What's Yours is Mine (17 page)

Megan spoke up. “I’m sure my daughter would love to have your older son play with her in the courtyard for a while. And the little one looks like he’s about to pass out, so you can probably put him down somewhere and let him be.”

“Oh— I don’t—” Sheila looked at Will beseechingly.
 

Will nodded. “Megan’s solid. She’ll be good with Alex.”

Sheila exhaled. “Thank you, I’d really appreciate it.”
 

While they sorted out the details, Darcy headed into the condo. Will’s homemade Thai-scented stew was simmering on the stove, sending out eat-me tendrils of scent. She rummaged in the utensil drawer, found a wooden spoon, and scooped up a nice large bite. Heat seared her lips, but she didn’t care, because the flavor exploded in her mouth. Heaven.
 

The man sure could cook.
 

Will came inside. “Stealing my food?”

Darcy dropped the spoon guiltily. It clattered in the sink.

“Go ahead. Eat it. Just don’t claim it’s yours too.”
 

“No, that’s okay.” Darcy opened the fridge, pulling out a container of strawberry yogurt and an English muffin.
 

Will watched her. “That’s all you’re going to eat?”

“I might follow it up with a Pop-Tart and a diet Coke.”

“Have some of my stew. Please. Ingest at least one green food. Your body will thank you.”
 

As Darcy was scooping herself a generous portion of cumin-scented heaven, Sheila came in, banging the front door loudly. She was carrying Jakey on her hip, and Megan was right, the boy looked sleepy.
 

Sheila transferred him to Will, who started down the hall toward the bedroom with his heavy sack of child. She looked around. “I got here before him, then? That’s a relief. I was sure I was going to be terribly late.”

Will turned. “Who?”

“The interviewer.”
 

Will exchanged glances with Darcy, clearly saying
You handle this one, smartass,
and disappeared into the bedroom.
 

From her souring expression, it was clear Sheila had a dawning realization of what she was in for.
 

Darcy set the bowl down. “It’s a real job. A good one too. Solid salary, with room to grow. Great benefits. Easygoing boss. Who is not me, don’t worry.”
 

“Your company? Golden Organics? Will knows this? And
agreed
?”

Darcy gestured down the hall. “Go ask him.”

Sheila went.
 

Darcy sat at the counter, savoring her meal. Trying to do what Will would no doubt call
living in the now.
What was the worst Sheila could do? Smack her? Unlikely, but also not fatal.

Sheila came out from the bedroom and sat down on a stool. “Grill me.” Her mouth was turned down, grim.
 

Well, this would be fun.
 

Darcy set down the fork. “Why don’t you start by telling me what appeals to you about the job?”

“Well, I—” Sheila put her chin up. “What is the job, anyway?”

 
“Administrative assistant to a top executive. He’s never had one before.”

Sheila shifted on the stool. “Why does anyone want to be an administrative assistant? It’s a thankless job, isn’t it?”

“Not in this case. The guy thanks people all the time. Profusely. He loves to give presents. You’ll have all the bath-and-beauty products you could ever desire. But never mind that. You have to come up with good-sounding reasons, even if they’re not exactly true.”

“I don’t like to lie.” Sheila’s voice was flat.
 

Darcy wanted to throw up her hands. “You and your brother, what is it with you? Look, you live in the real world. You need a job. I don’t know what bullshit your parents taught you, but telling a little white lie that lets you keep your house and put food on the table is the least of your problems. Get over yourself.”
 

Sheila stood up, grabbing her bag. “I don’t have to take this.”

Darcy scooped up another forkful of the food, now growing sadly cold. “Fine. Sorry I tried to help.”

Sheila paused midstep and circled back, face-to-face with Darcy, her clear blue eyes seeming to cut to the heart of things. She was like her brother that way too. “Why are you doing this, anyway? What’s in it for you? I’m nobody’s patsy, and I won’t bark on command, not even for a good job.”

Darcy gritted her teeth. “For your information, this job interview you’re currently failing goes against my own self-interest. If I sat back and did nothing, Will would move out so he could collect a hefty bonus from the developer. Which he’d use to bail you out.”

