“I’d go on a vacation, but I don’t want to move. This is my home. This is where I belong.”
“You wouldn’t move, even for love?” he asked.
She paled, and drew a shallow, shuddering breath. “That’s not a fair question.”
“Why not?”
“Because the reason I live here, is for love. I love my sister, Charity, dearly. I love my parents—even as difficult as they are. I love my friends like your grandmother. I belong here because they’re here. We’re not just a family, but a community.”
He could see she was getting upset. Tears filmed her eyes and he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her brow. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not,” she answered, blinking hard.
Maybe she wasn’t crying, but she was definitely fighting tears, and watching her struggle to maintain control did something to him, making his chest tighten and ache. He was so used to her smiling and laughing, and he loved her laugh because it was warm and husky and impossibly happy, that her sadness wounded him, making him want to better protect her.
Amanda Wright was so much more than a beautiful face. She was smart and kind, generous, and optimistic, and he wanted more of her in his life, not less.
She was habit-forming. Charming, maddening, fascinating, intoxicating—
He liked her. Possibly loved her.
Probably loved her, as he couldn’t remember when he last felt this way about anyone.
In just a matter of weeks, she’d become as—if not more—interesting than his work. Instead of focusing on games, he found himself thinking about her. Analyzing her. And every time he was sure that he finally figured her out, she surprised him, and showed a different side to her. She wasn’t shallow. She wasn’t vain. She wasn’t self-absorbed. If anything, she was the exact opposite. She loved others and gave of herself unstintingly. She didn’t wait for others to do the right thing. Amanda seemed to be the first to volunteer, and the last to leave.
Tyler had spent the past fifteen years designing bestselling games, games that reviewers called dangerously addictive, but Amanda was far more meaningful and engrossing than anything he’d ever created, and if she loved Marietta so much, could he come to love it the way she did? Could he possibly make it his home?
Chapter Nine
The meeting with Cormac ended up happening very differently from how Tyler had imagined, coming about Tuesday as Tyler walked out of Java Café with a cup of coffee and Cormac was just heading in.
Tyler recognized Cormac right away, and was wondering if he should say something when Cormac stopped him. “Aren’t you Tyler Justice?” Cormac asked.
“Yes,” he answered, extending a hand. “You’re Cormac.”
“I owe you a couple phone calls and a meeting. I’m sorry. I’ve been on the road more than I’ve been home lately. My family isn’t happy about it, and I’m just trying to get caught up with everything on the desk. You should know you’re near the top of the list. I was going to give you a call today. Or do you have a few minutes right now?”
“I do.”
“Let me get some coffee and then we’ll sit down and talk.” Cormac opened the door to Java Café, and Tyler followed him in.
Their conversation lasted far longer than either of them anticipated. Cormac told him a little bit about why he wanted to buy Justice Games, and then they discussed the industry, and how changing technology kept changing the way people played games, and not just where they played them, but how. They ended up speaking for close to two hours and when it was over Cormack asked bluntly, “So what do you want from me?”
“I want to continue my work,” Tyler answered, just as direct. “I want to remain with Justice Games, and while I understand I no longer own the company, I don’t see why I couldn’t remain involved in some capacity. Either as a lead designer or as a creative director.”
“Why did you sell to TexTron in the first place?”
“Because it’s awfully hard to build a company, and continually design new games, and I realized I couldn’t do justice to both—” He paused, cracked a smile. “No pun intended. I realized over time that my passion is for design. I’m a nerd. I’m happiest when coding and doing my graphics, not crunching numbers or worrying about market share or market dominance.”
“Was it difficult for you, working for TexTron?”
“The only time it was truly difficult was when they sold to you. I had no idea it was coming, and I was caught off guard. I felt powerless and I didn’t like it. I still don’t.”
“But if you worked for me, you’d still be powerless. I could decide to offload Justice Games tomorrow.”
“You could, absolutely. But you might also end up keeping the company, realizing it’s exciting and rewarding and twenty years from now we could be sitting here again, congratulating ourselves for making it even more successful.”
“What do you want financially?”
“What I had with TexTron. A base salary and then a percentage of profits.”
“Your base salary wasn’t significant.”
“But the potential is there if the company is run right.”
