Come to think of it, he vaguely recalled everyone going for a coffee break, but he’d been too distracted to pay attention.
“Sure,” he agreed. Having a client provide lunch on the first day of the job wasn’t unheard of, but usually they were in financial shock after shelling out the deposit required by the contract.
“Sorry there aren’t enough chairs,” Emily said as she went back through the hallway into the living room, the scent of pepperoni, onions and peppers wafting behind her.
Trent hurried out the front door to his truck, muttering that he had phone calls to make. It was true enough, but he mostly wanted privacy to regroup. If Mike was picking up on his mood, it meant something was getting exposed that he hadn’t intended.
Great. Trent’s grip tightened on his phone. He knew he had a reputation for being as hard and tough as a polecat. Most people avoided him and that was the way he wanted it. An ornery polecat knew how to survive, and so did he.
EMILY TOOK A slice of pizza and sank down on one of the wood boxes she’d found in the backyard. “I didn’t know which pizza joint was good,” she said. “Hope this works for everybody.”
“They’re all decent,” Mike replied. “But this one averages out the best.”
“Yeah, they put the most meat on,” added Caveman.
The corners of Emily’s mouth twitched. She bit into her slice of Hawaiian and chewed happily.
It had been nearly impossible to treat her employees at the boutique to meals or snacks. The time she’d brought in a selection of fresh bagels they’d practically fainted in horror. Black coffee or tea had been okay, but even lettuce wraps had been regarded with mistrust in case they contained hidden calories. Ironically, she’d never required her sales staff to be skinny, but that seemed to be the only sort who applied.
“This is real nice of you,” said Eduardo. Caveman nodded, his mouth stuffed with pepperoni and sausage.
“I’m just thrilled you’re here,” Emily told them. “I’m sure you’ll do a great job. It might sound strange to say, but I think the house likes you.”
None of them rolled their eyes; in fact, they seemed pleased by her comment, and they settled into serious munching. Emily wondered why Trent hadn’t joined them and supposed he didn’t like to socialize with his employees, even on a lunch break. But that would be pretty snotty and the construction crew seemed to be on comfortable terms with their boss. Maybe Trent avoided his customers...or just the one who hadn’t given in and let him buy the house he wanted.
Aside from not particularly liking Trent, Emily couldn’t get any real sense of him. He was too hard, too humorless, too fierce, and he had too many secrets in his eyes—the biggest one being why he was strangely attached to Wild Rose Cottage. Could that be why she had such strong feelings about the place?
Surely not.
She didn’t have good instincts about people, or she wouldn’t have been engaged for five years to a cheater. Even now she couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized the truth. All those business trips Dennis had taken, always with an excuse not to take her with him? And how about the way he’d dragged his feet on planning the wedding? There must have been a hundred little signs she hadn’t seen...or hadn’t wanted to see. It was lowering to think she’d put up with so much for so long.
What kind of man decided to marry a nice “girl next door” type of woman for home and family, with the plan of having sex and fun on the side? She just hoped Dennis wouldn’t break anyone else’s heart in the future.
“Hello?” a voice called through the front door.
Emily popped up and found Alaina Hawkins on the porch.
“Hi.”
“Hope you don’t mind me dropping by, but I’m on my lunch hour and was curious to see this place.”
“The more the merrier. Welcome to the construction zone,” Emily said cheerfully. “Come in and have some pizza.”
Alaina readily followed her into the living room. “Hey, guys.” She glanced into the closest pizza box and took a slice of pepperoni. “I didn’t expect to be fed.”
“It’s a celebration for the work getting started,” Emily explained, noticing that Vince, Caveman and Eduardo appeared comfortable with Alaina. Mike seemed less so, but she’d already noticed that he was more reserved than the other guys.
The group ate an astonishing amount of pizza, but there was still part of a pie left to put in the wheezy old refrigerator, which had been moved to the mud porch.
The men went outside for the remainder of their lunch break and Emily turned to Alaina. “How about looking around? You can see how the house looks now, and then again after everything gets fixed. Whenever you like.”
“I’d love to. We lived here when I was a little girl. That was before...well, our folks were killed in a car accident, so I haven’t been inside since I was three and a half. I don’t remember it, though. I even had to ask Mom if it was the right place.”
Emily was surprised. Was that the big secret? This being his childhood home would certainly explain why Trent appeared so familiar with Wild Rose Cottage, even knowing how to open the funky latch on the attic door.
“It’s too bad that the kitchen is already partly demolished,” Emily said as they went down the hallway and Alaina peered through the door.
“That’s my fault for not coming earlier.”
Letting Alaina wander where she pleased, Emily followed as her guest went from room to room, cocking her head and half closing her eyes, as if trying to evoke long-ago memories.
“Gosh,” Alaina said as they climbed the stairs. “I was pretty young when my parents died, but you’d think I’d have some memories. Do you remember anything from that age?”
Emily winced. Brother, did she ever. And this particular early memory wasn’t something nice like a picnic or a trip to Disneyland. No...what she remembered was dashing across the runway and tripping a model as she glided out, wearing the finale of the fashion show.
She relayed the tale to Alaina. “It was horrible and the model was screaming bloody murder because her eye was turning black. I should have felt worse about it, but I kept expecting her to cackle, ‘I’ll get you, my pretty,’ the same as the Wicked Witch of the West.”
Alaina giggled. “Did your parents beat her off?”
“No. They were just as furious and the paparazzi were taking pictures right and left. Anytime I was in danger of forgetting, my mother would haul out those photos and remind me of what a mess I’d caused.”
“Why would your mother bring you to a high-end fashion show?” Alaina asked.
“Mom and Dad were clothing buyers. I visited fashion capitals like Paris and Milan every year until I went to college.”
“It must have been nice seeing such wonderful places.”
“Usually