Sheila sat back down, her brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “Then why…?”

“Because you need a job. And no matter what you and Will think, I’m not the big bad wolf here to blow the house down. But if you’re going to screw up a simple preinterview, I can’t very well send you in there for the real thing.”
 

Sheila gave a great big sigh, all her bristling energy deflating with that single exhale. “Look, yes, my father was a stickler for honesty and a strict moral code. He also died at age forty-two. Pancreatic cancer, quick and brutal. I was eighteen, Will was fourteen. His memory is precious to both of us. So forgive me if I try to live by his example.”
 

Darcy blinked. “I didn’t know that.”
 

“Yeah, well.” Sheila shifted on her stool. “It doesn’t exactly come up a lot when you’re trying to evict someone.”

“I got to know your brother pretty well back when—” She stumbled over the words, steadied herself. “When we were working together. We talked on the phone nearly every day. He told me about you, about your son Alex. He was enchanted by him. He didn’t think too much of your husband.”

Sheila snorted. “Neither did I. I just didn’t realize it for too long.”
 

“So I knew some things. I just never— I guess he didn’t talk about his past much. I didn’t know about your mother either, not till yesterday.” She could hear the wistfulness in her own voice.
 

A strange smile played along the edges of Sheila’s mouth. “Did you like him?”

Darcy blinked, confused.
 

“Will. Did you like him? Did you think about him?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.
 

Darcy could feel herself flushing. Yes, she’d liked him. Yes, she’d fantasized about finally meeting him in person, about the awkward first moments slipping into a shared warmth, kisses and hands in hair and shy smiles and I-know-you
looks over the conference table. And then inviting him to her hotel room, or him inviting her to his apartment, and oh yes, retreating to the bedroom together. Waking up together in the morning light, bodies tangled. Like this morning, but on purpose. Making coffee and pancakes, having breakfast in bed. Snorkeling together. Riding bikes along the beach path. Even though she’d never been one for that stuff, she’d thought she might with Will.
 

She’d been so far gone, she’d even fantasized about meeting his sister and nephews.
 

Now she put her hands flat on the counter. The smooth stone surface felt cool beneath her palms. “That’s irrelevant. Point is, why do you want this job? What are you going to tell Stan?”

“Stan? You mean this is with Stan of Golden Organics himself?” Sheila looked spooked.

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s just— That makes it a bit too real. Will said a job interview. I came over. I didn’t think—Stan Golden himself.” She seemed to gather herself. Darcy could have sworn Sheila became taller in that moment. “You want to know why I want this job? So I can look the man in the eye and ask him why he let my brother go.”

Darcy stood up. “Thanks for your honesty. I think we just discovered that the opening no longer exists.”
 

Sheila rubbed her face. “I guess I have some anger issues.”

Some?
“You think?” Darcy picked up her plate and fork and shoved them into the dishwasher a little too hard. It wasn’t even her china. Who cared if it broke?
 

No, that wasn’t fair. She’d pay him for replacements. When he carted his crap out of here, his snotty, angry sister with him. She started scrubbing the skillet with frustrated gestures. A big wad of food stuck to the bottom. She’d never get it off.
 

Sheila came up behind her and took the skillet away. Darcy stepped aside.
 

Will’s sister started scrubbing the pan, much more sure in her movements. Darcy watched as the spot gradually wore away and then vanished.
 

Still bent over the skillet, her hair falling into her face, Sheila finally spoke again. “Look, I know you’re doing me an amazing favor, even if I still don’t quite get why. I should extend you the same courtesy. I’ll put aside my own feelings. I’m sure Stan Golden is a stand-up guy who will treat me like I’m the best assistant ever. Assuming he'll even hire me after finding out who my brother is.”
 

“It won’t come up. Stan trusts me. And if it does, I’ll deal with it.”

Sheila nodded. “Okay. I’ll tell him I want the job because I’ve always loved their products, because I think it’s the perfect reentry to the workplace, because I’ve got mad skillz at organizing from my time in that nonprofit before my kids came along, and because I like taking care of people.” She dried the skillet with a hand towel and set it down, then finally looked at Darcy. “How’s that?”

