Give It Up

by Lee Kilraine

  No way. I couldn’t do that. I bet none of us could do that.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Mary Teresa.”

  “Okay, fair enough.” I had to let it go. There were only so many things that could be at the top of my list. So she wasn’t perfect, just like the last six receptionists hadn’t been either. Or had it been seven? Either way at least we had someone answering the phones. A good thing. “It’s not something I have time to deal with right now anyway, so thank you for hiring a new receptionist.”

  “You’re welcome,” Wyatt said but managed to avoid looking at me. Right. Because he knew.

  I went back out into the reception area. Our new receptionist sat behind the desk, staring at the blinking lights on the phone.

  “Excuse me, Mary Teresa? I mean, Sister Mary Teresa.” Yes. My brother had hired a nun as our receptionist. “Is there a problem with the phones that I can help you with? It sounds like the ringer isn’t working.”

  “Oh, no. It’s working fine.” She looked up at me from behind a pair of thick framed glasses and smiled. “You must be Mr. Thorne.”

  “Uh, yes. Beckett Thorne. Nice to have you on board, Sister Mary Teresa.” I guess with her thick glasses we all looked the same. “Should I call you Sister Mary Teresa? Or just Mary?”

  “Sister will be fine.” She wore a full gray and white habit with a wimple framing her face and covering her hair.

  “Can I help you with the phone at all?” The phone lines were lighting up under her fingertips.

  “I’m not sure. I think we need a new one.” She blinked up at me, her eyes looking magnified behind thick, very thick, lenses. “One with those big numbers for older people. Do you have one of those?”

  “No. No we don’t have one of those.”

  “That’s too bad. I’m legally blind. Technically. Getting old is not one of God’s easier deals”—she looked up to the ceiling—“I’m just saying, big G, not criticizing at all. Anyway, I can’t read any of these numbers.” She sighed and sat back in her chair. “I retired five years ago, but then the cost of living went up and the Sisters of Mercy retirement fund is puny. Father McClatchy sent us all back out to work.”

  “All of you?”

  “Oh, yes, all the nuns at the retirement home had to find work.”

  “So, if you’re legally blind, how did you get to work?” Please let her tell me she didn’t drive herself. All I could picture was a line of nuns at the city bus stop and spreading out all over Raleigh every morning. “I guess you don’t drive.”

  “Oh, no. The DMV took away my license, the blessed bastards. Father M drives the church bus and drops each of us off at our jobs.” She giggled behind her soft wrinkled hand. “Sister Rebecca calls Father M God’s personal pimp.”

  “I’ll see about getting you a new phone,” I said because I had no idea what else to do at this point.

  “Bless you. That would be wonderful.”

  “Okay, well, in the meantime, don’t worry about contacting my brother. I’ll place the call myself.” As I left her, the phone lit up and I could hear her pushing every button on the phone to no avail. I had a strong feeling this would move to the top of my list before the end of the day.

  I walked back down the hall and into Wyatt’s office where I plopped myself down at the long conference table off to the side of his desk, and started making calls much to Wyatt’s annoyance.

  Just as I left a message for Ash, Gray poked his head in.

  “I want to go on the record. I’m okay with a nun for a receptionist, but I’m drawing the line at clowns,” Gray said. “How did your meeting with Lila King go? Did you get us the job?”

  “Not yet. I have to design a master bedroom for her. In three days.”

  “Tight timeline but I can do it,” Gray said with confidence as he strode into the office and perched on the edge of Wyatt’s desk. “Show me what we’ve got to work with.”

  “I can’t. I mean, yes, I’ll show you, but Lila said she needs me to do this design. Not you or any other brother.”

  “It’s a bit odd, but we’ve had some weird requests over the years.” Gray picked up the stapler and fiddled with it. I watched Wyatt frown; then his eyes floated over to Gray’s hands and stayed.

  “She believes in feng shui and energy and cosmic destiny or something. Anyway, she wants me to design a master bedroom.”

