From the Top

by Roxanne Smith

  Ophelia nodded enthusiastically. “You bet. I’ll get started right away.”

  The woman bustled from Seraphina’s office at the same time her phone buzzed. It was Grant. She inhaled deeply and answered, taking care with her tone. She was mad. But she’d told Roper she wouldn’t give him away, and if Grant started asking questions about her sudden change in attitude, well, it wouldn’t take much for her to slip up and spill her guts. She didn’t enjoy confrontation. But she didn’t shy away from it, either.

  “Can I take you to dinner again?” he asked. “Maybe something in between the two extremes of fine dining and a taco truck.”

  She grinned despite herself. “I have plans with a friend.” It was true, and Seraphina was glad, because she needed some time away from Grant and her job. “I think I’m going to take the weekend to relax. I’ll see you Monday, Grant.”

  She noted the disappointment in his voice, but he recovered smoothly. “Yeah. Of course. See you Monday.”

  * * * *

  Emma’s scrubs had pink elephants on them today. Grant thought there was something rather inappropriate about that, but wisely kept the quip to himself. Kathleen’s nursing home was probably not the best place for jokes about drunken hallucinations. He doubted Emma would appreciate it, even if it earned him a small chuckle from Kathleen. She’d always had an edgy sense of humor.

  And a keen sense of intuition. Lunch today was roasted squash medley over brown rice, soft wheat rolls, and baked beans. For Grant, there was the addition of a tough pork chop seasoned liberally with lemon pepper. He scraped some of the seasoning from the top with the side of his fork and cut off a corner where the fat had sizzled into a crispy edge, just the thing to ease down the dry meat.

  Kathleen pushed her food around her plate. There was a pronounced lethargy in her movements.

  Grant frowned and set his fork to the side. His appetite hadn’t exactly been rampant to start with. Some lunches were better than others at Heritage Acres. “Are you not feeling well?”

  She shrugged and didn’t meet his eyes.

  “Mom, come on.” He put a hand over hers, until she finally glanced up. She had rings beneath her eyes. “You don’t look like you slept. What’s going on?”

  He didn’t wait for her. He snagged the pen from his breast pocket and handed it over. Kathleen eyed the pen tiredly before taking it from his grasp, sighing, and digging her pad of paper from the pocket of her robe. Until then, Grant hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t dressed as she usually was. “Mom, you could’ve canceled, you know that. I’d completely understand if you wanted to rest for a day. Since when are we toeing around each other, huh?”

  She sighed again and began to write. Slow, methodical strokes of the pen, but her hand shook slightly.

  Unease coiled around Grant’s stomach as he watched Kathleen’s knuckle-y grip on the pen. Seventy-seven was too old. He couldn’t deceive himself and blow off her fatigue like it meant nothing. Because it could very well mean something. He wasn’t ready for that, but he’d face what came regardless. Denial and a blind eye had never been his coping behavior of choice. Several moments of heavy silence passed. Finally, Kathleen passed him the pad of paper, but kept the pen, an indication she expected to have more to say.

  Only tired. Don’t worry, please. Not sleeping right. Muscle spasm keeping me up. Nothing I can do. Doc said take some pills, and maybe I will tonight. Just to help me sleep. You were smiling before you noticed me. I’d rather hear about you than complain about me.

  Grant glanced up and responded to her watery smile with a wry one of his own. “That’s only part of the answer, I suspect.” But he resigned himself to accept her privacy. If fatigue and some muscle pains were the worst of it, there was little he could do for her. Still, he’d have a word with her physician before he went back to the office. Then he smiled at Kathleen, because he knew she wanted him to relax and not worry. She’d only feel bad.

  He handed her back the paper. “Was I smiling? Hmm. Maybe I was.”

  It was Kathleen’s turn to look skeptical. She scribbled another note and held it up for him to see. Don’t be coy.

  His laugh was genuine. “Fine, fine. You know the woman I mentioned. Seraphina. We, uh, kind of went on a date.” Even to himself, he sounded surprised. Dating had been so far from his radar for so long. “I don’t think we meant to. Things just kind of happened. I took your advice. You were right, naturally. She made a definite impression on me. So, I’ve decided we’ll work together on the Governor’s Mansion project, and if that goes well, she’ll apprentice with me.”

