I shook my head. “No, of course not. Just normal brother/sister competitive stuff. Ignore me. I’m just tired.” It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.
“I can imagine.” Alicia’s eyes were the color of a robin’s egg, I noticed, as she took in the stacks and piles I had let build up on my floor, on my desk, on the credenza behind me. “Seems like you never catch up.”
“I do eventually. Oh, and thanks for having my back with Scott earlier. My dad sends him to check up on me when he thinks I’m getting ‘overwhelmed,’” I air-quoted. “Equal parts well-meaning and annoying. But your words meant a lot.”
“Well, they were true. You are one of the hardest working women I’ve ever seen.”
“Only for another couple of weeks.” I smiled past my fatigue.
“You should go home.”
I scoffed in response.
“Seriously, though. You’re exhausted. What’s it going to hurt if you leave now?”
“I always work late at this time of year, said every tax accountant ever.”
“Is there a rule that says you have to?”
“My rule does, yes.” Her pushing chafed a little, but only because my level of fatigue left me with few coping skills. I could feel my stomach tightening.
“Well, your rule is silly if it leaves you to collapse on your desk.”
“I do it every year sans collapse. I’ll be fine.”
“Ah. You’re one of those people.”
I squinted at her. “One of what people?”
“A this-is-how-it’s-always-been-done-so-I’m-not-changing-it person.”
This, on top of the whole thing with Scott, wormed its way under my skin like a splinter, and I just looked at her. She’d been smiling a bit, but as I watched, the smile faded and there were several moments of silence. Regret bloomed in my chest. I’d made Alicia uncomfortable. It was obvious. Which…why wouldn’t she be? I’d been rude for no other reason than I was too tired to practice my manners, and I was senselessly jealous she’d spent time with my brother. Honestly, she wasn’t the first girl I’d liked that my brother had swooped in on and whisked away with his broad shoulders and blue eyes and smooth talk. I flashed back to Emily Garcia, a girl in high school that I had a crush on. Scott ended up taking her to the senior ball and then dated her for the next year or so. I hated him for that. And I wasn’t too happy with Emily either—not that she’d even known I had a crush. Seemed silly, in hindsight…but I couldn’t help my teenage feelings.
“Well,” Alicia said, as she backed toward the door, “I don’t want to distract you from your work, so…” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m just going to go. But…” She hesitated as if she wasn’t sure she should say what she was thinking. Finally, she gave in. “Don’t stay too late, okay?”
My irritation evaporated immediately because the concern in her voice felt genuine, and I was touched. “Thank you, Alicia.”
She smiled softly, and with that, she was through the door, closing it behind her.
I glanced at Leo and he stared back at me. A laugh burst out of me. “Yeah, we both have a crush, don’t we?” Okay. I’d admitted it. To myself at least. I had no idea what Alicia would think about that if she knew. I was making the assumption that she was straight, though, and didn’t really have any intention of telling her. And if she started dating Scott, my crush would disappear faster than a piece of steak in Leo’s dog dish. I decided I’d enjoy the little fantasies that had started to infiltrate my thoughts.
But later.
I reached for a folder and got to work.
With a much-needed goofy grin…
* * *
Around the third year I was working full-time for my father and it got to be the end of March, I learned something interesting. It was another symptom of being overtired, of stretching myself too thin: weird-ass dreams. So weird that I often sat up in the middle of the night and wondered what kind of drugs somebody’d slipped me without my knowledge, because I was obviously tripping.
I was able to chase them away with an over-the-counter sleep aid during that last month of craziness, and after a year or two, they seemed to go away on their own.
Until that night.
I worked until almost ten. Leo was snoring so loudly in his bed when I started packing up my things that I felt awful waking him up. He was like a toddler, all blinky and confused. Once we got home, I put him on my bed and he curled up in a ball against a pillow and went immediately back to sleep. I zipped through an edited version of my nightly routine as fast as I could, not bothering to remove my makeup or any jewelry, simply brushing my teeth, stripping, and sliding under the covers. I didn’t remember actually turning off the light, I was so tired.
