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Max finished hisemails except one while Angelica was still talking to the woman from his party. At the time he’d have said they weren’t on friendly terms but it seemed things had changed. The last email was from his mom. It had come out of the blue and he wasn’t sure if he was going to answer it.
His father was still in the UK closing a deal so the time difference of six hours meant that it was too late to text him and find out what was going on with his mom. He rubbed the back of his neck, almost wishing that Angelica would be done so he could ignore the email until later. But he’d already let it sit in his inbox for the entire day.
So he could have called his father. But he hadn’t.
Instead he’d hoped he’d imagined it.
The email was a simple one.
Max—hope you are doing well. Will we be seeing you for Christmas?
Mom
So yeah, how was he supposed to respond to that? He wasn’t sure who ‘we’ was since she and his dad had been estranged for almost four years now. That was it. He didn’t want to write back and find out if there was someone new in her life.
Coward.
Shut it, Cal.
His mom literally hadn’t been in touch in two years. He’d gone to visit her on Mother’s Day and they’d had a miserable time. She’d talked about Cal a little bit but really didn’t say much and when he’d left, he’d texted her to see if she wanted to have dinner a few weeks after but she’d said no.
He had thought maybe he should step up and try to fill the void that had been left by Cal but his calls had been sent to voicemail and his texts had gone unanswered. Then last year her number had been disconnected. So yeah, he was surprised by the email.
He heard the bell over the door in the shop ring as it opened. He pocketed his phone as Angelica locked the front door and flipped the sign to closed. She looked back at him and let out a small squeal.
“Good news?” he asked.
“The best. I mean it’s sort of…well, we booked the PTA holiday drinks party and they are going to do gift vouchers for the store to their guests,” she said, spinning on her heel. Then sort of hugging herself.
“I’m glad to hear it. I can also share that Reg and I have decided to accept your community center proposal. You may have already received the official email along with Cosima,” he informed her.
“We did. Wow. This is my lucky night. Two pieces of good business news and a date with the handsome Max Parrish.”
He arched his eyebrow at her. She was giddy with joy and seemed to have shed some of the inhibition he’d always observed in her. “Lucky indeed.”
“Should I follow you over to Last Stand?” she asked.
“You can ride with me and I’ll bring you back home. Unless you want to drive yourself,” he said.
“I’d love to ride with you. I have to go by the bank and drop off the shop’s deposit and lock up.”
“It’s no big deal,” he said. It gave him a chance to observe her and see how she handled her business. He lounged against the counter as she finished filling out the form for the deposit and put it in a lock bag. Then she turned the lights to nighttime mode and double-checked the front door was locked before leading him out the back and setting the alarm.
The entire process took less than ten minutes. She was efficient and she worked quickly and quietly. He thought she was used to this. It must have been hard for her to lose her shop in New Orleans. He’d been lucky in business so he wasn’t sure what that would have felt like.
He escorted her to the Lamborghini he’d had delivered to his house here. She raised both eyebrows at him. “No wonder you and Nico get along so well. He likes fast cars too. Don’t let Cosima see this; she’ll be pestering you to let her drive it.”
“What about you?”
“Nah, this car has too much power for me,” she said. “It’s not that I can’t handle it, it’s more that I like to look around while I’m driving. It’s safer if I drive my little convertible.”
He wouldn’t have imagined the buttoned-up, suit-wearing woman he’d first met was someone who’d be distracted but he remembered she’d mentioned she was an artist. He was seeing bits of that side of her personality. Today she wore a pair of gray trousers with a powder-pink sweater that was loose but still hugged her curves. Her hair was only half up and he wondered if her hair was an indicator of her mood. The other night slicked back and all business. Tonight half up and professional but playful.
“You’re staring at me,” she said.
“I know.”
