You Again

by Val Tobin

  “Okay, what do you think of Rhonda? Are they compatible?”

  “I’m not getting involved in this discussion.”

  “Geez, what a lawyer. She’s a great woman. He’d be lucky to have her.”

  John waggled his brows, making Ellen laugh.

  “That’s not how I meant it.” She relaxed in her seat and sipped her wine. “Fine. Tell me what you do in your spare time when you’re not lawyering and evading questions about your friend Max.”

  Since Ellen no longer obsessed over the past—she had the present to obsess over now—she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the distraction John’s company provided. He proved to be pleasant and an intelligent conversationalist. They had little in common—he preferred sports to anything else, and she preferred anything else to sports—but the evening passed swiftly enough. When she next glanced at the time on her cell phone, it was almost ten.

  “I gotta go,” she said. “Don’t worry about the two beers you had. They’re covered.”

  His brows raised. “Your company picking up this tab?”

  “In a way.” She smiled. “I’ll see you around.” She rose.

  “Wait. Can I see you again?”

  “Sure. Come say hello when our paths cross.”

  He paused, frowned. “I enjoyed your company. I thought maybe we could do this again sometime.”

  She slid back into her seat. “I had fun, too, John, but I’m not looking for a relationship.”

  “Me neither. Just casual. Not a date.”

  “I hate sports. What would we do?”

  “You like to eat. We could get together for a dinner now and then. Drinks. Conversation. Like tonight. You know, since Max and Rhonda will probably spend more time together, you and I will need to find something to do.”

  She laughed. “I’ve got an idea: My parents are having a cocktail party on Saturday. My mother’s trying to play matchmaker, and she’s invited friends who have sons—and the sons too. I’ll put you, Rhonda, and Max on the guest list. You can be my pretend date. That’ll fend off the potential suitors. It’ll be perfect.”

  He grinned. “I’ve always wanted to be a fake boyfriend.”

  “Oh, they won’t buy that. You’ll have to be a fake potential boyfriend.”

  “I can live with that.” He held up his phone. “Give me the details. I’ll let Max know we’ve got plans Saturday night. Then you can spy on them and decide for yourself if he’s good enough for her.”

  She faked indignance. “That never once entered my mind.” But it had, and she planned to make sure Rhonda wasn’t setting herself up for heartache. If she could prevent Max from hurting Rhonda the way Gabriel had hurt Ellen, she’d do it.

  Chapter Nine

  On Friday, Ellen dove into the files Gabriel provided her access to after she did some housekeeping for her other clients. She’d spend most of the day reviewing the account in the system on BRI’s server.

  Since she could work at her desk and access their books remotely, she’d avoid seeing Gabriel and focus on the work—a bonus as far as she was concerned. This all allowed her to get reacquainted with the workings of BRI’s business and get an impression of the work Francesca had done.

  Already, she suspected something wasn’t right. Certain entries stood out most to her. The company hired temp workers and contractors far too often for the amount of work they had, and their expenses had increased by too much from previous years.

  It hadn’t started immediately. Ellen calculated Francesca worked at BRI about six months before the expenses jumped and profits dropped. Billings had increased as well, but Ellen noticed places where the payments didn’t match what the developer originally had billed in hours to BRI’s clients. It would take her a few weeks to really dig into what had happened, and she’d need to interview various employees of the company. She should discuss this with Gabriel.

  As she reached for the office phone on her desk, she hesitated. Did she really need to review this with him, or was she calling just to hear his voice? Or, worse yet, find out how his date last night went? If this were any other client, would she make the call?

  Frustrated that she second-guessed her motives, she picked up the phone and, before she could change her mind, called him. His assistant put her through, and he picked up on the first ring.

  “Gabriel Duncan.”

  “It’s Ellen.”

  “Hey, Ellen, what can I do for you?” He sounded happy. It pissed her off.

  “I’ve found some inconsistencies. It might help if I could work at your offices next week, interview some of the staff still around. How many did you let go?”

