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“You’re going to fire her, right? I mean, you can see for yourself how unethical she is.”
“Well,” Liz started, and Carmela didn’t need her to continue. She didn’t know what the hell this girl had that impaired the broker’s judgment so profoundly. “She did get clearance from the hotline, so she thought it was okay. What she did isn’t best practices, and I told her this can’t happen again.”
Carmela responded with a dry, sarcastic laugh. “Oh, so she didn’t think it was wrong, but she called an attorney to make sure? She didn’t think she should ask her broker?
Come on, Liz! Wake up! She knew full well she shouldn’t do this, that’s why she didn’t say anything to you. The only reason she checked with the hotline was for this theater she’s putting on now. That girl came from a viper’s nest
because that’s what she is! When are you going to realize that?”
With her heart racing and her head throbbing, Carmela was sure that her blood pressure was through the roof. How could such a wonderful opportunity blow up in her face so badly?
“Listen.” Liz’s tone was sharp. Carmela had gotten carried away with her yelling. “Go home. Have a glass of wine and a hot bath. I’ll see you both in my o ce at nine, okay?”
Carmela sighed. There was nothing for her to say other than yeah.
The drive home was silent. She didn’t even want the radio to talk to her. Somewhere along the ride she’d gone from furious to numb. If she wasn’t on automatic pilot, she would have missed her own driveway despite having lived in the same house for nearly twenty years.
Her little two-bedroom beach cottage was the first thing she’d ever owned. It was her shiny pearl now, but when she’d bought it at a foreclosure auction, it had been classified as a teardown. Carmela had seen the potential, though, and after years of hard work, it was back to its hundred-year-old splendor.
How could I be so stupid?
As her thoughts raced and she felt her future slipping through her fingers, Carmela took Liz’s advice. Stripping o her clothes and shoving them in the hamper on her side of the walk-in closet, while the other side remained empty as it had been for the last three years, she decided on a hot bath.
While her clawfoot tub filled, Carmela went straight for where her products were stacked on the right side of the dual sinks and removed her makeup. It was hard to accept, but Rhiannon had gotten the best of her. Again.
She slipped into the tub and let the heat penetrate her sore muscles. When her attempts not to think about her failed, Carmela started fantasizing about everything she would say to her in the morning.
Telling her o in her mind helped soothe her. She didn’t get as far as she liked before a call interrupted her imaginary tirade and her bath. At least it was an agent she liked inquiring about one of her listings.
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS the middle of the night and Rhiannon had yet to get a moment of sleep. With her meeting with Liz scheduled for first thing in the morning, she knew she needed at least some rest, but all she’d managed to do was toss and turn in the cramped little daybed. When she couldn’t take the sight of her dad’s most prized possession, a signed Fleetwood Mac poster, staring down at her, she got up.
Deciding on some tea or an allergy pill or anything that might knock her out, she threw o the floral covers and pulled on her Goode College sweater and comfy softball shorts. Quietly, she crept downstairs, through the garage, and into the main house.
With her head in the fridge, she heard the sound of footsteps on the tile floor. A moment later, her dad appeared in the kitchen. Baseball bat in hand.
“Mija, you scared the heck out of me,” he said with an exaggerated exhale. The metal bat clanged against the tile as he leaned it against the wall.
“Sorry, Papi,” she said, pint of ice cream in hand. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He chuckled. “Just be glad it wasn’t your mother. She doesn’t stop to put her contacts in. She would have come in here swinging.”
Sitting at the kitchen table, he motioned for her to grab two spoons and bring the Chubby Hubby. She complied.
“So,” he said, dipping his spoon in the carton, “what’s got you so upset? The last time you raided the fridge in the middle of the night was when you got stood up for prom.”
Rhiannon considered denying that anything was wrong, but she wanted her dad’s comfort. They’d had a lifetime of talks at that table and he’d always cheered her up.
“If only it were as easy as getting dumped.” She shoveled a mouthful of ice cream into her face and rested her head in her hand.
Her dad’s nea
rly white eyebrows flew up his growing forehead. “Damn. Worse than getting broken up with right before the big dance? This must be bad.”
“I think I went too far, Dad. I might be getting the boot tomorrow.” As soon as she admitted it, her stomach soured, and she put down her spoon before spilling her guts.
While he finished the ice cream, her dad listened without interruption as she explained the short-sighted plan that had left her conscience heavy and unable to rest.
