“I would love some tea.” Laurie patted the top of Eileen’s hand, which still grasped her forearm. “But are you sure you can manage with your sore foot? Jack and I could—”
“I’m Irish.” Eileen dismissed the o er of help at once with a wave of the hand. “Tea is one thing we can always manage. That, and a story.”
“You know, I could use a cup, too. Good and strong,” Jack directed, catching on that Laurie’s o er of their help was only partially out of kindness. It had also been an excuse to get Jack alone. The woman had clearly come all this way to say something and was hoping for a bit of privacy to do it.
“Maybe you could stay in the kitchen a few extra minutes to let it steep while I show Ms. Emerson into the front room?”
As her mom toddled o , Jack held her breath. The thought of being alone with Laurie made her stomach turn somersaults, but Jack was dying to know what she’d come to say. Anything that required a bouquet of flowers and several shots of liquid courage had to be epic.
“The front room’s this way,” Jack said, bringing her through a double wide entrance that was fitted with a sliding pocket door from a century before when their unit had been the main level of a spacious townhome, before each floor had been carved up to form three cramped apartments.
As Laurie took a seat, Jack’s eyes scanned the room, trying to see it through the sophisticated CEO’s eyes. Faded wallpaper covered the walls, scattered with dark rectangles where framed photos or artwork had hung for decades. A crocheted afghan of bright orange roses was draped across the back of the sofa to hide the cracks in the dark brown leather. On the mantel above a fireplace that had long since been closed up sat a statue of the Virgin Mary flanked by several tall votive candles and the brittle fronds left over from last year’s Palm Sunday mass. Every inch of it screamed working class. Jack expected to see a look of horror on Laurie’s face.
Her former boss, however, appeared comfortable enough as she patted the space next to her on the couch for Jack to come sit. Jack crossed her arms and remained standing.
Anger swelled inside, not because Laurie had fired her, but because of the way her own body betrayed her with the desire to run immediately to the couch the moment the woman beckoned. If Jack didn’t fight with everything she had to overcome her attraction to her former boss, it was going to ruin her. More than it already had.
Denied the satisfaction of seeing her command obeyed, Laurie fidgeted with her hands, her eyes darting around the room to avoid making eye contact. “Marian filled me in about your mom.”
Laurie paused, as if hoping what little she’d said was enough for Jack to fill in the blanks with an actual apology and give her the all clear.
No way. Not today. Holding her tongue, Jack took a deep breath and waited for Laurie to elaborate. Patience was the key with this woman. Eventually, Jack knew the silence would become too much for her, and she’d have to continue talking, even if only to make it stop. After what Jack had put up with, she wasn’t about to settle for less than every single word she was owed.
“I didn’t realize that morning with the binder…” Twisting the fabric of her pant leg between pinched fingers, Laurie swallowed, misery creasing her face, which lifted Jack’s spirits. “I didn’t know your mom had been in the hospital.
Although, she seems to be doing a lot better now.”
How very like Laurie to throw that part in, as if the fact that her mother wasn’t on death’s doorstep today excused her rash, cruel behavior the week before. Jack smothered a laugh. For some reason, the woman’s inability to admit being in the wrong when she so clearly was amused her. It was a chink in the armor, a glimpse of vulnerability that hinted at the softer side Laurie guarded like the crown jewels. Jack still intended to let her dangle on the hook a bit longer.
She kept her tone even, her face devoid of emotion.
“We’re all very grateful for my mother’s continued recovery.”
“Of course.” Laurie crossed her left leg over her right but seemed to think better of the choice and shifted to cross the right over the left instead. “Jack, I know I can be di cult to work for, but you and I make a good team.”
Again, Jack didn’t speak, but this time it was because she wasn’t sure what to say. What did Laurie mean, they made a good team? Her business attire and mention of work indicated this visit was strictly work-related, but the hastily purchased flowers and the evidence of day drinking raised the possibility that something more personal was at stake.