  “Everyone from accounting ... three there … none of the software developers ... human resources … that’s another two—I consolidated the roles and replaced them with my own person.”

  “No one else?”

  “I don’t want the expense of full-time employees for accounting. Far more efficient to farm that out. We develop software. That’s where I want to focus. HR because they didn’t have a handle on the contractors they supposedly hired, and with accounting gone, we wouldn’t need more than one person.”

  “I thought you want to expand the company?”

  “Yes, with business, not employees.”

  “Who was the HR manager? Was it still Moira Wilson?”

  “Yes.”

  Ellen fell silent, and Gabriel allowed it to stretch while she contemplated what he’d told her. Finally, she said, “I’d have trusted Moira. She worked there for five years before I left.”

  “Still, I had someone else in mind for that position. I’ve worked with him before and trust him.”

  “Moira wouldn’t have done anything wrong.”

  “I’m not saying she did. I’m setting up the team I want working for me.”

  “All right. I’ll buy that. How did she take it when you let her go?”

  “Moira? She understood. I made sure she received a decent package, made sure they all did. More than fair. I enquired about her today. She’s already found another job.”

  “So, everyone else at BRI is still the same?”

  “Don’t know if anyone you know quit or was let go before I bought the place. They weren’t a revolving door, but you left, and you’re not the only one to do so in the last three years.”

  “Sure. People move on.” Which was a lie. Had she really moved on, or had she just come full circle? Before she could stop herself, she said, “How was your date last night?”

  “Great segue. Not that it’s any of your business, but we had a good time.”

  “How good?” Oh, God, did that really come out of her mouth?

  He laughed in surprise. “That’s a bold question. The date was fine.”

  She’d already crossed the line so nothing else she said could make things worse. Ellen pressed on. “Anyone I might know?”

  “Katrina.”

  Ellen sucked in a breath as the blood rushed from her face. “Not Katrina Weever?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. Why?”

  “Nothing. Well, yes, something. She worked at BRI when I was there.”

  “She doesn’t anymore, so if you’re worried about a conflict, there isn’t one. She’s a programmer at an insurance firm now. One of the ones who, as you said, moved on.”

  The silence dragged on, Ellen refusing to break it.

  “You jealous?”

  “Not at all.” But she was. “You officially dating after last night?”

  “Where’s this going, Ellen?”

  “Just making small talk. Glad your date went well. I’ll come over to BRI first thing Monday morning and work from there. Okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Great, see you then.” She went to disconnect but heard him call out her name. She pressed the phone back to her ear. “Yes?”

  “If you must know, I didn’t set up another date with her.”

  “You didn’t have to tell me that.” Relief flooded through her.

  “S
ee you Monday.” He ended the call.

  ***

  Saturday dawned sunny but cold. Snow blanketed the ground. By the time Ellen and her mother arrived at the spa, the temperature had risen to above zero and the snow on the sidewalks had turned to a soft grey slush. Ellen had informed her mother they’d have an extra three guests that night, and Joanne reacted with a mix of annoyance and curiosity. Certain her mother would confront her on it as they sat in the steam room, Ellen braced for impact the moment their towels were settled under their bare behinds.

  Sure enough, Joanne opened with a comment about the new beau—a word that made Ellen giggle involuntarily.

  “He’s not my beau. I only met him recently. We’re not at the beau stage yet. He’s yet to earn that status.” She giggled again.

  “Are you mocking me?”

  Ellen put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Never. I find the word ‘beau’ archaic. It sounds funny.” She dropped her hand, resting it on her thigh.

  “I hoped you’d hit it off with one of my friend’s sons.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” Which was obviously a lie since she depended on her parents for shelter. Ellen determined to change that. She’d wallowed long enough, and with Gabriel back in the country, she could resolve the past and move forward. Perhaps John would become more than just a fake boyfriend, and she’d start seeing him for real. Too bad the chemistry wasn’t there, and they had next to nothing in common.