My dream was full of people that night. Brandon (scowling, of course), Gisele, Pantone Patrick, Mary, my dad, Alicia, Scott, George Clooney, Leo, and Maroon 5. I have no idea what was happening in my brain, but it was weird. Maroon 5 was giving a concert. Sort of. We were in a tiny, tiny bar with a tin ceiling and dim sconces on the walls. The bartender was Taylor Swift—I had no idea why—and I ordered a Manhattan from her. I’d never had a Manhattan in my life, so why I chose that drink, I couldn’t tell you. Alicia and Scott were dancing, as were Mary and George Clooney and a bunch of faceless extras. Since the only member of Maroon 5 I knew was Adam Levine, the other guys’ faces were blurry, like on Cops when they conceal the identity of bystanders to a crime.
Anyway, I was busy watching the band and sipping my Manhattan when Alicia approached me, her hand outstretched.
“Dance with me?” Her expression was soft, inviting, and it made Dream Me all tingly inside. I was lifting my hand to place in hers when a large man hand beat me to it, and then Scott was whisking her back onto the dance floor. She didn’t look upset by it, though. She was thrilled, her face a glowing mask of glee and happiness.
“Yeah, you’ll probably never get that one,” Taylor Swift informed me from behind the bar. She wore very short denim cut-offs and a white V-neck T-shirt and was surprisingly tall. With a white bar rag, she dried a clear glass.
“I’m sorry?” I said.
“She’s totally out of your league, like most girls you crush on. You know that.”
I gave her a look that I was pretty sure said something to the effect of, “Seriously? Dating advice from Taylor Swift?” But I didn’t actually say it out loud.
“You know I’m right,” she said as she set the glass down and picked up another one. “You can’t compare to your brother. You never could. I mean, God, look at him.” She stopped drying the glass and just stared at Scott with this dreamy look on her face.
“Shut up,” I muttered, and drained my glass. I turned to set it on the bar and another one was all fixed and waiting for me.
“Come on,” Taylor said. “Think about it. You live in his shadow. You have your whole life. At school. At work. With girls. The only reason he didn’t try to steal Leanne for himself was because she was over forty.”
Despite the fact that I was pretty sure that was true, I scowled at her. “I hate you, Taylor Swift.”
“Yeah, everybody says that, but they lie. They all secretly love me.” She gave me a cute little shrug as Maroon 5 broke into Taylor’s song “Love Story.” “See?” Then she flounced off to wait on some faceless customer at the end of the bar.
On the dance floor, Alicia was glowing. She was so happy as she swayed in my brother’s arms. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair tousled and perfect. My chest tightened as he made his move and she tipped her head up to receive him. I shouted in protest and threw my glass at a wall, and as it shattered, my eyes snapped open to see the ceiling of my bedroom.
I lay there for a minute or two, steadying my breathing, not wanting to move for fear of waking myself up further. It was still dark out, which meant there was time left for sleeping. I was afraid to look at the clock, so I managed not to. I was also afraid to revisit the dream but couldn’t manage that as well, and it flooded
through my brain. Alicia and Scott dancing, looking so happy in each other’s arms, as words flew through my head.
She’s totally out of your league. Like most girls you crush on.
You can’t compare to your brother. You never could.
I blew out a big breath and turned on my side, yanking the covers up over my shoulder.
“I really do hate you, Taylor Swift.”
Chapter Six
The hallway reeked of bacon when I arrived at work Friday morning. Don’t get me wrong; I love bacon. I mean, who doesn’t? But the residual smell of it is cloying and greasy and it lingers for a long time. It also made me hungry.
“Good morning, Lacey,” Mary said as I entered the reception area and dropped Leo’s leash so he could scoot off to her. She shoveled a forkful of something into her mouth.
“Let me guess. Omelet day? BLTs for breakfast?”
“Eggs in a hole,” Mary said gleefully as she chewed. “They’ve got an electric frying pan over there and they’re cooking away. I bet they’ll make you one.”
