by Jill Snow
“Conor, I am really sorry for the things I said. It was totally out of order. You had some good ideas about my blog. Would you like to come in for a coffee? We could talk about them a bit more.”
“I don’t think that would be wise, Ms. Williams.”
“Stop calling me that. I said I was sorry. Can’t you at least meet me halfway?”
He stared at her as she stood in front of him, biting her lip again. Her eyes had changed color. Now they looked stormy grey rather than the piercing blue of that morning.
“I have some cookies,” she added.
She was making an effort and had apologized. It was churlish of him to continue being mad. “Homemade or store-bought?”
She laughed. “Homemade. They’re good, too. Just ask Dan.”
The twinge of jealousy nearly felled him. Was that her boyfriend? “Dan?”
“My doorman. He likes my cookies, probably a little too much.”
“Do you have to regularly apologize to him, too?”
He saw her stifle a cry, as her face screwed up with what looked like regret and sadness. He was being a cad to keep making her feel worse after she’d already admitted her mistake.
“I’d love to try them. I’m very hungry, after all. I didn’t eat much dinner.”
She let out a surprise giggle, looking somewhat relieved as she showed him the way into her apartment. The doorman greeted her with a big smile. It was obvious they were on good terms. He liked how she greeted people, saw them rather than just ignored the fact they were there. She had been the same in the restaurant. So many women he had dated would ignore the server or the doorman, they simply weren’t important enough to them. But Emily was different.
Chapter 15
When they got upstairs, her cell buzzed with a missed call and voicemail. Checking quickly, she saw it was her grandmother.
“Sorry, Conor, it’s my grandmother. I just want to double check she’s okay.”
“Sure. Do you mind if I make some coffee?”
“Help yourself. Kitchen is that way.”
He headed into the kitchen, closing the door behind him to give her some privacy. It was rather old fashioned, but homey, and absolutely pristine. He had to open a few cupboards to find the coffee. Everything was neatly displayed on the shelves, all the labels facing out.
He jumped as she came through the door, afraid she would think he was sneaking. “I couldn’t find the sugar. I know it’s not good for me, but I can’t stand coffee without it.”
“Oh, it should be there somewhere. I always keep some for guests, but I can never find it.”
He looked from her to her perfectly neat shelves and back again.
“I have a housekeeper,” she explained, as if guessing his confusion. “She’s only supposed to tidy up and do some laundry and stuff, but she has a thing about cupboards. She keeps all the jars together in her system. I think sugar belongs near the tea and coffee. But Sarah Jane has her own way of doing it and, to be honest, I don’t spend enough time here to worry about it.”
“I didn’t figure you having a maid.”
“I never had one before, but it’s gotten so busy at work, Carrie convinced me that the time I saved doing housework was better spent relaxing. Of course, I don’t find I have any extra time. Work always seems to fill the gap, you know?”
Yes, he did know. His friends were always complaining he never went back to Ireland for a visit, but he didn’t have the time. Having so many business enterprises may have made him wealthy, but sometimes he missed those days where it was just him, his computer and his bedroom.
The refrigerator door was covered in pictures. Everyone was smiling. He assumed it was the older woman pictured with her arms around Emily was her gran. Another of Emily and a young boy, who must be her nephew. A faded photo of her parents. It must be nice to have the stability of a family growing up.
“I like the photos. You look like your mother.”
“Thanks. I know some people think it is silly sticking photos to the refrigerator but that’s what we did when I was growing up. I miss my parents every day but looking at these make me thankful for the happy times we had. Some families don’t have that.
Yeah, families like mine. “How do you like your coffee?” he asked, trying to get off the subject.
“Just black, please. There’s milk if you prefer that to cream.”
“Thanks.”
She opened the door into the living room and he carried out the two cups. She followed with a plate of cookies.
“These are good. You have a talent for baking if ever you decide to give up the gaming world. Don’t look at me like that. I was joking. What I said earlier was never meant to suggest you should give up. Just maybe change tactics.”
“I was wrong to jump down your throat.”
“You went so far down you nearly came out my toes.”
She laughed. He was glad of that. He was hoping they could return to the footing they had enjoyed that morning before the day had turned weird.
“So you think I should discuss what I like in a game? What appeals to me?”
“Yes, I do.”
“But…”
“You should, Emily, honest. At the moment, you look like you’re on a vendetta. And yes, you have some good points. The industry needs to be cleaned up and you’re just the woman to lead that change. But why not be proud of that fact?”
She looked scared and vulnerable for a split second before her guard came up again. He wanted to reassure her everything would be fine, but he had to tread carefully.
“I think this way you may get more people to follow you. I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who enjoy the same games you do, who have never heard of your blog or foundation. They aren’t interested in the games you target, so they won’t have any reason to read your blog.”
She sat across from him on the other sofa, her legs curled up under her, the coffee held between her hands. She looked terrified. He was tempted to move over beside her but, given her reaction earlier, he thought he should stay where he was.
“I guess you have a point. But can we stop talking about it for a bit?”
“Sure. What do you want to talk about?”
