Ellie grinned. “You’re just saying that. You’re a big city girl if I ever saw one.”
“Only because you don’t remember how close I came to becoming a nature girl.” A momentary cloud passed over Celine’s features, which she tried to disguise. She took a long sip from her cup.
Ellie screwed her eyes briefly shut and whacked her forehead, then peeped at Celine. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have made you think of Kenji.”
But Celine’s smile returned as quickly as it had faded. “My advice is to take down your cat sitting website. Forget cats. Look what that fat one did to your shirt the other day. There are other part-time jobs.”
Ellie laughed. “I was thinking about that. But this morning I got an email from another potential client. Someone who wants a full-time cat sitter.”
“A cat that needs a full-time sitter? It’s probably psychotic.”
Ellie scrolled through email on her phone. “It’s from the personal assistant to some woman named Vivyenne Lovejoy.”
“Right. And Vivyenne has some money in Zambia she wants you to get for her.”
Ellie grabbed a pair of socks from a laundry basket on the floor and tossed the pink ball at Celine, who backhanded it against the window, chuckling.
“Seriously. This sounds genuine.”
“Because you’re from Delaware, sister. Everything sounds genuine to you.”
“So steer me straight. I’m tempted to call her.”
Celine shot her an incredulous look and reached out her hand. Ellie passed the phone and watched Celine’s dark eyes narrow, then widen as she read.
“So?”
“So maybe you should call.”
“Right?”
Celine rose and stretched, her long arms almost touching the ceiling. “I’m getting more coffee. You get on that phone.”
Ellie hit the call button.
“This is Devora.”
“Hi. I’m Ellie Atherton. You sent me an email this morning about cat sitting.”
“Cat sitting? Oh, right. For Viv.”
“Yes. Vivyenne Lovejoy.”
“Viv’s the cat. Doctor Lovejoy is the owner.”
“Sorry.” Ellie made a face at herself in the window. “Cat sitting for Doctor Lovejoy. I mean, cat sitting for Viv.”
“Right. So, I checked your references and social media. I couldn’t find anything negative. I’ll need a copy of your driver’s license, your social security number, and proof you’re really enrolled in graduate school. PDF scan is fine. Then I can set you up with a key. You can get it at the front desk of Doctor Lovejoy’s condo.”
“Hold on. I haven’t said I’d take this job. I don’t even know you.”
“Right. Will you take the job? I think everything you needed to know was in the email.”
Ellie paced up and down the living room, as though trying to catch up with Devora and her rapid-fire proposals. “But I usually like to see the place. Get to meet the cat. You know, see if we like each other.”
“Don’t all cats like you? Isn’t that why you’re a cat sitter?”
Ellie halted. “Sure. Cats…they usually like me. But I really can’t take the job without meeting you or Doctor Lovejoy first.”
Celine returned with a second cup of coffee. She gave Ellie a thumbs up sign. Ellie shrugged.
“Right. We’re in kind of a rush. You topped the list of candidates. But I just got a conference call cancellation, so I have a little time. Meet me at the Starbucks in Russian Hill on Polk and Vallejo this afternoon. Three-thirty.”
“Okay. I can do that. But I need to tell you that I’m raising my rates.”
Celine mouthed “yaassss” and raised her fist. Ellie bumped it with her free hand.
“Right.”
“I haven’t changed my website yet. But I’m charging ten dollars an hour more these days.”
“Right. So I’ll see you at three-thirty.”
Ellie dropped onto the couch and looked at the phone. “She hung up.”
“No way. Because you wanted more money?”
“No. I’m still meeting her. She’s just seems super efficient. Doesn’t like to waste time.”
Celine plunked herself back on the sofa. “You don’t have to take the job. Sitting on your butt for thirty-five dollars an hour in a three-million-dollar condo is tough.” She ducked Ellie’s imaginary throw.
“Did you see the pictures? It looks like the kind of place I want someday. And an Egyptian Mau.”
Celine shuddered. “That cat looks like a miniature white leopard. Seriously. Be careful. All you have is an email. You still can’t rule out human trafficking.”
