From the Top

by Roxanne Smith

  Grant shook his head slowly to display his aversion to the plan, but didn’t disagree. Not yet. After all, he’d accepted the terms from Ophelia and her cohorts, and he understood sacrifice for the greater good. Only now, he had some doubts about what constituted “greater.” If relaying information behind Seraphina’s back put a cold stop to their budding relationship, could he still say he’d done the right thing?

  “It’s a lot of cloak and dagger,” he finally said, committing to nothing for the time being.

  Ophelia’s expression grew somber and her gaze fierce. “I’ve told you what we’re up against, Grant. When Brendan Berkley walks into this office Monday morning, we’d better know what we’re about. And you gave your word to do everything you could.”

  “Yes,” he replied in a clipped tone. “I did. Fine. I’ll report on Seraphina. But keep in mind, doing so could just as easily be the thing that ruins your game plan. I don’t think she’d continue to work for me, or with me, if she were to find out I was spying—yes, spying, let’s not mince words here, Ms. Quenby—and I still think it’s not a bad idea to simply involve her.”

  Ophelia smiled thinly and rose from the chair, signaling an end to their strained meeting. “You’ll just have to make sure she never finds out. And in the dark is where she will stay, because everything happening here is strictly need-to-know.”

  “That’s absurd.” Grant could feel himself losing patience.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But I don’t follow my intuition, I follow orders. Seraphina is an unknown player. Gathering information is one thing, giving a civilian detailed information in an ongoing case is quite another. I’m not Oliver Pierce. I don’t act on whims or flights of fancy. I plan and execute.”

  “Even if you know that civilian is trustworthy?”

  “Orders, Mr. Gallagher. Orders.” She said nothing else as she strode out of his office.

  Chapter 6

  Seraphina’s hands shook slightly. She balled them into fists. Her office door was closed. She’d meditated, checked her e-mails for anything of dire consequence, and mentally run through her grocery list, but still couldn’t shake the internal signals telling her it was time.

  She needed to call her dad. She glanced his photo, her lips pressed tightly together. She hated the spiral of emotions he encouraged. Since the dawn of time, she was stuck in the embarrassingly stereotypical rut of craving Daniel Fawkes’s approval.

  His love had a sting to it, and his approval never seemed to come, no matter what Seraphina achieved. If she told him about her accomplishments, he playfully accused her of bragging. But halting communication also backfired. When she didn’t keep him in the loop, he caustically labeled her ungrateful and “too good” for her less than successful gay father, and it must be because she was ashamed of him, because what else.

  At thirty-one years old, she still did not possess the courage to tell him her reticence had nothing to do with his sexual orientation, and everything to do with him. Just him. His personality, his corrosive judgment, and his barbed compliments.

  At the same time, she wasn’t sure he even realized what he did. His hurtful comments were usually made in an off-hand manner, and the burrs that stuck to her pride were tossed carelessly her way. He loved her. He showed that love in small ways. Sometimes, even in big ways. Despite herself, she lived for these moments. And it wasn’t like she had another parent to turn to for simple affection or advice that didn’t begin with a piercing insult. So she’d learned early and quickly to not need these things. Or at least, to not show she needed them.

  She calmed herself, erected her emotional barriers, and dialed her father. It would be news that Grant Gallagher was taking on an apprentice to eventually—potentially—become partner in his firm. If her dad heard about the apprenticeship through the grapevine before she had a chance to tell him, it didn’t bode well. But making the announcement without coming across as a braggart also weighed on her, and she considered her words carefully when Daniel finally answered the phone.

  “Hi, darling. I was thinking of you this morning. Looks like I was on your mind, too. Did you need something?”

  “Um, no, Dad, I just—”

  “Because I can’t help you, Sera. Please, I can barely help myself. I’m thinking of moving out of town. What do you think of that? Nuts. But I’m running out of work, and Little Rock is a small town. Too small for me.”