Jack studied her silently for a moment, tracing the curve of her forehead with her eyes and wishing she could reach out and brush away the golden curl that had fallen across the gently lined skin. Her gaze fell to Laurie’s lips, slightly parted and faintly pink with gloss. Jack’s lips tingled with the memory of the kisses they’d shared. What did Laurie want, and more importantly, what did she want? With her knees trembling and her pulse racing, it was a question too frightening to contemplate.
Laurie frowned, clearly unaware of the intimate nature of Jack’s thoughts and uncomfortable that she’d yet to answer.
“So, what do you say?”
“To?” Jack was serious. She had no clue what she’d been asked.
“Come back to work, and it’ll be the way it was.” Laurie’s tone was matter-of-fact, her face bearing the expression of a woman used to getting her way.
What she wanted, she’d made clear, was a working relationship. Jack’s heart plummeted. She still didn’t know exactly how she wanted this to turn out, but all at once, Jack knew what she didn’t want. She didn’t want things to go back to how they’d been. A boss-employee relationship between her and Laurie wasn’t in the cards. Not anymore.
“No.”
A flash of irritation marred Laurie’s features, but she quickly recovered, smoothing her brow and looking Jack squarely in the eye with her usual no-nonsense mask firmly in place. “I’ll double your salary and give you an o ce on Executive Row. Does that sway you?”
Jack shook her head, hardly able to believe she was turning down what any colleague would recognize as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. “No,” she repeated.
Laurie inhaled a deep breath. “I see. You’re playing hard ball.”
“I’m not.” Nothing had ever been truer.
“You are.” Laurie announced it with the authority of someone with years of experience, who’d seen it all. “I can’t blame you. If I were in your shoes, I would as well. So, let’s skip to the bottom line. I’ll give you an o ce with a view, your own assistant, and two and half times your salary.
You’ll report directly to me as a senior vice president. How does that sound?”
Jack smiled the slow half-smile of a woman who knew this conversation had nothing to do with business or bottom lines. “You can keep tossing out o ers, but I’m not going to accept.”
Laurie crossed her arms, her blue eyes darkening with suspicion. “You’ve already been given another o er. Who is it, Prudential? Goldman Sachs? Show me the contract, and I’ll top it.”
“There’s no other job o er,” Jack confessed. “It’s not about the salary, or the o ce, or a title, or having my own assistant. It comes down to a simple realization that I don’t want you to be my boss.”
The news, or the simple delivery, seemed to let the air out of Laurie. “I know I’m di cult, and I promise I can be better.
The truth is, I’ve also learned something these past few days that’s been eye-opening to me. I can’t work without you. For the first time in my life, I left the o ce before noon. Up and left, and I ended up pouring my heart out to a bartender, if you can believe it, telling him all about how I fired you.”
Jack shook her head, in frustration. Who but Laurie Emerson would think discussing sta ng issues was the same thing as pouring her heart out? But then, she paused.
“Which bar?”
“What? I don’t know.” The answer was too quick and defensive.
“Tell me which bar,” Jack repeated, this time as a
command instead of a question.
“That Irish one,” Laurie muttered. “Near the hotel.”
Jack’s breath caught as hope sparked in her chest. “You mean the one where we met?”
Laurie uncrossed and recrossed her legs, staring at the wall as if trying to memorize the pattern of the paper. “Uh, I guess… wait… yes, that’s right, I think.”
“You left work on a Thursday morning, drank yourself silly before noon, then picked up flowers from a corner market, and braved two bus lines to come to my house.”
Jack’s heart pounded, and she leaned into the doorjamb, needing something solid to stop everything from spinning.
“Tell me the real reason why, because I think this means more than a job.”
Laurie closed her eyes, her breathing shaky. She looked fragile, like a porcelain doll, and for a moment, Jack feared the mighty Laurie Emerson would break into a thousand pieces right there on her couch. Instead, Laurie gathered her courage as only she could do, transforming before Jack’s eyes. She remained delicate, but with a core of solid steel.
She patted the space beside her, and this time, Jack did as she was told and took a seat, their bodies close but not touching.
