Page 55 of Hard to Get

A small divot appears between her eyebrows. “Tools?”

“Hammer, screwdriver, screws, nails…?”

“Oh! Yeah, I do…”

“I’ll help you hang them.”

“Oh you don’t need to do that. I’ll get to them.”

“I’m here.” I shrug. “Why not?”

“Like… now?”

“Sure.”

Still, she hesitates, like she doesn’t want to accept help.

I tilt my head and give her an adamant look.

She walks to a closet, opens the door, and pulls out a hammer, picture hooks, and a tape measure.

“Where do you want these?”

We move the framed art around the condo. It’s mostly photographs but there are a couple of paintings, a moody landscape of ocean and mountains, and a city street alight with cherry blossoms.

I eye the tape measure skeptically. “I can just eyeball it.”

Her eyebrows pop up into her hairline. “Um. No.”

I grin. “We have a conflict. Should we argue about this?”

A hint of a smile brushes over her lips. “No. We’re not going to argue. We’re going to measure.”

“Fine. It’s your place.” I’m unbothered. Between us, we measure, establish the correct height and soon have all the pictures hung where she wants them.

She surveys them. “Thank you! If feels better in here.”

“It feels very relaxed. Comfortable.”

“Thank you. That’s what I want.” She gets our drinks from the kitchen, then curls up on the couch, legs beneath her. “The world is stressful and exhausting. I feel like when I come home, it’s my refuge. Just me and Betty,” she adds as Betty joins her on the couch.

Frank is passed out on the carpet. I nod at him. “I guess he feels comfortable here, too.”

“He’s cute.”

“Is it your job that stresses you out?” I sit on the couch, too, and Betty immediately turns to me to check me out. I give her solid little body a stroke.

“Mostly. I love it but, of course, there’s stress. I thought it would get less the more successful we are, but no. The bigger we get, the bigger the problems. When we finally hired an HR person, it took a huge burden off us. That was another misbelief I had: that we’d assemble a great team of all the people we wanted to work with us and it would stay like that forever. Instead, it seems like we’re constantly hiring, training, even sometimes firing people.” She sips her wine. “My family causes some stress, too.”

“Yeah?” I hazard a guess. “Your parents?”

“Yep.” She looks at her glass. “They got divorced about fifteen years ago. My mom hasn’t dealt with it well. She immediately started dating a guy and married him after six months.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. That didn’t end well.” For a moment, she stares into her wine, looking a little lost. Something twists in my chest cavity at her forlorn expression. “She was so afraid of being alone. Still is, actually.” She lifts her gaze and deliberately changes her expression, her jaw firming. “She just broke up with her most recent boyfriend. I mean, he broke up with her. On their one-year dating anniversary.” She sighs. “She was pretty upset.”

“That’s too bad.” I feel like there’s a lot more she’s not saying.