Page 27 of V is for Valentine
“Dad, I’m calling it a night.”
“Sleep tight,” he said, looking up from the game. She was almost to the hall leading to the bedrooms when he said, “It’s killing me to not be able to work with you.”
She turned back. “I know, Dad. I’m glad I’m able to do it.”
“Everything is okay with your job?”
It was the second time he’d asked, and her father didn’t make a habit of repeating himself. “It’s all good, Dad. If it weren’t, they’d be in contact.”
“Good.” He inhaled deeply. “So you’re pretty happy there?”
He was getting that look in his eye and she hesitated, then came back into the living room. “You know I can’t change jobs for a couple of years,” she reminded him gently. She’d given up being vested in her former company’s retirement when she’d followed Sean to Seattle three years ago. She wasn’t going to make that mistake twice.
“Golden handcuffs,” Pete muttered.
“Uh…I think I need to be a top exec to qualify as golden.”
“Base metal?”
She laughed. “Closer.”
“Handcuffs all the same.”
She smiled and headed down the hall. She understood her dad wanting her back in Holly with the rest of the family, but her hands were tied—or handcuffed—until she was vested in Lockwood’s retirement plan. Almost thirty and no retirement to speak of. The kicker was that it was her own fault for bending her own rules, the first of which had been to provide for her future.
That’s what she got fornotbeing rigid.
*
Danny was justshrugging out of his coat when headlights cut across the front of the high school. Since it was only a few ticks past five thirty it couldn’t possibly be his night owl boss.
But it was.
“You’re early,” he said as she came through the door.
“This is just me being flexible about my start time,” she said with a casual shrug, but the sleep-deprived timbre of her voice ruined the effect. She pushed back her choppy blond hair, making it stand up in a way that Danny found rather charming, and her makeup-free eyes made her look softer, more vulnerable.
He was not fooled.
“Am I going to find you curled up asleep in the corner?”
“No.” She swallowed a yawn. “I just need a little more coffee and I’ll be safe to use a drill.”
“We’re taping joints today,” he reminded her. “Joint knives, mud trays.”
“You pick your tools, I’ll pick mine.”
He laughed. “Right.” Felicity rarely looked vulnerable, but early in the morning, before she’d sharpened her knives for the day’s battle, she did.
“How can you be so cheerful?” She pulled her arms out of her coat sleeves.
“It’s a gift.”
“For safety’s sake, and I meanyoursafety, you should work upstairs, and I’ll work down here.”
“You don’t want to talk,” he guessed.
“Not for a while,” she affirmed. “What time is your appointment?”
