Mari, but I was more than ready to get back into wearing high heels again. I grew rather accustomed to the comfortable sneakers and flats I’d picked up wearing the last two years, but nothing beat a pair of heels.
Pierce twisted his arm, bringing his watch to his eyes to read it for longer than it took to figure out the time. He shook his head and met his cousin’s gaze. "Are you two okay here if I skip out on dinner?"
We grabbed lunch at a restaurant in Portland, but I could definitely eat again. I wanted to spend the next six months eating big juicy burgers, fries, and pizza. Thank god I wasn’t talking to my mother because it would give her a heart attack.
"Sure," Oliver said easily, but his eyes held unasked questions as he looked at Pierce and tilted of his head. "But shouldn’t you be wining and dining your fiancée?"
Pierce whipped his gaze to me and studied my expression for a moment. "Tomorrow, okay? We’ll visit the good places in town."
"Sure." Truthfully, while I agreed to the six months of fake fiancée-ship, I wasn’t exactly jumping at the heels to put myself out there and win the town’s affections for Pierce. Mainly because I had no idea how I would do such a thing. Old Mari wasn’t known for her friendly personality and new Mari spent a day at work and then slept hard while everyone else partied.
If Pierce was a villain in this town who wanted to buy up the old shops and modernize the city, I didn’t understand how I’d be able to talk anyone out of those beliefs, especially when he wanted to buy the oldest bed-and-breakfast on the East Coast with plans to modernize the historic operation.
But two million dollars were on the line, and I wouldn’t give up without a fight. Besides, I’d already emailed my site host in Guatemala with a promise of the money in six months. I hadn’t given her the details of how I planned to obtain the cash, but I described how Pierce needed to liquidate a few assets first and I wanted to hang around to help him while securing more funding if possible. Years passed, but I hadn’t lost my knack of writing an email that sounded fancy, yet actually said very little. I honed those skills over long nights filled with caffeine and financial reports.
I could do other things here as well. I figured I’d hit up a few of the other rich and old money families in the area and, if possible, fund one or more of the other projects we wanted to bring to our village people.
Pierce walked out of his home without giving his cousin and me a second glance, his steps led by determination to wherever he was going, but he hadn’t shared the details.
"Come on," Oliver said as he saw me looking after Pierce’s retreating back. "I’ll help you take these clothes to your room and then we can make a sandwich."
"I’m pretty sure Pierce promised me a gourmet dinner."
Oliver smirked. "Babe, my sandwiches are gourmet."
I laughed and grabbed as many bags off the floor as my hands could hold. Before I’d been forced to learn to cook, my idea of a sandwich consisted of peanut butter and jelly. I couldn’t wait to see what Oliver passed off as gourmet.
By "help me take the bags my room" Oliver actually meant he would carry the bags up the stairs, open my bedroom door, and fling them on the floor before telling me to hurry so we could eat.
I stopped for a moment and mourned the bumps and bruises the shoes obtained by his violent handling of them before ultimately following him downstairs to the kitchen. He promised me food, after all.
Pierce’s kitchen was a large and open space similar in look to the living room. White cabinets and marble countertops made the area glitter in brightness. It was a chef’s kitchen and not what I expected in the old home, which were known for their closed off tiny spaces.
Two black metal stools were lined up on one side of the kitchen island and I took a seat in the first one leaning on the countertop waiting to see what Oliver would come up with on his mission. I may have joked with him, but my expectations weren’t that high. Men of his caliber often thought putting a few pieces of turkey and cheese on white bread was gourmet just because his hands had crafted it.
But I didn’t plan to let on to my suspicions. Oliver took over Pierce’s kitchen as if it was his own, finding the cabinet for plates and then the drawer for silverware with ease. Next he rummaged around in the fridge until he had the makings of a decent sandwich littered across the island countertop.
"You weren’t lying about knowing what to do. Were you?" I asked, as he smothered a thick layer of mayonnaise on a few pieces of toast. Three years ago, I would’ve crinkled my nose in disgust and pushed it away, but I hadn’t eaten an American-made sandwich in years and didn’t plan to get snooty over it.
Oliver smiled, not disturbed by my question. "Jerome and I only grew up semi-rich. Strictly high, high middle-class, the lowest of bluebloods."
My mouth fell open in mock shock and I covered it with a hand in fake indignation. "You poor thing. How did you survive?"
He shrugged nonchalantly, but his smile hinted at laughter. "It was horrible. We didn’t even have a nanny or a housekeeper."
My exaggerated smirk grew. "No? The horror."
Oliver laughed and my cheeks hurt from the smiling I’d done around him throughout the day. I would never have considered joking about someone’s wealth or implied lack thereof with anyone from my previous life.
"My brother and I had to fend for ourselves after school. One bored and hungry summer while my mother was working, I needed to learn how to make macaroni and cheese from a box so the two of us didn’t starve. It was a hard life."
"It’s a tragic story, but you’ve obviously overcome your hardships and flourished in adulthood."
