Over the Fence (19 page)

“Of course.” Matthew nodded to Eva. “Eva will forward the files to you immediately. When can we expect an answer from you?”

“Next week at the latest,” Mr. Field assured him. “The calculations should be done by then.”

After they had all said their good-byes, Matthew invited her into his office. Eva expected a speech, but she was wrong. Instead, he pulled a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet and poured a hefty drink for himself, Adam, Sally, and Eva.

“That was good work, Eva,” he said and held up his glass. “Let’s drink to the contract. After all, we’re on the short list!”

Eva choked down the strong liquid. Even though she didn’t want any more, there was little choice but to accept a second glass. For the first time, she really felt she was an integral part of the agency. She didn’t want to risk that bond by refusing her boss’s invitation.

On the way home, she almost missed her stop at the Finchley Road station. Bits of conversation from the afternoon swirled through her head. She remembered that Matthew had introduced her as the senior graphic designer, even though she still didn’t have a permanent work contract. And where had he gotten the idea that she had been recruited from Germany? He hadn’t even paid her travel expenses when she came to London for the job interview.

When she got home, she peeled off her black pantsuit, which she had bought for important business appointments. It looked good on her. It was professional and chic. After changing into sweatpants and a T-shirt, she sprawled on the couch and nodded off, still woozy from the whiskey, although it was only eight o’clock.

The rest of the week, she worked on smaller-contract designs as they waited to hear from Bailey’s. Though they were hoping to hear from them soon, no news was forthcoming before the weekend. Eva distracted herself by working a lot, going to the gym, seeing a movie with Sally, and eating out. And when she thought about David too often, she picked up the phone to call Lena or Caro.

Lena understood why Eva had opted for London. Changing your whole life because of one romantic night didn’t make sense. And right now, going back to her father and trying to determine David’s intentions would probably cost her her job and maybe even her heart. It was unlikely that a man would suddenly leave a woman he had lived with for so many years. Even if that did happen, it meant Eva would have to move back to her hometown. She would resent him for it during fights. These weren’t the best conditions for starting a new relationship.

She talked about all kinds of things with Caro but didn’t mention David. Caro was no scandalmonger, but sometimes she let a comment slip that fueled the gossip mill. So Eva decided not to endanger David’s reputation. He didn’t deserve that.

Eva’s father had gotten the message that she wasn’t coming back. He took the news well. When she told him she would probably get a promotion because her boss had admired her kindergarten crafts, he managed to laugh. He admitted it would be a mistake to let this opportunity slip away, though he cursed Aunt Inge’s bossiness. Aunt Inge and her mother told her he was coming to terms with it, though. Eva’s mother would soon be in rehab—a step in the right direction, though she dreaded going to the clinic in Schwabing. She thought it was a hassle for her visitors to make such a long drive.

Eva decided not to tell her parents about what was happening with Bailey’s Chocolate for the time being. She also tried to block David from her mind, with no success. Two days earlier, she’d reviewed the folder with photos of the prototype and discovered the photo of David putting away the supplies and suddenly looking up at her. He had kissed her for the first time that evening. She studied the picture for several minutes. His dark hair fell loosely to the side and his brown eyes sparkled as he looked right at her. Even though she considered deleting the photo, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. For some reason, seeing David’s photo did her good. She even went so far as to print it and mount it in a magnetic frame to hang on the fridge. David would watch her every morning when she drank her coffee.

One morning, as she was looking at his snapshot, she reached out and briefly stroked his cheek. “Why the hell do I miss you so much?” she whispered. Then she made herself turn away and get ready for work.

After lunch on Wednesday, Matthew shot into the office. “Deal! We got the contract!” He danced around the room, pumping his fists in the air and had Meg order champagne for everybody.

He yelled so loudly that office doors swung open and within seconds, all the employees had gathered in front of his office.

“Eva Berger! I doubted you when I saw that stain on your blouse. And yeah, the saying on the wall wasn’t exactly conducive to a professional atmosphere.” He winked. “I’ve spent some time in Germany and speak the language. But you have rocked this project.” Meg had filled champagne glasses, and Matthew held one out to her. “You did fantastic work. Therefore, I appoint you to the position of senior graphic designer and, of course, make you a permanent member of our advertising agency.”

It took a moment for Eva to grasp the meaning of his words. She had actually done it.

“We’ll discuss all the details later. In the meantime”—the entire staff held champagne glasses in their hands and Matthew raised his—“congratulations! Let’s drink to our success! Once the contracts are signed, then the real work begins.”

Eva’s colleagues toasted her, and she was surprised that even the designers whose designs had been rejected seemed happy to join in, too.

“Which design did they choose?” Eva asked when the excitement had subsided somewhat.

