10.
Ada
I stood holding the pot of leftover spaghetti while Jonathan slammed his door in my face with a deafening thud. His abruptness wasn’t what shocked me. No, it was the fact that there had been two lone tears streaming down his face. He’d been crying, and I didn’t understand what happened, nor why my food had offended him so much. Then it dawned on me.
The spaghetti was Leonora’s recipe.
Crap.
I’d been cooking it for so long it had become one of my go-to dishes. I’d completely forgotten that Jonathan’s mother was the one who’d taught me how to make it.
Oh, hell, I was such an idiot.
I hadn’t thought, and that was the problem.
Jonathan always seemed so put together. You’d hardly know he was grieving, but clearly, he was just better at masking internal stuff. The raw grief slashed across his face had my heart clenching for him. Since hearing the news of Dad and Leonora’s passing, I’d cried so many tears I feared I had no more left to shed. But Jonathan hadn’t cried when I’d told him that day in his office, nor had he seemed emotionally distraught during the funeral or on any of the other occasions we’d interacted. Seeing him with tears on his face knocked me off balance. My heart broke for him, and I was struck with the sudden urge to comfort him, to let him know he wasn’t the only one going through the loss of a parent.
But no, that wouldn’t work. From what I’d observed of Jonathan, any effort on my part to console him would likely be met with avoidance.
Returning to the apartment, I placed the pot in the kitchen then went back to bed. It was difficult to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I couldn’t stop replaying Jonathan’s distraught features. I’d fucked up, and I had no clue how to fix it. Or maybe he didn’t want me to. Perhaps the best course of action was to pretend the entire encounter had never happened.
The following day, I fretted over whether to go next door and make sure he was okay. In the end, I chickened out, and when evening approached, I wondered if Jonathan would knock on my apartment door to check on me like he’d promised he would. Normally, he knocked around eight o’clock, but then eight turned to nine, nine turned to ten, and before long, I was tucking myself into bed with no appearance from my neighbour.
I worried he was mad at me, blaming me for cooking his mother’s recipe and bringing up emotions he’d been trying to suppress. I also feared he may not wish to speak to me again at all. What if he thought I’d done it on purpose? That it was some sick game on my part to punish him for not trying to repair his relationship with his mother after so many years? No, surely, he wouldn’t think I was that twisted. Maybe he was just lost in grief, too distracted by the pain to remember to check on me. Thinking this, I felt the irrational need to care for him. I climbed out of bed, about to go and call in on him, when I hesitated. What if he just wanted to be alone and me pestering him made him even madder than he already was? Besides, it was far too late to go knocking on his door.
Slipping back under the covers, I spent most of the night lost in my internal conflict over Jonathan until, before I knew it, morning had arrived, and I had to go to work.
Close to lunch time at Pinebrook Lodge, I was in the lounge chatting with a resident named Bernie about some adjustments to her care plan when my gaze caught on a familiar car pulling up outside. My heart skipped a beat, relief and anxiety warring for dominance. Jonathan had come? Did that mean he was no longer mad at me? Or had he arrived to tell me I needed to move out of the apartment? In my heart, I just hoped he was no longer as distraught as he’d seemed on Saturday.
Other people began to take note of the car, and excited murmuring ensued.
After the amount of gossip his appearance stirred up the last time, I’d hoped to ensure he never had cause to visit me at work again. Unfortunately, I hadn’t gotten around to making the request that he contact me by phone if he ever needed me. And now he was here. Again . I could already sense the giddy anticipation as residents craned their necks to peer out the window at his shiny black Porsche.
Jonathan emerged from the car, buttoning his suit jacket and pulling off a pair of stylish sunglasses that had probably cost more than all the handbags I’d ever owned. Why did he always have to look so polished? I wasn’t a particularly unkempt person, but often in Jonathan’s company, I felt like a scruffy old slob in comparison to his flawless style and personal hygiene. I noticed his hair was always the exact same length, like a barber visited him weekly to ensure it never grew any longer than the requisite two inches on top.
Someone gave a wolf whistle. I was fairly certain it was Jackie. God bless her lungs. I didn’t know many eighty-seven-year-olds who could whistle like that.
“Ada’s fancy man is here again,” Philomena announced, rubbing her hands together. “We’re in for a treat.”
“What I wouldn’t give for a night with a fella like that,” Bernie, who I’d just been consulting with, added.
“A night? I’d be happy with fifteen minutes,” Philomena cackled.
“You certainly wouldn’t kick him out of bed for leaving crumbs,” Jackie agreed.
“He’s not anyone’s fancy man,” I announced, folding my arms. “He’s Leonora’s son, and you all know it.” I was aware that Hannah had informed everyone of who my intriguing mystery visitor had been. “I’d also appreciate if you didn’t make lewd comments about him.”
