Chapter Seven
Victoria had always prided herself on her ability to focus under pressure.
It was a skill that had served her well through university exams, high-stakes client presentations, and a memorable incident when she'd had to explain to the senior partners why their biggest client had been found doing questionable things with a traffic cone outside the office Christmas party.
Unfortunately, her legendary powers of concentration seemed to have deserted her entirely this morning.
She'd claimed the morning room specifically because it had the best light and the most reliable Wi-Fi, perfect for the sort of intensive job hunting that her current situation demanded.
Her laptop was open, her phone was charged, and she'd armed herself with enough coffee to fuel a small aircraft.
She had seventeen different recruitment websites bookmarked and a spreadsheet tracking her applications.
What she didn't have was the ability to concentrate on any of it for longer than thirty seconds at a time.
The problem was the window.
Or rather, what was visible through the window.
Sasha was working in the kitchen gardens with Cathy, and Victoria kept finding herself watching them with the sort of fascination usually reserved for car crashes or reality television.
She'd started innocuously enough, glancing up occasionally while crafting the perfect cover letter for a position at Goldman Sachs.
But somehow those occasional glances had turned into prolonged observations, and prolonged observations had turned into what could only be described as staring. Some might say longing.
Which was ridiculous. She had far better things to do than watch her brother's fake girlfriend learn how to stake tomatoes. She had a career to rebuild, a reputation to salvage, and approximately fourteen phone calls to make before lunch.
She forced her attention back to her laptop screen and began typing with renewed determination.
Through the window, Sasha laughed at something Cathy had said, throwing her head back in genuine delight, and Victoria's fingers stilled on the keyboard.
She had a lovely laugh. Victoria found herself smiling in response before she caught herself and scowled at her own reflection in the laptop screen.
With a sigh, she began typing again.
But Sasha was now attempting to untangle what appeared to be a particularly stubborn cucumber vine, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration. She'd rolled up her sleeves against the heat.
Victoria's phone rang, making her jump guiltily. Unknown number, which meant either a headhunter or someone trying to sell her insurance. Either way, a welcome distraction.
"Victoria Sullivan."
"Ms Sullivan, this is James Morton from Pemberton Associates. I have your CV here and I wondered if you might be available for a brief conversation about opportunities in our investment division."
Victoria sat up straighter, pulling her attention away from the window with considerable effort. "Absolutely, I'd be delighted to discuss that with you."
Twenty minutes later, she'd scheduled a phone interview for the following week and made detailed notes about the role, the company culture, and the sort of strategic thinking they were looking for. It was exactly the kind of position she'd been hoping for, and she should have been thrilled.
Instead, she found herself staring out the window again, watching Sasha examine something that Cathy was showing her with intense focus.
This was getting ridiculous.
Victoria closed her laptop with unnecessary force and stood up, pacing to the opposite end of the morning room where she couldn't see the gardens. She'd work from there. She'd concentrate on her applications and stop being distracted by…
Her phone buzzed with a text from Ambrose: Emergency family meeting in the rose garden. Archie's girlfriend wants to redesign the maze to be more "Instagram-friendly." Mother is having fits. Please come and be sensible at them.
Victoria sighed and looked out of the window one more time. Sasha was now helping Cathy load a wheelbarrow, and there was something about the competent way she lifted the heavy bags that made Victoria feel slightly warm.
Right. Fresh air. Family crisis. Perfect excuse to go outside and definitely not because she wanted to talk to Sasha.
The heat hit her like a wall the moment she stepped onto the terrace. The morning had been warm, but now the sun was beating down. The air was heavy with it. But she could smell rain coming.
She made her way across the lawns toward the rose garden, where she could already hear raised voices. But as she passed the kitchen gardens, she found herself slowing down, then stopping entirely when Sasha looked up and smiled at her.
"Escaping the office?" Sasha asked, standing up. She had a smudge of soil on her cheek and looked thoroughly disheveled and absolutely lovely.
"Taking a break," Victoria said, which was technically true. "How are you finding the gardens?"
"Educational." Sasha glanced at Cathy, who was wheeling the wheelbarrow out of the kitchen garden toward the sheds. "Though I'm beginning to suspect Cathy enjoys watching city people make fools of themselves with basic horticulture."
Victoria laughed. "She might. I once watched her teach Archie how to prune roses. He managed to give himself a black eye with his own secateurs."
"How does one even…" Sasha began, then shook her head. "Actually, never mind. I can absolutely see how that would happen."
"Natural talent," Victoria said solemnly. "He's also managed to walk into the same glass door seven times since Christmas."
"The same door?"
"The exact same door. Mother's started leaving it open permanently because she's afraid he'll concuss himself."
Sasha grinned, and Victoria felt that warm sensation again, stronger this time.
"You know," Sasha said, studying Victoria with those disconcertingly green eyes, "you're different than I expected."
"Different how?"
"Funnier. Less… I don't know. Less terrifyingly perfect, I suppose."
Victoria wasn't sure whether to be complimented or offended. "Terrifyingly perfect?"
"That's how Ambrose described you. Perfect career, perfect life, perfect everything. Rather intimidating for those of us who can barely manage to keep houseplants alive."
