Connections

by Amelia C. Adams

  “It looked like a different color in the can and while we were applying it, and it wasn’t until it dried that we could see the real color,” Rob explained. He felt terrible. They were on a deadline, and he knew how much it meant to Andrew that everything be perfect. He was a little more worried about Marissa’s reaction than Andrew’s, though. She’d put her heart and soul into designing the look of this hotel, and she could be a little scary when she wanted to be.

  Just a few seconds later, Marissa came into the room and stopped, staring down, looking as though she’d stepped in hot lava. “What is this?” she said slowly, her eyes coming up to meet Rob’s.

  He lifted his hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was so orange until it dried.”

  She pulled in a deep breath and let it out. “I checked the labels on the cans against the invoice, so that wasn’t it. They must have mislabeled the cans.” She closed her eyes and then opened them again. “Let me ask you a question. If you didn’t know this was the wrong color, would you look at the floor and say, wow, what a mistake?”

  Rob turned in a circle, examining the wood from every angle. The tone was a rich mahogany color with a coral cast to it. It wasn’t bright orange, by any means. “If I didn’t know this was the wrong color, I don’t think I’d even notice.”

  Marissa nodded. “We have two choices here. We can call the company and ask them to make this right—which I plan to do—and wait for new supplies. That’s the part I’m questioning. Or we can run with this and pretend it’s what we intended all along. I can grab some different wall hangings to pull in the orange tones, and when all the tables and chairs are set up in here, the floor won’t be as visible anyway. What do you say?”

  Tabs pressed her lips together, but then nodded too. “We don’t have time to redo this floor and meet our deadline, and Andrew has put a lot of money into advertising the grand opening.”

  Marissa looked at Rob. “What do you think?”

  “I think you need to give that company a call and read them their rights, but get a refund instead of a replacement, and we’ll make this work.”

  “All right. I’ll talk to Andrew, and we’ll go from there.” Marissa turned on her heel and headed toward the office, and Tabs shook her head.

  “Orange. Marissa hates orange. This is going to kill her.”

  “She’s doing what needs to be done for the good of the project—that takes a lot of integrity.”

  “True.” Tabs exhaled. “Sounds like I need to be finding some autumn-colored accents for this room. Rust might be a good color to tie the mahogany and orange together.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, then,” Rob said, knowing Tabs wasn’t even thinking about him anymore. Once she started thinking about colors, everything else faded into the background.

  He made his way to the parlor and found Maggie there waiting for him. She looked great in a green top and black pants, and he looked down at his grimy shirt.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said with a smile. “Those are the marks of hard work. Those are man marks, not slob marks.”

  “Man marks?”

  “Yeah. They’re a thing. I just made them up, but they’re a thing.”

  They went outside and climbed into his truck, then rumbled down the road. “So, I’m hearing rumors about a hold-up in the dining room,” Maggie said. “I wondered when we’d be able to get in there and clean it.”

  Rob exhaled. “Well, maybe today, if Andrew signs off on it. The floor varnish came in the wrong color, and Marissa and Tabs are going to change the design rather than making us redo it. It’s the best choice from a time-saving perspective.”

  “Oh, that’s rotten,” Maggie replied. “It’s good that they’re willing to be flexible, though.”

  “Yeah. If they weren’t, I don’t know what we’d do.” He glanced over at her. “How did the interviews go?”

  “Really well. I was pretty nervous at first—I mean, I’m not used to being in a position of authority, and Florence kept looking at me for answers to questions and whatnot like I really knew what I was doing. But I liked the applicants—except for one—and I think we’ll get along well together. We’re going to hit it hard tomorrow, and we were hoping to put the dining room on our list.”

  “We’ll see what Andrew says, but yeah, odds are good that you can start it as soon as you want.” He glanced at her again. “So, you sent that one applicant packing?”

  “No, actually. Her resume looked good, and I thought I’d give her a shot. It’s just that she had applied to be the head of housekeeping, and I think she’s got some wounded pride issues going on. If she can work past those, great. If not, well, it’s not like we need her for our ultimate success. We only need a few on staff right now anyway.”

  “And then you’ll hire a ton more when the new wing is open?”

  “Exactly.” She adjusted her seatbelt where it lay across her neck. “And maybe by then, I’ll feel a little more confident about interviewing.”

  “So, it went well, and you think you did well, but you weren’t confident, but it went well? Is this what I’m hearing?”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I know I’m not making sense. It did go well. I just think I could have done better.”

  “And that kind of thing only comes with practice. You’ve got this, Maggie. And you’re going to be a great manager.”

  “Thanks. We’ll see how that all plays out when we’re actually working tomorrow.”

  Rob drove to an Italian eatery on the outskirts of town, one he’d driven past but had never tried. “How does this look to you?”

  “Great. I’m starving.”

  He came around to open her door. She seemed a little off balance as she slid off the seat, and her shoe caught on the doorframe. Rob reached out and caught her just as she tumbled down, but he didn’t let her go right away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her a little tighter, waiting until she seemed to have recovered from the surprise of the fall.

  “That’s not the most graceful I’ve ever been,” she said with a shaky laugh. “Thanks for the help.”

