Chapter 4
I now know several things about my boss that I wish I didn’t know.
One: He gets his eyebrows waxed. Weird.
Two: His house is ridiculously big. As in, it should shelter multiple families, not one bachelor in his late thirties.
Three: He wears silk boxers with little hearts printed on them.
This last fact is the one that I really wish I didn’t know. Because what if, the next time I come face-to-face with him, I picture him in heart-printed boxers?
I don’t want to think about silk boxers the next time I see Brock Benson.
I really don’t.
But right now, as I sift through the basket of garments his housekeeper directed me to, I can’t stop imagining him in the pair.
Thanks to all the workout videos he’s filmed, many of them shirtless, I know exactly how his ab muscles ripple perfectly. My job includes staring at the webpage that sells those workout videos, and I pretty much have all the contours in his eight-pack memorized.
So, I’m all too aware of what his perfectly chiseled body must look like in the white-and-red shorts. And that is exactly what I don’t want to know.
“Is it in there?” the housekeeper, Leena, asks while she folds a towel.
This laundry room is as big as my bedroom. If that construction zone can be called a bedroom, that is.
I lift a shirt off the pile and spot a hunter-green string and a gold bead. Ah ha. Here it is: The all-important Dior bikini bottom.
It’s ridiculous how many texts Vanessa has sent since this morning. It’s only lunchtime, yet I feel I’ve suffered through a whole day’s worth of text conversations about this one measly slip of polyester and nylon.
First, she waffled on the shipping address.
Next, she fretted it would get stolen by Brock’s staff.
Finally, there was a rapid-fire round of incoming texts in which she sent photos of her wearing the suit so I wouldn’t have trouble identifying it when I reached Brock’s house.
I hold the garment up.
Leena giggles. “Skimpy!”
“It is,” I agree with a laugh.
“Brock’s date needs it back?”
“So she says. I’m off to overnight it to her… What do you think, is the Ship It store on Maple Street a good bet?”
She nods. “Oh, yes. Good people there. Always helpful. And if they’re out on lunch, try the print shop at the end of Juniper Loop.”
“Thank you, Leena. You’ve been super helpful.”
“I’m sorry I put it in with all the other laundry. I do his wash every other day. It was hanging outside the steam room, in the pool area, and I just collected it without thinking much.”
“Brock has a steam room?” I ask.
“Oh, yes. And a sauna, a hot tub, and the lap pool.”
“Man, it must be nice to have that much money. I count myself lucky when my shower works correctly. Half the places I’ve lived in have had the worst water pressure. You know the apartments down across from the park?”
She gives me a hesitant smile. “Oh, do I ever. I lived there for years.” She flaps a pair of Brock’s sweatpants, then smooths a leg over the dryer to eliminate any wrinkles. “Those showers are the worst. A trickle, sometimes. And not even hot! Sometimes?—”
“Cold!” I fill in with a laugh. “I am so glad I don’t live there anymore. Glad you got out, too, by the sound of it. Where are you now?”
“My husband and I rent half of a duplex on Chiswick.”
“That’s a cute neighborhood. You’re lucky.”
“We love it.” She smiles now, for real. “You’re a lot nicer than the last lady who was helping him out, you know that? Oh, that woman and her drama! My word, she liked to work herself up into a frenzy.”
“Hopefully, she’ll find something that’s a better fit.”
We chat about what might be next for Mandy as we step out of the laundry room and through the ground level of Brock’s three-story estate.
His home decor is as minimalist and chic as Epic Elevate headquarters. I spot lots of black leather furniture that doesn’t look all that comfy, a huge gym, a pool area, and several big-screen TVs mounted on walls.
Every surface gleams.
And… where’s his stuff?
The space doesn’t even look lived in, it’s so clean. There are hardly any personal items around the place. The one exception is a pair of bright red, brand-new high-top sneakers by the door.
“You do a fantastic job,” I tell Leena as she leads the way to the front door. “This place is spotless.”
“He makes it easy. Oops. I should get these to his closet.” She stoops to pick up the shoes. “These are limited edition. You don’t want to know what they’re worth. More than my car.” She turns them in her hand, as puzzled by the phenomenon of expensive shoes as I am.
I kicked off my clogs when I entered, and now I slip my feet into them—noting for the first time that my socks don’t match.
Leena goes on while placing the shoes reverently on a bench and dusting the tops with her feather duster. “He’s tidy, you know? No clutter, no frills. Nothing out of place.”
I frown, thinking about my flowers.
Brock clearly didn’t like the sight of them on my desk. But what’s the big deal? A couple of vases of flowers never hurt anyone.
I love having flowers around. My mother brought me those bouquets from the garden center where she works. Whenever I looked at the colorful blossoms, I felt uplifted.
That won’t happen anymore now that they’re crumpled in the wastebasket…
It hurt to throw them in there. A lot. Flowers should be honored and appreciated, not wasted.
I can still remember how Brock barked that particularly hurtful order over his shoulder, barely looking back as he said it.
Working for him stinks.
Well, what did I expect?
Mandy was in tears before quitting. I know all about Brock’s reputation as demanding and imposing. He has ridiculously high standards. There’s no way I’ll get through this stint without failing him multiple times… and hearing about it.
Soon enough, he’ll be someone else’s problem, I think, as I cross the spotless, masculine, cold entryway. The black, gray, and silver-chrome accents make a shiver run down my spine.