“Your
Peak of Enjoyment
, of course,” Matthew answered.

Eva smiled as she thought back on the evening David had helped her create the prototype. She remembered his words:
a pillar topped by one of those straw hats that
Asian rice farmers wear
. She couldn’t have done it without him.

A little later, Sally took her aside. “Congratulations, Eva. You really deserve this.” She leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “Don’t let your joy overshadow your need to negotiate a decent salary. The contract will bring in over a million and a half pounds.”

Eva looked at her with her mouth open. “What?”

Sally nodded and grinned. “And we owe it all to you.”

“Tonight we’re celebrating at Scott’s!” Matthew turned to Meg. “Reserve a side room. And everybody can bring a date.”

Scott’s had the best address in Mayfair. Eva wondered whether she had a dress that would be good enough for such an exclusive restaurant.

Three hours later, Eva was in the bathtub, getting ready for the celebration dinner. After the announcement, it had taken a great deal of willpower not to call David and tell him all about it. Matthew had doubled her salary without batting an eyelid. It was more money than Eva had ever dreamed of. He had also made her the point person with the clients and put her in charge of colleagues who would do the lighter work. With over six thousand pounds a month in salary, she had moved up to the big leagues and no longer had to worry about her rent. Eva let her head slip underwater. She’d been hoping for an increase in pay for over five years. She resurfaced and wiped the bubbles off her face.

Just as Eva grabbed her razor, the doorbell rang. Everybody she knew in London would be at Scott’s this evening. It had to be a mistake or a salesperson. There was no need to get out of the tub. She could never understand how a ringing doorbell or a phone could force somebody to rush out of the tub or shower. What could be so important that you’d risk slipping on the floor or leaving puddles all over the apartment? The doorbell continued to ring, but she ignored it with a shrug.

Quiet prevailed after the third ring. Eva took another thirty minutes in the bathroom, then looked through her closet and pulled out her crimson cocktail dress. She had bought it three years ago for a wedding. The timeless cut would be perfect for a business dinner. She held it up and nodded with satisfaction. She had the right shoes as well as a matching clutch.

Eva put on her makeup, then dried her hair and put it up in an elegant chignon. She sipped champagne, which she had opened to celebrate. After two hours of relaxing, she turned in front of the mirror and smiled before she playfully stuck out her tongue at her reflection. She relished her success and looked forward to the upcoming meal. She was determined to have fun tonight. She picked up her clutch, grabbed her house keys, and stepped into the stairwell.

“So you
are
home,” someone said behind her. The voice gave her goose bumps. She immediately knew who was there. She would recognize that voice anywhere.

She turned around slowly. David was sitting on a step above her.

“I thought you were still at work when you didn’t open the door.” He stood up.

Eva’s knees started to quiver, and she had to grab onto the doorframe. “I . . . um . . . I was in the bathtub and thought it must be the Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

“I should have called.” David laughed self-consciously. “Are you going out?”

She nodded. Words failed her. They looked into each other’s eyes. “I wanted to call you.”

David’s eyebrows knit together.

“We just got the news today. We landed the contract . . .” She looked down at herself. “I’m on my way to the company celebration.”

Eva wasn’t in a position to think clearly. David was in London. Standing here in front of her. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—leave him behind. “Come with me,” she said.

David hesitated. “To your celebration?” He shook his head.

She walked back into the apartment. Matthew had told everyone to bring a date. But maybe David was right. Just because he had come to her didn’t mean it was a good idea to show up with him at the restaurant. There were too many things between them that were still unclear. And it was an evening with all of her colleagues. But having David wait for her in her apartment didn’t seem appropriate either. What if he wasn’t here when she got back?

“Come in,” Eva said. David stood by the door and hesitated. “Take a seat in the living room. I have to make a call.” Eva fled into her bedroom. Would it be acceptable to cancel her appearance at the company dinner? Although no sensible excuse occurred to her, she took her phone from her clutch and dialed her boss’s number.

“Brighton.”

“Matthew, Eva here. I’m terribly sorry, but lunch seems to have upset my stomach,” Eva began. “I’m sick and definitely wouldn’t enjoy this wonderful meal.”

Her boss’s deep laugh echoed through the phone. “You need to develop an iron stomach, because this won’t be the last successful presentation you’ll need to make.” He cleared his throat and continued, obviously amused. “It’s a pity you won’t be here when it’s your success. But even success can be hard on the stomach! Get well, and I hope you’ll feel better tomorrow.” He paused a moment. “Treat yourself to a sip of scotch. It works wonders on weak stomachs.”

“Thanks for the tip. Please say hello to everybody for me.” Eva really was sick to her stomach, but it had nothing to do with her job.

After she hung up, she sank onto her bed and put her head in her hands.