Читать книгу The Christmas Secret - Lee McKenzie, Lee Mckenzie - Страница 10

Ready Set Sold’s downtown office was already open when Sam arrived, and Marlie, their office manager, was talking into her headset. Six months after opening the business they had advertised for an office manager and the decision to hire Marlie had been unanimous. Her name was short for Marline. She’d had impeccable references, a no-nonsense approach to dealing with clients, big hair and an even bigger heart. She referred to Sam, Kristi and Claire as “Marlie’s angels,” and they loved it.

Marlie’s wardrobe consisted of pencil skirts and matching stilettos in every color under the sun, and snug-fitting sweaters that made the most, and then some, of her generous proportions. In spite of the artificial nails, always painted to match her outfit, she could type like the wind. Today’s nail color was pistachio but the sweater was 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 … I hope to, but I’m not sure yet.” If she did, she’d run the whole race, but as always it would depend on whether she had time to train for it.

“We should talk Kristi into signing up, too.”

Sam tried to imagine Kristi running to the end of the block. No, not going to happen. “First you’ll have to convince her to roll up her yoga mat and buy a pair of running shoes.”

Claire set her phone down and checked her watch. “Speaking of Kristi, I wonder what’s keeping her—”

Marlie waved at them with the backs of both hands. “I have work to do so why don’t you two run along down to the coffee shop and get out of my hair.” In typical Marlie fashion, it wasn’t a question. “I’ll call Kristi and tell her to meet you there.”

“Good plan.” Claire slipped her iPad into her briefcase. “Do you have everything you need?” she asked Sam.

Sam waved her clipboard and nodded. “All set.”

The late-November mist shrouding Pioneer Square made it seem even quieter than usual for that time of the morning. Several people in business attire purposefully made their way to their office buildings, a few tourists wandered around, waiting for the shops to open, and a bag lady sat on a bench feeding a gaggle of pigeons.

By the time they reached the coffee shop, Claire had taken another phone call. She nodded and pulled out her wallet when the clerk asked if she wanted her usual. Claire’s “usual” was a large mocha and a toasted bagel with cream cheese. “Sorry, can you hold on a moment please?” She pressed the mute button on her Bluetooth. “I’ll take a pot of green tea and a slice of banana loaf, as well. For Kristi,” she said to Sam. “That way we can get to work as soon as she gets here.”

“Sure thing. Large dark roast for you, right?” he asked Sam. “No room for cream?”

“That’s me.”

“Anything else?” He always asked.

Her answer was always the same. “No, thanks. I’ve already eaten.” She deliberately avoided looking at the pastries in the display case, though. She could buy half a dozen muffins at the grocery store for the cost of one of these.

Claire paid for her order and dropped a generous handful of change into the tip jar. Sam handed the clerk a pair of ones to pay for her coffee and pocketed her change. After paying for her mom’s new medication, she was back to pinching pennies. Claire, who still lived in the luxury penthouse condominium she owned with her soon-to-be ex-husband, had always been more comfortably off than either Sam or Kristi. Probably better off than Sam and Kristi put together. And although Kristi complained about her ex’s lack of financial support, she wasn’t afraid to spend money. Sam preferred to put hers away for a rainy day than spend it on coffee shop pastries.

The young man behind the counter grabbed a tray. “Have a seat. I’ll bring everything over when it’s ready.”

Claire was already seated and had ended her phone call and pulled out her iPad by the time Sam joined her and set her clipboard on the table. “I’ve gone over my notes from last week’s meeting, and I think everything we discussed has been covered.” She swiped a neatly manicured finger across the screen to bring up a fresh slate.

The young man arrived with their order.

“Sorry I’m late!” Kristi dashed in, all smiles and flyaway blond hair, lugging an oversize and overstuffed handbag and an armload of fabric and wallpaper samples. “I was going over the photos I took at the Harris house yesterday and lost track of time.” She plunked herself into a chair, dug out her laptop and a bulging leather-bound organizer, rummaged in her bag for something to write with. “There has to be a pen in here somewhere …”

Claire, never without a spare, handed one to her.

“Thank you!” she said, pouring tea into her cup. “Mmm, I needed this. How much do I owe you?”