“You.”
“Me?” he stuttered. He didn’t want to talk about him. What was there to say? His father was dead, his mother an alcoholic. He’d been bullied at school, spent too much online and then found an idea that made him rich beyond his wildest dreams. That was it in a nutshell but if he admitted it, she would think he was whining. But he wanted her to know something about him. He wasn’t just the owner of Sunny Studios.
“Yeah. I tried to do some research, but your online bio doesn’t give much away. Did you grow up in a big city in Ireland? What made you become a businessman?”
“I grew up outside Dublin in a small area nobody outside of there has heard of. I went to a posh school and got a great education. I started my own business at school and kind of went on from there. I seem to have a knack for knowing how to spot a failing company and turn it around. I guess. I don’t know why. Some people say I have a sixth sense.”
“You mean you can tell the future?”
“As if.” He laughed, amazed at how easily he could. “You don’t believe in that stuff do you?”
“I don’t know. I read my horoscope now and then. Sometimes they seem accurate. Today mine told me I would have a nice morning, busy time at work, horrific early dinner and…”
“What did they say about the evening?”
“I didn’t get a chance to read that far.”
He laughed as she teased him. Or was she flirting with him? The signals were hard to read but if he were a betting man, he would say she was at least attracted to him, too. He’d caught her checking him out a couple of times.
“Conor? You okay? You seem miles away.”
“Sorry, just thinking. So what else do you want to know?”
“Are you going to settle in the US or will you go back t
o Ireland?”
“Why, do you want to come with me?” He flirted openly to see her reaction.
She laughed, but it sounded nervous and this time her cheeks went a funny shade of pink. It suited her. Then she yawned again. He had noticed she was trying to hide the yawns earlier.
He had finished his coffee so he put the cup on the table and leaned forward.
“Emily, I should go.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks for coming up.” She stood up and swayed. He reached out to steady her but thought better of it.
“Goodbye, Emily. I hope you sleep well tonight.”
“Thank you for today.”
He found himself saying, “I enjoyed it.”
She closed the door and he stood looking at it for a few seconds. She was an incredible woman, infuriating one minute and so wonderful the next. Whistling, he walked downstairs, nodded to the doorman and decided to walk back to his rental.
Chapter 16
Sunday was another gorgeous day. She got to take her grandmother out for lunch rather than having to sit in the facility.
“You look happier than you have in a long time, Emily.”
“Do I?”
“Yes, do you have something to tell me?”
Emily laughed. “No, Nana.”
“Are you sure? Because a gal like me needs to know about important dates in advance. I need time to get a new dress, a new hat, get my hair done. I might even get that new shellac thing on my nails. What do you think?”
“I love you, Nana, but there’s no need for all that. Yes, I met someone but I only had lunch with him yesterday.”
“I met your grandfather and we got engaged three days later.”
“That was different, Nana. He was shipping out.”
“Still, it was love at first sight. What’s this guy’s name?”
“Conor Dunne.”
“Where is he from then?”
“Ireland. We met through work.” It wasn’t really a lie—work had brought them together. “Now, Nana, tell me what you’ve been up to?”
“Not a lot, really. I’ve tried the new Zumba class. Mike, the instructor, has a lovely set of muscles. Makes me wish I was fifty years younger.”
“Nana!”
“What? Do you think your generation is the one that invented sex? Why do young people write us oldies off like that? I may not be able to do the high kick anymore, but I still have my sight.”
“Oh, Nana, I missed you. You make me laugh so much.”
“I missed you, too, sweetie. But before you do the guilt trick on yourself, I know you’re working hard and I’m proud of you. Did I tell you that? My friends and I even read your…what do you call it? The website.”
“You read my blog? Really?”
“Sure I do. You’re my granddaughter. Can’t pretend I know what you’re talking about half the time but I still read it. You followed your dream, Emily. Never let anyone steal that away from you.”
They had a very enjoyable lunch and then took a walk along the beach.
“I miss this. I wish we still lived near the beach.”
Emily looked at her grandmother sadly. She never complained, but Emily knew the retirement home wasn’t ideal. Her grandmother wasn’t senile or showing signs of developing dementia. But she had high blood pressure and a couple of other ailments, which meant she needed regular care. There were better facilities available, but Emily couldn’t afford them.
“Nana, why don’t you sell your apartment and use the money to fund a place in one of the retirement villages on the beach somewhere? You could live in Florida.”
“Why would I want to live there? You’re here. I want to stay near my family. Maybe someday you and the Irish guy can give me great grandchildren to fuss over.”
“Nana! I told you we only had lunch.”
“I know what you told me, but you’ve got a twinkle in your eye and I haven’t seen that in a long time. Maybe not since prom night.”
Did she have to mention that awful night? Her grandmother had made her the most spectacular dress. She was going with the man of her dreams, Greg Nielsen. He was one of the football jocks who usually went out with the cheerleaders. Emily didn’t even try out for the squad. But for some reason, Greg seemed to like her more than the usual blonde haired, blue-eyed beauties. He had promised her a night to remember. She’d been so excited. She’d felt like Cinderella going to her ball but with hers, there was no happy ending.