"I see." Victoria found herself oddly stung by this description, even though it was technically accurate. Or had been accurate, until three days ago. "And what about you? How would Ambrose describe you?"
"Charmingly disorganized," Sasha said promptly. "Professionally directionless but excellent in a crisis involving lost cats or broken kitchen appliances."
"That's quite specific."
"I have a gift for unconventional problem-solving. Last month I helped our upstairs neighbor retrieve his keys from a storm drain using a coat hanger, a fishing net, and a jar of peanut butter."
"Should I ask how the peanut butter was involved?"
"Bait for his escaped ferret, who had also fallen down the drain and was sitting on the keys."
Victoria stared at her. "You're joking."
"I'm really not. The ferret's name was Napoleon and he had very strong opinions about being rescued."
Despite herself, Victoria found herself genuinely laughing for the first time in days. "That's… that's actually quite impressive."
"See? Unconventional problem-solving." Sasha's eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled, Victoria noticed. It was unfairly attractive.
From across the gardens came the sound of raised voices, and Victoria suddenly remembered why she was supposed to be heading toward the rose garden.
"I should go," she said reluctantly. "Family crisis involving Instagram optimization, apparently."
"Sounds ominous."
"You have no idea. Tiffany has decided that our hedge maze isn't photogenic enough and wants to 'rebrand' it with fairy lights and motivational quotes or something."
"Motivational quotes in a hedge maze?"
"'Live, Laugh, Love' carved into the topiary, I think." Victoria shook her head.
"Huh." Sasha grinned. "I'm rather curious to see how that plays out."
"Oh, it'll be spectacular. Archie will defend whatever Tiffany wants because he's besotted, father will emerge from his greenhouse looking murderous, and grandmother will make pointed observations about the decline of civilization."
"And you'll be the voice of reason?"
"Someone has to be." Victoria realized she was lingering. But the sound of voices from the rose garden was growing more heated, and she really couldn't delay any longer. "I should…" she began, gesturing vaguely in that direction.
"Go save the topiary from motivational enhancement," Sasha finished. "I understand."
Victoria had taken perhaps three steps toward the rose garden when the sky, which had been growing increasingly dark while they talked, finally made good on its threat. The first drops were fat and warm, splashing onto the flagstone path with the promise of more to come.
"Shit," Victoria muttered, looking up at the rapidly darkening clouds.
Within seconds, the drops had become a proper downpour, the sort of summer storm that arrived without warning and turned everything into a waterlogged mess within minutes.
"The greenhouse!" Sasha called over the sound of rain hitting leaves. "Come on!"
They ran together across the lawn, Victoria's sensible work shoes slipping on the wet grass. By the time they reached the shelter of Sir Archibald's orchid house, they were both soaked and breathless.
"Well," Victoria said, pushing wet hair back from her face, "that was unexpected."
The greenhouse was warm and humid, filled with the thick, earthy smell of growing things and moisture.
Rain drummed on the glass roof above them, creating an oddly intimate cocoon of sound.
Steam rose from their wet clothes, and Victoria was suddenly, acutely aware that they were alone in a very small space.
"Your, um, your father certainly knows his orchids," Sasha said, apparently trying to fill the silence. She'd moved to examine a particularly spectacular purple bloom, water still dripping from her hair.
Victoria forced herself to swallow. "He spends more time with them than with people," Victoria replied, watching a droplet trace its way down Sasha's neck. "Mother says it's because plants don't argue with him about west wing improvements."
"Sensible man." Sasha turned to face her, and Victoria noticed that her sundress was now clinging rather spectacularly to her figure. "Though I suspect there's more to it than that."
"More to what?" She was trying desperately to keep her eyes on Sasha’s face and nowhere else.
"Your father. People don't retreat into greenhouses just to avoid family drama. They retreat because they've found something that makes sense to them."
There was a trickle of water etching over the curve of Sasha’s cheek. Victoria could barely tear her eyes off it. "Is that what you're doing?" she asked. "Looking for something that makes sense?"
"Maybe." Sasha moved closer, ostensibly to examine another orchid, but Victoria caught a hint of her scent, something light and floral that had nothing to do with the greenhouse. "I've spent so long not knowing what I wanted that I'd forgotten there might be things worth wanting."
"And now?"
"Now I'm starting to think there might be."
There was something in her voice, something in the way she was looking at Victoria, that made the air in the greenhouse feel even thicker, more charged. Victoria found herself taking a step closer, drawn by something she couldn't quite name.
The rain continued to drum overhead, and Victoria was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing, how Sasha's lips were slightly parted, how easy it would be to close the distance between them and…
… and kiss her brother's girlfriend. Fake girlfriend, but still. Completely inappropriate, utterly wrong, and exactly what she found herself wanting to do more than anything else in the world.
The realization hit her like a very large stick.
"I should…" she began, taking a step back.
"Should what?"
"I should go. Check on the family. Make sure no one's murdered anyone over the hedge maze situation."
She practically fled from the greenhouse, stepping directly out into the pouring rain rather than spend another second in that warm, humid space with Sasha looking at her like she was something worth figuring out.
The cold rain was a relief against her overheated skin, and she stood in it for a moment, letting it soak through her clothes and hopefully wash away whatever temporary insanity had just possessed her.
Behind her, she could hear Sasha calling her name, but she didn't turn around.