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6
Though Sienna could have confronted her father, she’d already done so over the other “fabrication” with Matthew and her party. Dad would just tell her he wanted peace in the family. She hadn’t called her mother either. Even Aunt Teresa wouldn’t know the full truth.
Bron had canceled the previous bridal appointment, and in the two weeks since their lunch, Sienna and the other girls—four bridesmaids in total—had chosen a sexy, strapless number that hugged the chest, then flared in pleats to the floor. It was usable for any fancy occasion, or she could have it hemmed later and turned into a cocktail dress.
She’d had another interview but decided the firm wasn’t right for her. Once Smithfield and Vine had turned her down, the best fit in the city of San Francisco was her father’s company, where she absolutely couldn’t go. She didn’t want to leave the city, but it was looking more and more like she’d have to go to San Jose. Or farther afield.
But she wouldn’t think about that on this gorgeous spring morning as she ran through the Presidio, then out along the water and down to Fort Mason. Being a Saturday, the path was awash in people walking their dogs, runners, speed walkers, leisurely strollers, parents with kids in tow, and dog walkers with six or seven leashed pets. She dodged through people as if they were an obstacle course, smiling at everyone, giving a low-waisted wave to other runners, a signal they were in the same class. She waved at an older man as he passed at a fast pace.
Then she heard her name. “Sienna Walker?”
She turned to see the man heading back, lifting his feet high to keep his heart rate up.
She recognized him then, Mr. Smithfield of Smithfield and Vine. He stuck out his hand, and she gave it an obligatory shake.
“How are you?” he asked, then added before she could answer, “I’ve seen you out here before. You keep a good pace.”
“Thank you.” Now that he’d said it, she remembered seeing him, though she hadn’t put it together when she’d interviewed. People were harder to place in their running gear.
“I’m really sorry the position with us didn’t work out for you.”
A surge of resentment welled up that he hadn’t given her the third interview. And she certainly hadn’t thought he’d had the nerve to bring it up. But she remained polite. Never burn a bridge by being bitchy. “So am I.”
He was still running in place, and she did too. “You really were the perfect candidate. I’m sure we hired someone with good potential, but I still believe you would have been a great asset to the team.”
She didn’t gape even though she wanted to. But since he’d mentioned it, she asked, “If I was so perfect, why did you cancel my third interview?” She punctuated with a shrug of her shoulders.
He stopped jogging then, cocked his head. “Quite frankly, it would have been a waste of time since you’d already decided my firm wasn’t for you.” There could have been a slight edge to his voice, but she didn’t know him well enough to say for sure. “Your father gave me to understand that you’d decided to work for him.”
She was floored, even worse than that lunch with Bron when she’d learned her father had lied about the bridesmaid thing. She blurted out, “I’m not going to work for my father. I want to make my own name.”
But if that was completely true, why had she asked her father to put in a good word with Mr. Smithfield? She couldn’t even remember how she’d justified that to herself.
“But your father said—” Mr. Smithfield cut off the sentence. “Ahh. You were using us to get him to make an offer.”
She couldn’t let Mr. Smithfield believe that of her. “I absolutely wouldn’t do that. Your firm is the best in the city, exactly where I wanted to be. I won’t work for my father because I don’t want anyone to think there’s nepotism going on.” Her shoulders rose defensively.
Mr. Smithfield regarded her a long moment from beneath bushy gray eyebrows. “Then I’m sorry you and your father got your wires crossed.” He started jogging in place again, getting ready to take off.
Sienna rushed to ask him, “When did my father call you?”
“The evening before your interview.” He put his fingers to his wrist. “My heart rate is off pace.”
“I’ll let you go. Thanks for stopping. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding.”
He took off, then turned, once more running in place. “If we have a new opening, I’d still like you back for that third interview. Now that I know we were your first choice.”
Then he turned and raced away, leaving Sienna mute and flabbergasted in his wake.
* * *
Sienna tooktwo days to cool down before confronting her father. Then another two days to decide whether to go to his house, his office, or make a lunch date.
She opted for lunch and called him. “Lunch today? I’d like to talk about a job.”
“Absolutely, sweetheart.” The rare use of a term of endearment meant he was terribly pleased with himself.
She didn’t tell him which job. Maybe he thought his ruse had worked, and she’d decided he was the only game in town. Maybe that was his plan all along, to push her into a position where she’d be in his control.
