Chapter Thirty-Six Sassy
thirty-six SASSY
Mornings were not Sassy’s best time of day. And this morning, well, she felt sick even thinking of getting out of bed and going to work. She slammed her hand onto the alarm clock, shutting it off, then she groaned. With effort, she sat up, but the room spun. She had to wait for it to stop before she got up and staggered to her bathroom.
“Idiot,” she hissed at her reflection, grabbing her toothbrush.
Last night had been incredible, then devastating. Thinking the worst about Tom had almost broken her. God, she had blathered on like a crazy woman, snapping at him and working herself into a lather. All because Tom wanted to give her a gift.
“Idiot,” she mumbled again through toothpaste.
Davey had promised to bring the cheque to the Red Cross first thing in the morning, which was good. She wasn’t sure she could hand it over without feeling mortified at her behaviour. She’d left Chez Monique then trudged home, missing Marion. She could have used a boost from her friend. Instead, she had a shot of vodka. And another. It dulled the pain but didn’t take away her embarrassment.
Now she threw back a couple of aspirin, dressed, and headed to the office, her stomach curdling the whole way. When she entered, Tom glared across the room at her through eyes as dark as coal. She strode straight to his desk, chin lifted, and peered down her nose at him. Best to get this over with.
“Am I fired?” she demanded.
“No. Do you quit?”
“No.” She swallowed her pride in a big gulp. “I owe you an apology. I feel like garbage for what I said. Worse than garbage. I have no excuse, but—”
“There’s no excuse, no.”
She bristled. “I’m trying to apologize. Back off. It doesn’t come easy to me.”
He folded his arms.
“I was upset,” she blustered. “I didn’t know what I was saying. I—”
“Thought you said there was no excuse.”
She drooped, and to her horror, her chin quivered. Don’t cry! “What am I supposed to do?”
He peered closely at her. “Are you hungover?”
She looked at the floor.
“We are not going to discuss this during business hours,” he said tightly.
“Then can I buy you lunch? Today?”
She could swear she heard Miss Sloane’s big clock ticking behind her while he considered her invitation. At last he nodded decisively, then he dropped his gaze to his work and waved her off with one hand.
It was impossible to concentrate on her work. Mostly she shuffled papers around on her desk, trying to look busy. At noon, he reached for his coat. She watched him grab hers as well, and he carried it to her desk.
“Where do you want to go?”
“I know a place. Can you drive us?”
He nodded. “If it’s not too far.”
“Sweet little Mexican joint called ‘The Peasants Larder.’ Carlton Street, one block west of Parliament.”
“Near the CBC building,” he muttered. “I’ve driven past it.”
She sat quietly in his car as he drove, unsure if he wanted her to talk or not.
“Here it is. Just park right there.”
“Why this place?” he asked as they got out.
“A friend of mine suggested it, and I’ve been meaning to try it. The owners used to live in New York, and they designed this place after a restaurant there called ‘Serendipity Three.’ She told me it’s very eclectic.”
“And the food?”
“Her words to me were ‘I hope you like it spicy.’?”
The decor was adorable. Walnut-stained barn board covered the walls, and no two chairs were the same. Everything was mismatched, as if it had all been picked up at antique sales. The tables looked hand built.
Sassy loved it immediately. The place was half full, and everyone was talking and laughing loudly. A harried-looking waitress arrived right away to take their orders, and Sassy asked about the piano across the room.
“You should’ve come last night,” she said. “Oscar Peterson was here. Oh yeah. This place is always jumping with big names. You’ve heard of Anne Murray? The Canadian Brass?” She bit her pencil. “A couple of weeks ago we had that guy… a skater. He won the Canadian Junior Championships. What’s his name? Gosh. I—Toller something. Cranston? Anyway, the owner’s deal is that if you entertain, you get your meal free.”
Tom looked at Sassy. “Is that how you’re going to pay our bill?”
“I can’t. It’s a short lunch and my boss would kill me if I was late getting back.” She smiled up at the waitress. “But I will definitely keep that in mind for next time.”
She left, and Sassy braced herself. “So. First, I’m really sorry. Second, thank you for your donation. Third, I’m an idiot.”
“Not usually,” he replied, but she saw it in his eyes. She’d hurt him.
“Well, I was last night. I was overwhelmed, I guess. The concert and all that emotion, the money being stolen…” She exhaled, her shoulders dropping. “It’s not just that. It’s everything. I feel so stupid these days. I miss Marion and I miss my dad, and I have no idea where Joey is. I can’t think straight. I feel so alone sometimes, but I’m supposed to be a grown-up. I’m so embarrassed. Forgive me? Please?”
He tilted his head, considering. “No more temper tantrums?”
“I can’t promise. I’m a Libra.” She paused. “Tom, I know this has been hard for you, too. I barely gave it a thought because I’m so naturally selfish—” She hesitated, hoping he’d correct her, but he didn’t. “But the truth is, I know my dad was important to you.”
“He was. He was more like a dad to me than my own.”
She hadn’t realized that. “I’m so sorry.”
“I was glad you called me. You know. When it happened.”
She blinked at him, surprised. “Of course I called you. You’re important to him. And to me. Besides, who else would pick up the phone at that hour?”
He dropped his gaze to the wooden tabletop, scarred by knives and forks over the years.
“And the cheque,” she said softly. “Thank you. That was a lot of money. You didn’t have to do that. Why did you?”
“I want to help.”
“But that’s a lot.”
He shrugged, lifting the collar of his black jacket. “It’s important to you, so it’s important to me. Especially if it can help to find your brother somehow. I know what it’s like to lose someone.”
This was new. Tom didn’t talk about himself much. Probably because she was always the one doing the talking.
“Who did you lose?” she asked softly.
“I told you my parents died years ago, but also my two brothers and a cousin. All three of those were in the last war. I was fourteen when they left, so I was too young to go. They never found my oldest brother’s body, and that’s really stuck with me. Somewhere in France, I was told. I can almost picture the other two, since I know where they’re buried, but all I can imagine of Jeff are his bones in the mud somewhere. I hate the idea of anyone being left behind, dead or alive.”
It was probably inappropriate, thinking of him this way while he was sharing an important story in his life, but Sassy couldn’t help herself. He was striking, she thought with a kind of wonderment. His black hair was messed just a little, his icy-blue eyes even more pronounced because of the dark rings beneath them. Was he not sleeping? She didn’t think he was sick, but then again, she hadn’t had as much time for him lately. The hardness was gone from his face now, his earnest expression winning out over the hurt. He was, she saw clearly, much more handsome than Sean Connery.
Sassy wanted Tom more than she’d ever wanted any man in her life.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said softly.
He rubbed his hand hard across his mouth. “You throw me off balance, Sassy. You make me want to scream, and other times I sit back and listen to you laugh, even if I don’t know what’s funny. It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard before, that laugh.” He huffed out his nose. “I wasn’t trying to just ‘fix everything.’ I hated seeing you so upset, and I wanted to see that smile.”
She dropped her chin. “I know. I’m sorry. I might have gone a little far.”
“You might have.”
She rolled up her white napkin and waved it like a flag. “Truce?”
He leaned back, holding her gaze. “Look. The truth is, I want you to find your brother. And I want the Red Cross to have money to spend on saving those poor fools down there. But mostly, Sassy, I want you to be happy.”