  “No problem. If I’m going to drive a ridiculously tall truck, saving your life from time to time should be part of the service.”

  He could let go now, but he found that he didn’t want to. He liked the way she felt in his arms, and neither of them moved for a long moment. Electricity ran up and down his spine, and he wondered if she felt it too. If she didn’t, she was probably wondering what was going on and why he wasn’t stepping back yet.

  But if she did, and if she wasn’t pulling away either . . .

  There was one way to find out. Well, technically he could just ask her, but that seemed a little awkward, and he was already steeped in awkwardness. Instead, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers just to see how she would react. She could punch him—he didn’t think she’d hesitate. Instead, she leaned in just the smallest bit, the answer he was looking for, and he kissed her again, for real this time.

  The parking lot of a restaurant is never a very private place, and after a moment, Rob became aware that they weren’t alone. He ended the kiss and stepped back, but entangled his fingers with hers as they turned toward the building. He was sure of it now—there was something about this girl, something he needed to discover and hang on to. He wanted to say something, to share his feelings or solidify what had just happened, but for some reason, words wouldn’t come. Instead, he gave her fingers a squeeze as they entered the restaurant, and she returned that squeeze with one of her own.

  It wasn’t exactly a proclamation of everlasting love and devotion, but it would do for now.

  They were seated at a table near the window, and Rob studied the menu, not really seeing it. They’d just turned a corner, a very important corner, and he wasn’t sure what to do next. Kissing Maggie had been like a revelation, a neon sign blinking over her head saying “Hang on to this one,” but it had only been a few days since they met. How did he know he wasn’t just imagining t
hings? He’d barely associated with anyone of the opposite gender since Dinah left. What if he was just leaping into this because he was bored or lonely?

  They couldn’t just sit there in silence forever, and he knew he should say something, but he still couldn’t find the right words. She’d fizzled some of his brain cells or something—that was the best explanation.

  Just then, her phone rang. Her eyebrows furrowed when she looked at the display, then she answered. “Hello? Yes, this is Maggie Childers.”

  Rob decided what he wanted to eat, then put his menu to the side. He wished it was that easy to choose what he wanted in life and go for it. Choosing his career had been a no-brainer. He’d known what he wanted to do since he was a little boy. But this whole relationship thing . . . that was harder. It wasn’t just a matter of making a choice—there was another person involved, and she had to want the same things he did. He couldn’t choose for her or make all the rules himself—it was a joint decision. There were compromises. And he needed to find the right person to compromise with. And he was getting a headache just thinking about it.

  Maggie hit the “end” button on her phone, but she didn’t put it away. Instead, she stared at it, looking a million miles away.

  “What’s the matter?” Rob asked.

  Maggie blinked and glanced up. “Sorry. Um, I need to go back to my old apartment and clean out my stuff. Do you mind if we eat quickly? I’m sort of in a time crunch.”

  “Sure.” Rob glanced around, but didn’t see the waitress. “What if we left and grabbed something on the way? This place doesn’t seem to do anything quickly.”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “Why would I mind? It was my idea.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, Rob. I appreciate it.”

  They stood up, Rob dropped a ten-dollar bill on the table, and they left. Whatever was bothering Maggie, they needed to get it resolved, and he was glad to be able to help.

  Chapter Six

  “Would you like me to take you somewhere, or should I just drive you back to your car?” Rob asked as they pulled out of the burger joint’s drive-through.

  Maggie thought about that for a second before responding. The last fifteen minutes had really shaken her. First, there was that kiss, which she’d sort of been expecting, but she hadn’t expected how she’d react to it. It wasn’t just a “Hey, handsome, that was fun” sort of kiss. No, it had been a melt-in-his-arms, never-let-go sort of kiss, the kind she didn’t think really existed because she’d never had one. And then hearing the voice of the police sergeant on the other end of the phone, telling her that her apartment had been processed and she was now free to go back … but she had to get there fast because the landlord was evicting them . . . a lot to experience in a very short amount of time.

  “I hate to ask . . .” she said finally.

  “Just ask. How can I help?”

  “We could fit more in your truck than we could in my car. I don’t have a ton of stuff, but this would simplify things . . .”

  “Of course.” He pulled up at a red light, took out his cell phone, and sent a quick text. “There. Danny will hold down the fort until I get back.”

  “Thanks, Rob. I really appreciate it.”

  She could tell that he was curious, but he wasn’t asking questions, and she was grateful for that. She’d tell him everything, but she just needed a few minutes to sort it through in her mind.

  The police sergeant had also told her that Zoe was being charged as an accessory, and she was still in jail. That was the toughest blow of all—not that Zoe had been charged, but because Maggie had every reason to believe those charges were based on fact.

  Rob reached over and took her hand, a comforting gesture that she appreciated more than she’d realized she would. They parked for a few minutes under some shady trees alongside the road and ate their burgers, then continued on their way, mostly in silence except for telling Rob which streets to take.

  When they arrived at Maggie’s old apartment, Mr. Zuckerman was standing on the lawn, his arms folded across his paunchy stomach, scowling.