  Kathleen grinned and returned to her paper. The pen scratched along rapidly. Don’t care about work. Tell me the good stuff. I can’t recall you’ve been on a date in years.

  “Years?” Had it really been years? No, no, there was the flight attendant a year and a half ago, but maybe he’d never mentioned that to Kathleen. A strictly casual affair, not something to discuss with one’s mother, who’d once expressed concern she would die before seeing him married. Grant didn’t like to consider that she may be right.

  Kathleen merely shrugged, as if allowing for the fact that there may have been dalliances he’d neglected to mention.

  “I guess,” he conceded, unwilling to change his story now. “The good stuff. Okay, well, the night started out as a working dinner. I suppose I can admit to you, should you swear yourself to secrecy, that maybe I was trying to impress Seraphina. A little bit. I squeezed in a reservation at Rosa Rita’s last night.”

  Kathleen’s eyebrows rose at the swanky restaurant. Everyone knew about Rosa Rita’s, but not everyone had the pleasure of getting last-minute reservations. If Grant hadn’t been responsible for their remodel a couple of years ago, he doubted even he could have pulled it off.

  “Anyway, Seraphina dressed for the occasion. As did I. But the restaurant was so formal and stuffy, I didn’t think we’d ever get around to a genuine discussion. As swell as the food is, Rosa Rita’s atmosphere can be a little on the oppressive side.”

  His mom held up a finger, bidding him to wait, and scribbled on her pad. Tell me what she wore. Was it beautiful? You mentioned it, so it must be important.

  Grant shook his head but smiled in spite of himself. Kathleen had a way of getting down the bones of a thing. He supposed when speaking was as painstaking as penning down each word, you probably learned to key in on important details. Naturally, he’d mentioned the dress, probably because he could still remember vividly pushing the lacy material up over Seraphina’s hips, to find an equally lacy thong awaiting his eager hands. He cleared his throat and ruthlessly shoved the image from his mind so he could look Kathleen in the face without turning beet red.

  “It was a stunning dress,” he admitted, nodding. “A little racy, if I’m honest. Strapless and short. Brilliant red, and the skirt had a black lace overlay. If Seraphina was a hair less polished and poised, the dress would’ve been too much. But she loaned it some class.”

  Kathleen’s smile was wide. Grant had no idea what she must be thinking, but it made him nervous. She bobbed her head as she penned yet another note. She took her time. I’d like to meet her. She sounds like someone worth meeting.

  Her expression was so hopeful, Grant didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. It’s only natural for you to be curious. She may very well end up as my business partner, if things go as planned. I meant to thank you for suggesting her as an apprentice. Sometimes, your insight convinces me you could run my company better than I do.”

  His mom’s smile turned coy. Once again, she hovered over her notepad, then her pen moved quickly across the top. I bet you’d have ended up on that date, all the same. I just gave you a handy excuse.

  Kathleen winked at him, and at least for the time being, Grant’s concerns about her health faded from his mind. And he couldn’t think of a single reason Seraphina would object.

  Chapter 7


  Seraphina checked the broiler again. The cheese wasn’t bubbling, like the recipe said it was supposed to, but turning a deep black. Quickly, she shut the oven off and removed the sheet pan. It clanged loudly onto the glass stovetop, and the pieces of toast bounced like pebbles, a couple flying off completely and landing with small thwacks a few inches away.

  She blew out a plume of breath that fluttered her bangs and stared at the mess. Cheese toasties, the recipe said. So easy, anyone could do it. Anyone but her, apparently. For once, she wanted to serve her friends something more than tap water and trail mix. She picked one of the toast triangles and took a tentative bite. She grimaced at the charred flavor. Not the tasty “blackened” version, either. Just plain burned.

  Her doorbell chimed. She tossed down the dish towel she’d had tucked into the waistband of her plaid pajama bottoms and padded to the door. She opened it wide. Kay Bing’s smile could contend with the sun for sheer brightness. Behind Kay, Neve Harper looked like a bored teenager, dragged along with her mother to a church fundraiser.