"Yes, it’s been rough, but Jerome and I rose from the ashes. Pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps, if I say so myself.
"Okay, enough jokes," I said as he passed over a turkey, avocado, and cheese sandwich with mayonnaise and mustard. "What did your parents do?"
I expected him to respond with something like his father was a lawyer and his mother was a doctor—both busy professions that required lots of hours at work but had a basic understanding of how the world works and that their children could live without the constant guidance of a housekeeper. Most people in San Francisco had forgotten such skills. Even though they worked hard for their money, they wanted to provide everything for their children, which included constant pampering of their needs. I saw firsthand because that’s how my parents raised me—the nanny, housekeeper, and the rest.
His answer wasn’t what I expected. "My parents were both missionaries. We spent most of our time growing up home schooled in a van in Africa. It’s why I bought the houseboat because I don’t have anywhere in America to call home. So when I tried to settle down, nowhere seemed right. Now I’m constantly on the move and somehow I find that stable and settling. Does that make sense?" He took a bite of sandwich while I processed his words.
"No," I answered truthfully. "I grew up in San Francisco, strictly middle-of-the-road old-school blueblood. Prepared to take over the family business and everything, but life had other plans for me." I’d gone to South Africa once for vacation, but until my time in Guatemala I’d never gone somewhere… well… impoverished. Back then I considered it a good thing, something to be proud of, but as I grew and experienced the world, I found it embarrassing.
"Yes, Pierce told me about your situation. He did a bit of… digging after your aunt called."
I figured as much so his admission didn’t catch me off guard. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a man who offered so much money. I liked the fact I didn’t have to explain in vivid detail to either Pierce or Oliver what happened to me in San Francisco. One of the best things in Guatemala was that nobody asked me what I was thinking or much about my past.
"I always lived in San Francisco. Had no plans to leave the city, and as much I missed the conveniences of America, I enjoyed my time in Guatemala. I enjoy having a home base." Even if it was a tiny little shack of an apartment in the middle of nowhere. What did I say? I still couldn’t banish parts of the old me, like my need to own things that were strictly mine. I’d never been good with sharing.
We talked for a moment about the families I worked with in Guatemala and how the organization planned to use the money I would earn from Pierce after my six months were up in Pelican Bay. When I finished, Oliver stared at me with the weirdest expression, but he schooled his features when my story ended.
"It sounds like what you’re doing is spectacular. How do you get electricity in your village?"
I scoffed at the notion of electricity. "Oliver, we’re trying to get clean water first. Electricity is way off in the future." It wasn’t the money; it was the knowledge and supplies it would take to get someone to run lines all the way from the closest city to our village fifty miles away. Lack of resources was only half the problem. Not having experienced workers was the other.
"I have to confess," Oliver said as he finished his sandwich and dusted the crumbs from his fingers. "You see, I’m not in Pelican Bay just to see you and Pierce. I’m meeting with a few investors. I’ve spent the last five years working on a better solar power system, something we can move cheaply and install in mostly undeveloped areas."
"Yes, they have things like that already, but the price is crazy." How do you teach a farming community the ways to hook up and run solar energy? Troubleshooting? Most of them had never seen a computer.
Oliver nodded as if he understood what I was saying. "That’s the point. I’m working on a source of energy that’s easy for a common person to use and doesn’t cost a ton of money. It’s cheap to get resources here in the states, but getting them to undeveloped areas is costly, and often the materials are broken by the time they get there from damage during shipping. If they aren’t intercepted by fanatical governments first."
"Is that what you do? Develop new technologies?" Pierce made his money from family investment and from his substantial real estate holdings in the town. Rent was one of the oldest forms of moneymaking. The privileged had been using the method for centuries, as far back as wealthy knights in England taking food from their serf farmers who lived on plots of land the king bequeathed the knights for their heroics. Oliver hadn’t mentioned what he did to earn the funds for his lifestyle.
"No, I’m not a scientist by any means. My parents never touched most of their inheritance. There wasn’t much need for tons of money in Africa, but I want to put mine to work for me. Blending a little of Pierce’s financial suave and working with giving back the way my parents taught me is important."
I nodded along as he spoke, getting more interested with each word.
"I consider myself more of a facilitator. We invest in new technologies, trying to get them to the public and see success with the number of people we can help. My father is currently working on a prototype of the new solar energy in South Africa. He’s doing the testing for us before we bring anything large scale."
"I have to be honest with you. It doesn’t sound profitable." If he charged the villages, he wasn’t being helpful to them in the long run.
Oliver smirked. "It’s not profits, Mari," he said, sufficiently putting me in my place. "As I said, my parents didn’t use most of their money and still don’t. My brother and I have a living trust and I’ve invested most of it, which allows me to live off the interest and what I don’t need I try to give back."
I rested my chin on my hands and stared at him as he sauntered from Pierce’s kitchen. I was in Pelican Bay to secure the much-needed two million dollars and maintain a fake relationship with Pierce, but I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to learn more about his cousin.
Hadiah
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