  “That’s great. If she likes what she sees, it’s ours. Good job, Beck.”

  “Not that easy. She’s also asked Samantha Devine to do the same. She’s going to award the contract to the bedroom design she likes the best.”

  Gray shrugged, swung his foot, and tossed the stapler in the air lightly before catching it and putting it back onto Wyatt’s desk. About a foot from where he’d found it. And now we waited.

  We had Wyatt’s number. The guy was as organized—possibly OCD—as they come. Everything in Wyatt’s world had a place and a purpose. There was no clutter or unnecessary element. If so, it didn’t stay there for long.

  Wyatt’s eyes ping ponged from his computer screen, to the stapler, and then to Gray’s butt only about two feet from his left hand. Computer, stapler, Gray. Computer, stapler, Gray. Computer—

  I grinned as I watched Wyatt reach over to his stapler, lift it, and place it back in its sacred place. Gray was watching my face and grinned, knowing exactly what had happened. Which was why he was unprepared when Wyatt shoved his ass off the desk. If he hadn’t been so athletic, he’d have taken a dive on his face. He recovered his feet easily enough and laughed, but moved over to my conference table.

  “Seriously, how is that any different than the way most clients pick a contractor? They always have to compare multiple options and submissions. This one is just weird that she’s making it so in-your-face.”

  “There is the small drawback that Beck’s been focused on the sales and accounting side of the business this last year,” Wyatt said calmly. “That puts him at a slight disadvantage.”

  “I’m not arguing with that.” I nodded. I refused to lose this contract because we’d been handed a slightly uneven playing field. “But the way I see it is as long as I do all the actual work, I can still consult you all. It’s still my chi-energy or whatever in that design.”

  “Sounds good to me. So let’s see what we’ve got to work with.” Gray got up to get some coffee from the counter running along the wall next to the door. You can believe nothing was in the right place by the time he added his sugar and cream and refilled the napkins and tossed some salt over his shoulder for good luck.

  We weren’t being jerks, just having fun by annoying Wyatt. I mean, not much. But we really believed his too-ordered life was holding him back. He was too in control and seriously had forgotten how to have fun. I get that we all figured out our own ways to handle our crap growing up, but Wyatt needed to cut loose.

  I opened Wyatt’s laptop, accessed my email program, and brought up all the files Lila had sent. Photos of each room of the house, measurements, pictures of rooms she liked, and her promised zodiac information for both her and her husband, Denver.

  “There’s a lot to work with, so that’s good,” Gray said, clicking through some of the photos.

  “Almost too much,” I said. How does one narrow down from the many wide-ranging photos she said she liked? “We’ve got the feng shui considerations, although I’ve always thought they’re pretty easy to get right in a bedroom.”

  “Agree. It’s usually entryways and kitchens that pose challenges. So, why don’t we start looking for similarities in each of the photos to figure out what’s drawing her to these spaces?”

  “Did I forget to mention this design is due in three days?”

  “Right. Not a problem because I think we can speed up the process if we check out Lila’s Pinterest page,” Gray said, appropriating the computer and bringing up a new web
site.

  “Pinterest? What’s Pinterest?” I leaned in to see what the heck he was talking about. “An online shop?”

  Gray grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “No, but sort of. Pinterest is the key to a woman’s heart.”

  “Why in the hell would I need that? More importantly—why do you know about it?”

  “Bro, please. Looking at a woman’s Pinterest page is like looking into all her secret dreams and wishes. Desires even, if you get my drift.”

  “Are you the brother who didn’t get therapy as a child? Because I thought we made sure all of us got help.”

  “Laugh. Laugh all you want, but you’ll be thanking me in a few hours.” He typed in Lila’s name and about ten of them came up. But luckily for us she’d put up a profile photo and was easy to pick out of the line-up of Lilas.

  “Let’s try ‘Colors that make Me Happy’ for two hundred please, Gray.” He clicked on a square and it brought up a page of color. “And look at that. Under each post, she’s commented on why she likes it. Cha-ching.”