  “I know. You did so well before, and you’ll recover. Dad and I will always be here for you if you need us, but you’re more than capable of success on your own. You’d be happier, though, with a husband, children. I know you. You don’t like to be alone.”

  “I don’t especially like to be around people.” Which also wasn’t true. She sought out the company of others, loved to attend concerts and events with large crowds. They energized her, helped her recharge. So why did she deny this to her mother?

  “Okay,” she admitted, “I like being around people, but I don’t have to have a husband or children—especially children.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “They’re a lot of work and messy and needy. Yuck.”

  “But look at Laura,” Joanne said, referring to Ellen’s older sister. “She’s been married five years now and has one child and another on the way.”

  “She loves it. I don’t. Not everyone is cut out to raise kids.”

  “Don’t worry.” Now Joanne placed a reassuring hand on Ellen’s shoulder. “You’ll find someone and settle down to have a family.”

  “Sure,” Ellen replied and exhaled a sigh. Did she even hear a word I said?

  Chapter Ten

  After Ellen and her mother finished at the spa, they went for lunch and then to the hair salon to have their hair done. While she was there, Ellen picked up some beauty supplies, promising herself this was the last time she sprang for expensive hair care products and makeup until the credit card balances dropped. When they returned to the house, Ellen’s father greeted them at the door.

  “So, how did my ladies enjoy their day?” Alan Haddigan asked.

  “Great,” Joanne replied. “We had a lovely time. How do you like Ellen’s hair?”

  He appraised her trimmed, straightened hair. “You look gorgeous, dear.”

  “Thanks, Dad. How was your trip?” she replied.

  Her father had returned from a business trip to Montreal the day before. He worked as a director of sales for a dairy company and travelled all over the world visiting sales teams at their various offices.

  A lean, handsome man, you couldn’t tell by looking at him that in five years he’d retire. His dark hair had only touches of grey at the temples, and his olive skin resisted wrinkles much better than Joanne’s pale face and dry skin.

  Ellen and her mother looked forward to his retirement day with anticipation and more than a little trepidation. They wanted him to relax and enjoy leisure time, but he loved to work. The women both hoped he’d adjust to the retiree life, but they weren’t sure he would.

  “The trip went well. Helped secure a few contracts we didn’t have before. All ready for tonight?”

  Ellen told them she had a few things to do and would come upstairs for the party, and she rushed to her basement bedroom to change her clothes. She searched through her closet for something suitable, which meant something attractive but not alluring. She didn’t want to give John the impression she desired anything intimate from their relationship. As she settled on a simple navy sheath dress, her cell phone sounded, and she scurried to dig it from her purse. She noted Rhonda’s name and number on the call display and accepted the call.

  “Hi, Rhonda, how was your date last night?”

  As ordered, Rhonda had texted Ellen after the date, but the two hadn’t spoken since.

  “Wonderful.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s still here.” She giggled, an uncharacteristic sound coming from her, and said, “He’s making brunch for us in my kitchen as we speak.”

  Ellen glanced at the time. “Brunch? You’re getting dangerously close to linner. Don’t tell me you’re just getting out of bed.”

  “What the hell’s linner?” Rhonda asked.

  Ellen laughed. “Well, brunch is breakfast and lunch. Linner is—”

  “Lunch and dinner. Gotcha.” Rhonda giggled again. “Guilty. Oh, Ellen, he’s so great. I think he might be ‘the one.’”

  Chills ran up Ellen’s spine, but she tried to control her fear. She didn’t want to begrudge Rhonda her happiness, but, based on her own experience, her friend could wind up getting seriously hurt.

  Reservation in her voice, Ellen said, “That’s wonderful. Shouldn’t you be helping him?”