  Seraphina stepped back and let them inside. A huge sigh of relief escaped her when she spotted the takeout containers. “You’re a damn lifesaver, Kay.”

  “Not my idea,” she said over her shoulder, placing the bags of containers on the island that served as a kind of border between the kitchen and the small living area. Her studio apartment didn’t allow for a real dining table, but it did have a two-seater bar that did the trick. More often than not she ended up on the sofa. Kay tossed her chin toward Neve. “I was willing to give your cooking skills the benefit of the doubt. Neve’s idea to bring a back-up plan.”

  Neve had wandered over to the stove, where Seraphina’s failure with the toast was on display. “Looks like I was right, too. We’re artists, not members of the Betty Crocker army.” She picked up a slice of toast, grimaced, and tossed it back onto the pan. It hit like a stone.

  “So glad you could come, Neve,” Seraphina said drily. She hadn’t invited Neve, but Kay had called to request a special invite at the last minute. She and Neve were new friends, still feeling each other out, and Kay was absolutely determined that they would come to love each other as much as she loved each of them. Seraphina wanted to tell Kay not to hold her breath, but couldn’t bring herself to quash the young woman’s dreams. She was a genuinely endearing, bright person in a world full of sarcastic pessimists like Neve Harper. Seraphina fancied herself something in between. Meanwhile, Kay couldn’t get enough of Neve’s awful abrasiveness. Something about opposites attracting. Probably despite herself, Neve was likewise drawn to Kay’s bubbly personality.

  It was good to see Kay back in true form. Back when Seraphina had been helping her out at Free Leaf Concepts, Kay had been going through a rough patch. An identity crisis of sorts, after making a few bad decisions. She was better now. Probably thanks in no small part to Oliver Pierce, Kay’s adoring boyfriend.

  Both of these women were in happy, stable relationships, a fact not at all lost on Seraphina. At thirty-one, she was starting to lose hope. But then again, if someone like Neve Harper had found happily ever after, surely Seraphina had a decent shot at any age.

  Kay and Neve unloaded food while Seraphina hunted through kitchen cabinets for plates and silverware. She brought out a pitcher of tea, the kind that steeped in cold water on the countertop, and three tall glasses she then loaded with ice. Finally, the three of them were settled around the coffee table with full glasses and plates heaped high with food.

  If Neve weren’t there, Seraphina would’ve launched into an explanation. Instead, she waited for Kay to begin the interrogation, which she did after a single bite of beef and broccoli.

  “Okay, Sera, time to spill like BP.”

  Neve’s eyebrows went up. “Stealing my lines again.”

  Kay smiled helplessly at Seraphina. “She’s a really terrible influence. Anyway, I’m so serious.” Her round hazel eyes unerringly found the red dress Seraphina had put inside a clear zippered bag for a trip to the drycleaner, hanging on the backside of her bedroom door. “I’m absorbing at least half the story through osmosis just by seeing the dress you obviously wore on your date with Grant Gallagher.”

  Neve whistled. “Look, I know Duke is manly and delicious, but I’m a little jealous, because me plus Grant Gallagher equals a new world order.”

  Seraphina didn’t doubt it. She also wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t turn down a trade. Neve’s husband, Duke, was about as sexy as they came; a long-haired, leather jacket clad hottie with a heart of gold. No one had any idea how the hell he’d ended up falling for Neve. “Grant definitely has a strong personality,” Seraphina agreed. She bowed slightly to Kay, confirming her guess. “And yes, I wore the dress.”

  “So, you had an idea of where things were headed from the get-go?”

  “No.” Seraphina almost rolled her eyes at Neve’s annoying question but changed her mind. She’d only come across as defensive and lose credibility. “It’s just that Grant was a little rude about the whole thing. Asked me to this amazing restaurant. He could’ve at least pretended the non-date was for my sake, you know. Woo me a little. But he made this little dig about it being a company write-off. Maybe I wanted to see him swallow some of that pride.”