  Huh. So this would help. “I bow to your feminine side.”

  “Feminine side my ass. This shit has women falling into my bed. You should try it. I know you live mostly like a stoic monk, only coming down from the hillside when you have ‘needs’ but this is like magic.”

  Wyatt made a disapproving grunt and moved over to his coffee station to reestablish order in his world.

  I’m not going to lie, we spent about an hour looking through Lila’s Pinterest account. I took notes and saved a few photos that looked helpful. As ideas were forming, I was feeling much better about pulling something together in time. I did have one worry though.

  “This is good stuff, Gray. I’d like to know what Samantha was planning so that I could purposefully make mine very different. I want to make this choice for Lila as easy as possible.”

  “I can get you that in three seconds,” Gray said and bent over the computer, typing Samantha’s name into the website.

  Boom, only one Samantha Devine. I reached over and clicked and sure enough she even had a whole page devoted to master bedroom design. I clicked again and that’s when Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony began playing in my head. “Jackpot. Gray, you’re a genius.”

  “I’ve been telling you all that for years, yet no one believes me.”

  Damn, this was good stuff. I jotted several notes about a few of Samantha’s set-pieces. Some of the fallback colors and styles. I knew each client asked for what they wanted, but usually designers and even builders had tried and true pieces or floor plans they knew worked and used them repeatedly. “Okay, this was great. I think I can offer Lila something very different to whatever Sam comes up with.”

  “You’ve got me curious about your Sam Devine,” Gray said, clicking around her account.

  “She’s not my Sam Devine.”

  “I believe the rules are, once a brother has carnal knowledge, she’s off-limits to everyone else. So, she’s yours whether you want her or not.”

  “I hardly know the woman.”

  “Get ready to know her deepest, darkest secrets. Look at this. Based on her boards, she likes dogs over cats, not so much into health food, but seems to love anything with chocolate or coconut. She likes the beach, light houses in particular, and based on her collection of recipes, steak.”

  “What do you know? How long has this been around?”

  “Years. It’s got more truth than someone’s dating profile. Not that any of us know about that, but trust me, when you’re trying to get a woman into bed, it’s these little things that can seal the deal.”

  “You know what else works, Gray?” Wyatt asked. “Getting to know a woman and actually like her before you jump into bed. You should try it one day.”

  “Why the hell would I do that?”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re shallow, G?” I loved my brother, but he could be like sandpaper. Rough and abrasive. Then again, we’d all developed our own protective mechanism awful early in life. Who the hell was I to judge?

  “What should we try next…‘sexy’?” He clicked. “Whoa, hello there, Samantha Devine. So nice to meet you.”

  Oh, shit. I sat up straighter in my chair. There were some seriously hot photos there.

  Even Wyatt came over to look over our shoulder. “I did not know information like this existed. Do these women know about this?”

  Frowning, Gray said, “Wyatt, they’re the ones who put it up here.”

  “Maybe they don’t realize what they’re revealing.”

  “Or maybe they do.”

  Gray began scrolling down and damn some of those photos were hot. Bodies locked in embraces. Hot and erotic. Not a one of them was X-rated, but some were downright…

  “That is sizzling hot,” Gray said.

  The three of us tilted our heads in unison for that photo. Damn.

  “I’m thinking your Sam likes a little kink.” Gray shoved his elbow in my ribs.

  Hell, yes, that’s what I was thinking too. Thinking about Sam and me—

  “Wait. This isn’t helping. I’ve got what I need. I’ve got a clear direction for the design, and if this website is accurate, then it’ll be a distinctly different option to Sam’s. Thanks, this was helpful.”

  “Anytime. Speaking of helpful… Who hired the new receptionist?” Gray looked back and forth between me and Wyatt. His eyes finally stayed on Wyatt. “I think our receptionist is going to need an assistant. How did you ever decide to hire her?”

