Chapter 2
F or the rest of the weekend, Sinclair and I avoided each other—even at meals.
When I finally went down for lunch long after one o’clock on Saturday, I saw evidence that he’d already eaten.
The place was big enough that it was easy to not run into each other.
It was possible that he’d even left the mansion, but I didn’t know that for certain.
All I did know was that I was safest in my room.
And it wasn’t until I had to turn in my timesheet Sunday afternoon that I saw him again—and then it was only business.
Monday morning, though, it would be hard for us to ignore each other, especially with Edna there.
When I entered the kitchen, the first thing she said was, “Child, thank you so much for cleaning those dishes for me. You don’t know how much that meant.”
Pretending Sinclair wasn’t sitting at the table already, I crossed over to the coffee pot.
“Did Mr. W. tell you he helped?” Although I’d consented to letting him call me by my first name and inside I called him by his first, I wasn’t about to cross that line out loud without permission.
“He did?” Edna delivered a butter dish and a jar of honey to the table, but her focus was on Sinclair.
“Is that true?”
“Is what true?” he asked gruffly, as if he hadn’t been paying attention to our conversation.
It was the first time I’d looked directly at him this morning.
He was wearing a charcoal suit with a white shirt and blue tie—and he looked so damn delicious, I wanted to gobble him up.
His admission on Saturday that he felt the same had done nothing to quell my desire.
In fact, it had made it worse, and I wasn’t sure what to do about that.
He’d already said no.
“You helped Lise with the dishes?”
His lips quirked up in a sexy smile, subtle but hard to miss.
“Is that so hard to believe?”
She frowned, but when she spoke, I could tell that frown was playful.
“All these years and you’ve never helped me with the dishes.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Technically, I did.”
“ Technically. Hmph.” Edna returned to the island just as I was finishing up my coffee.
“Sit down and I’ll bring you some breakfast.”
“What are we having?”
“For you, fresh pineapple—and don’t tell Mr. Whittier, but I got you some bagels and cream cheese.”
I could have cried.
Edna seemed to remember every little thing I told her and, while that might not always be a plus, in this instance, it was.
I didn’t eat bagels regularly, but one day a month, I’d go to the little coffee stand at the community college and buy one.
I’d toast it myself, using their rotating toaster and then spread the cream cheese with one of their disposable plastic knives.
It was a way to celebrate making it through another month of school.
Lots of students I got to know during my year at WCC seemed to breeze through their classes, but I wasn’t so lucky.
I questioned if maybe I was stupid or dense, because it was harder for me.
I spent hours upon hours reading and studying and the only thing that kept me going was that I was achieving good grades—mostly As, an occasional B, and a C in Biology…
and I was grateful for it.
And, because of my monthly celebration, I’d grown to love bagels, even though I knew they probably weren’t the healthiest choice.
At least I wasn’t choosing the scrumptious looking giant blueberry muffins on display.
Sinclair said, “Might I recommend you have a little protein with that, other than just cream cheese? Otherwise, you’ll crash later on.”
“ Crash? ”
“You’ll have a glucose spike shortly after eating your bagel and pineapple. The cream cheese will help a little, but that bagel is all simple carbs. In two or three hours, you’ll be ready for a nap.”
My forehead crinkled.
“How do you know so much about food?”
“I…dated my personal trainer for a while. She was also a Registered Dietician.”
Although I knew I had no right, I felt jealous.
I’d already begun to feel such a desire, such a need for Sinclair that imagining him with another woman made my insides feel as if they were being wrung like a towel.
But I looked down at my coffee before taking a sip, hoping none of those inappropriate feelings were noticed.
“But she was also the Mayor of Crazytown—so after I broke up with her, I had to continue studies on my own.”
As Edna set a plate in front of me, she asked, “Is she the one who keyed your BMW?”
“No.” I wondered if she was also the one who’d used the laptop I now employed in my work.
Sinclair took another sip of coffee and said, “An expensive lesson. Never mix business with pleasure.”
I was sure that comment was also directed at me, so I didn’t look up as I spread the cream cheese on that lovely bagel.
Edna had even toasted it for me.
“It took you a couple of times to learn it.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” Sinclair frowned but it seemed playful—this was Edna he was directing it to, so of course he wasn’t actually angry with her.
“But back to the point,” he said, his commanding voice grabbing my attention, “I’d recommend you eat a few nuts or a piece of steak with that.”
Steak with a bagel sounded disgusting to me—and Edna once again proved how well she knew me.
“I believe we’ve got an unopened can of mixed nuts in the pantry. I’ll be right back.”
I felt a little uncomfortable having my food choices scrutinized, and I wondered if Sinclair had any comfort food of his own—but I wasn’t about to ask for fear of being disappointed.
It would probably be yet another reminder of just how different we were.
I preferred to focus on what we had in common.
“Changing the subject, didn’t you say you were earning a general degree back in Winchester?”
“Yes, but they didn’t have any classes on nutrition.”
He chuckled.
“Well, they should.” Removing the napkin off his lap, he set it on his plate and looked directly at me.
“If I recall correctly, you said something about being interested in archaeology—and then you told me working in the dungeon had inspired some other sort of career idea. I’m curious what that was.”
Did he really want to know?
