“Keep children out of the office, Isabella.” I wait for a beat before I go on, “You’re free to leave at six.”
She glances at the bottle in her hand before she offers a snappy reply. “Fine.”
Chapter 19
Bella
Ignoring Barrett on Friday was easy because he left New York City. The only warning I got that he wouldn’t be in his office was a text message from him late Thursday night. It was brief and to the point telling me that he was called away to Illinois.
He sent me an email right after he landed in Chicago. I opened it to find a list of twenty-six tasks that he wanted completed before I could step into my weekend.
I finished everything on the list by noon, so I forwarded the office number to my cell and took Max out to lunch at Calvetti’s.
Marti made baked tortellini for us. To repay her, I took her to a movie on Saturday afternoon. My grandma loves romantic comedies and she can pack popcorn away like no one I’ve ever known.
We ended the day back at the restaurant enjoying a big bowl of minestrone while she told me stories about my dad when he was my age.
Santo Calvetti is my hero. He’s also Marti’s youngest son.
Daydreaming about my weekend stops as soon as I hear the elevator ding its arrival on this floor. I sat down at eight a.m. sharp. It’s almost eleven, and Barrett still hasn’t made an appearance.
I suppose I could have texted him to make sure he’s still alive, but the crossword puzzle I’ve been working on won’t finish itself.
I slide it under a file folder on my desk as I hear heavy footsteps approach.
Glancing up, I see my boss staring at me.
Woah. Just woah.
Unshaven, disheveled Barrett Adler is enough to make any woman forget her name. He’s wearing a pair of jeans, a wrinkled light blue T-shirt, and shiny black shoes. A weathered dark duffel bag is slung over his shoulder.
“I’m on my way home,” he says before I can ask what’s going on. “I need you to arrange a meeting for me with Darien Penrew at noon.”
Darien Penrew, the man who heads accounting at Garent Industries, is on medical leave. He had open heart surgery two months ago.
“Mr. Penrew isn’t…”
“Shit,” Barrett hisses, interrupting me. “He’s got that heart thing going on.”
At least he has a heart.
Those words linger on my tongue, but I don’t say them, even though I want to.
I had to explain to Marcy Clover that I couldn’t watch over Ansel and Elara every second Thursday anymore. I didn’t bring up the fact that my new boss is a jerk who insulted her best selling product while he flat out refused to listen to me.
A mass email I sent to the employees of Garent Industries on Saturday morning asking for help taking over my spot with Marcy’s kids resulted in a huge outpouring of support. Ansel and Elara will spend a few hours every second Thursday with the wife of one of the doormen who work in the lobby of this building.
“Clara Boyman is running the accounting department at the moment.” I sigh. “I’ll arrange for you to meet her at Crispy Biscuit at noon.”
“My office at noon,” he snaps.
“Clara likes to eat and work.” I pull up her contact information on my laptop. “The fried green tomato sandwich at Crispy Biscuit is her favorite.”
He pushes a hand through his already messy hair. “What is that? A restaurant? A food truck? I have no idea where the hell it is.”
“I’ll draw you a map.” I try not to stare at his bulging bicep when he moves his arm. “I’ll jot down where to catch the subway and where to get off.”
“No need. I’ll call my driver.” His jaw flexes. “I’m heading up for a shower and change of clothes. I’ll be back down here in fifteen minutes. I expect the most recent sales numbers for Rusten’s Reads on my desk when I return.”