Ellie hopped off the couch, picked up her dishes, and headed to the kitchen. “Me, the naïve professors’ daughter from the Diamond State. You, the cynical big city girl. How did we ever end up as roommates?”
Celine smiled. “I’m not cynical. Just West Side Chicago realistic.”
Ellie turned and arched an eyebrow. “You grew up in Oak Park. That’s not the West Side. Those are the posh suburbs.”
Celine buried her head in her cup. “We had osmosis. The ’hood was right next door.”
***
Slightly before three-thirty, four fashionably dressed women stood outside the Vallejo Starbucks entrance. They were all texting. Across the street, Ellie used her reflection in the window of a personal training gym to tidy her blowing hair. She pulled the bottom of her faux leather bomber jacket to straighten the wrinkles, took a deep breath, and crossed at the corner. Even from afar, she had no doubt as to which woman was Devora.
The petite blonde dressed in all black, carrying a slim Burberry bag at her side, looked up from her gold iPhone when Ellie stopped in front of her. Her face registered no surprise, as though she were used to being recognized for who she was.
“Ellie.”
“Devora?”
Devora pointed to the outdoor table next to her on which stood two Grande cups. “I got us lattes. Thought it would save time. One’s milk, one’s soy. You can get sugar inside if you want.” She pointed to the chairs near the street. “I cleaned them off already.”
Ellie took the cup closest to her and sat. Devora’s minimally made-up face radiated confidence, competence, and honesty, and Ellie regretted the increasingly ludicrous scenarios she and Celine had cooked up earlier in the day. The chances of Devora or her employer kidnapping Ellie seemed about the same as her being killed by a pedicure-acquired toenail infection.
Actually, probably less.
Devora removed an iPad from her bag and poised her fingers over the screen, regarding Ellie with a neutral stare. Ellie hesitated, a small, unexpected fist tightening around her stomach.
“Um.”
Devora sipped her drink. “I thought you wanted to ask me some questions. I’ve got…” She tapped her phone. “Fifteen minutes.”
Ellie held onto her cup with both hands.
Don’t spill anything. Her iPad probably costs more than I make in a month.
“Your email said Doctor Lovejoy’s looking for a full-time cat sitter. Can you tell me about the hours?”
“Right. I’m sorry I wasn’t clear. Full-time means all the time. Someone to live with the cat.”
“Like a cat nanny?” Ellie gestured. Her cup teetered and she clamped back on it in a flash.
Devora’s head cocked to one side. “I can give you some background. The cat’s not originally Doctor Lovejoy’s. He belonged…”
“He? I thought its name was Viv.”
“It is. And he’s male. Doctor Lovejoy inherited Viv in a break-up.” Devora inspected Ellie for a moment. She thought she perceived a tiny smile play briefly at the corners of Devora’s lips. “Let me be candid. Doctor Lovejoy kept Viv when she and her boyfriend split up. Now she doesn’t know what to do with him. The cat. The boyfriend’s gone.”
“She doesn’t live in the condo?”
“Not most of the time. But the cat does. And he’s going a little crazy.” Devora lowered her vo
ice. “Doctor Lovejoy can’t stand him, although she would never admit it. Hence the need for a cat sitter. Until she figures out what she wants to do with him.”
Ellie carefully released her cup and unzipped her jacket. She felt suddenly hot. She looked around for the sun, but it wasn’t hitting their side of the street.
“I’m in graduate school. Classes start in a few weeks. So I couldn’t be there all the time. I usually just look in on the cats I take care of.”
“Right. Well, we thought you could take some time off.” When Ellie regarded her quizzically, she added, “From school.”
“For a cat?” Ellie’s mouth fell open. She brought the cup to her lips to cover her surprise.
“For a cat. And for twenty-five thousand dollars for the semester.”
Ellie choked, splattering the table with drops. Devora shielded her iPad with her arms but Ellie watched in dismay as brown dots covered Devora’s sweater.
When Ellie’s coughing subsided, Devora raised her hand. “I’ll be right back.”
Ellie whipped out her cell phone. Her fingers flew over the screen.
