Her Money, His Pride

Chapter 11: A Price on Everything

I knew Victoria regretted the question before I walked away.

That did not make it better.

Sophie was waiting beside the booth, holding a beanbag against her chest.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No.”

“Miss Ashford looks sad.”

I glanced back.

Victoria stood behind the counter, pretending to organize tickets. Her parents had moved toward the board members, leaving her alone.

“She’ll be fine.”

Sophie studied me with the same doubtful expression her mother used to give me.

“You say that when you don’t know.”

Before I could answer, a man stepped into my path.

Richard Ashford.

He looked exactly as he did in business magazines: silver hair, expensive suit, and the calm expression of someone accustomed to being heard.

“Daniel Carter?”

“Yes.”

He extended his hand. “Richard Ashford.”

“I know.”

His grip was firm.

“I remember your proposal for the Langford property.”

“So do I.”

“We chose a larger company.”

“I’m aware.”

There was no reason to sound bitter. Losing contracts was part of the business. Still, being dismissed without a meeting had nearly cost me two employees that year.

Richard glanced toward the booth.

“You built this?”

“With help.”

“It’s good work.”

“It’s a school game.”

“Good work is good work.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Victoria watching us.

Her shoulders had gone rigid.

Richard reached into his jacket and handed me a card.

“We’re restoring an older building on Hawthorne Avenue. My project manager is having trouble finding someone willing to preserve the original woodwork.”

I looked at the card but did not take it.

“If your project manager wants an estimate, he can contact my office.”

Richard’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

Most people probably accepted anything he offered before he finished speaking.

“You’re not interested?”

“I didn’t say that. I said he can contact my office.”

A faint smile appeared.

“Fair enough.”

He placed the card on the counter beside us.

Victoria approached as soon as her father walked away.

“What did he want?”

“Work.”

Her expression closed.

Of course it did.

“Did you ask him?”

“No.”

“But you discussed the old proposal.”

“He brought it up.”

She looked at the card.

I could almost see the thoughts forming behind her eyes.

The fair.

Her family.

My company.

All the pieces arranging themselves into the story she expected.

“I told you I didn’t know he would be here,” I said.

“I didn’t accuse you.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Her chin lifted. “My father doesn’t offer opportunities without a reason.”

“Maybe he needs a contractor.”

“He has dozens.”

“And I have a company capable of doing the work.”

The words came out sharper than I intended.

Victoria glanced toward Sophie.

I lowered my voice.

“I volunteered because my daughter wanted me here. Your father speaking to me afterward doesn’t change that.”

“You expect me to believe this is all a coincidence?”

There it was.

The accusation she had been holding since the hardware store.

I picked up Richard’s card and tore it in half.

Victoria stared at me.

“What are you doing?”

“Removing the opportunity.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“No. You only made sure I knew what you thought of me.”

I dropped the pieces into the trash.

Her face lost some of its color.

“That was childish.”

“Probably.”

“You could have earned a valuable contract.”

“I earn my contracts by doing good work. Not by standing close enough to an Ashford.”

Her eyes flashed.

“I never said—”

“You didn’t need to.”

Sophie appeared beside us.

“Dad, it’s my turn.”

The anger left me immediately.

I crouched and handed her a beanbag.

“Show me how it’s done.”

She threw it through the smallest opening and raised both arms.

Victoria clapped before she could stop herself.

Sophie beamed at both of us, unaware of the distance that had opened again.

Later, while I packed the booth supplies, Victoria approached.

“My father can issue another card,” she said quietly.

“I don’t want one from you.”

“I wasn’t offering a favor.”

“It would feel like one.”

She looked down at the yellow paint on the counter.

“I may have been unfair.”

It was not an apology.

But for Victoria, it was close.

I closed the toolbox.

“You were.”

Her gaze rose to mine.

For one second, neither of us looked away.

Then she said, “Good night, Daniel.”

“Good night, Victoria.”

I watched her leave with her parents.

I told myself I was relieved to see the distance between us restored.

But the truth was harder to ignore.

I had torn up a valuable opportunity to protect my pride.

And a part of me still wanted her to understand why.