Sure Thing(55)

I can be there for her while she figures those things out.

If she wants me to be.

I sure as fuck wasn’t ready to commit to a relationship when I was her age. Hell, I wasn’t ready last week.

She could move in with me. Of course she could—my house is bloody big enough for twelve. The second I have the thought, the idea of spending another night in it alone, without Daisy, is intolerable.

The fact that I’ve not renovated it yet feels like kismet. She’s passionate about design—she’d want to oversee it herself, wouldn’t she? It’s fate. And as far as I’m concerned Daisy can do whatever she wants to the place.

I’ll hire her to renovate it. Give her a reason to come to London. It’ll take her an age to do it. A year at least. Massive pile.

I won’t even care if her style is dreadful, or if she insists on installing an American refrigerator big enough to walk in. Or turns bedrooms into walk-in closets and mounts a telly on the wall in every room.

We’ll sort it out this evening.

You know what happens to the best-laid plans, right?





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX


Jennings

 We’re at the Liberty Bell when Nan starts to tire. She doesn’t say anything but I see it. Most of the time she’s so bloody energetic you’ve got to make sure she doesn’t zoom off without you. But she assures me she’s fine, so we carry on. She’s been going full tilt all week, I’m sure she’s looking forward to relaxing at Aunt Poppy’s.

Daisy’s fidgety. She got a call as we were touring Independence Hall. She stepped outside to take it and I didn’t see her again until we’d finished that location and were crossing Chestnut Street.

We have a final group dinner tonight. It promises to be as tedious as the others we’ve had this week, though Daisy’s promised tonight’s has proper silverware, so at least there’s that. I’d prefer having her to myself tonight, but as the guide she’s obligated to attend the farewell dinner.

I’ll take her for drinks afterwards. She can order that ridiculous champagne cocktail and tell me she’s a sure thing. I laugh. How the hell was that only a week ago?

I need to find out how soon she can pack up and join me in London. I can arrange to have all her shit crated and shipped over if she’s attached to it. I’d be content with tossing her on the plane with whatever she’s got with her, but women are fussy creatures.

I get an email with her employment file from Rhys as the tour is wrapping up. The local guide, Gary, has led us to Franklin Square, which is our final stop. We’ve gathered at a fountain in the center of the park while Gary gives a brief history of the location, the group listening intently through their headsets. Daisy’s stepped some fifteen or twenty feet away to take another call.

I’m half listening to Gary as he talks about the extensive renovation required to make the fountain operational again after it fell into disrepair in the nineteen seventies. He’s a great guide, engaging and comfortable with public speaking. He’s reading the group’s interest level and tailoring his approach at each stop. Confident in what he’s doing.

Unlike Daisy.

I need to ask Aunt Poppy who’s in charge of training for this division when I see her tomorrow. Something is off here. Corners are being cut somewhere. Daisy’s a sharp girl and charming on a one-to-one basis—but she’s lacking in presentation skills and tour knowledge. It’s troublesome that we’d not provide more training before putting her on a tour by herself. I should have paid more attention to it this week, but fuck it if I wasn’t distracted by her.

We don’t normally employ guides this young, either. Not unless they’re exceptional. Not for a tour like this, one filled with a majority of older guests. The younger, less experienced guides would normally start on the adventure tours. Ones with high activity and a younger crowd.

Daisy ends her call and takes over for Gary as he says his goodbyes. She’s reminding the group of the route back to the hotel and the meeting time for dinner. Pointing out gift shops and a carousel in the park. Places to get coffee or a light lunch. She seems fairly enthusiastic about Philadelphia. Comfortable, maybe? Or relieved her job this week is nearly done?

I open the email with a tap of my thumb. There’s a file attached with Daisy’s name on it and a note from Rhys that I skim through.

A home address placing her in Naperville, Illinois. Date of birth placing her at twenty-six. A hire date of… five years ago?

She’s been working for Sutton Travel for five years?

How?

Didn’t she say this was a new job for her? That she started after her design job went bust? Isn’t that what she said? I glance at her speaking to the group. She doesn’t have her notebook today. It’s the first time I’ve seen her without it.