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I smack my lips together. “Nope.”
“She’s going to take you away from me, isn’t she?” Damien shrugs, wrapping me in a one-arm hug as we walk inside.
Halting, I look up at him. “How do you know?”
“Oh, come on, Claire. That job has you written all over it. Your name has been attached to the place from the moment they announced they were branching out. You know they haven’t hired anyone because they’ve been waiting for you. Nora’s running the place herself.” He lowers his voice, leaning closer like the walls have ears. “Apparently, there’s some hotshot in the city super involved. Big money.”
I don’t know why I whisper back. Nobody’s listening. “It’s a charity, Damien. Donors are essential.”
He rolls his eyes again. “I’m talking big deal. The Hope Foundation have always worked with children. It’s the first women’s shelter. All the funding came from him. The shelter…Him. The new education program…Him. The back to work program…Him. The—”
“Okay. Okay. I get it.”
“All his idea too. He’s got to have a lot of influence.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I try to make sense of what he’s saying, searching the white walls for answers.
Nothing.
“They’ve. Been. Waiting. For. You.” He jabs a long finger into my chest with each word.
I rub the tender skin. “Ouch.” Still whispering. “How do you know this stuff?”
“Sources,” he simply says, beaming his perfect white teeth at me. “What I’m saying is, if you don’t take the job, you’re an idiot, and I will kick your ass.”
Eyeballing him, I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Who is he?”
“Who?”
“The hotshot.”
“Anonymous. I heard rumors he was an old business partner of Nora’s husband.”
Ah, Tony Johnson—Nora’slatehusband. Widely inappropriate and loud, but his hugs were always the best.
I rack my brain for answers, but I was too young back then, too self-involved. Tony died six years ago, and I vaguely remember Nora selling his shares of the business.
It’s strange.
These donors like having their names attached to The Hope Foundation. It props up their image.
Leaning back on my heels, I break the bubble of our conversation. “Can you let her know I’m back? You know how she gets when we interrupt reading time. I’ll be in my office.”
***
I haven’t spoken to Nora since I called her to tell her I wasn’t taking the job because I’m embarrassed, and I know I disappointed her. Not by refusing the job, but because I didn’t trust myself and my gut instinct. I refused to listen to the one thing I always depended on.
She’s called me, but I always let it go to voicemail.
Coward.
“You can do it,” I mutter, trying to calm my erratic pulse. “Don’t see the ugly. There’s good in our days.” I don’t know why those are the words that stuck with me from my random encounter with another stranger in pain. I’m leaping and hoping I’ll grow wings and fly. I’ll suffocate if I don’t.
I shake the tremble from my hands and take a calming breath as I hear her heels enter my office.
Just the sight of her eases the knot in my stomach.
She smiles, her arms already outstretched as she walks toward me. “Hello, love. It’s lovely to see you.”