  She’d often wondered why he’d hung around as long as he had. Community theater wasn’t non-existent, but it was a pretty small niche in a place like Little Rock. Her dad had been complaining about the lack of culture in the theater scene her entire life. The other totally unsurprising thing was leap of relief her heart made at the mention of him moving away. She loved Daniel and craved his affection and approval like nothing else on earth. But it was a heavy load to bear.

  “I don’t need help, Dad.”

  “I know, I know.” He sounded amused and indulgent, like she were a small child denying she’d gone to the potty in her big girl undies. “You’re a big deal now, aren’t you? Working for Grant Gallagher. I don’t know shit about designing stuff, but I know that name. He always pops up in the political section of the paper, for this or that fundraiser. Swell guy. I don’t trust him. He never smiles. But he donates to all the right places. Don’t be embarrassed to tell him about me, he gave a pretty penny to the LGBT charity they ran last year.”

  She’d roll her eyes if she weren’t convinced Daniel would somehow hear it over the line and accuse her of having no respect. “Actually, I am kind of calling about my job. I know you hate to find stuff out from the paper, so I thought I’d better tell you myself. Grant has taken me on as his apprentice, with the idea that I might become a partner eventually. We’re going to be working together on the Governor’s Mansion project the city greenlighted earlier this year. If things goes well, I suppose, I’ll…um, well, I guess I’ll get quite the promotion.” She ended on a light laugh. She hadn’t realized it, but she’d been counting on him interrupting her before she got to the end of her spiel. So much for considering her words carefully.

  “You know you don’t have to impress me, Sera.” Her father’s tone was dry, but he didn’t sound particularly annoyed. “All the same, good for you.”

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to gloat or anything. It’s just every time you learn something before I have time to tell you myself, you feel like I’m avoiding you.”

  He took a deep breath and turned complacent, as if she were the unreasonable one. “You’re right, you’re right. I know you don’t mean to gloat. You just have that way about you. I have no idea if you inherited the trait genetically from your mother, or if she had time to teach it to you before she ran off, but that’s one-hundred percent Rebecca Fawkes, I tell ya.”

  Seraphina bit off a nasty reply. Of course, her dad would never take credit for the parts of Seraphina he didn’t like. The bad stuff came from her mother, and if ever there were anything about her Daniel deemed worthy of his pride or praise, it surely will have come from the Fawkes side of the family, ensuring the credit was more Daniel’s than Seraphina’s.

  “Sweetheart, I have to go. Whatever all that means, I’m happy for you, good luck, or whatever, okay? Sorry, some of that crap just goes over my head. But listen, if I do leave town, I’ll call first. I wasn’t yanking your chain, girlie, I’m really considering getting the hell out of this place. You could come with me. Fresh start, all that. I’m thinking L.A. or New Orleans, maybe New York City. Somewhere that’s alive. I’m drowning in this dusty place.”

  She wanted to bang her head on the desk. She didn’t need a fresh start. If her dad paid any attention at all to anything besides his own chaotic emotional state, he’d understand she’d made an incredibly important leap in her career. She’d be insane to walk away. Becoming Grant Gallagher’s partner would make up for the years she’d spent at the university tutoring other hopefuls instead
of working toward her own goals.

  “This is home for me. But I wish you luck, Dad, if you decide to go through with the move.”

  “You say that like it’s a tough decision.” His derision was potent, but Seraphina tuned it out. “And hey, I could do without the condescension, thanks. I’m amped about making a big change in my life, and I got doubts a-plenty. Don’t need your help.”

  “Sorry, Dad, I—”

  “Yep, gotta go, hon. Like I said, I’ll be in touch.”

  Seraphina let her phone drop onto her desk. She groaned, slumped back in her chair, and rubbed her face. How did she keep convincing herself the next phone call would be better than the last? At least he never wanted to do lunch or see a movie together. She didn’t think she could survive more than a few minutes. He isn’t obligated to understand me, just because it’s my desire to be understood.

