Chapter 9 #2
An ellipsis appeared, hope surging in my chest, before it vanished. A minute of silence passed as disappointment pricked my tear ducts.
A typical Ryan hit and run.
And he was so good at running.
I sucked in a deep breath and tucked the fresh wave of mom guilt back in my pocket.
My footsteps began to echo again in the empty hall. Where was the facilities manager? What if they didn’t show up? I began to scrape together the makings of a plan before faint footsteps sounded behind me. I exhaled in relief.
I turned and said, “Oh good! You’re—”
Val’s tall, dark, irritating handsomeness stood before me with his hands in his pockets.
“You’re here,” I scowled.
“Hello to you too, Adams. I’m touched you’re so happy to see me.” Val’s suit coat and tie had disappeared, and that mysterious tattoo of his was swirling up into his cuffed sleeve. I forced my pupils back to his.
“I’m not happy to see you. You were supposed to be the facilities manager.”
“I am the facilities manager.”
“What?!” I paled.
“No, he’s not,” an old, grumbling voice cut in. “I am.”
I peeked around Val to find the source. An older gentleman with white hair shuffled toward us.
“Val, quit messing with her.”
I stifled a surprised giggle as the man cuffed Val on the back of the head as he passed.
He held out a wrinkled hand to me. “Rick Peterson.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Peterson. I’m Amantha Adams.” I shook his hand with a grin.
“Well, Ms. Adams, we’re in a bit of a pickle.
The other men on my technical crew aren’t here today.
Two called in sick, and the other hurt himself on a job.
I’ve called for reinforcements, but the best they could come up with was old Val here.
Always stuck with me, aren’t ya?” Rick clapped Val on the back, making him grin.
“Ms. Steele said she’d keep trying though, so there may be help coming later. ”
Although Rick seemed to only be in his late sixties, he moved gingerly, like a stiff wind could bruise him. There was no way this fragile man would be able to help. Heavy, freestanding walls stood in a corner, daring us to try to wheel them into position.
In the blink of a horrified eye, Val Russo had become the deciding factor in whether I succeeded or failed my first important task from Kendra.
Yup. I’m screwed.
I forced a confident tone and said, “Okay. Where should we begin?”
“We begin with this grump.” Rick shouldered Val, resulting in his rumbly, deep chuckle. “He’s used to being stuck with me.”
“Okay, Rick. I’ll get the carts.” Val started toward the service elevator. Turning back, his brown eyes twinkled with mischief at Rick. “If I get back and you haven’t lifted a finger, I’m skipping Kendra and reporting to your wife,” he warned.
Rick guffawed, turning to me. “He wouldn’t dare. My wife is terrifying.”
My responding smile was feeble at best. I wasn’t confused. I was bewildered. Not only did Val have an unexpected and unorthodox friendship with the old facilities manager, but he routinely helped out with his job?
“Better not risk Val calling Sally,” Rick grunted. I watched as he ambled around the hall, then heard him curse at something on the floor.
I frowned and crouched beside him. Small piles of what seemed to be drywall dust scattered the floor in even increments. Wondering what instigated the dust, I looked up to find the culprit hanging above us.
The new lighting system. I inwardly groaned.
“I should call the janitorial crew,” I said.
“No need. This will be quicker.” Rick shuffled to a large storage closet just outside the wing’s entrance. Scanning his keycard, he disappeared, returning with a spare janitorial cart. The closing door rammed into the cart as Rick tried to force it through. I hurried to hold it for him.
“Thanks,” he said.
The gray, prickled smile he offered was so endearing. The grandfather vibes Rick gave off made me want to hug him. Instead, I quietly followed Rick back to the mess, where he withdrew an industrial-sized broom.
I didn’t want to stand there and watch, so I grabbed a smaller broom off the cart. We swept in silence for a few minutes.
“So, how do you know Val?” I couldn’t resist finding out more about their friendship.
“I actually met him on his first day here. He reminds me a lot of my younger self. Perpetually angry.” His blue eyes twinkled. “But a good man.”
My broom moved mindlessly back and forth.
“He really showed up for me last winter. I’ve been trying to repay him ever since.”
“What happened?”
“My heart almost stopped. Heart attack.”
My grip on the broom tightened as the memory of Dad threatened to shatter me. I swallowed hard and forced away the image of Dad’s falling Vikings cap.
“I had chest pain all day, with not a second to pay attention to it. I thought it would go away. Val wouldn’t stop pestering me until I let him take me to the hospital.
” Rick chuckled. “Good thing he did, too. Heart attack right as I walked in those doors. After that, I just couldn’t do my job anymore.
Nothing over twenty pounds, the docs said. Kendra was gonna let me go.”
Rick shook his head at my sympathetic expression with a white stubbled grin.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. Val convinced her to let me stay on—promised he’d do any heavy lifting I couldn’t.
We all thought I’d heal faster, though. Still can’t do much these days, but between my technical crew and Val, we do just fine.
” He shrugged, the shoulders of his blue, industrial jumpsuit rising and falling.
