“Want some help?”
That was a loaded question and I knew it. Help from Scott often came with strings. “Nope. I’m good.”
“You sure? Looks like you could use it.”
“Why are you here, Scott?” It was blunt, but I didn’t care. My head felt like it was in a vise and the twelve-year-old inside me was peeking her head out in worry, fully expecting her big brother to make her feel incompetent and silly.
He studied me for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle. “Look, Lace-Face, I know you. I know you’ve got your entire world under control. I do, believe me. But you know how Dad is. He expects me to look out for my little sister and he expects a full report from me. Cut me a little slack, okay?”
I sat back in my chair, surprised by his words and also touched by them. How could I have not realized that this was why Scott always stopped by? It felt like my world had shifted. “Okay. I’m sorry. Please tell Dad I very much appreciated your offer, but I’m okay.”
He took a couple seconds before saying, “You know what? I’ll tell him you’re doing great. How about that?”
A beat went by and our gazes held. Yeah, girl-crush stealing aside, having a big brother could be pretty awesome. “What else are you up to?” I asked, after we’d realized we were suddenly uncomfortable gazing lovingly at each other.
“I had a meeting next door,” he said, and shifted in his seat like that was some sort of accomplishment to be proud of. “Alicia had some things to go over with me.”
I didn’t realize she was back. I glanced out the window and saw the BMW parked next to my car. Something about seeing it that close to mine gave me a little, sort of evil, spurt of energy and I said, “You didn’t take her to some romantic restaurant to go over stuff? I’m surprised.” I smothered my grin, but I’m sure my face projected a bit of playful, if a bit gleeful, self-satisfaction.
He chuckled. “No, Lace-Face, she’s all yours. I will be a gentleman and bow out gracefully.”
I snorted a laugh at him. “Like you have a choice.”
He gave a good-natured chuckle back. Then he stood up and took a couple steps toward me. I saw him take stock of my desk strewn with papers, the piles on my floor. “Yeah, you got this.” Then he leaned over, kissed the top of my head, and said, “I’ll catch you at the ’rents’ on Sunday.”
“See ya.” I watched as he sauntered out the door—that’s how he walked everywhere. He sauntered. I heard Mary giggle girlishly, so I knew he probably complimented her in some way, flirted a little bit. Not many women were immune to my brother’s charms.
Alicia was, though.
I let that thought, and the unexpected insight into my big brother’s motives, keep me warm throughout the rest of my day.
* * *
It was as if my headache was in control and chose its own schedule. It hung around until well into Wednesday evening, then left me alone all day Thursday so I could actually get work done without feeling like I had a fifty-pound anvil on my shoulders. But when I opened my eyes at the sound of my alarm on Friday morning, that sucker was back, full force.
“Goddamn it,” I muttered, throwing a hand over my eyes as I lay in bed and was subjected to the morning kiss routine from Leo. I didn’t need this. I had five days left of work, including today, and a boatload to get done. Weirdly energized by the new, still kind of shocking, insight that my big brother-slash-former-arch-nemesis actually believed in me, I made a pact with myself that I was going to beat this headache. I felt strong and competent and I’d had enough.
With a groan, I threw off the covers and got going on my morning routine, beginning with my trusty handful of ibuprofen, determined it would work better this time than it had on Wednesday.
Five more days. Five more days.
I actually had a great morning. No kickball in the hallway. No overpowering smell of Chinese food or some such thing permeating the air (though Mary was eating a bagel when I arrived). I was even able to park adjacent to my own, beloved former parking spot. No BMW, but I didn’t really have time to dwell on that anyway. I left Leo eyeing Mary’s bagel with utter expectation, went into my office, and worked straight through until almost noon.
I heard the buzz of conversation in the reception area, but I’d shut my door so I could concentrate on work. I recognized my father’s voice only a split second before he knocked loudly on my door and then came on in without waiting for a response from me.
“Hey there,” he said, his voice gruff, as usual.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, trying not to look as wary as I felt. “What brings you by? You and Mom going to lunch at that little café you like?” Please say yes.
He shook his head but didn’t look at me. Instead, his focus was on the various forms and files I had strewn around the office. “Talked to your brother yesterday.”
I knew it.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “He was here Wednesday. Just stopped by for a couple minutes after his meeting with the marketing firm next door.”
Dad was nodding now, and he picked up a file folder from my desk, part of the pile I was slowly transferring to the computer system. “Said you looked busy.”
“I am busy. It’s almost the fifteenth. I’d be worried if I wasn’t busy.”
“He said I shouldn’t worry. That you had things under control.”
So Scott hadn’t thrown me under the bus. “I do.”
“Mrs. Stenglein,” he muttered as he looked through the folder. “She never remembers to—”
“Include her donations for the year,” I finished for him. “I know, Dad. I’ve got it.”
He picked up another folder and another and I just watched him.
“I don’t know this guy,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Referral,” I said.
He grunted and reached for another folder. I considered stopping him, but instead, let him continue to sift through them.
After a few moments, he looked at me. “Lotta new clients.”
I nodded. “I’ve gotten a lot of referrals from old clients and I’ve been part of a networking group—remember I told you about that? Got several new clients from that.”