  A long time ago, she’d sought therapy to work through her tough relationship with her father. That mantra was the thing she still carried with her, years later, and made the exorbitant fees wholly worth it. Her dad raised her. Beyond keeping her alive, healthy, and reasonably happy, he didn’t owe her anything as an individual. She was entitled to be herself, and so was Daniel. Dealing with the fact that he was a self-centered tool was just part of the package. Everyone had flaws.

  She laid her head on her desk and waited for her headache to ebb, which it stubbornly refused to do. Her head sprung up at the light tap on her door. “Come in,” she called, straightening herself behind the desk. She could feel like crap, so long as she didn’t look like crap.

  Roper smiled sheepishly as he stepped inside.

  “Hi.” Seraphina recalled suddenly the last time they’d seen each other, and felt her face drain of color. She’d swear in a court of law, she blanched to her toes. Not that anyone would notice on her pale skin, but she could feel the blood draining away like it were going into hiding. Which is what she wished she could do. “I looked for you yesterday.”

  Roper closed the door, and the quiet snick sounded like a gunshot in the loaded silence between them. He moved slowly, finally sitting in one of the extra chairs Seraphina had shoved against the wall opposite her desk. “I took the day,” he replied easily.

  She didn’t wait for him to ask for his due explanation. “Roper, it’s going to sound like complete and utter bullshit when I tell you what happened. I don’t even know how to go about convincing you it was an accident. And I have no idea why you would cover for me.”

  Roper grinned. Not in a nasty, malicious, or unkind way. The genuine article. In fact, he smiled like a man released from indentured servitude. “I came by to thank you.”

  Seraphina sat back, stunned. “What?”

  “Quietly,” he added, his smile still firmly rooted to the spot. Unflinching. “I don’t want Grant to know this, so if you wouldn’t mind keeping it between you and I. In fact, I almost didn’t say anything at all, but you look so mortified and guilty. I can’t leave you hanging. Hell, I probably can’t pretend to be all that upset. I told Grant I think it should’ve gone to you, anyway, to sort of explain away why I’m not all broken up about not getting the spot.”

  She shook her head. “What?”

  “Seraphina, come on. You saw the crap I turned in. You think I’m Grant Gallagher’s secret weapon because I suck that bad? I tried to throw the contest. I underestimated Grant. I don’t doubt he would’ve changed my blueprints. Yours will be tweaked and refined, too. But I really thought he wouldn’t have the nerve to choose those awful designs.”

  Seraphina raised her hands to put a stop to Roper’s explanation. “First of all, why? Why put anything on the table you weren’t prepared to back?”

  Roper shrugged lightly. “It was expected, ever since Gallagher Interiors won the bid for Tanbee House. I knew if we did, I’d get the assignment. It was my idea for Grant to give some other players a shot at the spotlight. He probably had me figured out, even then. See, I’m looking to move on from working for Grant. Grant and I haven’t said a word to each other, but I suspect he’s figured me out. I tried my best to get out of Tanbee House. So, deleting those files was more than I could have hoped for. Accident or not, I extend to you my heartiest of thanks.”

  “So, that’s the real reason you refused to recreate your design for Grant?”

  His smile deepened. “Yes. It’s also why I lied about not having any other copies saved, although I immediately deleted all of my backup files after I left Grant’s office.”

  He meant every word. She could hardly believe it. “But…but he’s looking for a partner. You’re the likeliest candidate.” Despite what Grant may have said, Seraphina still believed it. The two of them had worked together for ages. Maybe she had the better temperament, but Roper had earned his place at the top.

  “Me and Grant, we go way back, sure. He’s a fair man to work for. I’m good at my job. But we’re different people, with different ideals. I don’t want to work for Grant Gallagher. I want to work for Roper McLeod. But the market here is flooded. Between Grant, Neve Harper, and places like Free Leaf Concepts cornering the spa and outlet mall markets, I’m going nowhere if I stay in Little Rock. And I’ve got bigger plans for myself than merely designing. See, I want to create. I’ve been taking classes. I’m going to finish my degree in architecture, and take it to the next level.” He relaxed into the chair, settling in as if they were going to sit and chat indefinitely. “Besides, I’m aware he offered the apprenticeship to you. We discussed it, and I agree wholeheartedly. Running a place like this is about more than talent, of which you have plenty. It requires a certain aplomb. Grant moves in some important circles. He needs someone who can be taken seriously. I love my job, but I don’t want to deal with any of that crap.”