  “And I bet he almost swallowed his own tongue right along with it. That is a hell of a dress. I’d look like a prostitute,” Neve said sadly.

  “I’d look like a teenager who raided a prostitute’s wardrobe,” Kay lamented.

  They both looked longingly at the dress. “But you.” Neve pointed a chopstick at Seraphina’s face. “I bet you looked like vamped up royalty. It’s not even how you look. It’s how you carry yourself. If I could command respect without opening my mouth, I wouldn’t have to be such a bitch.”

  “Yeah, but you would anyway, because you enjoy it.”

  Neve nodded to Kay’s matter-of-fact remark. “It is fun.” She swung her vivid, amber gaze to Seraphina. Whether she realized it or not, the granite behind those honey-colored eyes had a lot to do with Neve’s intimidating countenance. “Did you sleep with him?” she asked bluntly.

  “Yes. More than once, if you want the detailed version.” What the hell? No sense keeping secrets from her friends. She regretted it, though, once she caught on to Kay’s worried expression. “What? How else did you expect last night ended, Kay?”

  She worried her lip and set her plate aside. “Seems really unlike you, Sera.”

  “How so?” She pushed a floret of broccoli around her plate and wondered whether she actually wanted Kay to answer the question.

  “I don’t know. You’re careful. This is risky.”

  “Eh. She’s kind of right,” Neve chimed in. “It’s one thing to, say, get involved with a coworker. Another designer. An equal. A hot carpenter.”

  Kay rolled her eyes at the obvious reference to her previous disastrous relationship.

  “But Grant Gallagher is something else altogether. He’s a visible figure. A quickie affair with a guy like that is news in certain circles. I know you want to get your name out there, Seraphina, but you might get more than you bargained for if it comes linked to a casual fling.”

  Seraphina realized with a start that those implications had never even entered her mind. And, Jesus, they were right. She ran a hand through her hair. “It was just so…hell, I don’t know. Like some dreamy high school musical sequence or something. I wasn’t really thinking of the future. I don’t think Grant was, either.”

  She still wasn’t. She eyed the red dress. Last night had been one of the most fun nights of her life. Regret just wouldn’t come. Whether it was fairy dust in the air, certain stars aligning, or plain chemistry, she couldn’t say, but she’d be glad for the evening she spent with Grant regardless of what came next. If the make-out session in his office this morning was any kind of clue, she had a good idea. But maybe she’d better wise up before it was too late
. She was Seraphina Fawkes, known by friends, family, and acquaintances alike for her cool head. She nodded. “He wants to take me on as an apprentice. An affair would be—”

  “Oh, la-la. So scandalous.” Kay grinned mischievously, then grew serious with almost comical quickness. “Fun, probably. But maybe not great for your long-term career goals. After all, only men can be slutty without it negatively affecting their jobs.”

  Neve quirked a brow and mumbled around a bite of brown rice. “Preach it, girl.”

  Well, shit. Kay was right about that, too. If her little office romance with Grant did end up getting attention, she’d be accused of sleeping her way to the top. Seducing a powerful rich man. Yeah, because that was totally every woman’s goal in life. Why be good at stuff when putting out could pay the bills? She snorted at her own joke, then sighed heavily. “I’m not sure letting what others might think about me dictate my actions is any better. I’m grown. He’s grown. And if I’m working with him no matter what, then I don’t see the harm.”

  “Sure.” Neve shrugged, but it was one of those shrugs that heralded some smart-ass remark. She didn’t disappoint. “No harm in sleeping with the guy signing your paycheck. That never backfired for any woman ever.”

  The comment snagged Kay’s attention, and she swiveled a consternated stare between Neve and Seraphina. “Not that Grant isn’t, like, a totally nice guy,” she began carefully, finally pinning her worried gaze on Seraphina. “But Neve has a little bit of a point. It could cost you more than your reputation. Maybe you don’t care about that, but I know you care about your career—”

  “Part of which, in this business, is your reputation,” Neve added, almost under her breath.

  “It sounds like becoming Gallagher’s apprentice could pay off in a big way, but will he go through with training you to step up as a partner one day if things go south between you two?”