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He jerked his chin toward another piece of paper. “The man that was in here yesterday when you so frantically disturbed me. He has his two daughters for the summer.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
He continued, “Two college girls on an end-of-summer vacation.”
Sarcastically I said, “How nice for you.”
Ignoring me, he added, “And a single older woman. Her husband died and she’s traveling the U.S.”
“Oh, that’s not nice.” I frowned.
He shrugged, “I don’t know. Seems like she’s trying to live her life to the fullest.”
“I need to get to the Community Foundation before they close today. Anything else I need to know?”
“I would say to be here Wednesday at noon, but I imagine you might just want me to kick you out of bed.” His pen stilled.
We both paused, motionless.
I don’t think he meant to imply we would be in bed together, but the vision of a younger us, happy, in love, and in bed, was now firmly planted in my head.
His cheeks turned a shade of pink.
I held my breath.
He rushed on, “I mean, I could just knock on your door.”
“Right.” I stood, gathering the papers from the table. I turned toward the door. “Um, no, that’s okay. I…I’ll be on time.”
We both nodded at each other awkwardly.
To my back he said, “See ya later.”
I went out the back door of the store, making an effort not to look in the office window.
The Community Foundation building was only a short walk from their store. I tried to clear my head and focus on my project, but everything I needed to do was jumbling around in my head.
I stopped on the sidewalk to check my bank balance. Ouch. My dad had conveniently cut off my trust before another deposit could be made. I had six weeks, max.
Maybe the Foundation would have a paying job for me. The possibility was bleak since I didn’t have a degree, and socialite was not a skill most non-profits were looking for. I’d need to think about how to market my incredibly fine-tuned schmoozing skills. Maybe I could help with fundraising. People had historically always willingly emptied their pockets for whatever charitable event I pulled together.
The low rumble of a very expensive, very sleek McLaren Coupe approached me from behind. I didn’t need to turn to know it was my brother, returned from the convention.
“Hey Cam, why are you walking?” He’d rolled down his window and stopped. “I know you still have a car.”
“You do know there are starving children in the world, don’t you?”
His comment was surprisingly friendly. “You picked this.”
I snorted. Had frugality won me over in the span of a day? “You should appreciate my assistance, sell it, and give me the money.”
“I don’t think so. This car suits me.”
I sniffed the air. “Something stinks.” I looked pointedly at him. “Do you smell that?”
“Do you need a ride somewhere?”
I moved closer to the car. “Why won’t you let me stay at the resort?”
