Thirst (The Calvettis of New York 1)

I’d taken the time to fill up my travel water bottle and put it in the fridge last night so it would be chilled before I came here, but of course, it slipped my mind.

“You wouldn’t mind grabbing one for me too, would you?” I sigh, licking my lower lip. “I’m parched.”

“Consider it done,” she says, glancing over at the closed door of the conference room. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

I nod, even though I have no idea how long a jiffy is. All I hope for is that she rounds the waiting room corner with that water before I have to present my idea to the investors.

Too-tight shoes and a dry mouth are not going to help me land a deal.

I suck in a breath and stare down at my now-swollen feet. The straps of the sandals have been cutting into my flesh all afternoon.

I got up three times and walked down the corridor to the ladies’ room in the hope that the increased blood flow would help, but it did nothing.

I slide open the zipper of the suitcase I borrowed from Sophia and fish my hand in. I feel the heel of one of my red shoes. I give it a tug and pull it out.

Reaching down I carefully unbuckle the thick strap around my left ankle. I feel instant relief as I glide my foot out of the sandal.

I slip the red shoe on. It pinches but it’s not nearly as uncomfortable as the sandal.

Just as I’m moving to remove the right sandal, the door to the conference room flies open and the woman with the gift bag filled with fragrant smelling handmade soaps darts out.

She doesn’t look in my direction, even though we spent the better part of the afternoon talking. Technically, the majority of the time I was listening to her run through her presentation.

I watch in silence as she races through the waiting area before she disappears around the corner and out of sight.

I can’t tell if she took off in a rush from the excitement of landing a deal or the devastation of rejection.

I look toward the open conference room door as I tug on the strap around my right ankle.

Dammit. It’s so tight that the leather has absolutely no give to it.

“Lenore,” a man’s voice calls out. “Sweetheart, where are you?”

I’m not surprised by the softness in his tone. I overheard Lenore telling someone earlier that her husband is one of the investors.

I sit silently, tugging on the strap of my sandal.

I have to get it off. If I don’t, I’m going to walk into that conference room wearing two different shoes.

I might as well pack up my chances of getting a deal and take them home with me now.

“Lenore?” The man’s voice is louder now. I can tell that he’s about to walk through the conference room doorway.

He does.

He’s older, handsome, and dressed in an expensive three-piece black suit.

“Hi,” he offers when his gaze meets mine. “I see that we saved the best for last. You’re Mabel’s friend, aren’t you?”

I nod. “I’m Dexie Walsh.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Lenore is, would you?” He taps the face of the large silver watch on his wrist. “I told her we’d only be here until six. I hope my bride hasn’t flown the coop.”

I smile at the affection in his eyes when he talks about his wife. “She went to get some water.”

I glance down at my watch. It’s almost seven. I’ve been here even longer than I thought.

“I’ll go find her.” He sets off toward the corridor just as a woman walks out of the conference room.