Chapter 5
PALOMA, EXES (THAT SHOULD’VE LEFT LONG AGO) she had stood upright and allowed it to tear right through her. The therapist asked if she wanted to up the frequency of their sessions. Paloma had just nodded.
As for Roxanne, they defied true lesbian fashion and managed not to stay friends. As if reading her mind, Roxanne plopped herself on the antique desk, crossing her legs. What was one more little disrespect in a long history of big ones?
Paloma, however, had learned her lesson where trust was concerned. And that lesson rang true every time. Trust no one. Not even oneself. And certainly not pretty redheads with seductive smirks and swaggering strides.
But Roxanne still popped in and out of her life.
They shared some business interests here and there—mostly West Coast real estate, where Paloma was just beginning to gain toeholds.
Roxanne was sometimes helpful as an established developer, and so occasionally they had to share physical space as well.
“You kept me around for the antics. And my charming personality,” Roxanne said and displayed the aforementioned smirk. Today, Paloma found it especially lacking. After seeing one also containing kindness and joy on top of self-confidence…
“I really didn’t. Forget the antics, you know my business well enough to be useful.” Paloma’s answer was brisk, even to her own ears. She didn’t care.
“And I know you. Election notwithstanding, something else has been on that mind of yours.” Roxanne took a gulp from Paloma’s cool coffee mug and made a face, then took another anyway.
“There are many things on my mind. It’s called multitasking.”
Roxanne shrugged and kept glugging down cold coffee as she spoke.
“Sure. You are very good at it. And no, losing anything is simply not in your nature. As I said, I know you, and I don’t think you ever lost at hide-and-seek as a kiddo, not to mention anything you have been plotting for months.”
“I never played hide-and-seek. My parents were too busy for that. And I haven’t lost anything yet.”
Paloma gave in to her frustration and allowed herself to roll her eyes. Roxanne was not deterred.
“Moreover, you’re distracted. Your thoughts are somewhere else. I can’t reach you for hours on end, and not even the Viking boy you hired knows where to find you most of the time.”
Her shoulders tensed, but Paloma kept her voice down.
“Am I suddenly accountable to you or Mr. Vesely for my whereabouts?”
Roxanne steamrolled forward.
“No, but disappearing is also not your style. I thought something had happened to you the night of the fire. I couldn’t find you all evening. I called and called and texted and emailed to no end. So, here I am, a little later, but in person.”
Her already tense shoulders locked entirely. Paloma bit the inside of her cheek, then deliberately counted to ten before picking up a gold-tipped fountain pen off her desk.
She twirled it in her fingers before setting it back down and standing up. Being still was no longer an option. As she passed by the side of the desk, she patted Roxanne’s thigh. The wordless signal worked, or maybe it was just the look on her face.
She didn’t want to talk about the night of the fire. The election might be a safer subject all around. Plus, the Caw had hit its target audience this morning.
Paloma deliberately relaxed her jaw, intent on pulling back some of the turmoil inside. Ignoring the questions about her whereabouts and her subsequent choice to be alone, she focused on the newspaper now strewn in shreds over her office floor.
She had read the Caw first thing in the morning, which meant her stomach roiled empty, her appetite ruined by the author of the article.
An unsigned article, like all of the Caw’s pieces.
Paloma shook her head and tried to focus on whatever it was her ex-wife was saying.
The words seemed to be an incomprehensible mess, she was not remotely curious about.
Until Roxanne poured gasoline on the fire.
“Who is actually investing all this money in conducting polls in a tiny town on an island off the coast of Massachusetts? You’d think this would be a nothing-burger election.”
Paloma might not appreciate Roxanne traveling all the way from the West Coast to be nosy about her business, but she appreciated a pertinent insight.
“You’d think. It’s a sizable amount of money.
I asked Mr. Vesely to do basic price estimates.
No way Moss holds that much in his war chest. No way he even has a war chest. He’s the owner of the country club, and yes, the money flowing in and out of that establishment is considerable, but it’s tied up in his family’s trust. He’s nothing but a trust-fund frat boy. ”