“Exactly,” Lewis put in. He’d been tending to another resident on the other side of the lounge. “The poor man doesn’t need you pack of hyenas circling. Besides, you’re making me jealous. I thought I was the stud around these parts.”
They all chuckled and made noises of reassurance that he was still their number one. I shook my head as I hurried out to see why I was being bestowed another in-person visit from Jonathan. I could only hope he’d come to make peace after the spaghetti incident.
“Ada,” Jonathan said as I entered reception, his gaze travelling over my features as though trying to decide if I were about to tell him to leave. Did he think I was mad at him for being mad at me? Oh, what a mess. “I was hoping for a word.”
I glanced Sally’s way, and just like before, she was putting on her best performance of “being busy on her computer.”
“Of course, come back to my office.”
Jonathan nodded and followed me through the lounge where, thankfully, Jackie had the decorum not to wolf whistle again. There were, however, many whispered giggles and hushed murmurings. You’d swear they were a gaggle of fourteen-year-old girls in the presence of their favourite boyband. I caught Archie, one of the male residents, glance up and roll his eyes before returning his attention to the dog-eared novel he was reading.
“As you probably noted,” I began once we were enclosed in my office, away from prying eyes and ears. “Your appearance here tends to cause a bit of a stir, so perhaps next time, a phone call will suffice.”
Jonathan lifted one thick eyebrow—it was a few shades darker than his hair—his lips twitching in amusement. He seemed at ease, which in turn put me at ease. He’d be way more serious and stiffer if he’d come to sever all ties, right? “A stir? Really?”
“Don’t act like you didn’t notice them all giggling and whispering. There were even a few lewd remarks when they spotted your car pull up outside. The residents here might be elderly, but you’d be surprised by the number who are still … uh, never mind,” I finished, realising I definitely didn’t want to get into the specifics of our residents’ sex lives.
Jonathan’s lips pressed together, a hint of mirth sparkling in his eyes. “No, please finish.”
I folded my arms, my sober expression communicating my refusal to do so before I stated, “So, what did you wish to speak about?”
A flicker of vulnerability flashed in his eyes before it was gone and the amusement returned, “I’d rather you tell me one of the lewd remarks I missed out on. I could do with an ego boost.”
I blew out a breath and went to sit down at my desk, then rubbed at my temples while my cheeks began to heat. “Honestly, I doubt that, and I’d rather not.”
“Miss Rose, are you flushing?” He sounded far too amused.
I flashed him a serious look. “Can you please just tell me whatever you came to say? It must be important for you to drive all the way out here.”
Jonathan’s amusement faded, his expression turning more reflective as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat in front of my desk. What was it about the way he unbuttoned that jacket that had me feeling all peculiar?
“I came to apologise.”
“Right. Seems to be a running theme with us,” I muttered.
“How I behaved on Saturday was completely out of line.”
“You really don’t need to apologise, Jonathan. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left the spaghetti. It was a thoughtless act on my part.”
“You couldn’t have known how I’d react.” A hint of discomfort crossed his features. “It was the first time I …”
His words fell off, but I suspected the word he’d left out was “cried.” Just thinking about those two lone tears had me wanting to move across the office and cocoon him in a hug. He seemed not to know how to continue, so I spoke instead.
“Honestly, I completely forgot that recipe came from your mother. I’ve been making it for so long it just completely slipped my mind.” Standing from my seat, I went around to lean against the front of my desk where he sat. “I’m sorry if it brought up old memories for you.”
I stared down at him, and his pale blue gaze flicked up, making me suddenly aware of how close I stood. “It tasted so good, just like hers, and I just …” Again, he trailed off, looking away before his intense eyes lifted again. “I haven’t cried since I heard about her passing, but as soon as I ate one bite, it was like everything came flooding up. I took my anger out on you, which was completely uncalled for. You were only trying to do a nice thing.”
“I promise, next time, my efforts to be nice won’t be quite so thoughtless,” I said, reaching down to squeeze his hand. “And it’s good you finally cried. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Crying has been a regular occurrence for me since all this happened, so I’m not going to be one to judge.” Suddenly, something shifted in his gaze, something that had goosebumps rising on my arm.
Jonathan turned his hand in mine, catching my fingers and smoothing his thumb over my pulse point. The touch had me swallowing thickly as he murmured, “I’m also sorry for not checking in with you last night. I was still in a bad way, and I was too ashamed of how I behaved the previous night. I’ll resume checking on you tonight, though. I won’t break my promise again.”
“All right.” My voice was quiet. I was suddenly feeling very breathless. It was just the way he spoke, like he was making a vow. He didn’t dismiss what I’d asked of him as folly. He truly took my request for nightly check-ins seriously, and it did strange things to my insides.
