Second First Impressions

“I’m really sorry. I got it running and listed it for sale. I thought I had time, but I got an offer within hours. I know you guys thought that one was a piece of junk, but Indians are really collectible.”

“Oh.” I have his heart now, but it’s ridiculous how hurt I feel. “Did you get a good price?”

“A fortune.” He doesn’t sound that happy about it. “I never talk to you about this, because your eyes get really sad, but I’ve almost saved enough.” Enough to make him leave, just as I’ve finally gotten him.

“Let’s go to bed,” I tell him, because that’s an easy thing to reply. He follows me without question into my bedroom, where we lie skin to skin, and I force myself to feel every sensation, to catalog them with archival precision. I’m making memories I’m going to need one day.

All things considered, I’m still the luckiest girl alive.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I’m a mess. A zombie. It’s now Monday morning and I’m at my desk staring at my computer, trying to work out what the hell I’m looking at. Why does the screen look different? The screen is bright blue, when usually it’s a sage green. Has last night’s intense, perfect sex with Teddy changed my eyesight?

“What’s up, girl. Ugh, you look rough,” Melanie says as she sails in, bright and early for once. “What’s happened to you?”

I’m weak-legged, swollen-lipped, heavy-headed, and wrung out. Nobody deserves to experience so much pleasure in one single night. I woke up wrapped in Teddy. He tipped my face toward a ray of daylight on my pillow to describe the exact brown of my eyes, before hopping out of bed to make me tea.

Melanie’s still staring at me, so I’ll stick with the easy explanation. “There’s something wrong with the computer.” I type my password and nothing happens. I put on my computer glasses and squint at the tiny pop-up. “Admin Access Only. What does that mean? We don’t even have an admin.”

“It means that head office has locked the network. I’ve seen this happen in lots of offices. You need to call PDC.” She yawns and goes into the bathroom with her makeup bag.

“I don’t know if they’ll even be there this early.” I dial the number for Rose Prescott’s assistant. It goes to voice mail. I leave one, asking her to call me. Mel reappears, this time with makeup on. “Now what do we do?”

She grins and swivels in her chair. “Want to strategize for your date?”

“Not during work hours.” I’m going to have to work out a way of telling her thanks but no thanks, the Sasaki Method is now coming to an end. I’ve already canceled that date in the app on my walk down the hill. I’m hoping to have this conversation with her when I might have some answers to what she’ll ask next: Are you leaving here? Is he staying here?

I blame extreme tiredness for how long it takes me to realize there’s someone standing in the doorway. “Can I help you?”

A gray-haired man in a suit comes in, sets a small suitcase against the wall, and reaches in his jacket pocket. “I’m Duncan O’Neill. I’m a financial auditor, contracted by PDC. Rose Prescott is the head of the review. I’m reporting to her for this next part of the process.”

“This is news to me.”

“Financial auditor,” Melanie repeats. “You guys think someone is stealing.” Duncan looks at her sharply, but she says to me, “I’ve temped at places where this has happened before. It’s why you can’t log into the system. We’re locked out and he’s going to go through all your files and accounts. Is that right?”

“Yes, more or less,” Duncan says, a little flustered. “Rose has identified some anomalies.”

I’m already dialing her number. She answers on the second ring. “Duncan has arrived, I take it.”

“You’re on speakerphone with Melanie and Duncan. Could you please fill me in on this? I would have appreciated some advance notice.”

“That’s not how this kind of audit works. Ruthie, I’m going to be up front with you,” Rose says. She sounds as tired as I am. “I have been turning myself inside out, trying to understand the set of books you’ve provided me. The income from the residents, minus wages and the costs of running the site, do not equal what is in the account.”

“I don’t understand. I run a report every Monday, and it’s always exactly right.”

Rose loses her patience. “Yeah, yeah, you do everything perfectly. You’d think you were single-handedly running the Hilton in Paris, not thirty-nine old town houses.”

Is that a trick que

stion? “There’s forty, which you’d know if you even came to visit the place you want to change so much.” I await my fate, the air caught in my lungs.

Duncan leans across to speak to the phone. “I need you to call me on my cell, Rose. Urgently.”

“Yes. I think we’ve found our issue.”

“Me?” I look at Duncan. “I can open my personal bank account here on the screen right now. I’m living paycheck to paycheck. Whatever you think I’ve done, it wasn’t me.” I’ve spoken these kind of words before, but this time, I’m willing to defend myself to the death.

Rose sighs. “You’re not the one on a cruise. Just let Duncan do his work, give him anything he asks for, and do not call Sylvia. If she tries to contact you, I want you to hang up. Are we clear? I’ve been monitoring your outgoing emails and I know you’ve been keeping her abreast of everything that happens here.”