“When Bonnie died,” Laurie spoke softly, “I thought I’d lost everything. All I had was work. I never thought I’d find someone I’d get along with, let alone look forward to seeing every day.”
“We did work well together,” Jack agreed. “But after losing two jobs in a week, I’ve gained a little perspective about balancing work and life.” She joggled her palms up and down in the air.
Laurie snorted derisively, as if doubting such a thing could exist. “That’s something working with me will never
provide.”
“No, but when the two of us are really working in sync, I’ve never felt so energized or alive.” Jack didn’t try to disguise the longing she knew was bleeding through from her heart with every word.
“Then come back.”
Jack sensed this was the closest Laurie had ever come to begging in her life. Even so, she shook her head. “Stay. Go.
It’s all at your command, isn’t it?”
“I can learn to be more diplomatic.”
Jack grasped Laurie’s knee, catching the woman’s startled eyes as her head snapped up. Laurie held Jack’s gaze with the intensity of raw emotion emanating from the depths of her soul.
“I like it when you’re bossy. God help me, it’s one of the biggest turn-ons I’ve ever experienced. The more you take charge, the more I want to strip your clothes o and make you come like I did in the hotel the night we met.”
“You think you managed to do that, do you?” Laurie cocked an eyebrow, and a shot of heat ran down Jack’s spine.
“That’s not something just anyone can make me do.”
“Oh, you were stubborn trying to hide it, but yes. I’m sure.”
Laurie’s expression twisted to something almost like pain, making Jack long to kiss her, to pull her to her chest and smooth her hair until she’d chased it away. Instead, Jack tightened her grip on Laurie’s leg and listened intently to her low, breathless voice.
“Every day this week, when I closed my eyes I saw your smile, and that adorable dimple in your left cheek. Your laugh bounced around in my head when I was trying to reconcile numbers.”
“I’ve experienced a similar distraction,” Jack confessed.
“Do you know,” Laurie whispered, “how badly I want to feel my skin against yours, all the time?”
Jack inched closer but held back. If she gave in too quickly, they wouldn’t have gone far enough. She’d have to risk everything to get what she desired. “We’re the same, you and me. We live to work. But we’re fundamentally unequal, and I can’t live with that.”
“What do you expect me to do?”
“Prove to me that you want me the same way I want you.”
“What does that mean? Your mother will be back any minute with tea. Surely you don’t expect me to…” Laurie’s eyes widened as she made vague hand motions toward the couch.
Jack let out a hearty laugh, Laurie’s look of total shock at the prospect of being caught by someone’s mother while mid-seduction having thoroughly relieved the tension of the moment. “I’m not asking you to go down on me in my living room. What I want is a grand gesture, something that will convince me you want me as a woman and see me as your intellectual equal, not only as someone to boss around and fire at will.”
“How do I do that?”
“Seriously?” Jack boosted one eyebrow, enjoying the surge of power she had in this moment. She wasn’t foolish enough to think it would happen often with a powerhouse of a woman like Laurie, so she planned to savor the feeling while it lasted. Jack spoke in a thick South Boston brogue,
“You’re a smart cookie. Figure it out.”
Laurie regarded Jack with a curious expression before pulling her phone out and typing a message. “There. It’s done.”
“Oh, wow.” Sarcasm dripped from Jack’s lips. “You sent me a text? I have to admit, as grand gestures go, that’s sooooo underwhelming.”
Jack reached for her phone to read what Laurie had written but stopped short as Laurie smirked. Something else had happened, something Jack was missing.
“The text wasn’t to you. It was to the board of Emerson Management. I stepped down as CEO, e ective immediately.”
“You what—?” Jack sni ed the gin-scented air hovering near Laurie’s mouth. “Are you that intoxicated?”
“I’m sober enough. So, will you work with me?”
“You just quit, and I already told you I won’t work for you.”
“I didn’t say for. I said with. I want us to start our own investment firm, as equal partners. I’ll provide the start-up capital, but you’ll bring more than your fair share of brains and sweat equity.”