I thought about it. I did. But then I got a flash of Alicia dancing with my brother, and my stomach soured a bit. “I’ll pass,” I said, heading through to my office. I turned and tossed over my shoulder, “I dreamed you were dancing with George Clooney last night.”
“I was?” She heaved a big sigh. “Oh, I wish I could’ve seen that dream.”
I wish I could unsee it, I thought as I unpacked my crap. Except for Mary’s dance with George. That part was memorable.
Clients came in a steady stream all day long, and as my three o’clock left the office, my three thirty entered, large plastic bag in hand, just after he passed Alicia in the hall.
I was making myself a cup of much-needed coffee near Mary’s desk. “Go on in, Mr. Baker. I’ll be right there. Coffee?”
He shook his head and went into my office.
Alicia popped her head through the door and whispered, “Was that bag full of…?”
“His receipts that need to be itemized? Yes. That’s exactly what it is.” I blew out a big breath. Mr. Baker did this every year.
“And he just expects you to take care of it?” Alicia’s voice was laced with awe.
I tipped my head back and forth. “He was a client of my dad’s, and this is how they always did it, so…”
She gave me a look and pointed a finger at me. Aside from arching an eyebrow, she said nothing, but I heard the silent, “See?” Then she winked and went to her own office. Only in that moment did I realize I had again used the this-is-how-it’s-always-been-done excuse.
I twisted the ends of my hair with a finger as I waited for my coffee to brew. She was right. It was the way my mind was wired, thanks to my dad. Maybe I needed to try and do a little…rewiring. An interesting idea, to say the least, and not something I’d ever really thought about before. I could hear my dad now: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. But things changed. Times changed. I was pretty sure Alicia viewed those as good things.
Hmm.
My coffee finished, I doctored it up and walked with determined steps into my office, and for just a split second, I faltered at the sight of Mr. Baker’s bulging plastic bag full of scraps of paper. Yeah, maybe Alicia was right. Maybe change was better. Sometimes. Maybe.
* * *
Are you eating?
The text was from Leanne and not at all a surprise, as she knew me well, and the end of March/early April was about when she started to check on me daily. I asked her why once, and she said she was simply making sure I hadn’t keeled over from exhaustion or starvation or dehydration or a caffeine overdose or any number of health hazards I subjected myself to at this time of year. Her words, not mine.
About to. Just finished with Mr. Baker.
The emoji she sent was one with wide, horrified eyes and it made me laugh. How long this year? My money’s on two hours.
I scoffed. “I wish,” I mumbled as I typed Three and a half.
Leanne sent the same horrified emoji. Four more times. I laughed again.
I’m bringing you a salad on my way home. Don’t argue.
I would never argue against a woman delivering food right to my door. I’m not an idiot.
I had purposely scheduled Mr. Baker as my last appointment because I had no idea how long he’d take. It really varied every year, depending on how good a job he did categorizing his receipts. This year, he’d totally dropped the ball. I was glad for that now, though, because my eyes burned from squinting at all the faded print, and I had an ache in my wrist from overuse of my adding machine, so I didn’t feel bad taking a break. A salad sounded awesome. The only thing that would make it better would be a glass of white wine.
Half an hour later, Leanne sat in the chair across from my desk and ate her own salad and I dug into the one she’d brought for me. Mine was bigger and had more stuff in it, including some chicken, bacon bits, hard-boiled egg, and some sharp cheddar that made my mouth sing. I only realized how hungry I was—and how badly I needed some vegetables—after I stuffed the first bite into my mouth and the flavors exploded on my tongue.
“Oh, my God. I so needed this,” I said, as I chewed.
“I know. I’ve met you,” Leanne said, with a grin.
Not for the first time, I realized how lucky I was to have a friendship with Leanne. I’d seen so many partnerships end in anger, even hatred, and it was so sad and so hard to watch, like a train wreck or a car accident that you just couldn’t look away from. That’s not to say that our breakup was easy, because no breakup is, and ours was no different. But Leanne knew me better than most people and I knew her as well. There was a nice cushion of comfort to that.
