Page 18 of Meant to be Mine

“Is it?”

“Yes, Edith. It is.” I dropped my arms. “Look, if you’ve got someone better in mind, say it now. I’m listening. Otherwise, we’re going with Kensey, and she starts today.”

She held my gaze for a moment. I didn’t look away. I’d gotten better at waiting her out.

“Fine,” she said finally.

“Good.”

“But when this blows up, remember this is a business. There’s a reason people don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“It won’t blow up. Relax.”

“When it complicates things, don’t come to me expecting sympathy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “I would never go to you for sympathy. And she’s professional. I’m professional. It’s like six weeks. It’ll be great.”

“Sure.”

“One more thing,” I said before she could turn and walk away. “Be nice to her.”

Edith stopped. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it,” I said. “She’s my friend, she’s doing me a favor, and she’s going to be good at this. So whatever the version of nice is that you’re capable of, I’d appreciate you applying it. Don’t be cruel to her because I made a quick decision. You’ll like her. I didn’t hire her just because she’s a friend. She will be good at this job and she’ll make me better, which makes your job easier.”

There was a knock at the door. I turned to see Kensey standing there and my whole damn heart leapt. She had her hair up today and a bag over one shoulder. She was wearing a blue blouse and slacks.

I quickly opened the door and gestured for her to come in. “Good morning.”

She looked around. “Okay. I’m here. Put me to work.”

I laughed. “Someone’s eager.”

“Eager might be a strong word.”

“Come on,” I said. “I’ll introduce you to Edith.”

Edith’s eyes slid from Kensey to me and back again. I saw the expression. I knew what she was thinking.

“This must be your friend,” Edith said. “Edith. Assistant manager.”

“Kensey Blake.” Kensey shook her hand without flinching.

“Welcome,” Edith said. “I need to get the store opened. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

She turned and walked away without another word, tablet tucked under her arm. I watched her go and then looked at Kensey.

“She’s got weird energy,” Kensey whispered.

“She’s efficient.”

Kensey adjusted the bag on her shoulder and looked around the floor. “Okay. Where do we start?”

“Upstairs,” I said. “Come on.”

She followed me up the wide staircase that curved along the east wall. I’d always liked the view from up here, the way you could see the whole floor laid out below. The plan was to eventually open the second floor for more Blackwell clothes but that was at least six months out.

I pushed open the door to my office and stepped aside to let her through. She walked in and stopped. I watched her take it in.