  Seraphina did. She wanted all of it. “So, Grant didn’t choose your designs because they were better?”

  Roper stared at her plaintively. “Come on. You saw them for yourself. He’d have gotten around it somehow. My best guess is he’s just trying to keep me on. He doesn’t want me to go. And you can’t pick up the slack, because if you’re to work one-on-one with Grant, you won’t have time for my workload.”

  Red flashed across her vision. So, she had won. Roper’s suspicions were her only proof, but she’d bet her studio apartment he was right. A tight ball of indignant anger formed in her chest. “That weasel jerk—”

  “You can’t tell him.” Roper squinted at her in a pained expression of apology. “You can’t. I mean, you can, obviously, but I really wish you wouldn’t. Look, Grant knows I’m fading away, but he doesn’t realize how far I’ve gone. I’m only waiting for a few small things to align, and I’m out of here. I want to tell Grant on my own terms, because it’s all going to end rather abruptly. I owe the man more than he’s gonna get.”

  “But why? You won’t even give him proper notice?” She berated herself for caring how Grant might react to the news of his star designer suddenly ducking out. She shouldn’t care. Not after he’d deliberately chosen plans that weren’t as good as hers. She ended up with the job all the same, but still. There were principles to consider.

  Roper’s smiled faded into something sadder. “Because if anyone could talk me into sticking around, it’s Grant Gallagher. He’ll offer to pay for my education. He’ll give me bonuses and incentives. Not as bribes, but because he wants his people to be happy. And it’ll just make it that much harder. I don’t just want to move on from his company, I want to get the hell out of Arkansas.”

  Seraphina tapped her fingernails on her desk and wondered why everyone suddenly had a strong desire to move away. She’d better check in with her few friends, make sure they weren’t planning anything drastic. “Where do you think you might go?”

  “Denver. I’ve got a cousin out there. He’s military, can’t say enough good stuff about Colorado. Figure why not? I could use a break from this humidity.”

 
Pfft. Seraphina had been to the deserts of Arizona and the wastelands of Nevada. Whoever coined “well, at least it’s a dry heat!” was out of his ever-loving mind. Before she could rattle off something witty, there was another tap at the door.

  Ophelia poked her head in, saw Roper, and apologized.

  He waved her in as he rose from the chair with an exaggerated groan. “She’s all yours, Ophelia. Seraphina, thanks for giving me your two-cents on the Coulter Bridge. Appreciate the tip.” He winked and left them with a jaunty little wave. The guy could be a real goof.

  Seraphina’s new assistant smiled guilelessly, lowered her voice, and gave a slight nod toward the doorway, where Roper had passed seconds ago. “Can you believe he accidently deleted his files on Tanbee House?”

  Seraphina swallowed past a weird lump of guilt lodged in her throat. Even with Roper’s blessing, she felt stupid and awful. What had she been thinking, anyway, deleting files like some child throwing a temper tantrum? Only she hadn’t been angry, then, only mournful. Now she was angry. And as per usual, could do nothing about it. She gave her best version of a smile to Ophelia. It wasn’t much. “I suppose you’re checking in.”

  “Yes.” Ophelia rubbed her hands together and looked around Seraphina’s small office. “I’d love to jump right in, if you don’t mind. It’s Friday. Mind if I download a set of your blueprint files to my tablet and get started over the weekend? I do my best work at home, wearing holy cotton pants with a cat curled into my side.”

  She decided she liked Ophelia. “Sure. That’d be great. I have a list of materials I’d like to use. They are all available through local sources. If you want, you can start making calls. I’d rather have suppliers lined up than have to hunt them down at the last moment. At least reach out. Maybe get with the contractor Grant assigned to Tanbee House and ask for his estimation on demolition so I can work out a tighter schedule.”