Ellie: Offered me 25k to take semester off.
Celine: Wtf?
Ellie: Do it?
Devora returned. Ellie dropped the phone in her lap, where she felt it vibrate moments later with Celine’s response.
“I’m sorry about your sweater.”
“Right.” Devora rubbed her hands on a napkin. “I cleaned it off.”
“Look.” Ellie shrugged out of her jacket and put it on her lap over the giggling phone. “The semester starts next week. I can’t stop classes, no matter how much money you offer.”
This time Ellie was certain she saw a smile flash across Devora’s lips. “Right. Doctor Lovejoy authorized me to propose a second option.”
Ellie dropped all pretense and rested her chin in her hands as she listened to Devora outline a scenario as ludicrous as the ones Celine had invented. When Devora finished, Ellie looked around them, scrutinizing the other customers and passersby.
Devora looked around too. “What are you doing?”
“There’s a camera somewhere, right? One of my friends put you up to this? Celine?”
“It’s not a joke. It’s a regular job. Until December, with an option to renew if things go well. You’d get benefits. Doctor Lovejoy would pay for health insurance, since you’d lose what you’re getting as a student, I assume.”
Ellie lifted her jacket and held the phone toward Devora. She tapped the record button. “Tell me again. Nobody’s going to believe this.”
Devora leaned toward the orange case. “Fifty thousand dollars to take Viv to Hawaii and supervise the renovation of Doctor Lovejoy’s recently purchased house.”
***
The next day, Ellie stood in front of the glowing doorbell by the white door of Dr. Lovejoy’s thirtieth floor Russian Hill condominium. She wore a flounced skirt with thick horizontal black and white stripes and a black boat neck top. A utilitarian gray messenger bag hung at her side. The bomber jacket lay over one arm.
Her hand hovered over the bell. She hesitated.
What’s all this going to mean?
She closed her eyes, momentarily transported back to another door, one from her high school days. It was solid wood, with three diagonal rectangular windowpanes. It belonged to a house on the more glamorous side of the university professors’ ghetto, the section where science and engineering faculty with lucrative industry side jobs lived. She’d shuffled the ten blocks from her parents’ liberal arts professor section in twice as many minutes, her backpack clutched to her chest, feeling exposed and embarrassed to be carrying school books on a Sunday, even though a trip to the university library had been her excuse for leaving the house so early. As she stood at the door, hesitating, she found it difficult to believe that Elliot even remembered he’d asked her to come over.
She scuffed her Ugg boots on the tile porch, glancing up and down the wide, tree-lined street where nobody moved early on a Sunday morning. In the far distance a lawnmower revved. But the nearby inhabitants kept easier hours.
Deciding to act as if nothing had happened the previous night, Ellie poised a shaking finger over the bell and then dropped her hand to her side. She paced in the narrow space between the door and the large living room windows, head hanging low.
Her mind went back to the prior night’s drive home. She thought of her friend Elliot, his hand on the gearshift lever as he pushed the car into first and pulled the parking break, nestling the Miata deftly into the dark shadows between streetlights near her house. She remembered how he’d slid his hand to her knee. His gaze hadn’t left hers as he leaned across the levers, pulling her uncomfortably toward him. He’d explored her mouth, his tongue sticky and tasting of beer. His braces had pinched her lips while his fingers yanked at her top.
At that moment, all Ellie had been able to think was, I’m not the kind of girl guys make out with.
That thought had kept her from enjoying the long, fumbling, increasingly warm minutes in the car.
I’m his friend. Not someone he takes to parties. Not someone any guy takes to parties.
Although Elliot had taken her to a party that evening.
I’m his study buddy.
Even though Elliot had stopped studying with her months ago.
Guys don’t hook up with me.
Despite Elliot’s efforts to do exactly that.
What’s going on?
The last time Ellie had kissed a boy had been at summer camp the previous August. He had chosen the last dance on the last night to walk her into the woods for a hurried embrace against a tree. Mosquitos had swarmed around them in increasing numbers until Ellie’s partner, waving, scratching, and swatting, fled for the cafeteria. The next morning, he’d avoided her at breakfast and disappeared into the back of his parents’ SUV before she’d had the chance to say goodbye.