I remembered that conversation because it had been one where he’d bitten my head off, telling me I should have thought of that before destroying the lab or some such thing—it had been his usual response before we’d settled into a more civil relationship.
“Working in a museum. That’s what working downstairs feels like. I’m sifting through pieces of history, determining their worth—and if I continue working with the art down there, I might be tempted to persuade you to switch out what you have in the gallery.” His expression told me he hated that idea, but he didn’t say it.
“I think working in a museum might be a lot like that.” Of course, I didn’t tell him part of the history I’d been perusing was his mother’s private writings—but how many museum archivists got caught up in the records they researched?
“You’ve been doing good work here, and it should be recognized.” While he spoke, I could hear Edna puttering in her usual spot behind me.
“If you want to get a degree while working for me, I’ll allow it.”
Just the idea floored me—but there were so many questions.
But he continued speaking before I could ask them.
“If you choose to attend DU or Metro, I’ll pay for it—so long as it doesn’t interfere with your work. Or, if you find something else you’d prefer online, I’m amenable to that as well, as long as it’s not one of those fly-by-night operations.”
While Edna set a bowl of almonds beside me, I could hardly believe my ears.
She squeezed my shoulder, prompting me out of silence.
“Are you serious?”
“Do I seem like I’m joking? Education is no laughing matter, and I know it’s important to you. Because you’re working for me, I think it’s imperative that you begin educating yourself.”
How had he known that, aside from being separated from my father, what I missed the most was school?
It was such a generous gift and, had we not experienced a bigger connection over the past couple of days, I might have suspected it to be a trick.
Now, though…I knew it truly was a kindness—and, had Edna not been there, I might have jumped up, gone to the other side of the table, and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek.
Still…I had to ask the question.
“Will I…have to repay you?” If he said yes , it wouldn’t be a deal breaker, but it would mean that I’d find an affordable school online if it cost less than the University of Denver or Metro State.
“That was not my intent. I pay for my employees’ continuing education on occasion. I don’t see why your education should be any different.”
That admission made it feel less special…
but maybe he was just saying that to make me feel better about it.
When he stood, he said, “So do some research and let me know the results at our Sunday meeting.”
I nodded, feeling warmed by his genuine smile as he picked up his phone and planner and left the kitchen.
It would have been easy to think of this as a ploy or another way he could keep me indebted to him…
but somehow I knew that wasn’t the case.
This was truly a genuine gift, one he understood I desperately wanted—and it helped me see that, even though I had ten years to serve here, it wouldn’t be for nothing.
I would leave with a degree and experience—and it was so odd that it would all be thanks to the man who was the son of my father’s enemy.
Although I should have been working, my conversation with Sinclair had made me so excited that I’d begun my research on the laptop downstairs.
It didn’t take me long to discover I would probably need a master’s degree to really be able to do what I thought I wanted.
But even if Sinclair was only willing to pay for a bachelor’s degree, that would be a huge step.
As I continued researching, I found that there were several degrees I could earn in order to qualify for working in a museum, but I determined that a master’s degree in museum studies was the best. So my plan was to get a bachelor’s in art, history, or archaeology and a master’s in museum studies.
Making that decision helped me with looking at schools.
The University of Denver topped Metropolitan State, but I found several online programs that could fit the bill as well.
I wasn’t quite sure which to go with.
It wasn’t until Edna called downstairs to let me know lunch was ready that I realized I’d lost hours researching rather than working.
But in my mind, I could justify it easily.
If I were earning a degree to work in a museum, then those studies would help me here.
Of course, I’d probably be done working in the dungeon long before I finished school—and it made me wonder what project Sinclair would have me working on after I was done here.
Soon, I was enjoying a salad with Edna on the east patio and we enjoyed our usual banter…
until she changed the subject.
“Lise, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I do want to impress upon you what a generous gift Mr. Whittier is giving you.”
Nodding quickly, I said, “Oh, I know it. School is expensive.”
“That’s not what I’m getting at. Mr. Sinclair is generous—but to a point. You know that girlfriend he was telling you about earlier?”
Like I could have forgotten.
“The personal trainer?”
“Mm-hmm. That little piece of work. She’d wanted to open her own business—a combination gym with some kind of nutrition tie-in. They’d been sitting in the dining room one night discussing it and she presented her business plan to him, something he’d asked for before. And then after he looked at it, he told her it was too big a risk. She was too big a risk.”
I had so many questions, especially because I hadn’t known the woman, but I didn’t think Edna knew what she was talking about.
Sinclair had said it himself: he paid for employees’ education on a regular basis.
But Edna was about to blow that thought out of the water too.
“And what Mr. Whittier said about paying for his staff’s education? That’s only half true…he pays for half their tuition. They pay the other half, plus books and expenses. But, in your case, Mr. Whittier plans to pay for everything you need.”
Although I’d picked up on the fact that Edna listened in on conversations—that hadn’t snuck past me—how could she know all of this with such certainty?
I asked her as much.
And she replied, “Because he told me so. He thinks you’re pretty special.” Please , I thought, please don’t let my face give away my delight .
“Eat up, child. We’ve still got an entire afternoon of work.”
Work buoyed by the thought that maybe he really did feel about me the same way I felt about him—it made for a light afternoon.