The Christmas Secret. Lee McKenzie

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СКАЧАТЬ turquoise, which meant the polish probably went with the skirt. Sam couldn’t see it from where she was standing. Marlie greeted Sam with a shiny green-tipped finger wave and indicated she’d be off the phone in a minute, maybe two.

      Sam slid two envelopes filled with receipts from under the clip on her clipboard and tossed them into the in-box on Marlie’s desk. Then she stepped into the tiny office.

      Their office, on the second floor of an old building near Pioneer Square, consisted of a small reception area that served as Marlie’s domain and an even smaller office shared by the three business partners. Sam ran the construction end of the business out of her dilapidated old delivery-truck-slash-mobile-workshop she’d had since she worked on her own, and Kristi managed her design and home staging service out of her mommy-and-me minivan.

      Claire used the office more than either Sam or Kristi did—often to meet with clients—and the space mostly reflected her style. She had arranged the stapler, tape dispenser and pencil holder on the sleek, dark espresso-colored desk with the same precision she did everything, which told Sam she’d been the last one to use the space. Kristi’s style was anything but exact. She liked to group unlikely things together and when she did, they were arranged for effect, not accuracy. On the rare occasions when Sam worked in here, she always put everything back the way she found it, regardless who had put it there.

      Against the back wall behind the desk was a matching credenza, and above it hung three framed photographs of recent projects. This display was Kristi’s contribution and she changed the photos every month. In the current display was the house in Beacon Hill with Claire’s sold sign in the front yard, a before-and-after collage of a bathroom reno Sam had done in a house in Washington Park and one of Kristi’s clutter crew at work on an elderly woman’s Bellevue condominium.

      Sam sighed. Next month the display would almost certainly include a photograph of AJ’s house—yet another reminder he’d made another brief, unwelcome appearance in her life. At least by then the house would be finished and he would be out of her life, again, this time forever.

      Sam set her clipboard on the desk and scanned the schedule on the whiteboard while she shrugged out of her jacket and hooked it on the coat tree in the corner. Claire had obviously been here after they toured AJ’s house yesterday afternoon because the rough schedule they’d come up with during the inspection had already been added.

      “G’morning, Sam.” An hourglass Marlie stood in the doorway, barely five foot five in spite of her spike-heeled shoes. “Did you get your messages?”

      “Not yet. Anything important?”

      “Darlin’, it’s all important. The movers called about fifteen minutes ago to say they’ve already emptied out the foyer at the Harris house. The building supply store called to say they’ll deliver the Hendricks’ new kitchen countertop by the end of the week. And …” She shuffled the message slips in her hand. “Oh, your mom called.”

      Of course she had. She’d probably called Mrs. Stanton as well, and when Sam got back to her truck where she’d forgotten her phone, she’d probably find a message from her, too.

      Marlie glanced up from her notepad. “She wants you to pick up milk on your way home.”

      Sam sighed.

      Marlie laughed. “Let me guess. You’re not out of milk.”

      “We’re not. She’s having tea with … she’s having tea this afternoon and she probably didn’t think to check the fridge before she called.”

      Instead of asking for more details, Marlie gave her a sympathetic hug. “How is she these days?”

      “No change so far. The doctor said it could take several weeks before we’ll know if the new medication will make a difference.” Providing there’d be a difference. The doctor had warned there was no guarantee, but given how outrageously expensive these new meds were, Sam sincerely hoped there would be.

      “You’re a good girl,” Marlie said. “It takes a special person to do what you do.”

      “She’s my mom. I’d do anything for her.” Which was true, and she really did love her mother in spite of the almost-daily challenges. There were days, though, when she secretly wished their relationship was less of a dead-end one-way alley and more like a two-way street. Like today. Today it would have felt good to hear someone say “I love you, too.”

      Marlie patted her arm and returned to the reception area. “I see you dropped off your receipts for the work on the Matheson house. Is this it or will you have more expenses?”

      “No, I’m finished and Kristi should be, too. It’s in Claire’s hands now.”

      As if on cue, the door flew open and Claire breezed in, quirking an eyebrow to indicate she’d heard her name. Good morning, she mouthed. With her briefcase slung over one shoulder and her Bluetooth in her ear, carrying on a one-sided conversation, she moved purposefully through reception and into the office and, in one fluid motion, slid her bag onto the desk, took out her iPad and started keying in information. The woman had more multitasking skills in her baby finger than all of Sam and Kristi put together.

      “That’s two angels accounted for,” Marlie said, glancing at her glittery gold bangle wristwatch. “I wonder what’ll hold Kristi up this morning.” She said it with affection, not criticism.

      Any number of things could delay Kristi. Her daughter, Jenna, couldn’t find her homework. The dog had barfed on the carpet. The minivan was out of gas. Kristi could march into the most cluttered and disorganized home and have it shipshape in no time. Her own life was a different story, though, and Sam suspected she thrived on the chaos.

      Sam retrieved her clipboard and jacket and perched on the corner of Marlie’s desk, checking her notes and to-do list while she waited for Claire to wrap up her phone call.

      She had already checked her notes at least three times this morning and was sure she hadn’t missed anything. They’d come up with a three-week timeline for this project and she wanted to finish by then, if not sooner. No surprises.

      “You look like you’ve been to the gym,” Sam said when Claire emerged from the office.

      Claire shook her head without taking her eyes off the screen of her iPad. Her dark shoulder-length hair had been swept back into a ponytail and she was wearing slim-fitting black exercise pants and a bright yellow tank top. “Not yet. I don’t have any appointments this morning, though, so I’ll go right after our meeting. Want to come with? I have a couple of guest passes.”

      “Tempting, but I have to get to work as soon as our meeting’s over.” Too bad, because the only way she could afford to set foot in Claire’s gym was as a guest. “I went for a run first thing this morning, though.” She loved to run, especially early in the morning when the city hadn’t fully woken from its slumber. After ten minutes or so she got into the zone. With her feet pounding the pavement and her heart pounding in her chest, after her breathing went from ragged to fast and controlled, she would fix her gaze on something in the distance and her only thought was getting there. Then she’d focus on another distant spot, and another, letting her mind go blank while her stride devoured the miles. Eventually her body would tell her when it was time to quit and she had learned to listen, even though it brought her back to reality.

      “Good for you. Oh, that reminds me, I signed up for the half marathon next summer. Are you entering?”

      “Ah СКАЧАТЬ