“You didn’t earn significantly while you were in Austin.”
“Justice Games wasn’t properly managed, no.”
“Why don’t I just give you a bigger salary?”
“Because my compensation should be tied to the success of my games. I’ve always said that, and I still believe it.”
Cormac studied him for a long minute. “When would you want to start?”
“Tomorrow.”
For the first time since they sat down, his firm mouth eased and Cormac smiled. “How about Monday? We’re still sorting out relocation details and trying to find adequate office space.”
“I can tell you what we need.”
“I’m sure you could.” Cormac’s smile broadened. “By the way, I hear you ride.” He must have seen Tyler’s confusion because he added, “Mandy told me you snowboard.”
“I haven’t for a couple of years. Texas isn’t known for its slopes.”
“No vacations for you?”
“I have a hard time unplugging. Something I know I need to work on.” Tyler hesitated. “When did you see Mandy?”
“Saturday. She cut my hair the day of the St. Patrick’s Day Ball. I told her to introduce us at the hotel, but I guess it didn’t work out.”
Tyler remembered how Amanda had offered to introduce him to Cormac at the ball, and how he’d rejected the offer because he’d wanted to handle it himself. “She’s pretty amazing.”
“She’s been through a lot. Take care of her.”
Tyler left Java Café feeling better than he had in weeks.
He’d be working again come Monday. He was enjoying being in Marietta. And then there was Amanda.
She was incredible, and she made him wonder if they could go the distance. Life was so much better with her in it. And while he’d never found the idea of marriage particularly appealing, not after his parents’ marriage had fallen apart, Amanda made him want to try.
He needed to talk to her. There were things they needed to discuss. Even before today’s conversation with Cormac, Tyler had been thinking of remaining in Marietta. He’d even poured over the Copper Mountain Courier classified ads, looking to see what was available in terms of office space.
Settling down in Marietta was a new idea, something that had only come to him recently, and it was still so fresh that he wasn’t sure what to think of it, and he didn’t want to say anything to Amanda until he knew for certain it wasn’t an impulsive decision.
But something she’d said to him a couple weeks ago had stayed with him.
Why did his grandmother have to leave all of her friends? Why should she be the one to move? Why couldn’t he move here?
There was no reason for him to live in Texas now. He’d never truly settled in, and even though he h
ad a house in Austin, it wasn’t home. California was home. Or once upon a time it had been home. But he’d cut a lot of ties when he’d moved to Texas, and he’d let a lot of relationships go. He didn’t feel any burning desire to return to California for that matter.
He could buy a big house in Marietta and have Gram move in with him. Or, he could stay with Gram in her house until they figured out what the right thing to do was, because the more time he spent with his grandmother, the more he’d come to appreciate her independence and spirit, as well as her dozens of friends.
He imagined trying to tell Gram that he had decided to move to Marietta. The first thing she’d ask is why, and he’d be honest with her. It was Amanda. She’d changed him. And with all her projects and dreams, she seemed to be changing Marietta, too.
“Come for dinner tonight,” Bette said Tuesday afternoon, as she dropped into her pink chair at the salon, the one reserved just for her. “I’m making chicken something,” she added before looking at her reflection and lifting a curl, trying to give it a little height.
Amanda checked her smile. Most of Amanda’s clients were used to Bette coming and going. “Eileen, you know Bette Justice, don’t you?” she said, introducing her client in her chair to Bette.
Eileen gave a small nod, unable to do more with Amanda adding silver highlights to her salt-and-pepper bob. “Oh yes, our sons grew up together, and played football and baseball at Marietta High.” Eileen’s eyebrows arched as she tried to look toward Bette. “I heard your grandson is back, isn’t he?”
“Tyler, Patrick’s son, yes.” Bette stopped fussing with the curl and folded her hands in her lap. “I haven’t seen you since you filled in for the duplicate bridge club. Are you still playing?”
“Not as much as I used to. Howard hasn’t been well.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I suppose it’s inevitable at our age, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”
For a moment there was silence, and a poignant resignation to the inevitability of life. Amanda swallowed around the lump filling her throat. So many of her clients were older women and she loved them fiercely because they had been through so much, and were so impossibly resilient. She didn’t know how they did it. She wasn’t sure she could ever be that strong.