Greg had driven her to a hilltop where he’d expected a lot more than kissing. She had slapped his face and got herself kicked out of the car. He’d driven off, leaving her to walk home alone. That was the night she met Jason. He’d been at school with her but she hadn’t known him. He was the new kid. He’d picked her up and insisted on driving her home. Greg had spread it around school that she was a tease and school soon became even more of a nightmare than before. Jason had been the one safe person she could talk to. He never made fun of her or her ambition to become a graphic designer.
“Emily, forget about that Greg boy. He isn’t worth it. He was totally the wrong guy for you.”
“I know, Nana, but finding out he asked me to the prom to win a bet still bugs me. I never got to pay him back. You always said, revenge was a dish best served cold.”
Her grandmother gave her the look. The one she always used when Emily got something wrong.
“What?”
“You still don’t know what that means do you?”
“Wait to plan the right payback?”
“No, darling girl. It means wait so your temper and hurt can cool. Revenge never works, more often it hurts you more than the person you plan on hurting. Do you think Greg Nielsen ever gave you a second thought?”
Emily shook her head.
“Having that horrible experience helped you become the strong woman you are, Emily. You should thank him if you ever meet him again. People with shallow values will never be happy. You should feel sorry for him. Nothing more.”
“Oh, Nana, when will I be as wise as you?”
“I wasn’t always this way. I made a voodoo doll of the first guy who broke my heart and stuck pins in it.”
Emily giggled at the expression on her grandmother’s face.
“Did it work?’
“You tell me. Do you think John Osborne is unhappy?”
“You mean the film star? You dated John Osborne?”
“Back in the day I was quite a catch, you know. I had hair like yours and it drew the men like bees to a honeypot. “
Emily fingered her hair. Nobody had ever gone overboard on her red hair like that.
“Anyway, darling, I am getting tired. Do you mind if we head back home?’
“Not at all. I really enjoyed today.”
“It was wonderful. Thank you, Emily.”
Emily smiled, but in her heart she felt guilty. This woman had more or less raised her after her parents were killed, yet here she was living in an assisted living facility while Emily enjoyed the comforts of her apartment.
“Nana, are you sure you wouldn’t like to come home and live with me? I could get you daily nursing or something.”
“No, darling, those stairs would kill me. Anyway, you don’t want your grandmother around. I would cramp your style. Here I have my friends and my little room. I don’t need anything else.”
The wistful look on her grandmother’s face proved she lied. Emily knew her nana missed Brian, but her brother was always too busy to come see her. Her brother seemed to hold Nana responsible for the car wreck that had killed their parents, but Emily had no idea why. Brian refused to discuss it and if her grandmother knew, she wasn’t saying.
Chapter 17
Once she dropped her grandmother off, Emily went home. She checked her cell a couple of times, but he hadn’t called. She was a little surprised, and hurt if she were honest. She tossed her cell onto the sofa and then powered up her laptop. She had a few hours to get caught up before the mayhem of tomorrow would start.
&
nbsp; She nearly dropped her laptop when she saw the number of messages she had. She scrolled through them to find they were all talking about her latest vlog. But that hadn’t even been published. Or a least it should not have been. A feeling of dread hit her stomach. What had Jason done?
She would kill him. He had posted the vlog early. She watched it all the way through. It wasn’t too bad—he had edited out most of her umms and ahhhs. Then she froze. There was a shout-out to Conor Dunne, new owner of Sunny Studios, for comment. Whatever way Jason had shot it, it looked like she was behind the shout-out. No wonder her cell hadn’t rung. If Conor had seen this, he must be wondering what the heck she was up to. Having lunch one minute and attacking him online the next. He must think she was some sort of psycho.
Jason had gone too far this time. She knew he was just as passionate about the gaming arena as she was, but this was ridiculous. Conor didn’t deserve this treatment. But then Jason wouldn’t have gone so far if she hadn’t given him the tools. How was she going to apologize now? She picked up her cell, but it hadn’t recorded the number Conor had called her on.
She tried Sunny Studios, but being that it was Sunday nobody was there. And even if there were, they wouldn’t give her the boss’ cell number. She didn’t know where he lived, so she would have to wait until Monday. In the meantime, she had to curtail the damage as much as possible, but how? The vlog had gone viral, given the number of hits her website had received.
She tried both Carrie and Jason, but their cells went to voicemail. She left urgent messages for both of them. Then she decided to do something Conor had suggested. She would make a vlog. She wouldn’t be able to produce something as professional as Jason had, but it didn’t matter. At least people would see she was trying to control the damage.
She was tempted to vlog from the heart, but that could end up backfiring so she spent an hour or so getting her speech together. She did what Conor had suggested and wrote some of the highlights from the games she loved to play and the reasons for why she liked those particular functions. Her cell remained ominously silent. She checked her Twitter feed and immediately regretted it. The trolls had come out in full force. The only voice that seemed oddly silent was the one who had threatened her before. That was odd.