“We won’t have any clients,” Jack argued. “We’ll bleed money.”
“Good thing I have a lot of it,” Laurie said with a laugh.
Her features relaxed more than Jack had ever seen, outside the bedroom, at least. Tranquil but also ready to take on the world. “And we won’t be without clients for long. I’m not sure yet how we’ll get our foot in the door with him without the Emerson Management connection, but once we do, I fully expect that between the two of us, we can win over Silvio Othonos.”
Laurie’s rousing speech still hung in the air as Jack’s mother breezed in, holding a tray with a teapot and three mugs. Jack had almost forgotten about the tea and couldn’t help but wonder how long her mom had been standing within earshot. The timing of her entrance was a little too impeccable to be coincidence.
“Ah, how is my sweet Silvio?” Eileen placed the tray on the co ee table, distributed a steaming mug to each of them, and took a seat in a nearby chair.
Laurie swiveled her head to Jack’s mom. “Silvio? You talk like you know him.”
“Well, I do. Such a gentleman.” Eileen blushed like a teenager with a forbidden crush. “I met him many years ago, when I spent the summer at the Kennedy family compound in Hyannis Port.”
“Please, Mom.” Jack groaned. “None of your crazy stories right now. Laurie and I have business to discuss, and I’m sure she doesn’t want to hear your fantasies about our make-believe connections to the Kennedy family.”
“This isn’t a story, young lady.” Her mom rose and crossed to a bookshelf on the far wall. She returned with a dusty photo album, which she thumbed through, uttering a triumphant aha before placing it on Laurie’s lap. Jack leaned close to inspect a distinguished-looking man wearing a Greek fisherman’s cap with his arm around a woman who was definitely a much younger version of Eileen.
“What a scandalously fun summer we had.” Her blush deepened, making Jack cringe at—Nope, don’t go there.
“M-mom,” Jack could barely get the words out, “are you telling me you actually had a fling with one of the world’s wealthiest men?”
“Summer of 1982, shortl
y before I met your dad,” her mom replied dreamily. “I was in Hyannis Port—”
“Staying with the Kennedys?” Jack let out an exasperated sigh. “Come on, Mom. This is more of the nonsense you’ve been talking ever since Dad died. I know it makes you feel better, but it’s gone on long enough.”
Eileen sti ened, her expression no longer dreamy but laser-focused. “It was the summer of 1982, and I’d gone to stay with my friend Pamela, whose cousin ran an RV park on the Cape. We stayed for free in a camper someone had left behind, and we earned money cleaning houses for one of the agencies that helped the rich summer folks hire domestic
help. Miss Rose liked to hire Irish girls when she could, and she appreciated my knack for getting the grout in the bathrooms extra clean.”
“Is your mother saying she scrubbed Rose Kennedy’s bathrooms?” Far from being judgmental about the revelation, Laurie’s face was a study in delight.
“She is pretty good at cleaning tile,” was all Jack could say in response.
“Pretty soon I was put in charge of the bedrooms in the main house,” Eileen continued. “Silvio came to stay with Teddy in July, and we hit it o . All three of us became very chummy.”
“To be clear”—Jack pressed a hand to each side of her head in an attempt to keep it from exploding—“you’re talking about being friends with the billionaire shipping magnate, Silvio Othonos, and the late Senator Edward fucking Kennedy?”
“Watch your language,” Jack’s mother chided. She rifled through the photo album and drew out an envelope, which she set on the table so both Jack and Laurie could see it. It bore a Greek stamp, and the date on the postmark was from the previous December. “He still keeps in touch on occasion.”
Laurie picked up the envelope and slid its contents into her hand, a folded card printed with a winter scene. “Silvio Othonos sends you Christmas cards?”
“And the occasional email. It was touch and go for a while, but eventually he forgave me for turning him down.”
Eileen gave a practical shrug. “I’m Irish Catholic, and he’s Greek Orthodox. It was never going to work.”
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