“My treat. You can get the next one.”

“Thanks!” Kristi flipped her organizer open and laid the pen in the crease. “So, what’s on today’s agenda?”

Claire studied the screen in front of her. “The Matheson place. Where are we at with that?”

“The last thing I had to do was install the shelves in the laundry room,” Sam said. “I finished on Friday and I gave all my receipts to Marlie this morning.”

“And those shelves were the perfect way to finish off that room.” Kristi brought up a photograph on her laptop. “Aren’t they great?”

Claire leaned in for a closer look. “Oh, yes! I like the plants. Nice touch, and so unexpected in a laundry room.”

“That’s the whole idea,” Kristi said. “After people have seen a dozen houses, they’ll remember the one with the awesome laundry room.”

“Clever. What’s in the baskets?”

“I used those to store the detergent and fabric softener.”

“You gals are a pair of geniuses.” Claire started typing notes to herself. “I’ll call the Mathesons this afternoon and set up an appointment for our first open house.”

For the next twenty minutes they worked diligently through Claire’s list of projects and wrapped up by agreeing on a work plan for AJ’s house. Sam sipped her coffee and jotted notes as necessary onto the lists in her clipboard.

“We have a busy week lined up,” Kristi said when they were finished. She stuffed her paint chips and portfolio into her bag and picked up her cup. “And now that we’ve taken care of business we can move on to the good stuff.”

Sam knew exactly what she meant. Their meetings adhered to a strict rule—business before chitchat. If she’d been thinking ahead, she could have planned her getaway before the conversation turned personal. Too late now. Kristi and Claire had already shifted their focus to her, and there’d be no escape until she answered their questions.

The waiter stopped at their table. Claire handed her empty plate to him, then put her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her hands. “I’ve been dying to hear what’s up with you and the man in black.”

And here we go, Sam thought. Right on cue.

“More hot water for your tea?” the waiter asked Kristi.

“Yes, thanks. That’d be great.”

He took the pot and disappeared.

Kristi tossed her hair over her shoulders and grinned. “So … you and AJ Harris. What’s that all about?”

Sam squirmed. Even being prepared for these questions didn’t make answering them any easier. “What do you mean?”

Claire folded her paper napkin into a neat square. “Nice try. There’s something going on between you and AJ Harris.”

Sam shook her head. “Not anymore.”

“But there was. Anyone can see that.”

Reluctantly, Sam nodded. “AJ and me … it didn’t last long, and was a long time ago. He worked for his father’s company then, I’m not sure what he does now.”

“He told me he’s a freelance writer,” Claire said. “That’s why he works at home.”

“And now he has a family,” Kristi said. “When do you think he got married?”

Sam set her coffee on the table. “I assume it was after we broke up.” She only wished she was as certain of that as she sounded.

“So, when were the two of you an item?”

A lifetime ago. She shrugged. “I guess about three and a half years ago.”

“What happened?”

“I wasn’t good enough for the son of the great James Harris.”

“According to …?”

“James Harris.”

“What a jerk,” Kristi said. “It didn’t take AJ long to find someone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“You saw his little boy yesterday.”

“Actually, I didn’t.” She had deliberately avoided looking at the child in the backyard.

“AJ said he was two,” Kristi said. “I’d say he has to be at least two and a half years old, which means … well, we all know what that means.”

Sam stared into the bottom of her empty coffee cup and didn’t respond. She had spent all night coming up with possible scenarios for when and how AJ had become a parent, and she hadn’t liked any of them.

“So you think the guy’s a player?” Claire asked. “His family’s loaded and men in that position never have trouble finding women, but I don’t know, he doesn’t seem like the type. Did the two of you ever talk about having kids?”

Sam shook her head. The conversation was heading down a road that was way too close to home for comfort. “We were never that serious. Like I said yesterday, I did some work for his family’s business and …”

“And …?” Claire asked.

“And …” Kristi was always prone to exaggeration. “She and AJ mixed a little pleasure with business.”

Sam’s face heated up.

“That’s obvious,” Claire said before Sam could respond. “But there’s more to it than that. The two of you must have had a connection back then because you sure as heck have one now.”

Sam thought so, too. Until James Harris told her otherwise.