Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
WINNIE
Lorenzo had gone to give a speech in Houston, then stayed a few extra days to work with a colleague down there.
He was due back tomorrow, and Winnie had spent the previous day in his Boston apartment, making sure the place was sparkling, refrigerator filled, laundry freshly done.
She went to another condo association meeting for him, left him notes on the new pet policy (now allowed) and the increase in HOA fees.
She made two arrangements of purple calla lilies and dark red roses with trailing eucalyptus leaves.
Maybe she’d become a florist, she mused.
Lorenzo had approved flowers as part of the budget, so even he liked them.
Now, she was in Wellfleet, in her own little house, which felt as warm and safe as a hug from Dad.
Small, of course, and decidedly unglamorous.
But she’d missed it just the same. Since she’d started working for Lorenzo, she’d only spent a couple of nights a week here.
It terms of gossip, people had more or less moved on, and she barely needed to stare anyone down.
Now, she tugged on her running clothes—her body hated running, but her mind appreciated the blankness it offered.
Besides, it was the quickest and most efficient way to stay fit.
She started toward town, planning on making her usual loop of about three miles.
The wind was cold off the water, and she was happy to make the turn onto Commercial Street, past the little shops and her mom’s gallery, then onto Main Street, past the Marketplace and Preservation Hall.
At Open Book, she stopped and went inside to visit Harlow.
Their cousin, who was also Winnie’s landlord, worked part time at the store, as well as Destiny, a full-timer who was standing on a ladder, cleaning the shelves.
“Hi, Winnie,” she said.
“How’s it going, Destiny?”
“Great, sweetie. How are you?”
“Fine. Killer dress, by the way,” Winnie said. The outfits Lorenzo had bought for her had sparked an appreciation of quality clothing. “Cashmere?”
“It sure is. Twenty-two dollars on eBay.”
“Sweet!” She paused. She’d never been into clothes a heck of a lot until she worked for Lorenzo.
“Do you think we could sit down for half an hour sometime and you can give me some tips? I’m trying to up my wardrobe game.
Professional stuff, but also just looking better on the weekends and nights out. ”
“Sure,” Destiny said. “I’d love to. And not to brag, but you’re not the first person who asked me. Cynthia and I are going shopping next week. All the shops have marked down their stuff for the end of the season. You can tag along.”
“Thanks! Maybe we can grab a drink afterward.” Lorenzo wasn’t the only one who could work on having more friends.
“I’d love that,” Destiny said warmly.
“Is my sister around?”
“In the office doing the accounting.”
“You mean, balancing the books?” Winnie said, raising her eyebrows.
“Very clever.” Destiny smiled down at her, then resumed dusting.
Winnie went through the warren of rooms and cozy spots.
Grandpop was napping on the old leather couch, cuddled up with Ollie, Harlow’s dog.
Winnie stopped, covered them both with the knit throw, and went into the tiny office in the back.
“Hi, Harlow.”
“Hey!” Harlow said, getting up and giving her a hug.
“I’m sweaty,” Winnie said.
“As if I care. How are things? Heard Robbie’s bachelor party was very robust.”
“It was fun. Dinner was fantastic. I won at mini-golf, and Grandpop’s new best friend is an exotic dancer named Sapphire. Thank God Grady and Dante were there as my fellow adults.”
“And Lorenzo,” Harlow added.
“Yep. Him, too.”
Harlow waited. Winnie said nothing. Harlow waited some more. She did this with all of her siblings, Winnie thought. Jedi mind tricks. That kind, lovely face, her gentle brown eyes.
“So you like him,” Harlow said.
“Sure. He’s easy to work for.”
“Really? That’s not his reputation.”
“I’m not a doctor or a nurse. He’s nicer to me.” She felt her cheeks flush and figured she could blame it on the running.
“That’s good to hear.” Harlow smiled and gestured for Winnie to sit in the other chair.
“We slept together. One time.” Damn those Jedi mind tricks.
“And?”
“Just…I don’t know. It was surprising.”
“In a good way?”
“In a very good way. But it was a mistake. I mean, he’s my boss. We have nothing in common.”
“Really? You sure?”
Winnie sighed. “I don’t know. I…” She looked around and closed the office door with one foot. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”
Harlow smiled. “Sure. You take that kind of thing very seriously.”
“Yeah. I mean, we agreed it was a horrible idea. But in the moment, it was kind of…you know.”
