Page 103 of Courage, Dear Heart

“And then I stood up, with the idiots gawking at me. Looked at that young man and said ‘boy, come and help me.’ And he did. He came around that big table and gave me his arm. Then he whispered in my ear and asked if I wanted to take the cake with me. I thought that was a splendid idea. We took the cake and the champagne.”

“Oh my God.”

“He walked me to the elevator and offered to give me a ride back home. I thanked him and said no. I had my own driver waiting for me. So he walked me to my car, carried the cake and champagne for me. He was laughing so hard, there were tears on his face. He’s a good boy. I have a nose for these things. People you can trust and people you can’t.”

I’m wiping tears from my own face now. I need to ask Elliott about it. And come clean to Leonora. “I have a confession.” I nibble on my lower lip. “I’ve met the son, Elliott. And I agree. He’s a good man. He’s trying to help me against his father.”

“Ah, child. You think I don’t know what goes on in my building? It may be your flower shop now, but it was mine for over fifty years. I’ve got ears and eyes all over that neighborhood.”

I laugh. I have to. “If I ever have a daughter, I hope she’ll be just like you.”

FIFTY-EIGHT

Elliott

Who isit and what are they doing here so late? I can’t imagine a good reason for anyone to be here at two in the morning. I hold still, eyes fixed on the glass pane flanking my office door. I strain to hear, but there are no sounds other than the hum of air conditioning and my own breath.

Reaching into my pocket, I grab my phone, making sure to keep its face pressed to my chest so no light escapers. I press the power button down until it turns off. The last thing I need is for it to start buzzing and calling attention to me.

I’m tempted to get up and go out to investigate. I can still use the excuse of working late and falling asleep. But I’ve never voluntarily stayed at work a minute more than necessary. Now, thinking back, it sounds like a really bad idea. Not sure anyone would buy it.

A shadow falls across the glass and then solidifies into the shape of a man. I still can’t see who it is. I stop breathing altogether but keep my eyes open. The doorknob turns and then opens a few inches. A hushed voice filters in.I know that voice. He’s talking to someone. I can’t hear the other person. He must be on his phone.

“I found nothing in his office. I told you he wouldn’t leave anything behind.”

Silence while he’s listening to whoever it is on the other side.

“I’m sure. The man is so hung up on privacy and secrecy, he doesn’t even allow security cameras inside the office. If proof of this deal you’re talking about exists, he must keep it at home or bring it back and forth with him.”

More silence.

“I’m going to check Elliott’s office now. If anyone would be stupid enough to leave documents out in the open, it would be him.”

I bristle inside. My hands fist. The last time I punched Josh in the face, we were fourteen. He’s past due for another broken nose. I try to relax my features so I can appear to be asleep, put one arm over my forehead so I can keep my eyes open, peer at him from underneath my sleeve.

A hand appears through the opening and pats the wall, searching for the light. Stops before he finds it. “But I’m already here. I can?—”

Whoever is on the other side of his call is yelling now because Josh pulls the phone away from his ear and a mumbled voice comes through. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but they are pissed.

“Why?” Josh’s winy voice makes me want to shove a pillow down his throat. I’m not a violent man, but my cousin brings out the worst in me. We never got along, not when we were toddlers, not as we grew up, and not now. My father and Uncle Michael think a little competitiveness betweensiblings and cousins is good. He thinks it drives us to be better. The only drive I have is to avoid Josh and his father as much as possible. They never push the competitiveness between the girls and the boys. It was always the two of us. It’s the same pattern between my father and his middle brother. They never really included Uncle Patrick, Nikki and Mandy’s father. Josh slumps against the doorframe. Phone still to his ear.

What the hell is he looking for? Perhaps the same thing I am. Something that would implicate my father. But why me? This has to be some kind of power move. Uncle Michael and my father don’t always see eye to eye. Something is up. There’s more to this story than getting a building.

I hold so still, my back aches with tension. Josh’s whining goes on as he paces outside my office. Part of me wants to get up and stop this charade, but another part, a more cautious part, tells me to hold back and not give up the upper hand. That part wins.

He comes back and stands in front of my partially open door, holding his phone to his ear. “Okay, okay, I’m heading out now. Waste of my time.” He reaches for the door and pulls it closed with a loud bang.

My shoulders relax. That was close. I wait a long minute, then walk to my door and open it the fraction of an inch. Wait again. Nothing. I open the door slowly and peer outside. Listen. No sounds. He’s gone.

“What the hell was all that about?”

I walk back to my father’s office. Don’t bother with the flashlight now. Turn on the overhead light. Curse.

As I expected, the idiot left everything out of place. Thechair is pushed back. The folders on the desk are crooked. I bet he left the drawers in a mess too.

“Hmm, should I leave it as it and allow my father to know someone was messing with his office? Let him go ballistic and then arrange for the blame to fall on Josh somehow? Or should I fix it?”

I decide to fix it. I don’t want to give my father any indication that I or anyone else is on to him. I fix the folders and the chair. Open each drawer and put everything back the way they should be. Time for me to get the fuck out of here.

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