  “She walked in the door with her resume. A good one I might add.” Wyatt might have been a tad defensive but then hiring receptionists had become the most hated job around here. We were all sick of it.

  “That’s odd. People don’t usually just walk in for a job these days,” I said, thinking about a few other things Sister Mary Teresa had said. It was all a little off.

  “Based on what I saw out there, it’s not like she could call on the phone or email her resume in,” Gray said. “Not only is she legally blind, but she had no idea how to use a computer. Did you actually call any of her references?”

  “I did and they were glowing.” Wyatt frowned. “Although, they sounded… I don’t know…almost like the people were at a call center.”

  I peeked out the office door into the reception area and saw Sister Mary Teresa sitting behind the desk knitting with big fat needles. She’d taken the phone off the hook.

  “Hello, Mr. Thorne!” she called over to me without even looking up. “I’m knitting you a hat!”

  “It’s very thoughtful. Thank you, Sister.” That was not a hat. It looked like a sweater for a sloth. I backed up into the room and closed the door. “Something isn’t right, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “I wonder…” Wyatt moved to his computer and keyed in a web address, then scrolled down a page. “Bingo. Silver Alert. Seems Sister Mary Teresa wandered away from the Oak Garden Nursing Home around eight this morning. She’s also not a nun.”

  No kidding. God’s pimp. Good one, Sister.

  “I’ll call them right now,” Wyatt said, looking guilty, but it was on account of Wyatt’s soft heart. He pretended to be aloof, but he was a big old marshmallow inside. The gooiest of all us brothers by far.

  “And I’ll go keep the good sister company until they come to pick her up so that you can get back to work,” Gray said, pointing at me. “Go work. We need that job.”

  Hell yes we did, more than they even knew. I grabbed the laptop we’d been working on and headed toward my office.

  “Hey!” Wyatt called, the phone lodged between his ear and shoulder. “Where are you taking my laptop?”

  “I’ll bring it right back as soon as I send all the websites to myself.”

  Chapter 5

  Samantha

  I was regretting agreeing to meet Margo at Big Eddie’s for ha
ppy hour, and I’d only just stepped into the place. Not only did we have nothing to celebrate—yet—but I wasn’t in a people mood, which was rare for me. I had this itch to get going on the design. Three days would go quickly, not that I was worried.

  Fine. Maybe I was a bit worried. I don’t know…something about Beck. He seemed like the type of guy who thrived on competition. Like he’d go to the wall to win. Scrappy wasn’t the word I was looking for. Fierce? Yeah.

  Yet here I was, making my way through the sea of suits. I could see Margo’s poufy bun over the top of the after-work crowd, so I knew which way to aim as I wove through.

  She spun around on her stool with a big smile on her face, holding two glasses of champagne. “Congratulations!”

  I took a glass and downed the champagne in one swallow, then set the glass on the bar.

  “Uh oh… We didn’t get it?” Frowning, she lowered her champagne.

  “No,” I said, sitting on the stool next to her and trying not to feel like I’d failed her. “Lila’s asked both of us, Devine Designs and SBC, to design a master bedroom, and she’ll award the contract to the one she likes best.”

  “So not no, just not yet.” Margo gave a slight shrug and downed her own glass of bubbly. “We can do this.”

  “Sure we can, only we need to present it in three days.” I looked around for a table away from the bar, spotting one being vacated. “Let’s go sit over there. I want to bounce a few ideas off you.”

  We settled in and I pulled my iPad from my oversized purse before folding the cover back into a stand and setting it up for us both to see. Together we looked through the photos and measurements Lila had already emailed for the room. I read off the notes I’d scribbled down during the walk-through, and the more we talked the more confident I felt about solidifying a plan.

  “Ladies! What is this? The weekly meeting of the single ladies’ anti-social computer club for overachievers?”

  I looked up to see the place had filled up, the noise level buzzing like a hive full of flirty get-your-drink-on worker bees. “We’re working, Brady. You should try it sometime instead of skating around in circles.”