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“We’ll come back and do our shopping here.”
“Would that be all right?” Cress sounds unsure.
“The owners are hoping to sell the place, so I don’t think moving the food is on their agenda. Besides, they’ll be out of the country for a year. By then I hope I’ll be able to afford a down payment.”
“Isn’t this extravagant?”
“Says the man with the many-roomed Gold Coast mansion.”
“And the extensive family.” He folds his arms with a mock glare.
“I want the aspiration home. The place that shows I’m confident enough to be the next partner in the firm.”
Cress breaks in, “We’ll buy the couscous and preserved lemon tomorrow so Max can fix a Moroccan feast. I haven’t had Moroccan food for an age.”
“Hmm. I could certainly do a tagine and a b’stilla.” Max’s voice follows me as I turn out of the kitchen, motioning them to follow. The food talk is not all that interesting, although if they invite me to eat it, I won’t say no. Probably beats cereal or toast, my two standbys.
“Not sure tomorrow will work. I’ll probably go in early and come home late.”
A hand grabs my arm and Cress pulls me around to face her. “Don’t drive yourself into a cesspit. If you’re dead, you lose.” Her fingers continue to press into my bicep while we walk toward the other side of the condo. When she finally lets go, indentations remain on my skin.
French doors close off the sleeping corridor. There are three bedrooms, each with its own private bath, plus a half bath in the hall. The primary bedroom is humongous, with oversized furniture to match. The bathroom has a Jacuzzi tub and a shower.
We move on to the next bedroom, which is the one I’m using. Set up as a guest room, it’s big but not outrageous. The bathroom has a modest tub-shower combination.
The owners converted the last bedroom into a study. Book-lined walls make the space feel cozy. There is a wooden desk and a computer table with an iMac. Two filing cabinets sit under one set of hanging bookcases. In a corner, a wingback chair rests at an angle with a floor lamp behind and a small table next to it.
“Very impressive,” Max says.
“Not as impressive as your house.” He shrugs off my comment.
We return to the living room with its stone fireplace, grand piano, and large sectional sofa. A sixty-five-inch television hangs on one wall, an oversized sound system underneath.
“Fully furnished is nice.” Cress gestures around the space. “But where’s your stuff?”
“In storage. I don’t have much anyway. I sold almost everything when I moved. Once I have a place of my own, I’ll buy whatever I need.”
“And you’re hoping to buy this?” Max moves over to one couch where he’d thrown their coats, then picks up a long deep red woolen balmacaan and shakes it invitingly.
Instead of answering the question, I squeal in delight at the garment. “You replaced the coat.”
I walk past Cress to grab my jacket from the hall closet. The stars in her eyes transfix me and I have to remind myself to move my feet.
Max’s soft expression matches the one on her face. “She adored the original. But no one could fix it and the dry cleaner advised us the blood wouldn’t come out. I went back to replace it, but they were all sold out. Sold out everywhere.”
“He contacted the designer and had this made for me.” Fairy dust sifts down everywhere.
All this mushy emotion makes me eager to reunite with JL. Not sure why I feel this way since I see this as a fun interlude in my life. My priority is to make partner at the firm. With a fifty-fifty chance, I need to be on my game.
I’m not sure whether the evaluation or the insider trading case is the more important piece, but I need to work two-hundred-percent, even though I know Hayden won’t play fair and has two partners in his pocket.
Cress suddenly looks down at my sandaled feet. Her own are in practical ankle boots and I bet she has socks on too. Fortunately, she can’t see the bandages across the cuts and abrasions on my soles. I try not to wince as I walk toward the door. At least the antibacterial cream has helped with the pain.
“Aren’t your feet going to be cold?”
I shrug, pushing my right arm into one of my coat sleeves. “We’re going to be in the car, then inside. No big deal. My feet won’t have time to freeze.”
“Onward, ladies.” Max opens the door with a courtly sweep of his arm. I make sure I have the door key. We hear the click as it locks behind us. The entire building can probably hear Max as he sings “I’m Gonna Be” by the Proclaimers—the song he used when he apologized to Cress at Christmas last year. Warming up for karaoke, I join him in the chorus as we troop out of the building. Cress stomps ahead, pretending she’s not with us.