He nodded and let the folders drop back down to my desk. Then he glanced around, gave a curt nod, and headed for the door. “Okay then.”
My dad isn’t a demonstrative man. He’s not emotional. He’s factual and practical and logical. He loves me, I know he does, and I got an extra-clear view of it right then. But he’d much sooner show it by buying me a new adding machine than saying the actual words. It’s just how he is. So, his “okay then” felt like the warmest of warm fuzzies.
“I’m glad you stopped in.” And I was.
At the door, he turned back and pointed at me. “Make sure you eat,” he said, back to gruff. “You can’t live on coffee this month. Eat.”
“I will,” I said, biting back a smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
He shut the door behind him and I let out a huge breath that had been stuck in my lungs. I hadn’t expected that to be a fun meeting, but it had ended up surprisingly pleasant and revealed something to me that I didn’t know until that very moment I’d been uncertain of: my father was proud of me.
I sat back in my chair and allowed myself to revel in that for a few minutes. It was a nice feeling. Then, ready to get back to work, I took some more Motrin and downed it with my coffee just as my cell phone pinged an incoming text. A quick glance told me it was Amy.
New Mediterranean place in Olde City. Stavros. Great reviews. Wanna go?
I sighed. I had no energy to finesse an answer. Too busy with work. Maybe in a couple weeks?
The reply came back quickly. Sure. No emojis. No elaboration. I felt bad, but I just couldn’t deal with it right now.
Mary paged me on the intercom with a phone call to remind me how busy I was. I grabbed the handset.
“Lacey Chamberlain. How can I help you?”
The day went on, and I w
as able to get myself back into a rhythm. E-filing made things so much easier for everybody involved. Mary would bring me the mail, and I’d go through the forms that people had signed, giving me permission to send them via email, a click, and it was done. On to the next. My headache had eased considerably, and I even opened Pandora and put on some soft, unobtrusive jazz to be my soundtrack for the remainder of the evening.
At seven thirty, I sent Mary home. I gave myself fifteen minutes to play tennis ball with Leo, who fetched four throws and then was done. As he curled up in his bed, I shook my head affectionately. “You’re like a little old man in a young dog body, you know that?”
He gave me a look that unmistakably said I was boring him, then picked up the Nylabone near his paws and gnawed on it lazily.
I got back to work, humming to the sounds of Diana Krall, and was in the zone when my door burst open, startling both me and Leo, as we both gave a little yelp.
“Come with me,” Alicia said, her face glowing. “I’m starving.” She radiated energy, and the bright blue button-down top she wore made her eyes pop in the best of ways.
“I can’t,” I said, regretfully. I could not let her pull me away again, even though the idea of spending time with her was so much more appealing than just about anything else. I was too close to the end now. I needed to stay nose-to-the-grindstone and push through.
“Come on,” Alicia prodded, as she crossed the room and plopped herself into a chair. Leo hopped right up into her lap. Of course. “I haven’t eaten since a late breakfast and I have more work to do, but I’m going to faint from hunger.”
I looked at her with as much apology in my eyes as I could muster and shook my head. “I—” I waved a hand over my very messy desk.
“Please?”
Oh, God, don’t beg me. You cannot beg me. I felt myself caving.
“We’ll be super quick. I promise. Seriously, Lacey, doesn’t a big salad sound perfect right about now?”
“You’re killing me,” I said to her, trying to glare, but failing.
“No, I’m saving you. From starvation.”
I had to admit that, given how awful I’d felt all day, a salad was probably exactly what I needed. “Half an hour. Not one second longer. And I’m not kidding or playing around here, Alicia. My deadline is really looming.”
She clapped her hands together and popped up from her chair like it was spring-loaded. “Okay, deal. Let’s go.”
I locked Leo up in the office, and in less than ten minutes, we were sitting in the café portion of the grocery store down the block. I dug into my Greek salad like I hadn’t eaten in days. For a solid five minutes, there was no sound at our table but the crunching of greens. Even when we did start talking, it was sporadic, like each of us was just too tired to put forth the energy it would take to have an in-depth conversation. We finished up and were back in our office parking lot with almost a full minute to spare.
“You okay tonight?” Alicia turned the car off and looked at me as I sat in the passenger seat.
I inhaled very slowly, filled my lungs to capacity before slowly letting it out. “It’s been a weird day. I’ve had a killer headache on and off for the past couple days, and today, my father decided to show up and make it clear that he thinks I’m actually doing a good job.”
“Seriously?”
“I think so. I’m pretty sure. But it was uncomfortable for a bit.”
“What do you mean?” Alicia pulled on her door handle and exited the car.
I followed and we headed into the building and up the stairs. “He pretended he was visiting, but the whole time, he was looking around, picking things up and putting them down, judging.”
“Judging? Are you sure you weren’t overreacting because you were tired?”
“I mean, maybe I was. But come on, how would you like it if your father came strolling into your office one day, checked out your whiteboard, looked at your ideas and pitches, and found them all lacking?”
