~
The email with Rebecca’s proposed employment contract arrived later that evening. It was long, but if she understood the legalese correctly, it was weighted more in her favor than TBBC’s. The salary seemed astronomical, the signing bonus overkill. She supposed Trey’s company paid the most to get the best, but could this be normal? She read the thing three times at the kitchen table to make sure she wasn’t overlooking a hidden catch. Maybe he’d lied about not sleeping with her again. Maybe she was secretly agreeing to be his sex slave.
You’re neurotic, she reminded herself. Can’t too good to be true really be true sometimes?
Constitutionally unable to bring herself to sign so quickly, she went down the steps to the cellar to mull over her alternate concern. Funnily enough, the gloomy old cellar looked better torn back to studs. Being her, she couldn’t resist carrying a flashlight to the crack in the foundation. Now uncovered, it ran in jags from the wall’s top to its bottom. Though it was dry at the moment, she saw signs water had seeped in. According to Jesse, her outside wall might need excavating—which could cost additional thousands.
She touched the crack and gnawed at her lip. How long had the break been here? Since their mother’s death? Since their father’s abandonment? Maybe it was a blessing she hadn’t known. If she had, she wouldn’t have slept a wink in years.
She shivered, suddenly aware how alone she was down here—no one in the house above her, no close ties to her neighbors. Her mind flashed back to the feel of Trey’s arms around her. She wished someone were there to hold her now, to tell her: I understand why you’re upset the twins’ clothes and toys are gone. Yes, maybe other kids could use them, but she’d liked knowing they were here.#p#分页标题#e#
Sighing, she plunked her butt on the cellar steps.
What had Trey been like as a boy? And how did boys grow up to be tycoons? He seemed the type for whom business would be an interesting challenge, but not an obsession. His partner, Zane Alexander, was usually the one the press interviewed. Was he more ambitious or just better at talking? They looked as if they liked each other when they were photographed, as if they were good friends. What would it be like to have a friend that long? Raoul was her friend, but they didn’t hang out and drink beers. He invited her to his house sometimes, and she ate barbecue with his family. Though they cared about each other, she couldn’t imagine telling him anything truly personal.
She couldn’t imagine telling him she’d had wild monkey sex with her brand new boss on a kitchen floor.
She hoped the wild monkey sex wasn’t the reason for the generosity of her contract.
“You have to sign it,” she said, admitting it. If she didn’t, how would she pay for this maybe-not-crazy project the boys had roped her into?
To her surprise, the decision eased the semi permanent knots of worry in her shoulders.
She continued to feel better when she woke up the next morning, though she did wish she were going in to work. She’d faxed the signed contract back last night. When she checked her email, she had a response from the as-yet-unmet assistant Elaine. She asked if Rebecca was free to meet Mr. Hayworth on Wednesday, to discuss her ideas concerning hiring and menus. While Rebecca appreciated the implication that her opinions were valuable, it seemed to her Trey could have sent his own answer. Was he that busy? Or did he intend this distance to cool things between them? She couldn’t forget him saying he pictured them having fun together at the restaurant.
Odds were, she shouldn’t hold her breath on that.
To keep herself occupied, she cooked up a care package for the boys, everything assembled in pans with reheating instructions. They rented a house with six other students, and it had a full kitchen. She wondered if she should throw in candles to help the romantically challenged Charlie with his new girl. Was it weird to admit she knew he and Pete were sexually active?
The kitchen phone rang as she slid the finished dishes into her fridge. Her heart jumped into her throat. What if Trey were calling her?
“Pete,” she said, recognizing his voice after she picked up. She swore she wasn’t disappointed. That would have been stupid.
“Bec,” he said, the super-shortening of her name a signal that something was up. “Glad I caught you. I need a favor for Charlie. Can you bring his anti-anxiety meds to the Common?”
“Boston Common? What are you doing there? And why does Charlie want his meds? I thought he decided not to take them anymore, on account of the side effects.”
“He did, which is why he left the last of his supply in the medicine cabinet in our old bathroom.”