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Shadow and Soul

Page 42

by Mary Calmes

I was back to laughing, enjoying his company. Outside of work, he was much less serious, and I would have never guessed that. Nice to get to see a different side of him. “Listen, if you need me to go in tomorrow and get some entries put in, do let me know.”

“Normally, I’d say never mind, but since you’re the one who suggested the computer prodigy… Yeah, it’s guilt by association.”

“I get that.” I tasted the wine. “This is good, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” He smiled at me as I began chopping green apples I wanted to go into the caramel dip. “You’re going to a lot of trouble for people you work with.”

“But I like all the people I work with.”

“Well, as far as I know, they all like you back.”

“I don’t think that’s true, but it’s nice of you to say, Mr. Coe.”

“You never call me Wynton, or Wyn, only ever Mr. Coe.”

“I don’t want to be disrespectful,” I explained, pouring the caramel into a bowl before placing it at the center of a platter surrounded by apples on one side and pretzels on the other.

“Well, I would love it if you called me Wyn.”

“I will, then.”

“Good. Now, tell me, how did going through all the boxes of paper go?”

“Marc and Terri have the boxes, which I’m sure I’ll have on Monday as well, and I had the hope chest.”

“And?”

“I think, much like the rest, that it’s going to be lots of maps and correspondence about flowers and the state of the roads, and I’m certain someone writing about Chicago during the Gilded Age will go crazy for all of it.”

“You’re saying it will be a treasure trove of information for a historian or someone writing a non-fiction bestseller?” His face lit up, his voice rising excitedly.

“You’re fooling no one,” I said flatly.

“Because come on,” he groaned, taking a sip of his wine and grabbing a wedge of the smoked gouda I had cut earlier. “We could really use some acquisitions that would, you know, bring in some actual money. That wouldn’t be terrible. Heaven forbid we run in the black.”

My doorbell rang then.

“Already?”

“It’s a dinner party,” I reminded him.

“I sort of wish it wasn’t,” he muttered. “It would have been nicer just the two of us.”

I smiled. “Maybe we could do that sometime.”

“That was very smooth.”

“So was yours,” I assured him. “Would you get the door for me?”

“I will, and for the record,” he began, getting up and walking that way, “I have been wanting to ask you out for a while.”

“Have you?”

“Yes,” he said irritably. “But I’ve been concerned about the power dynamic, and I didn’t want to do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You’re not my boss.”

“I know that. Maddie explained that all you minions fall solely under Rowan’s purview.”