  What if he was drugging her eggs? Her coffee? Ellen shook off the insane thoughts as Rhonda chattered on about the wonderful dinner they’d had, the romantic stroll they’d taken along Lake Ontario’s shores, and tidbits about the night they spent in bed. Apparently, Max was an overachiever in the sack as well as in the courtroom.

  “I’m so happy for you.” Again, her words belied her true feelings.

  “I can hear it in your voice, Ellen. What’s wrong?”

  “Not a thing!” she replied, injecting confidence and assurance into her tone. “Sounds like you’re perfect for each other. I’m just gun-shy.”

  “Not all men are Gabriel Duncan. Remind yourself of that whenever you’re tempted to trounce another man. Max won’t hurt me. He’s incapable of it. Besides, he’s told me already he wants a serious relationship. A wife. Kids.”

  “You’re joking.” Again, her radar went on high alert. “Isn’t that a bit fast?”

  “Fast if you’re a teenager. When you’re our age,” she said, making it sound as if the early thirties conferred wisdom on them previous years hadn’t, “you know what you want. You don’t have to experiment to see what you like. It’s so much nicer this way.”

  “I didn’t know you had a firm criteria list.” Sure, they’d discussed what they’d want in a man, but Ellen never expected either of them to find it. Ellen’s Mister Perfect resembled Aragorn from the Lord of the Rings. What would a shrink make of that? Was he too perfect? Too regal and wise? Too hot?

  “I’ve always had a list. I’ve adapted it over the years. Max ticks every box. He just doesn’t have the blond hair.”

  Ellen laughed. “You wanted a blond? Why didn’t you sit next to John when you had the chance? You got to the table first.”

  “I don’t know. Something about how they greeted me. John scowled a little—as if he preferred I sit next to Max. And he stared at you as if he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

  “Curious. We didn’t have chemistry, and I wasn’t drawn to him at all. He’s good-looking, and objectively, he’s a catch—you know, a good-on-paper guy—but I’m not interested.”

  “My dear, you still have it bad for Gabriel, and if you don’t erase him from your psyche, you’ll never be happy.”

  “You’re right. Mayb
e tonight I’ll do that.”

  ***

  By 7:30 that evening, the Haddigan home was filled with guests. Ellen wove her way through the throng in the living room and arrived in the kitchen, which was also crowded with people. She smiled and chatted as she meandered her way to the buffet counter where the bottles of alcohol were set up. She refilled her wineglass with a robust Shiraz from Australia and sipped it before turning back to head into the dining room where the snacks were laid out on the dining room table.

  Rhonda, Max, and John had arrived exactly at seven, and Joanne and Alan greeted them with enthusiasm. They’d paid particular attention to John, and Ellen had made her escape to the kitchen so she wouldn’t have to listen to the interrogation.

  She made small talk with her parents’ friends, who introduced her to their eligible sons, none of whom made her insides churn the way Gabriel did. Used to. Okay, still did. Would she ever get over him?

  As if sensing her thoughts on him, her cell phone sounded with Gabriel’s ringtone: Alanis Morrisette’s “You Oughta Know.” She fumbled with the phone, trying to answer it before someone recognized the song.

  This is what happens when you drunk-select a ringtone. She’d set it after she’d returned home the night she had drinks with John while Gabriel was probably still on his date with Katrina. Ellen forced herself to say Katrina’s name every time she thought about Gabriel and his date. It helped keep the fires of fury lit.

  Pressing the phone to her ear, she said, “Yeah?” She hadn’t meant to be abrupt, but that’s how it came out.

  “Ellen? What’s going on? You at a bar?” He sounded miffed.

  Good.

  She hurried from the room, slipping into the basement to her living room and closing her apartment door on the merriment.

  “No,” she said, taking pleasure in saying what she was about to say. “My parents are having a cocktail party.” She laughed carelessly to show how amused she was by the whole thing. “They wanted me to meet their friends’ eligible sons. My mother wants me to settle down. As if.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, savouring the darts she flung at him through the phone line. “But I’ve brought my own date to this shindig.”