“Amazing?”
“Yes. Shit, Harlow. You should work as an interrogator for the FBI.” Her sister laughed. “Anyway…never mind. It’s a cut-and-dried case. Don’t sleep with the boss. Sorry. I’m wasting your time.”
“No, you’re not! You’re my baby sister. My favorite. Don’t tell the twins.” She settled into her chair. “Listen, honey. That chef hurt you. You believed him, and he was a great liar. My guess is that he’s very practiced in that area. It doesn’t mean every relationship is going to break your heart.”
“My heart is not in play,” Winnie said.
“Mm-hm. Well, if it does come into play, keep that in mind. Sometimes relationships do work out. Sometimes they’re pretty fantastic.”
“Like you and Grady.”
“Yep. And Lark and Dante. Mom and Dad. Destiny and Kate. Robbie and Rosie. Cynthia and Bertie.”
“Now you’re just depressing me.” She took a deep breath, then exhaled. “It’s not awful to stay single, is it?”
“Not if that’s what you want.”
“I’ve always been kind of a solo act.”
“As much as someone with four siblings can be, sure. Doesn’t mean that’s carved in granite, though.”
There had been a minute that night in San Francisco, somewhere in the wee hours after round two, where her head lay on Lorenzo’s chest, and his hand had trailed through her hair. It had felt so…perfect. No real thoughts, just the sensation of this feels right.
But she’d had that sensation before. And both she and Lorenzo had almost immediately cut things off. Even if she had agreed, he thought it was a mistake. Best to kill any nascent thoughts of what-if.
“Yeah, I guess,” she said. “Not carved in granite. But probably carved in something else very hard.”
“Marble? Soapstone? Alabaster?”
“This is why you’re the queen of trivia,” Winnie said.
Harlow smiled, then reached out and touched Winnie’s nose with her index finger. “Boop,” she said.
Winnie smiled. Her oldest sister was magical as far as she was concerned. “Okay. Thanks for the talk. Love you.”
“Love you too, honey.”
With that, Winnie left the store, calling goodbye to Destiny. She texted Lark and Addison—
Harlow said I’m her favorite sister, so suck on that, losers
then resumed her run in the chilly air. Tonight was the Santos anniversary party—the surprise sixty-fifth sweet Mr. Santos was throwing for his wife—and she had to get ready.
The event was at Preservation Hall, the lovely converted church that hosted events, weddings, and classes throughout the year.
The guest list was relatively small—the Santos children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, nieces and nephews, and a few longtime friends and neighbors.
About thirty people. Mr. Santos had been the only person who hadn’t canceled after she was declared the Outer Cape’s scarlet woman.
The only one. And since she’d been making bank as Lorenzo’s assistant, she’d upped the budget for this little party.
Better wine, food and flowers, nicer glasses and plates.
She’d made a gorgeous bouquet for Mr. Santos to give his bride.
She showered, changed and loaded up her car with the flower arrangements she’d made last night, tablecloths and candles, wine and beer. The caterer was dropping off the food, one of Robbie’s friends would be shucking oysters pulled fresh from the Atlantic this very day.
She didn’t mind working alone. She liked it, even.
But she did have to figure out a career.
Lorenzo didn’t really need a full-time assistant now that she’d found a house-cleaning service, scheduled window cleaners, rug and furniture steamers, the landscaping service, and a handyman service.
Driving into Boston or Chatham to stock his fridge once a week was a bit silly.
She could find someone local to do that.
As far as his calendar and travel management and the professional things he covered, she could do that remotely, and it would take a few hours a week at most. She could come to a conference again if he wanted, but after San Francisco, she doubted he would.
Not just the sex-with-the-boss stuff. The telling-off-the-other-doctor stuff.
The making-a-scene stuff. The trying-to-get-him-to-lighten-up stuff.
Had she mentioned the sex-with-the-boss stuff?
Going back to event planning was out, courtesy of her Ice House speech.
Florist? She’d have to take some serious classes for that.
Maybe down the road, but it wasn’t something she could just waltz into, and it would be very seasonal, as the bulk of Cape Cod weddings happened in the late spring and summer.
She liked being Lorenzo’s PA. Liked his rigorous standards and love of detail.
She liked trying to bring a little unexpected warmth into his magazine-worthy home.
Seeing his surprise and pleasure at, say, that bottle of Icelandic liquor or the arrangement of gourds had made her heart feel very squishy.