I tried to categorize the selfless man Rick spoke of with Val Russo, but couldn’t.
Very square peg.
Very round you-know-what-hole.
“That poor sucker,” Rick chortled, his tufts of white hair waving back and forth as he shook his head. “All the heavy crates he’s had to lug up those front museum steps…”
My breath caught. I remembered the day I had met Val on those wintery steps. How he had strained with the artifact crate and cursed me to get out of his way.
Val had been saving Rick’s job?
I couldn’t help wishing that someone like Val had been there to bully my Dad into going to the hospital sooner. Maybe then he’d still be alive. A metallic clang interrupted my thoughts.
Val appeared, panting and sweating as he pushed an overflowing industrial cart. His brawny biceps stretched the sleeves of his dress shirt as the cocktail tables, screens, and ladders rattled as he pushed.
It was like I’d never seen him before.
By the time the floors were cleaned, Val had returned with three different carts.
I had to give him credit. Val was in unbelievable shape.
All of the things Rick had told me about him were doing funny things to my brain.
Each time my eyes strayed to Val, I couldn’t feel anything but confusion. So I tried to not stare.
Or at least, I tried not to get caught.
Rick lifted and placed the pieces he could while I assisted Val with the heavy, portable walls. Val bent and unlocked the small bronze wheels beneath the wall and stationed himself on one side of it.
I braced myself against the other side of the wall and pushed with all the atrophied muscles left in my under-exercised mom bod.
The wheels screeched in protest as Val and I began to drag the six-foot-wide wall to the front of the hall.
I shut my eyes and held my breath until it finally rolled into place.
Catching sight of my beet-red face, Val laughed, the deep sound echoing throughout the hall. The smarmy look on his face threatened to dissolve everything Rick had told me about Val.
“Shut up, Russo,” I huffed, stalking away to the next wall and bracing myself against one side. Val folded his arms and watched me attempt to push it myself.
“Hey, I have a lot to pay you back for from that pottery class,” he said.
“It’s not my fault you suck at pottery. You were threatening the museum’s reputation with your ugly vase. And I don’t need your help.” I wheezed as I pushed the heavy wall, which didn’t budge an inch.
Val smirked, walked over, bent down, and flicked the bronze latches on the wheels to unlock them. I flushed hotter than I already was.
“Obviously, you do,” he said. “You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
I bit my tongue as he finally got into position to pull. Fine, I needed his help. But he was right—I’d never admit it unless I was being tortured or questioned by the CIA.
I took a deep breath and heaved my shoulder into the wall, but it only budged an inch. Was this wall built with different materials or something? Why was it so much heavier?
“Hang on, maybe this will help.” I kicked off my loafers and slipped out of the cardigan covering my tank top. Then I threw myself against the side, again pushing with all my might, but it only moved less than a foot.
What in the world?
It dawned on me then that he was messing with me. Irritation flared in my chest as I met Val’s smirk around the wall. He had been standing with an amused smile, watching me fail my butt off like there wasn’t a giant timer ticking down until the art handlers would arrive.
“Admit it, Adams. You need me.”
I scowled. “Are you serious right now?”
His grin widened to reveal perfect white teeth. “As serious as you are about getting this finished on time.” He rolled his shoulders with an easy sigh. “But if you’re too stubborn to admit you need me, I’m happy to take a break.”
Tipping my head back with a frustrated shake, I spit the words out as if they tasted bitter. “Fine, Russo. You’re right. I do need you… to get your butt back over here and help me with this freaking wall!”
My next words died on my lips as Val’s playful brown eyes locked with mine, his mischievous grin widening into a full-on smile. One corner of his mouth lifted slightly higher in an almost lopsided, boyish quality, while the edges of his eyes crinkled up into adorable ripples of amusement.
I blinked back, dumbfounded, something stirring deep in my belly, until Val disappeared behind his edge and broke me out of my stupor.
Wordlessly, I pushed, he pulled, and we didn’t stop until the wall was in position. I tried not to make eye contact after that.
Once the last screen billowed from the ceiling, we all stepped back to survey our work. The Vanderbilt hall looked identical to the event designer’s blueprint. Pride radiated in my chest as I slicked a sweaty wave behind my ear.
I found a set of curious brown eyes watching me, Val’s forehead holding a sheen of sweat like mine. Tentatively, I offered a tiny smile of my own.
“I guess I should thank you, Val. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
His lips twitched. “No, you obviously couldn’t have.”
I shook my head in exasperation, though a small laugh puffed out of me.
“And you’re welcome, Adams.”
“Time to celebrate.” Rick interrupted us as he ambled out of the depths of the supply closet clutching—much to my surprise—three icy bottles of lemonade.
The condensation on the glass slipped between my fingers as I accepted one.
“What else do you keep in there?” Val wearily eyed the closet before accepting one.
“You don’t want to know.” Rick clinked Val’s drink with his own.
The unorthodox image of the two grumpy men, decades apart in age, chatting like old friends was perhaps the most charming thing I had ever laid eyes on.