  “It’s a good thing you showed up,” he said as he walked up to the truck. “I was about to send my guys in there to start throwing your stuff out the window.”

  “I’m here. Please just give me a few minutes,” Maggie said. She slid out of the truck much more gracefully than she had earlier. “I’ll be as fast as I can.”

  “You have fifteen minutes,” Mr. Zuckerman told her. “I’ve been patient, but that’s all I can give you.”

  “Wait.” Rob got out of the truck as well and stood on the sidewalk, facing Mr. Zuckerman. “Why does she only get fifteen minutes? I don’t understand.”

  “Are you her lawyer or something? What business is it of yours?”

  “It’s my business,” Rob replied, and Maggie’s gaze darted to Mr. Zuckerman’s face. What was he going to tell Rob? Was there a way to get out of this?

  “See, what happens is, when a tenant doesn’t pay their rent for months at a time, the landlord has certain rights. I haven’t exercised those rights because I thought these were nice girls, and they’d get their rent paid eventually. But then they get hauled off to jail, see, and the police are all over this place like flies on honey, and they’re asking the other tenants questions—I can’t have that here. I have little children living here. I have elderly living here. I have to protect my people—the ones who do pay their rent. And I don’t like being used.”

  “Mr. Zuckerman, I didn’t know the rent wasn’t getting paid,” Maggie said, feeling sick. “I gave Zoe my share every month—I thought she was taking care of it.”

  “I haven’t seen one dime of rent from you for six months,” Mr. Zuckerman replied. “I have every right to take you to court, but you know what, I’m not going to. I figure, you’ll get what’s coming to you. Now, take your stuff and leave. I even put some empty boxes in the hall for you. That’s what kind of nice guy I am.”

  Maggie reached out and touched Rob’s arm. He looked like he still wanted to argue, but he didn’t know the story. “Let’s hurry,” she said. “It won’t take very long.”

  Rob nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off Mr. Zuckerman for another ten seconds. Finally, he turned and followed Maggie inside.

  She grabbed the boxes from the hallway, pulled them into the apartment, and started pointing. “That’s my closet. Just take everything out of there. And that’s my dresser—everything from there too. I’ll grab my bathroom stuff.”

  They didn’t speak as they worked, although the questions hung in the air as heavy as smoke. Jail. Police. Non-payment of rent. What could Rob be thinking right now? He was probably regretting ever meeting her. What if he went back to the Brody and told Andrew about this? No, she’d leveled with Florence, and Florence had given her the job anyway. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as she was making it seem . . . but even if it just changed things between her and Rob and didn’t mess up her job at all, it was still plenty bad.

  Because that kiss had said worlds.

  Rob moved quickly and had her closet and dresser cleaned out before she’d even finished separating her bathroom things from Zoe’s. She supposed she could just take everything because Zoe was in jail and her things would get tossed anyway, but she was too stunned, too hurt by what Zoe had done to want to salvage her things for her. Maybe she was being mean, but this was part of the natural consequence of Zoe’s choices, and she only had fifteen minutes.

  Rob came and stood in the bathroom doorway. “What next?”

  “The stuff out of the small nightstand by the bed, please.”

  He stepped away without saying anything else. She realized, far too late, that he’d just pawed through all her things, including her unmentionables and . . . gasp . . . her socks, but there was no time to be shy now.

  “Any of this furniture?” he called out.

  She paused, trying to decide. Part of her wanted to leave and just forget about it, but another part, a larger part, knew
she’d regret it. “There’s a bookcase in the living room that means a lot to me. I don’t care about the stuff on it—just the bookcase itself.”

  When she dragged the bathroom box into the living room a moment later, she saw that Rob had stacked everything from the shelves onto the coffee table and was ready to carry the bookcase down to the truck. “Rob,” she said softly before he picked it up.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  He didn’t meet her eyes. “Welcome.” Then he maneuvered the unit through the living room and out the door.

  Maggie exhaled. She had everything out of here that she wanted. She’d paid for some of the kitchen towels and stuff like that, but she didn’t want any of it. What she wanted was the life she’d thought she had—living with her best friend, finding their way in the world, creating new futures separate from their pasts. But it had been a lie, and she just wanted to leave.

  She grabbed the bathroom box and carried it outside, handing it up to Rob, who had climbed in the back of the truck to secure the bookcase. She had just turned to go back in for the next box when a Mustang pulled up, tires squealing. She knew that car—this wasn’t what she needed.

  Lance got out, followed by Ashli, his permanently glued-on girlfriend. “Hey,” he called out. “What’s up?”

  “Just getting my stuff.”

  “Yeah, Zoe called and asked Ashli to come clear out her things too. Nice guy, that landlord, giving you all this time. I told Ashli not to worry about it, that Zoe and Dean would be out in no time, but she was all uptight about it.”

  “What if they aren’t out in no time, Lance? What if the charges stick because they’re the real thing?”

  Lance snorted. “No way. Dean knows how to beat a wrap. He’ll be back here in a week, I bet you good money.”

  Rob hopped down from the bed of the truck and stood next to Maggie. “We’re running out of time—we need to keep moving.”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to slow you down.” Lance made a show of moving out of the way.