That had seemed to her like a fitting precursor to another romantically arid year of high school. But parked by her home, with Elliot’s increasingly heavy breathing, inept fumbling with her blouse, and hands sliding hesitatingly across her breasts, she’d reconsidered and wondered if he wanted to date her.
Standing in front of Elliot’s door the next morning, she asked herself for the hundredth time what he had meant and how he felt. Did he like her that way?
A more intriguing and somewhat disturbing thought always followed. Did she like him?
In the cloudy light of a damp Newark, Delaware October morning, with orange fall leaves still sticking to her fuzzy boots, teenage Ellie closed her eyes and tugged a strand of long hair across her chin. The scent of her shampoo mingled with the faint aroma of her parents’ morning coffee. It smelled comforting.
I got this.
She pumped her fist like her high school team did before its volleyball games.
Screw it. Whatever happens, happens.
She pushed the buzzer.
Years later, on the thirtieth floor of the Russian Hill condominium, Ellie opened her eyes and refocused on the reality in front of her. This wasn’t Elliot’s door. It was Dr. Lovejoy’s. The plush maroon carpeting and muted light of elegant wall sconces pulled her back to the present. She trailed a strand of hair absently over her chin.
Still smells like shampoo and coffee.
In the quiet corridor she pumped her fist inconspicuously and depressed the bell.
After only a moment, Devora answered dressed in what, on first glance, seemed like the same outfit as yesterday. A second glance told Ellie this one was even more expensive. She took a brief sniff as she passed. Devora’s scent was subtle and reeked of money.
Inside the white interior, Devora stood out like a lone pine tree on a snow-covered mountaintop. The whiteness was so glaring that Ellie wished she hadn’t removed her sunglasses.
She shielded her eyes. “It’s intense in here.”
Devora nodded. “Right. It’s worse at certain times of day.”
Their
high heels clicked on the travertine flooring as they traversed a hallway as long as Ellie and Celine’s apartment. Ellie took in the gleaming stainless steel kitchen to her right and the closed white doors to her left—doors that blended almost perfectly into the wall and were indicated only by silver handles.
The hallway ended at an enormous living-dining room. The view of Fisherman’s Warf and Alcatraz Island framed in the row of floor to ceiling windows brought Ellie to a sharp stop.
A soft “wow” escaped her.
Devora continued without pause, crossing the line where the stone flooring yielded to nubby white carpeting flecked with specks of gray. “Doctor Lovejoy, Ellie Atherton is here.”
Ellie hadn’t noticed a woman sitting with her back to the view, her feet in a ceramic footbath, her hands on a small table, the entire scene dwarfed by the immense expanse of glass. An Asian woman in a white coat busied herself with polishing Dr. Lovejoy’s nails and ignoring the other guests.
Ellie teetered across the bumpy carpet, wishing the she could see her new employer better against the bright light. Ellie held out her hand. It hung in the air for a few seconds before anyone spoke.
“I can’t shake your hand, as you can surely see, Ms. Atherton.” Dr. Lovejoy nodded, indicating the woman at work. “But thank you for coming.”
Ellie’s arms retreated behind her back. “Ellie. Call me Ellie.”
“Ellie then. Call me Vivyenne.” She turned to Devora and asked her to bring Ellie a refreshment, showing her as she did so a square, chiseled chin in profile. As Ellie’s eyes adjusted, she surveyed the rest of Vivyenne, unable to find a wrinkle of fat or hair out of place.
Upkeep, refurbishing, and additions for a body like that must cost…She paused to calculate. Over thirty thousand dollars a year.
Devora handed Ellie a scalding china cup of black coffee.
Oh, great. Ellie searched for a place to deposit the already shaking vessel. This doesn’t look like a Stainmaster carpet.
Vivyenne glanced at a computer screen propped on a table at her side. “I don’t have much time, Ellie. I know you want to meet Viv. And I believe Devora has told you my circumstances. I adore the cat.”
Paradise Wild (Wild At Heart Book 2) Page 2