Daughter of Light (Kindred 2)

“Oh. Is he seeing someone socially?”

“I really haven’t been here long enough to know his private business.”

She twisted her mouth with displeasure. “Not long enough. It doesn’t take much time, especially these days. Gossip is probably the most exciting thing you’ll discover in a business like this, anyway. What else would you talk about, washers and bolts?”

“To tell you the truth, Naomi, I’ve been too busy to talk about anything or listen to anything other than what I need in order to do my work for Mr. Dolan.”

“I see you need some good female advice,” she said. “I don’t want you to make the mistakes I made.”

I flashed a smile and came around the desk to leave.

As we headed out, I felt the eyes of some of the young men still loitering around looking our way. Liam’s car was already gone. If Michael’s insinuation was right and I was hired to revive Liam’s interest in the family business, I could be terminated by the end of the week, I thought.

Whatever.

My life was taking turns for itself these days. I felt as if I was just along for the ride. I would go with the flow and not resist the tide, even if it washed me out to sea

and set me sailing in another direction.

“I used to see Ken at some of the better restaurants, but most of the time, he was alone,” Naomi said as she drove. “When a man has been burned by a woman the way he was, he’s understandably gun-shy. That’s why I’m so curious about whom he might be seeing. Maybe it’s someone from Boston,” she added, looking to see if I had any information after all.

“I don’t know. He said nothing about anyone but this attorney he was meeting.”

She drove on, her frustration and disappointment reviving her own misery. I wanted to feel sorry for her, but I suspected that a woman as pushy as she seemed to be was probably more than half responsible for a failed relationship. I really knew so little about male-female relationships. What else did I have to go on but my time with Buddy? Daddy had had girlfriends from time to time, but there was no one who even superficially resembled a wife. I observed other people; I read books and saw movies and went to the theater, but in the end, or at least right now, I had to rely on my own instincts, even when it came to what clothing I would buy for myself.

I didn’t think Naomi’s taste was going to be mine, especially when it came to my office wardrobe. I knew she was surprised at how conservative I was with my choices, but it was precisely the impression of my being older, wiser, and more responsible that was winning me the respect I wanted. As Daddy would say when he quoted the Bible, which he often did out of amusement as much as anything, “ ‘When I was a child, I spoke as a child. I understood as a child. I thought as a child. But when I became a man, I put away childish things.’ You must take heed of those words, my darlings,” he would say. “As soon as you feel it, put away childish things.”

“I’m very up on what young women your age are wearing these days, Lorelei,” she insisted when I didn’t take to some of her suggestions.

“For work, this is just fine,” I told her, looking at alternative skirts, blouses, and dresses.

“Nothing should be ‘just fine.’ A woman never stops trying to be as attractive as she can, whether it’s at work or on a date,” she said. “I’m afraid you’ve been a little too cloistered to handle yourself in this competitive world. Every woman, especially every woman your age, is competing all the time.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For men’s attention. What else?”

I laughed. “You should have been with me today. You’d see I don’t have that problem, Naomi.”

“Well, don’t be too arrogant, Lorelei. I can tell you from experience that it’s not an attractive feature when it comes to holding a man’s interest. That’s why I think Ken Dolan would appreciate me more. I’m sure the women he’s seeing are snobs. I want you to tell me who they are when you find out. I’m sure there’s more than one.”

I didn’t respond. I continued to shop for what I thought I needed. She trailed along, limply now and clearly with little interest.

“If we’re going to eat at the Winston House, we’ll have to move along,” she said after a while. “I feel a little foolish dressed like this. The place is filling up with mall rats.”

“Mall rats?”

“Teenagers and preteens who think of it as a hangout. Don’t tell me you never did that.”

“I never did,” I said.

“What sort of a childhood did you have?” she asked, sounding even more annoyed.

“Unusual,” I said. “I’m thinking of getting some new shoes, Naomi. Why don’t you head back? I’ll grab a taxi. If I’m going to be late or not going back for dinner, I’ll call Mrs. Winston,” I said. “No worries.”

She looked at me suspiciously. “Are you sure you haven’t made some sort of secret date with one of those plumbers?”

“First, they’re not all plumbers, and second, no.”