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Chapter Ten
“Goodbye, kids. Have a great day,”Sean Grant calls from the doorway as Olivia backs her car out of the driveway, then stops, opening her window.
“Good luck today, hon,” she says, blowing him a kiss.
“Thanks.”
“I have a good feeling about this one.”
“Fingers crossed,” he says, watching his wife hold up both hands and do just that. “Drive carefully.”
“Always.”
Sean watches her car disappear down the main road and is about to go inside when the front door of the Wilsons’ house opens and out walks the handsome doctor himself. “Hi, Doc,” Sean says, waving.
“Hey, there, Sean,” Nick replies. “How’s it going?”
“Going great. I have a job interview this morning.” He rubs the stubble on his cheeks, forcing a laugh from his throat. “Guess I’ll have to shave.”
Nick climbs behind the wheel of his black Mercedes. “Looks like you’ve got a pretty good thing going here. Sure you want to get back into the daily grind?”
Sean shrugs. More than anything, that’s what he wants.
“Well, I wish you luck.”
“Have a good day,” Sean calls after him. He checks his watch. It’s a little early for the doctor to be leaving for work. Must have a very busy day ahead of him.I remember those days,he thinks. “And you will have them again,” he says out loud, seeking reassurance in the sound of his voice.
Seconds later, the Wilsons’ garage door opens and Dani Wilson backs her car, also a black Mercedes, but smaller than her husband’s, into the driveway.Here comes another busy day,Sean thinks, wondering if they purchased their cars through Craig McKay, if he gave them some sort of deal for buying two. He knows Craig moved out about three months ago and is curious why, even more curious about what he was doing back here last week. He certainly looked spooked when he left, Sean recalls, deciding that if he gets this job, the first thing he’ll do is give the man a call. No more Hondas for the Grants. No, sir. It’ll be matching Mercedes all the way.
He waves as Dani Wilson backs onto the street, but she doesn’t wave back. Instead she lowers her head and pretends not to see him. He isn’t surprised. She’s a cold fish, that one, probably thinks she’s too good for the rest of them. Unlike her affable husband, she never stops to chat or inquire about their lives. What’s she got to be so snooty about anyway? Sean shakes his head, wondering what the handsome doctor sees in her. She’s attractive enough, he supposes, but nothing special.Must be great in bed,he thinks, going inside.
He heads to the kitchen and pours himself another cup of coffee.
“I notice we’re running low on coffee creamer,” Olivia said earlier.
“No,” he says now, bypassing the fridge for the freezer at the bottom. “Coffee creamer is not what this needs.” He removes the half-empty bottle of vodka, mixing a few ounces in with his coffee, then returns the bottle to its former position. He takes a sip, then heads up the stairs, drink in hand, to shave and dress for his interview. The cup is empty by the time he reaches the bathroom.
—
“Thank you so much for coming in, Sean,” the officious young woman from HR says, standing up and stretching her arm across her cluttered desk to shake his hand, signaling that their time together is up and the interview is over. “As you know, we’re meeting with several candidates, but we’ll try to get back to you as soon as possible. It was lovely meeting you.”
“You, too. I think we’re a good fit.”
“Thanks again for coming in.”
Sean exits the canary-yellow building at the corner of Royal Palm Way and South County Road, shielding his eyes from the too-bright sun as he steps onto the street. He’s not getting this job and he knows it. He could tell the second he entered Carrie Pierce’s office that he was doomed. TheMs.on her nameplate was the first sign of trouble. Then there was the way she looked at him, that fake smile on her thin lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. What is she—all of twenty-five? And she’s the one calling the shots, the one who gets to decide if he advances to the next level, the one he’s supposed to impress? The one heneedsto impress.
She wasn’t impressed and he knows it. She paid scant attention to his résumé, seemed bored when he enumerated his list of achievements, gave little value to his years of experience. “We’re a young company,” she told him several times during the twenty-minute interview. What she was really saying was that he was too old.
“Screw you,” he mutters, louder than he’d intended, attracting the attention of two women chatting on the corner. They glance briefly in his direction, then cross to the other side of the street.
He laughs, catching sight of his reflection in a nearby window. Not quite the dashing figure he’d imagined when he left the house. His hair could use a good trim and the extra weight he’s put on in the last year makes his once-stylish suit appear ill-fitting and out of date.Oh well.Too late to do anything about that now.
He removes his tie and tosses it in a nearby trash can, calculating that he has a few hours before he has to pick up the kids from school. It’s almost noon and he’s hungry. More important, he’s thirsty, and a glass of wine is just what he needs to rid himself of the taste of that demoralizing interview. It isn’t often that he’s in Palm Beach proper these days, even longer since he strolled the hallowed sidewalks of Worth Avenue, the county’s most prestigious address, full of expensive designer shops and pricey restaurants. Might as well enjoy it, since there’s no telling when he’ll be back.
He’s staring at an outrageously priced linen jacket in the window of Ferragamo—three thousand dollars for a piece of imported fabric that’s going to crease like crazy? Are they kidding?—when he feels his cellphone vibrate in his pocket. Olivia, he knows, even before he checks the caller ID.
“How’d it go?” she asks immediately.
