Inheritance (The Lost Bride Trilogy, #1)(86)

“No—well, a work thing—possible work thing. Oh yeah, I did meet Astrid the other night.”

“Met? Astrid? The Astrid from the portrait?”

“I really think so, yes.”

“I want to hear about that, and have to figure it’ll take more than the two minutes I’ve got right now. If you don’t have plans later, why don’t I come back? I can pick up a pizza.”

“I—sure.” Why did he have those eyes? she wondered. Those glorious blue eyes. “If you don’t have any plans.”

“Now I do.” He straightened. “Give me your toppings.”

“Dealer’s choice, except for anchovies. That’s a firm no. Mushrooms are okay if you must.”

“Got it. And I’ve about eaten up my two minutes. I wanted to come by in person to tell you, you’re hired.”

“Yes!” In triumph, she gave his chest a light tap with her fist. “You’re not making a mistake.”

“That’s unanimous. You even got the nod from Sadie, and she’s tough. I’ve got to go. I should be able to get back, with the dog, by six, six-thirty if that’s not too early.”

“You’re bringing pizza. There’s no too early or too late. If you have another half a minute, can I ask if you think Bree would give me a recipe for something nice but easy?”

“I’m bringing pizza.”

“Not for you, for my mother. She’ll be here early Friday evening. I don’t want to do takeout after she’s worked most of the day and driven up from Boston.”

“I’ve never asked Bree for a recipe, so I can’t say for sure. But you should give it a shot.”

She was going to take that shot, too, and pulled out her phone. “Can you text her, give her my number? If she’s willing, she could text me. Remind her she likes me.”

“No problem. See you tonight.”

Which, she thought as he drove off, for her own purposes, she’d consider a date. “But now his firm’s a client, so no taking a shot there unless I’m absolutely, positively sure.

“Back to work, Yoda, so I can close it down in time to make myself presentable. Casually appealing,” she added as they started toward the house. “That’s the goal.”

She planned to knock off at five sharp.

But she got the go-ahead for the florist job.

Then had a long conversation with Burt Springer.

Grateful the conversation wasn’t via Zoom so he couldn’t see the nerves, she took detailed notes. In the end, she’d agreed to work up a proposal and presentation.

When she hung up, she sat very still.

“I can’t blow this. What if I blow this? I can’t blow it.”

Her iPad played the Rocky theme and broke her panic with a laugh.

“Okay. It’s okay. I’ve got ideas. I just have to pick the right one and make it shine. And oh shit, it’s almost five-thirty! Shit, shit, shit!”

She shut down, then dashed over to her bedroom.

The red dress lay on the bed.

“No, no, no. It’s pizza in the kitchen! Face first.” She raced into the bathroom, took a breath. “Not too much. Just a little this, a little that.”

Not too much still took time, especially since she couldn’t decide on a happy dance or dropping her head between her knees.

She had three new projects—and one was a whopper. She still had one to finish, a client to satisfy.

“So we’re rolling. We’re busy, productive, and very, very nervous.”

When she walked back into the bedroom, the red dress had been replaced by stone-gray jeans and a red sweater. “Okay, that’s a very nice choice. We’ll go with it because I don’t have time to think about it.”

She changed, decided her wardrobe assistant had made the perfect choice. As she tossed the sweats in the hamper, Yoda let out a bark and tore out of the room.

The doorbell rang.

“Okay. Here we go.”

Yoda danced at the door, and when she opened it, the dogs immediately greeted each other with canine joy.

“A man, a dog, and a pizza. Jackpot!”

“You have to pay for it with a ghost story.”

“No lack of those around here. Let me take your jacket.”

“I’ve got it.” He handed her the pizza before heading to the closet.

From the library, the iPad played “Welcome to the Party.”

“They never quit. Come on, boys. And man.”

“From what I’ve heard, your DJ has eclectic tastes.”

“They lean toward rock or pop, spanning eras. And…” Sonya glanced back as they walked toward the kitchen. “They’re quick. How did things go with the client?”

“Outside of privilege, I can say good enough. I’m also going to say, that alone?” He pointed a finger up. “Would send a lot of people heading back to Boston.”

“I like music.” After setting the pizza box on the counter, she peeked inside. “Pepperoni and black olives.”

“I hear that’s your go-to.”

“No secrets in Poole’s Bay.”

“Oh, more than a few.”

“I guess a lawyer would know. Want a beer?”

“Thanks.” His brow lifted when she pulled one out of the fridge. “Sam Adams.”