Darcy clapped.
 

Sheila smiled. Her first genuine smile. It warmed Darcy from the inside. Now if she could get Sheila’s brother to open up like that, she’d be—

What? What would she be?
 

No. This wasn’t a relationship, not with him. Never with him. He had to get out of her condo and out of her life before she did something really stupid, like form an attachment to a man who hated her.
 

Maybe she should call Stan, who would remind her of all the ways Will was untrustworthy. Stealing and whatnot. Or Mathias, who seemed to think Will was a snake.
 

None of which jibed with what Sheila had said about honesty and their father. Or with what Darcy had observed these past couple of days.
 

She’d left a message for Jianyu after talking to Lu Bao, but it looked like he wasn’t going to call her back. Probably figured he’d done his part. She’d have to follow the trail some other way. Maybe after she’d gotten Will to leave the condo, she’d head into the office and do some real digging. And if what she found exonerated Will, she’d—
 

She’d what?
 

Yeah. Complicated. Not only did he dislike her, but he was the wrong man for her. He disapproved of everything she stood for. She’d have to compromise her identity to be with him. No way. Just…no.
 

Something impelled her to glance toward the darkened hallway. Will leaned against the wall like a jeans ad, all mussed golden hair and craggy jaw, the lean lines of his body accentuated by the shaft of light slicing through the dark interior space. He had a bemused look on his face. She wondered what he was thinking.

Chapter Fourteen

It was beyond strange being in the bedroom, crooning lullabies to his little nephew while his sister was being interviewed by Darcy in the living room. When it was clear from Jakey’s slack mouth and even breathing that he was asleep, Will piled pillows around the toddler like a makeshift crib to prevent him from rolling off the bed, then slipped out of the room and down the hall.

He couldn’t hear more than the murmur of voices with occasional peaks as someone became vehement. Sheila ranted. Darcy got up, practically slamming her dish in the sink. But then Sheila went over, talking some more, and scrubbed the pot clean. Body language said it all: the tight, tense line of Darcy’s spine relaxed, and Sheila’s movements around the kitchen started to seem natural.
 

And then Darcy glanced over at him, and damn, but she was beautiful, with her dark hair coming out of her hair clip, falling down around her face. The expression in her wide brown eyes was so vulnerable, as if she was bracing herself for his judgment, expecting him to condemn her again.

He waited for the inevitable moment of disgust. After all, this woman lived with her phone attached to her ear as if it was surgically implanted. “Ride of the Valkyries” indeed. She scrabbled up an invisible corporate ladder as if nothing else mattered, trampling human decency along the way. If she’d offered to help Sheila, it was undoubtedly because she’d hatched some scheme to make herself come out on top.
 

No, that was unfair. He’d been about to move out, had even told her that he’d call Tim and accept that dirty offer right now. But Darcy had stopped him. It made no sense. Had he read her wrong? Was she doing this out of kindness? Could someone change that much?
 

He came into the living room, intent on going over to Darcy and Sheila, thanking Darcy, taking her hands, telling her they should talk, when—

The doorbell rang.
 

At the door, he found himself faced with three burly men. The one with the baseball cap was holding a clipboard.

“Can I help you?”

“Darcy Jennings here? We have a delivery. Several, in fact.”

Darcy came to the door. “Oh. Uh.” She glanced at Will. “Yeah, I kind of, uh, ordered some stuff. Day before yesterday. When—” She seemed excruciatingly uncomfortable. This did not bode well.
 

The guy with the clipboard frowned. “You don’t want it? You should have called. It’s all loaded on the truck.” He gestured.
 

Sure enough, there it was at the curb, past the courtyard: a big white truck with
Santa Barbara Sofas
emblazoned across the side in blue lettering.
 

He turned to Darcy, his good will evaporated. “What exactly did you buy?”

She shrugged. “Just a few things to make it feel like home.” Her chin came up. “Because it is. My home, that is. And I should have some furniture for it.” She turned to the delivery guys. “Bring it on in.”