“I don’t know how the hell she got all of it done in the three days, but she did.” Judd snaps his fingers. “You’re damn lucky to have her. Bronwyn is amazing, but the dedication Arietta has for her job is next level.”
I glance out the window at the rain. “So, you believe she’s genuinely ill?”
“She didn’t sound great during our call. I told her to take the day off and tomorrow too if she needs it.” He glances at my desk. “I called in a temp because I can’t spare Bronwyn this week. I’ve got that meeting with the Magills today and Gilbert Dunphy tomorrow. I need her by my side for those.”
“I’m fine on my own, Judd.”
He laughs through his nose. “You? Who the hell will screen your calls?”
Good question, but I’ll figure it out.
I don’t want to look out of my office and see anyone sitting at Arietta’s desk but her.
“I’ll leave you to that,” he says, chuckling as he walks toward my office door. “Bronwyn will update the Magill file with the details of our meeting this afternoon. If you log into our private server on that computer on your desk, you’ll be able to read all about it. It’s a novel concept, right?”
“Fuck you,” I say with a straight face.
“Love you too, bud.” Judd shoots me a smile. “Good luck handling all of this on your own.”
Chapter 17
Arietta
I stare out the large living room window at the rain pelting against it. Wrapping my white cardigan tighter around me, I glance at Sinclair. “Grab an umbrella. You’re going to need it.”
She flashes me a smile as she tugs on the hood of the yellow raincoat she’s wearing. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to run to the subway stop, and then it’s a short sprint to Berk’s office when I get uptown.”
She points at her feet. “These cute rain boots will keep my feet dry.”
They will. They’re mine. I’ve spent plenty of time wearing them when I’ve taken Dudley for walks during the unexpected showers that surprise New Yorkers during the spring.
“I can leave them here for you if you need to take Duds out.”
Dudley barks from where he’s snuggled on the corner of the couch.
“I have sneakers,” I say before a sneeze escapes. “He looks ready for a nap, so I might curl up next to him and take one too.”
“This meeting won’t take more than an hour.” Sinclair taps her hand on the outside of her laptop bag. “Berk wants to see the progress I’ve made. He insisted we do it in person, but I know it’s because he wants to see that I’m all right. He worries about me. It’s a big brother thing.”
I wouldn’t know about that. I don’t have any brothers or sisters.
“I’m glad you finally took a day off.” Sinclair sighs. “It’s too bad that it took you getting sick for it to happen.”
Guilt has kept me from requesting any days off. I know that Mr. Calvetti needs me. I debated whether to accept Mr. Corning’s offer for a few sick days when I spoke to him this morning, but he was insistent. He said he didn’t want me spreading my germs everywhere at work.
The deep laughter that followed that remark told me he was joking, but I decided to take his advice and stay home. I worked a lot this weekend, so I deserve some time to get over the cold I woke up with this morning.
“I’ll stop by the deli around the corner and pick up some chicken soup on my way home,” Sinclair offers. “If you think of anything else you need...”
I laugh as her voice trails. “I’ll go to the roof and shout, hoping you’ll hear me. You need a new phone.”
She stomps her foot. “Dammit. I think you’re right.”
I smile, knowing that soon I’ll be able to call and text her whenever I want. After what happened with the email mix-up the other day, I’m extra vigilant. I check the ‘to’ field of my messages at least three times before I press send.
“We can look at phones together on my laptop when I get back. I need you to help me decide which model I should get it so I can order it tonight.” She zippers up the raincoat as thunder rolls through the air outside. “I better go see Berk before he sends a search party out to look for me.”
***
“This is my Aunt Cress.” I point at a photograph of my mom and her sister when they were in their teens. “You wouldn’t like her. She’s allergic to dogs.”
Dudley turns his head toward me, but his eyes droop closed again almost immediately.
I turn the page in the photo album that I dug out of a cardboard box in my closet. It wasn’t the treasure I was searching for. I wanted to find the poetry book that I’d shoved in my suitcase the day I left Buffalo to move to New York City.