idea.”
Libby stood up abruptly. “I don’t think I’m that hungry, after all. Thank you for the Coke, Mr. Kavanagh. If you’ll excuse me, it sounds like I have a lot to do this weekend.”
And with that, she turned her back on him and walked out of the room.
Dylan commandeered the chair Libby had vacated, his broad smirk designed to be irritating. “I haven’t seen you crash and burn in a long time, baby brother. What did you say to make her so mad?”
“It wasn’t a date,” Patrick said, his voice curt. “Mind your own damned business.”
“She could do better than you, no doubt. Great body, I’m guessing, even though her clothes are a tad on the eccentric side. Excellent bone structure. Upper-crust accent. And those eyes... Hell, if I weren’t a married man, I’d try my luck.”
Patrick reined in his temper, well aware that Dylan was yanking his chain. “That’s not funny.”
“Seriously. What did you say to run her off?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’ve got all night.”
Patrick stared at him. “If you must know, Mom shoved her down my throat as a replacement for Charlise. Libby can handle the retreat center details, but there is no way in hell she’s going to be able to do all the outdoor, backcountry stuff. When I hired her, she asked me to give her a chance to prove herself. I merely pointed out that the weather’s going to be warm the first of the week, so we might as well go for it.”
“And that made her mad?”
“Well, she might possibly have assumed that I expect her to fail.”
“Smart lady.”
“How am I the bad guy here? I run a multilayered business. I can’t afford to babysit Mom’s misfits.”
Dylan’s expression went from amused to horrified in the space of an instant.
Libby’s soft, well-modulated voice broke the deadly silence. “I left my sweater. Sorry to interrupt.”
And then she was gone. Again.
Patrick swallowed hard. “Did she hear what I said?”
Dylan winced. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t have time to warn you. I didn’t see her coming.”
“Well, that’s just peachy.”
The waitress appeared, notepad in hand, to take Patrick’s order. “What’ll you have?” she asked.
Dylan shook his head in regret. “Bring us a couple of burgers, all the way. My baby brother needs some cheering up. It’s gonna be a long night.”
Not since the wretched aftermath of her father’s arrest had Libby felt so small and so humiliated. She’d thought Patrick liked her...that he was pleased with her work to date. But in truth, Libby had been foisted on him, and he resented her intrusion.
Her chest hurt, almost as if someone had actually sucker punched her. When she made it back to her room on the third floor of Maeve’s luxurious hotel, Libby threw herself on the bed and cried. Then she cussed awhile and cried some more. Part of her never wanted to see Patrick Kavanagh again. The other part wanted to make him ashamed for having doubted her. She wanted to be the best damn outdoorswoman he had ever seen.
But since that was highly unlikely to be the actual scenario come Monday, perhaps the best course was to explain to Maeve that the job hadn’t worked out.
There would be questions, of course, lots of them. And although there might be other jobs in Silver Glen, perhaps as a shop assistant making minimum wage, it would be difficult to find a place to live on that kind of paycheck. She owed Maeve a huge debt of gratitude. Not for anything in the world did she want to seem ungrateful.
Which left Libby neatly boxed into an untenable situation.
* * *
Saturday morning she awoke with puffy eyes and a headache. It was only after her third cup of coffee that she even began to feel normal. Breakfast was out of the question. She felt too raw, too bruised. There was no reason to think Patrick would be anywhere near the Silver Beeches Lodge, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
After showering and dressing in jeans and a baggy sweater, Libby sent a text to Maeve, asking her to drop by when she had a minute. In the meantime, Libby studied her paycheck. She had planned to buy the first pieces of her professional wardrobe this weekend. But if she was going to be fired Tuesday night, it made no sense to pay for clothes she might not need.
One step at a time.
When Maeve knocked on the door around eleven, Libby took a deep breath and let her in.
Maeve hugged her immediately. “I want to hear all about the job,” she said, beaming. “I saw Charlise in town Wednesday, and she said you were amazing.”
Libby managed a weak chuckle. “Charlise is being kind.”
The two of them sat down in armchairs beside the gas log fireplace. Although now Libby could barely afford the soap in the bathroom, the upscale accommodations were familiar in their amenities. Growing up, she had traveled widely with her parents.
Maeve smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from her neatly pressed black slacks. Wearing a matching blazer and a fuchsia silk blouse, she looked far younger than her age, certainly too young to have seven adult sons. “So tell me,” she said. “How do you like working for Patrick?”
“Well...” Libby hesitated. She’d never been a good liar, so she had to tiptoe through this minefield. “I’ve spent most of my time with Charlise. But everyone on the staff speaks very highly of your son.”
“But what do you think? He’s a good-looking boy, isn’t he?”
At last Libby’s smile felt genuine. “Yes, ma’am. Patrick is a hottie.”
“I know I’m prejudiced, but I think all my sons turned out extremely well.”
“I know you’re proud, and rightfully so.”
“Five of them already married off to wonderful women. I think I’m doing pretty well.”
Uh-oh. “Maeve, surely you’re not thinking about playing matchmaker. That would be extremely uncomfortable for me.”
Maeve’s face fell. “What do you mean?”
“I’m starting my life from scratch,” Libby said. “I have to know I can be an independent person. Although I was too naive to realize it at the time, my parents sheltered me and coddled me. I want to learn how to negotiate the world on my own. Romance is way down the list. And besides, even I know it’s not a good idea to mix business with pleasure.”
If a mature, extremely sophisticated woman
