Page 166 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
And that sucks.
What sucks even more is thatI’mguilty of adding to the crap Malcolm is putting Archie through because I refuse to consider an alternative or mention Archie’s idea to Mom.
At the end of the hall, I turn into the large open office I share with three other interns and Anna. Anna catches my eye and waves me to her desk. We’re the only two there, but she leans across her desk and whispers. “Can you do lunch?”
“Uh, I’m not sure.” My phone vibrates in my purse, and I check it. Stella has sent Archie’s contact info and I smile with relief.
“I found out where the fabrics with defects go that you asked me about.” Her eyes dart back and forth. “I also have the proofs for Valente’s Fall line, and Ireallythink you should see them.”
Arianna, one of the senior execs, walks in before I can ask Anna what she means, but her tone and her look both warn me not to say anything.
“I’ll be in here today,” Arianna says before sliding into the workspace I’ve been using to sort through cuts of fabric, looking for defects. She tosses the pile of “good” cuts into the bin with the cuts that have defects, undoing two days of work I’ve done on the project.
With a sigh, I tuck my phone away, then pick up the bin and move to a smaller space before going back for the other fabric I still need to check.
I spend the entire morning searching for fabric defects while also waiting for an opportunity to text Archie an apology for both putting sushi in his room and needing to cancel lunch. I can’t take out my phone with Arianna in the room. I want her to see me at my very best, even if it’s just looking at fabric. But Anna’s warning has me worried, and as much as I’d love to have lunch with both Frankie and Archie, I need to talk to her. Besides that, once Archie knows what I’ve done, I doubt he’ll want to spend one second with me. Hopefully, a text apology will smooth things over enough that I can apologize in person when I get home.
It's hours before I can sneak away to the bathroom and message Archie.
I’m sorry for getting mad this morning over nothing and for the sushi in your room. Mostly I’m sorry I can’t do lunch today. Can we talk tonight?
I push send, imagining Archie’s face when he discovered—if he has—the sushi in his room after trying to do something nice for me. He won’t look the way he did this morning when I was on the bus and he was on the sidewalk, two lanes of cars between us. Even at that distance, I could tell from his concerned stance he was watching me, making sure I was okay.
That’s what Archie does. He takes care of people. Even when he has every reason not to.
I hope after today I’m still one of those people he wants to take care of.
Chapter 22
Archie
The first thing I notice when I walk into the beach house is the slightly fishy smell that I noticed this morning is stronger. I should’ve taken the sushi sack of garbage out first. But when I walk into the kitchen, the sack is gone. Piper must’ve taken them out, which makes me feel worse about not doing it myself.
I notice a few other things I could have done, too. Such as cleaning off the kitchen counters and wiping up the water spots on the floor. Last night, I thought I’d done a good job, but when I think about how the kitchen looks after the housekeeper’s been here or Piper’s cleaned, I reckon I could’ve done better. Ishouldhave done better.
After retrieving my mobile from the table, I shoot Dex a text asking him to ask Stella for Piper’s number. Frankie likely has it, but she’s in the air, and I don’t want to wait for her to land.
Then I get to work cleaning up what I should’ve finished last night. I’m not sure if the job itself or thinking about Piper makes me work up a sweat, but by the time I finish, I need a shower. The kitchen’s scrubbed up alright, and I’m stoked about it.
That feeling is short-lived as my mobile shoutsShe Who Shall Not Be Ignoredand Sybil’s name flashes on the screen. Mypulse skips. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I spoke to Dad. If Sybil’s ringing, he isn’t wasting any time putting his plan into motion.
Am I going to roll over and let him? Am I going to let money rule my decisions the way it does Dad’s? Before I’ve made up my mind, I answer the call.
“Hello, Sybil.” I walk barefoot to the patio. The sun is out, and the rough cement is warm under my feet, but I’m cooler out here than inside.
“Hello Archibald. Mr. Forsythe asked me to call you with the travel details for your return home.”
“I haven’t confirmed that I’m coming back. I’d prefer to chat with him first.” I sit in a deep deck chair. A light breeze sends sand dancing across the patio.
“He’s not available right now, but I can deliver any message you need to get to him.” Her business voice grates me like sharp reef rock.
I’m not sure what I’d say to Dad right now if he were the one who’d called, or even what message to leave. I only know that my fighthasto be with him. Not Sybil. Not Cynthia. And, for sure, not Piper.
I let out a long breath. “My only message is that I’m taking the full two weeks he promised and he can ring me. Not you. Him. My father.”
Sybil is quiet on the other end. I’ve crossed a line.
I don’t care anymore.
