Sophia and I passed each other in the halls. She did her best to avoid eye contact, while I did my best not to fall to my knees and beg for her forgiveness. The hours ticked by as the deadline to turn in our bids neared. In less than twenty-four hours, everything would be over. One of us would bring our family victory, while the other would never live down the loss. But most importantly, Sophia and I would no longer have any reason for contact. One of us would most certainly be asked to vacate the premises as a guest, and we’d go back to what we’d been for the last twelve years—people who saw each other occasionally at an event and stayed on the other side of the room.
The night before the day the bids were due, I couldn’t sleep. I’d emailed my final valuation for the hotel to my grandfather, along with my recommendation for the bid. He’d emailed back asking if I was certain the bid was higher than the Sterlings’. I’d told him it was, though I had no fucking clue.
At four thirty in the morning, I couldn’t lie in bed anymore, so I decided to go for a run. I usually ran three miles, but today I ran until my legs burned, and then I ran all the way back, relishing the agony each pounding step caused in my body.
The lobby coffee shop had already opened, so I grabbed a bottle of water and went and sat in a quiet corner where Sophia and I had sat before. A big painting of Grace Copeland hung nearby, and for the first time I took a good look at it.
“That was done from a snapshot taken on her fiftieth birthday,” a familiar voice said.
I looked over to find Louis, the hotel manager, admiring the painting with me. He pointed to the chair next to me. “Mind if I take a seat?”
“Not at all. Help yourself.”
We continued to look at the painting in silence, until eventually I asked, “You were with her from the very beginning, right?”
Louis nodded. “Almost. I worked the front desk when this place was a rundown jalopy. The years after she bought out Mr. Sterling and your grandfather were touch-and-go. There were weeks she couldn’t make payroll, but we were all so dedicated to Grace that we figured out how to survive.”
I looked back at the painting again. Grace Copeland had been a beautiful woman. “How come she never married after the broken engagement with old man Sterling? It couldn’t have been for a lack of opportunity.”
Louis shook his head. “There were definitely plenty of suitors interested in Grace. And she dated a bit. But I think her broken heart never really mended. She learned to live with it in pieces, and occasionally she gave out a sliver or two, but she felt strongly that you only committed to a person when they had your full heart.”
I looked back at Louis. “You’re married, right?”
He smiled. “Forty-three years. Some mornings I can’t wait to get out of the house to get a little break from my Agnes. She tends to talk a lot, and mostly about other people’s business. But every night, I can’t wait to get home to her.”
“So do you think it’s true?”
His brows furrowed. “What’s that?”
“Do you believe if someone takes your heart, you won’t be able to love the same way after that?”
Louis thought for a moment. “I think some people get inside our hearts and stay, even long after they physically leave.”
***
My phone rang at ten after nine. The number wasn’t familiar, but I had a feeling I knew who it was.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Lockwood?”
“Yes.”
“This is Otto Potter.”
I leaned back into my chair. “I figured I might be hearing from you.”
“Well, I just wanted to make sure that what I received on your bid form was correct.”
I took a deep breath and blew it out. “It is. What’s written there is my bid on behalf of the Lockwood family.”
“And you’re aware that this isn’t a round-robin-type bidding process. It’s a one shot, best bid offer.”
I swallowed. “I am.”
“Alright, then. We’ll be back in touch soon.”
After I hung up, I closed my eyes, expecting panic to set in. Surprisingly, it didn’t. Instead, I felt eerily calm. Maybe for the first time in a long time—or maybe for the first time ever.
Chapter 28
* * *
Sophia
“Well, congratulations again, Sophia.” Elizabeth Barton extended her hand as we stood from the conference room table.
“Thank you.” I managed to force out an acceptable smile.
Seven days had passed since I’d received the call that I’d won the bid for my family, yet it still felt like I’d lost the war. My father had flown in to take me out to dinner to celebrate without Spencer, and my grandfather had offered me a position overseeing our family’s entire west coast hotel operation, the largest region we had. Everything was falling into place, yet I’d never felt so empty inside. The reason for that was obvious.