Brigit shrugged. “Stocks, bonds and airport navigation.”
Mrs. Mic had sent a driver. When he turned down the familiar street, Brigit’s chest tightened. The three-story building with THE FRANCESCO COMPANY emblazoned across the facade turned her insides to jelly.I will not cry. I will not cry.
As they tumbled out of the vehicle, a lump formed in her throat. Her life had changed so much since she was last there. Panic crept in. What if Marjorie recognized her and blamed her for not fighting to keep the company? Under the horrific circumstances, she’d done the best she could.
Colton opened the front door and waited while Red and Dez shuffled through.
Tears filled Brigit’s eyes, but the blustery day whisked away the emotion as she approached the building entrance. With a racing heart, she silently recited the familiar poem, hoping to settle her nerves.Will you walk into my parlour? said the Spider to the Fly.’Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy.
“Thank you.” She walked past Colton and into the lobby.
He stopped her. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Her gaze skirted across the familiar space. They were on her home turf, yet she was a stranger to everything she held most dear.
Hooking a gentle finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face toward his. “I need you or I wouldn’t have asked you to join me.”
She stared into his eyes. “I won’t let you down, and if I recall, there was noaskinginvolved.”
“Colton,” called a familiar voice.
Marjorie McAllister ambled toward them, a cigarette tucked behind her ear. She’d not aged much since Brigit had last seen her. Maybe she’d gained a few more pounds and her short hair sported more grays. With a pounding heartbeat, Brigit cleared her throat and stood tall.This has got to work.
Marjorie hugged Colton, then patted his back. “You look good, old man.”
Colton laughed. “Glad to see your sense of humor is still intact.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” Marjorie said. “You’ve aged a damn decade since I last saw you.”
Colton reintroduced Dez, Red and Chad.
As Marjorie pivoted, Brigit’s heart lurched into her throat. “So, is this your hotshot money lady?” Mrs. Mic thrust out her hand. “Marjorie McAllister. I expect nothing less than a miracle from you, young lady.”
Bracing for the recognition, she shook her hand. “Brigit Farnay. I’ll put in a special order, just for you.”
Marjorie laughed, the gravelly sound reminding Brigit of the many lectures her mother had had with her about the dangers of smoking. She wished her mom were there now to pluck the cigarette from behind Marjorie’s ear and throw it away. A scene Brigit had witnessed hundreds of times. Marjorie removed the cigarette and tapped it on her palm, but her gaze remained fixed on Brigit.
Does she recognize me?
As Marjorie fiddled with the cigarette, she studied Brigit’s face. “You’re a soccer fan. Am I right?”
She knows.Swallowing hard, she shot Colton a furtive glance. “I keep my sport obsession under wraps. What gave it away?”
Marjorie’s expression softened and a whisper of a smile kissed her lips. “You have soccer fan eyes.”
Hello, Mrs. Mic.
“I definitely missed something,” Red said.
“Yeah, I’m right there with you,” Dez said. “I’ve no idea what they’re talking about.”
“I like football.” Chad puffed his chest. “Can you tell?”
Giving Chad the once-over, Marjorie said, “D-1 linebacker. Where’d you play?”
Chad grinned. “Damn, you’re good. Virginia Tech.”
“Okay, if we’re done with the sports chitchat, let’s get started,” Colton said.
