One Winter's Night. Susan Meier

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СКАЧАТЬ Once he got her a job, everything between them would balance out, and they could go back to being strangers pretending to date. So no response annoyed him. Still, his friends might not have called him because she was the one who wanted the job.

      Given that it was Wednesday, the day before their next party—so he needed to call her with the information about that weekend’s events—he picked up his phone. He wouldn’t interrogate her, but if the subject of interviews came up, he wouldn’t waste it.

      “I wanted to let you know that Thursday’s party is formal again.”

      “Oh. Okay. Good.”

      He winced, waiting for her to mention if she’d gotten calls from his friends, if she’d gotten interviews. When twenty seconds passed in silence, he sighed. “You didn’t hear from my friends, did you?”

      “No.”

      “Which means you didn’t get a job.”

      “Nope.”

      Annoyance with his friends buffeted him. But sorrow for her sneaked in there too. This woman could not get a break. Still, he had troubles of his own. Guilt of his own. Shame of his own. A baby boy he missed so much sometimes his chest ached. He had enough trouble without getting involved with her and her problems. He had to help her find a job, but he couldn’t get personally involved.

      Needing to get them back to their deal and get himself out of this conversation, he said, “Even if someone hires you, the deal is twelve dates for a job. Not you get a job, then you quit.” He grimaced, even more frustrated with himself. In trying to keep his distance, he’d made himself look like a grizzly bear. “I didn’t mean that to sound as grouchy as it did.”

      She sighed. “I know.”

      He grimaced again. He almost told her how he’d noticed ten thousand times in the past three days how surly he was. How difficult he was to deal with. He knew it was the result of losing a child. And suddenly, he longed to tell someone. To share his pain. Or maybe he longed to tell her because he knew she’d understand?

      But all he said was, “Good.”

      “So you want me to wear a gown.”

      “Yes.” He paused. “Do you want me to make follow-up calls with the guys I sent your résumé to?”

      “You can do that?”

      “They are my friends. But they also owe me.”

      Silence greeted him. Finally she said, “Although I appreciate the offer, I still have some pride. I’d like to get a job based on my qualifications.”

      “You really don’t have many.”

      “Thanks.”

      Damn it. He might not want to confide in her, but there was no reason to hurt her. He slapped his desk. “See? There I go again. I have no filter on my tongue when it comes to business, and sometimes I’m just a little too honest.”

      “I think your honesty is your best quality.”

      He winced. “Tell my employees that.”

      “Why do you think your friends come to you for advice?”

      “Because I tell them the truth?”

      “Sometimes brutally.”

      He laughed, then marveled that he’d laughed even though he continually said the wrong thing. Even though he couldn’t stop thinking about Blake. Even though he had guilt that swallowed him whole some days, she kept making him laugh and he kept making her miserable. “Let me call my friends.”

      “No. I don’t want to be that girl in the office who only got her job because of her boyfriend. It’s why I didn’t want a job from you. I can’t be the girl in the office who only got her job because her boyfriend pulled strings.”

      It wasn’t so much what she said but how she said it that caused him to shake his head. “It’s been a long time since anybody called me a boyfriend.”

      “Fake or not, that’s what you are.” She settled onto the wide sill of her living room window, wishing, like Binnie Margolis, for snow. Laura Beth was out. Olivia was in Kentucky. Christmas was getting close. Telling her story to Ricky on Sunday morning had pounded home the fact that she’d soon be facing another holiday by herself, without even a blanket of snow to make her feel cozy in her empty apartment with her eighteen-inch plastic tree and the cookies Olivia’s mom would mail to her.

      She swallowed. Desperate to get her mind off her troubles, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “So how was your day?”

      He sniffed. “Same. Kinda boring.”

      “Really? Rich wheeler-dealer like you has boring days?”

      He hesitated, as if he really didn’t want to talk anymore, but he said, “It was fun when I started out. Now things are routine.”

      “Maybe you need a new venture.”

      “A new venture?”

      “You know. Instead of writing new video games, invent a different kind of microwave popcorn. Try taking that to market. I’ll bet you’ll meet some challenges.”

      He laughed. “Microwave popcorn?”

      “Hey, my dad loves the stuff...” Even as the words flipped out of her mouth, her heart tugged. Her stomach plummeted. As gruff and socially conscious as her parents were, they were her family and they didn’t want her.

      How could she miss people who didn’t want her around?

      Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. Someone’s knocking on the door. I’ve gotta run. See you Thursday night. In a gown.”

      She didn’t wait for his reply, just clicked off, tossed her phone to the sofa and laid her head on her knees. She refused to be pathetic, refused to let tears fall for the loss of people who didn’t want her. She’d done that enough in her twenty-five years. All she wanted was a job, a way to support herself. And once she got it, she’d be fine.

      She repeated that mantra as she went to bed, got up, showered, dressed for work, jumped on the subway, rode up in the average elevator to the law office and made coffee for the senior partners, none of whom even acknowledged her existence.

       CHAPTER SIX

      THURSDAY NIGHT RICKY walked up the four flights of stairs to Eloise’s apartment, trepidation riding his blood. Every Christmas decoration reminded him of his son. Even the cold air reminded him of bundling Blake in a snowsuit, buying knit caps.

      Wanting to roll up in a ball of misery and privately mourn Blake, he was tempted by thoughts of ending this charade. He could bow out of the rest of the parties. All he had to do was go to Jamaica or Monaco, and everybody would be jealous of his vacation. Nobody would wonder why he wasn’t attending any more of the parties.

      Except СКАЧАТЬ