We were laughing about one of her (unnamed) regular patients, one she’d dubbed Mrs. Hypochondriac, when there was a rap on the door that caused Leo to jump up out of his bed and sprint that way.
“Leo,” I called, standing up from my chair. But I got no further as Alicia Wright walked in and scooped him right up, then sauntered into my office with my dog in one hand and an open bottle of white wine in the other.
“Hi there,” she said hesitantly. “I don’t mean to interrupt…which it seems like I’m always doing lately.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Not at all,” Leanne said, before I could answer. “I was just making sure Lacey, here, ate some actual food while she was working.” She stood up and held out her hand. “Leanne Markham.”
Alicia set the bottle on my desk and shook Leanne’s hand. “Alicia Wright. I’m the new neighbor.”
“Ah,” Leanne said, as if she completely understood, and I wracked my brain trying to remember if I’d said anything to her about all the issues that had come with finally having neighbors. Or about going to the bar with her.
“Listen, I’ve got an appointment in a bit, and a client left this with me this afternoon.” Alicia pointed to the bottle of what I could see now was a very nice Sauvignon Blanc. “I had a quick celebratory glass with him then, but it’s Friday and I don’t want to leave this opened over the weekend or it’ll get gross.”
“Is that a technical wine term?” I asked, while accepting the fact that I was happy to see her.
“Absolutely. Google it.” Alicia gave me that grin. She looked amazing in crisp navy blue slacks, matching heels, and a cream-colored top that made me want to reach out and rub the fabric between my fingers. Silk, possibly? Her hair was bouncy and her eyes glittered, as did the silver necklace and matching earrings that seemed to catch any ray of light in the room and amplify it, making her bright and sparkling, like she was made out of sunlight. As always, she looked like she’d just showered and gotten ready for her day, not like it was after seven in the evening and she’d been wearing the same clothes and makeup for eleven hours. I had no idea how she did it, but I wished I could learn.
I glanced at the clock. “You’ve got a client meeting this late?”
“It’s a dinner meeting.” She was still holding Leo and put her nose up to his as she said, “
I’m meeting your brother over at that new steak place in Olde City.”
Leanne’s eyebrows rose; I could see them out of the corner of my eye as I stared at Alicia for a beat too long, then tore my gaze away to focus very intently on my salad.
“Carmichael’s,” Leanne said.
“Yes! That’s it.” Alicia probably looked Leanne’s way. I didn’t know because I didn’t look. I didn’t want her to see my face, didn’t want her to recognize the fact that I was jealous. I knew it, but I didn’t need her knowing it. It was weird. And I wasn’t twelve.
“I was there last week. The Delmonico was to die for.” When I finally moved my gaze to Leanne, her face was open and friendly as she said, “I hope you got reservations, though. It’s really busy.”
“Scott said he did, so…” Alicia glanced my way. I could feel it as I shoved more lettuce into my face. “I’ll be paying, though.” Her voice sounded injected with artificial humor. “Can’t have the client buying me dinner, not if I want his business.”
Hmm. Well, that seems pretty clear. I chewed some cheese as I felt a tiny surge of relief wash through me, and finally decided to look at her. Her beautiful blue eyes were intent on mine, almost pleading for…something I couldn’t—or didn’t want to—comprehend.
“I hope you enjoy it,” I said.
“Me too.” Alicia kissed Leo once more on the head, then set him down. “Okay, I’m off. Enjoy the wine. It was nice to meet you, Leanne.”
“Same here,” Leanne said. To her credit, she managed to stay quiet until the door clicked shut behind Alicia before muttering, “Wow.” Then she got up, went to my closet to find two paper cups, poured us each some wine, and sat back down. “Drink that. It’s good stuff.”
I nodded and took a sip. She was right. It was good. Really good with an acidic sharpness that danced with my taste buds.
Leanne grinned, and her expression said she knew something.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re jealous.”
“No, I’m not.”
Right Here, Right Now Page 7
