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“It was, in more ways than one.” She hooked two fingers around the interior door handle. “Okay, I’m off.”
And that was it. My weekend with Rebecca Owens was over. Disappointed about that fact, I watched Mauricio drive away before I wandered back into the kitchen. When I arrived, Peggy had moved on from chopping strawberries to pineapple.
“I can brew you some coffee?” she asked.
“Sure, thank you.” I slid onto one of the chairs at the breakfast nook table. A headache had begun to throb in the back of my skull near my neck. Or maybe it was the overhang of a crazy weekend.
“Coming right up.”
Peggy set about her task and soon enough, she handed me a large mug with the warm brew. “Listen, I know it’s not my place, but—”
“Go right ahead. You can talk to me about anything.”
“When I arrived this morning, I noticed the cushions on the veranda sofa needed straightening, so I took care of it.” She backed away from the table and leaned against the nearby counter. “I found a bra underneath the middle one.”
I grinned.
“It’s in the laundry room washer. I wasn’t exactly sure what to do with it.”
“Well, thank you for taking care of it.”
She regarded me for a long moment. “Does it belong to a certain person who just left?”
I laughed. “Damn you, Peggy, you’re good.”
“Part of my job. If I don’t know my employer better than he knows himself, what am I doing here?”
“Touché.”
She nodded at the driveway as if motioning toward the woman who’d left. “Seems like a nice person. You all certainly had some...subtext this morning before she departed.”
I nodded and drank some more coffee.
“She’s different from the other ones.”
I put the cup down on the table. “How so?”
“Better. Nicer. Not as...plastic. I hope you don’t mind my candor.”
“I don’t. I’ve always liked that about you.”
“I meant what I said. I hope we see more of her.”
“I do too,” I admitted, knowing Peggy was exactly right. Rebecca was honest and that was refreshing. I wanted more. “I really do.”
“Good.” Peggy pushed off the counter and returned to her spot on the other side, the task of making a mountain of fruit salad ahead of her. “Is she still planning to write the article?”
“She is.”
“I’ll be interested to read it.”
“Me too.”
I got up from the table, my attention turning to the paperwork, emails, and product rendering that waited for me on the computer in the home office. That was the thing about running multiple companies—time management was key, and every day needed to be precisely segregated. I only had a few hours of personal time each day, and I needed to move on.
Ihadto put Rebecca out of my mind.