I couldn’t identify the expression that settled on her face in that moment. The only word I could think of was “closed.” It was as if she suddenly closed up like a clam. I had the vision of those bars that shops pull down to cover their storefronts when they close for the night. I was no longer allowed in. She was quiet for so long, I started to think she wasn’t going to respond at all. Finally, she did, looking down at her feet, her voice low but steely. “I would love it if my father would stroll into my office, Lacey. I’d love it.” Then, instead of going back to her office, she walked toward me, touched my shoulder softly, then passed me to the stairwell we’d just come up. Her hand flat on the door, she didn’t look at me as she spoke. “Thank you for going with me. I hope you feel better.”
She pushed her way through and was gone.
I stood in the hallway for I don’t know how long, wondering what the hell had just happened.
Chapter Eleven
It’s amusing to me how easily total exhaustion can be overshadowed and put on a back burner when excited anticipation shows up. I woke up Tuesday morning feeling groggy and headachy yet again from not enough sleep. The sleep I did get had been fitful, as it had since my evening with Alicia and the weird way it ended. I hit the snooze on my phone and buried my face in my pillow in the hopes that ten more minutes of rest would make a world of difference. It didn’t. But when my alarm went off again and I groaned and reached for it, that changed. I hit the off button and then noticed the date emblazoned across the screen of my phone.
Tuesday, April 15.
A happy little gasp escaped my lips, and I sat up quickly enough to startle Leo, who also wasn’t getting enough sleep, judging by the fact that he had barely moved with each alarm. His morning routine was totally off; no morning love fest for me for the past week.
“Leo,” I said quietly, ruffling the overgrown hair on his head. He really needed an appointment with the groomer. He made a snuffling sound, lifted his head to blink at me, and yawned widely. “It’s today, buddy. It’s today. It’s the fifteenth! We made it!” I scooped him up and proceeded with a morning love fest role reversal, kissing all over his face and head, then tipping him back in my arms like a baby so I could skritch that little belly. To his credit, he allowed all of it. I think he liked it.
The weather was bland. Not warm. Not cold. No sun, but no rain. Overcast and gray, but it didn’t matter to me, because today was April 15, and the torture was over for another year. It would be a long day, but that was all right. I’d learned in the first couple of years working with my father that blocking out the fifteenth so there were no appointments was the way to go. I’d met with my very last client before the deadline last night at eight. Today would be dedicated to e-filing the remaining tax returns I had left on my computer and making sure Mary got to the post office to mail out any other things that needed to be postmarked before they closed at seven. It sounded like a lot, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop grinning.
As I did every year, I stopped on my way in to get some flowers for Mary for putting up with me for the past three months. I also grabbed a dozen donuts, smiling the whole time, being endlessly cheerful. I think the girl behind the counter thought I was a little bit insane.
In the parking lot, I heard a loud blast of a horn and saw the man driving a Chevy roll down his window and display his middle finger to Nascar Kyle as the yellow muscle car cut him off.
“Ugh,” I said, shaking my head. “Better him than us, though, right, Leo?”
Leo glanced at me in agreement.
I glided my car gently into the spot next to Alicia’s BMW. I got a little thrill at the sight, though I did my best to tamp it back down. She’d been out of the office, so I hadn’t seen her since that inexplicably uncomfortable end to our conversation in the hallway, and I really wanted to talk to her about it, make sure she was okay. Make sure we were okay.
I managed to get a grip on my bag, the donuts, the flowers, and Leo’s leash—albeit a little precariously—and we headed inside.
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Gisele was just leaving my office as we opened the stairwell door. “Hey there,” she said cheerfully and squatted to be on Leo’s level. I let go of his leash and he trotted over to her, lavishing her with kisses and love. She was wearing jeans and a bright orange top that looked fantastic against her dark skin.
I stopped when I reached her and said hello as she glanced up at me.
“I just dropped a bagel off to Mary,” she told me.
“Well, I’ve got donuts if you guys get hungry,” I responded, holding up the box.
“Those are pretty,” she said, eyeing the flowers as she stood up.
I shrugged. “Mary puts up with my tax season grumpiness for a long time. She deserves more than flowers, but…”
“You’re a good boss, Lacey.” Gisele gave Leo one more pat, then said, “Gotta get back to work.”
Leo and I went inside the office just as Mary was taking a very large bite of a bagel slathered with cream cheese. I lost Leo immediately.
“Today’s the day,” she said happily. “We made it another year.”
“We did. For you, m’lady,” I said, with a flourish as I gave Mary a bow and handed her the flowers. “Thank you for all your hard work and for keeping me from killing myself or others during tax season.”
Her face lit up, her smile wide as she took the flowers from me and put her nose in them. “I think I’d be hard-pressed to find a better job, so keeping you from jumping out the window is actually a little bit of a selfish move on my part.”
“Well, thank you anyway.”
“You’re welcome.”
We held one another’s gazes for a beat or two. We did this every year. It was like a silent acknowledgment of what we meant to each other. Mary may have worked for my father for much longer than she’ll ever work for me, but she made the transition from one boss to another seamlessly. She was one of the few people who never, ever tried to tell me how to do my job. If I asked her opinion, she’d give it, and she didn’t always agree with me, but that was okay. We both knew it and accepted it.
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