Still holding my gaze, Jonathan lifted my hand and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of it. I didn’t expect my intake of breath to be quite so loud, but we were alone in my office, and the room was very quiet. That same shift occurred in his eyes, and I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. He surveyed me slowly, focusing on the gentle curve of my hip and the swell of my breasts before his eyes returned to mine. Tingles danced down my spine, and the heat beneath my skin intensified.
Jonathan let go of my hand, but I could still feel the warmth of his mouth, the soft press of his lips. I had no idea what to say to break the tension, but then he spoke. “Let me take you out to lunch.”
“I can’t.” My voice was far breathier than intended. I walked back around my desk and sat. “I have too much work to catch up on.”
“Then we’ll order in.” He was already sliding his phone from his pocket. “What do you like?”
He wanted to order lunch for us to share in my office? After the intense reaction from him kissing my hand, I wasn’t sure I could handle being in a room with him much longer. I wanted to decline, reiterate that I was too busy for lunch, but he’d come all this way, had apologised like a gentleman. I couldn’t turn him away.
Besides, just because I was likely attracted to Jonathan didn’t mean I had to act on it. Nor did it mean he would ever consider me in that way. He was a suave, debonair businessman. He probably went around kissing hands and being charming all the time. It was second nature to schmooze people. I was hardly the sort of woman he was normally attracted to, given he dated polished, glamorous career women like Lissa. I mean, sure, I had a career, but it was far from glamorous. And I didn’t know what Lissa did for a living, but I got the impression she was driven and ambitious, just like Jonathan.
“Ada, is everything all right? I can decide about the food if you’re not fussy.”
“Yes, I’m okay,” I said, pushing my insecurities to the back of my mind. “Erm, a sandwich, maybe? There’s a nice deli just down the street.”
“What kind of sandwich?” Jonathan asked, already typing on his phone.
Still flustered by my inner dilemma that I was very attracted to him, I replied absentmindedly, “Chicken salad.”
When he finished typing, he set his phone down then glanced at me. “Ben will drive to the deli. He shouldn’t be long. You can work while we wait.”
“You sent your driver to grab us lunch?”
His lips twitched. “Don’t worry. I told him to grab something for himself, too.”
“It’s nice to see you treat your employees well.”
“The competent ones, at least.”
His statement gave me pause. “How do you treat the incompetent ones?”
“I fire them as soon as their inefficiency becomes apparent.”
“Well, that’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” I challenged. “Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t tolerate mistakes. You fuck up more than twice, and you’re gone. That’s how I’ve managed to run a successful venture all these years.”
I blinked, eyebrows rising. “Wow, I’m glad I don’t work for you, then.”
Something softened in his gaze. “You’d be fine. I have a feeling you’re far from incompetent, Miss Rose.”
The statement hung in the air, and though stated neutrally, it felt oddly like a compliment. Flushed, I turned my attention to the petty cash receipts I was in the middle of tallying. When I glanced at Jonathan again, he was back on his phone, probably firing off intimidating emails to all his poor beleaguered employees. I could only imagine the dread they felt every time they received a message from him or, God forbid, saw his name pop up on their phone when he called.
Okay, now, why the hell did I find that just a little bit sexy? Maybe imperious, domineering men were my type, and I hadn’t known it until right that moment. Well, that didn’t matter because, as already established, I was far from the type of woman Jonathan was interested in. But even if I were, I could never go there with him. Not only was he technically my landlord, he was also Leonora’s son, and there was so much history between his mother and me. We’d been close. It felt a little wrong to go after the son of the woman who’d been married to my father.
I found myself rubbing absently at my neck while I worked, trying my hardest not to fixate on the devilishly handsome man sitting across from me. His presence was so much of a distraction that my petty cash numbers were off by almost a hundred and fifty euros. Well, that was embarrassing, given Jonathan’s earlier statement that I came across as competent.
Sighing, I started over, but again, the receipts came up short. I frowned down at my tally. Rina and I were the only two people who had access to petty cash. I was the custodian, the one who collected the receipts, calculated what had been spent and replenished the cash. Rina, being the cashier, was the one who distributed the money when something needed to be purchased or a service paid for.
“Something wrong?” Jonathan asked, his attention rising from his phone.
“My petty cash numbers are off by quite a bit. I must’ve miscalculated somewhere.”
Sliding his phone into his pocket, Jonathan stood and removed his suit jacket, “Mind if I take a look?”
My eyebrows rose as he approached and began rolling up his shirt sleeves, revealing faintly tanned forearms with hair a shade darker than that on his head. Jonathan owned a successful investment firm. I imagined with a profession like that he had to be a numbers whizz. He moved close to where I sat, barely an inch between us as he leaned down to gather the receipts. I was immediately hit with a waft of his scent, faint cologne and something that was just him. Male skin. Well, that was inconvenient, given my recent revelation of being attracted to him. Tingles skittered across my neck at his proximity, and I watched in fascination as he diligently worked through the receipts.
I was taken aback by his speed. He also appeared to add everything in his head instead of using a calculator like I had. I sat there the entire time willing my heart to quit racing at the heat of him next to me, the soft brush of his arm whenever he moved.
When he was finished, he turned his head to me, a beat of silence elapsing when he realised just how close we were. I was convinced his pupils dilated, his gaze flicking to my lips for a fraction of a second before he seemed to gather himself, moving away to stand upright. He cleared his throat. “Receipts are off by one hundred and fifty-three euros and seventy-two cents. Is that what you got?”
“Yes,” I replied, surprised that he’d completed the task so swiftly but also that he’d done the calculations in his head. “That was impressive. Were you a maths whizz at school?”
His lips twitched. “Something like that.” He gazed down at me, folding his arms. Why couldn’t I stop staring at his forearms?
“So,” he went on. “Who else has access to petty cash?”
“Only my admin assistant, Rina. I think maybe there are some receipts missing. She’s at lunch right now, but I’ll ask her when she gets back.”
“Do you think she might’ve spent the money herself and was planning to replace it before you noticed?” Jonathan enquired.
“Gosh, no. Rina would never do something like that. I trust her.”
“Well, then, someone must’ve accessed the cash box and stolen the money.”
“No, there’s no one here who would steal. There are misplaced receipts. I’m sure of it.”
“If you say so,” Jonathan said as he moved around my desk, his tall frame suddenly making the room feel smaller.
I sat back as he returned to the chair in front of my desk, but what he said had me worrying. What if there weren’t any more receipts and someone really had taken the money? It was kept in a lock box. Only Rina and I had keys, but I’d been so distracted lately. Someone could’ve easily taken the key and returned it before I’d even noticed it was missing. I mean, in the grand scale of things, it wasn’t a lot of money, but I couldn’t allow an employee to steal and get away with it. And if this person were a member of staff, who was to say they weren’t also stealing from the residents? A sick feeling filled my gut at the thought. Alternatively, it could’ve been one of the many visitors who came and went from the building on a daily basis. There were way too many possible suspects.
Then I remembered Hannah casually hanging out in my office when I’d taken time off for the funeral. She could’ve done it. No. Not Hannah. She wouldn’t do something like that. Then again, she and Cathal had had an affair behind my back. An unproven affair, sure, but my gut instincts didn’t tend to lie to me about stuff like that.
I was still deep in thought when a knock sounded on my door just before Rina stuck her head in. As soon as she spotted Jonathan, her eyebrows rose, and her expression turned apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company, Ada.”
“That’s all right, Rina. This is Jonathan Oaks, my late stepmother’s son,” I said, introducing him even though Rina definitely already knew who he was.
“Pleased to meet you,” he told her with a polite smile.
“You, too,” Rina said, appearing to flush a little before turning her attention back to me. “I just wanted to let you know that Alf wants to speak to you about repairs to the fencing at the back of the gardens.”
“Okay, I’ll find him later,” I said then noticed Jonathan staring at me pointedly as if to say, Ask her about the receipts . “Oh, and um, do you know if there are any receipts missing from petty cash?”
Rina frowned. “No, everything’s there. Why?”
I pressed my lips together and glanced at Jonathan before returning my attention to Rina, “Then it appears we have a thief in our midst. There’s over one hundred and fifty euros missing.”
Rina’s eyebrows shot sky high. “What? That can’t be possible. I promise you, Ada, I would never—”
“Please, I don’t suspect you. But someone else could’ve taken a key from one of us and slipped it back before we noticed.”
Rina tapped her chin, her expression clouding with suspicion before she lowered her voice and stepped farther into my office, closing the door behind her. “What about Hannah? You caught her in here that time, and the petty cash box was right under your desk that day. I know because I put it there after collecting the final receipts for the month.”
“Hannah?” Jonathan asked, clearly intrigued by this whole thing. I wasn’t bloody intrigued. It was a headache I didn’t need.
“One of the carers,” Rina told him, and I knew the moment he recalled where he’d heard her name before, that she was the one Cathal had left me for.
“Are there security cameras installed in the building?” Jonathan asked.
“Yes, but there aren’t any outside my office, unfortunately.”
“Well, perhaps you might consider having one installed. If this person stole once, you might catch them in the act again.”
Rina glanced at me. “Could be another thing to ask Alf about? He helped install most of the cameras we have now.”
“Okay, thank you. I’ll run it by him.”
“Well, I need to get back to work, but let me know what you want to do next.”
“Will do. Thank you, Rina.”
She left, and my attention returned to Jonathan when I sensed him staring at me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking concerned.
“It’s just a headache I don’t need, but I’ll figure it out.”
His features softened, like he wanted to reduce my stress in some way, then his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the message. “Well, some good news at least. Our lunch has arrived.”