Lizzy will find a replacement soon.
As the pink phone trills out a notification of yet another call, I give Leena a quick hug goodbye and check the caller ID.
Kate Benson is calling again. So far, I’ve let three calls from her go to voicemail. I haven’t yet listened to the messages, either.
This time, I pick up. “Good afternoon, Epic Elevate, this is Gwen Temple speaking.”
“Gwen who?” an edgy, bitter voice demands.
“Gwen Temple. I’m filling in for Amanda Lackey. How can I help you?”
“Oh. What, did Mandy finally get sick of my brother? I’m not surprised she quit. She had a bad attitude right from the beginning.”
“She’s transitioning to something new.” I settle into the driver’s seat of my ten-year-old Toyota and unceremoniously plop the designer swimwear on the passenger seat.
Next stop: the Ship It store.
I fish around in my slouchy, quilted purse, searching for my keys. “You’re Brock’s sister, Kate, is that right?”
“Yeah, in theory, I’m his sister, though the jerk doesn’t act like we’re family. He never returns my calls.”
“Is that right? I’m sorry. I have a little brother, so I know how complicated stuff gets between siblings. But still, even if it goes south for a while, it can eventually get better. Hang in there.”
“Yeah, well, I’m running out of patience.”
“Want me to give him a message? Or tell him to call you?”
“Psh. Like that will work; I’ve been asking him to call me back for weeks. Ever since I found out I’m?—”
Silence.
“Ever since you found out you’re what?” I ask.
She sighs. “Never mind. I can’t believe his nerve, asking me to call this phone instead of his. You can bet I’ve tried his cell, too.”
“And he doesn’t pick up?”
“No. And he hasn’t, for years.”
I look down the sweeping driveway and the residential street beyond. “Hm… wow. That’s a long time. I’d hate to go that long without talking to my little brother, Clay. Not that things with Clay are perfect or anything, but at least we talk. Did you and Brock get into a fight or something?”
It’s probably none of my business.
At the same time, my years in customer service have taught me that a little personal attention can go a long way—and in that way, maybe this is my business.
I remember Mandy saying how Kate’s relentless calls drove her crazy. Maybe if I spend some time talking to Kate now, I can fix the issue of her calling several times a day. That doesn’t seem to be serving anyone.
Plus, I have to admit, she’s piqued my curiosity. Something must have happened between her and Brock for the relationship to be this far off track. What was it?
“He thinks I’m messy,” Kate says. “And heaven knows, Brock can’t handle messes. He likes everything to be perfect. Perfect, orderly, and under his thumb, and I’m none of those things. I guess that time I got arrested and called him in the middle of the night to bail me out didn’t help matters. He did bail me out, but he’s kept his distance from me since then.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Sure, I woke him up, and it was bad that I got arrested in the first place, and yeah, I dragged him into it by asking for the bail money. But, I mean, come on. I was twenty-two and didn’t want to call our parents.” She sighs again, dragging the exhale out dramatically. “No one is perfect, you know. Not me, certainly not him—though he pretends to be.”
“What did you get arrested for?”
“It was stupid. I was young, hanging with some low-life friends, and I let them pressure me into shoplifting mascara.”
“Oooh, peer pressure will get you. I remember doing plenty of dumb things thanks to getting egged on by a group.”
“Yeah, well, that stint earned me a ride in a cruiser.”
“I once had a friend who used to steal glitter pens from the drugstore. In the end, it came out that it was an attention-seeking thing. Like, on some level, she wanted to be caught. Her parents were getting divorced, and she was acting out.”
“Brock and I went through the whole parents-getting-divorced thing way before that, honey. We were way little. Brock was four. I wasn’t even walking.”
Ah. Another interesting fact about Brock.
And another thing I don’t really want to know.
It actually makes me feel sort of sorry for him, to picture him as a kid that young, navigating the separation of the two god-like adult figures in his life.
A breeze rustles the branches of a big oak tree on the edge of Brock’s driveway. A few orange-and-yellow leaves twirl down my way. “Wow, that’s young. My parents were never married, so they couldn’t divorce.”
“They never married?” Kate snaps her gum. In the background, I hear traffic: the hum of many engines, the hiss of air brakes, horns honking. “What was up with that?” she wants to know.
“My mom was kind of a flower child—a hippy. And my dad’s a traveling musician. He wasn’t around much at all. My mom and my aunts raised me and Clay. Are you driving?”
“I wish. I’ve been stuck in traffic on the freeway for hours. Barely moving, a couple feet every few minutes and that’s it. The construction around here is crazy. Sitting here makes me feel antsy. Hey—can I ask you something?”
“Fire away.”
“This is probably weird since I don’t know you that well. But I have to talk to someone. I’m, like, bursting with this. Maybe it’s the hormones. I’m all over the place lately.”
I laugh. “Sister, I get it. Hormones can be tricky. Sometimes dealing with my hormones feels like riding a rollercoaster.”
She’s had a hard edge to her tone, but it suddenly softens, and she laughs, too. “I know, right? But, Gwen, this isn’t the usual once-a-month roller coaster; this is a whole new ballpark. I’m pregnant.”
“No way! Kate, congratulations! That’s wonderful.”
“I wish it was wonderful. But, to be real with you, I’m freaking out. Losing it. Because—do you really have time for this?”
“Talking with you is way better than figuring out how to package the designer nylon thong on my passenger seat,” I tell her.
That earns me another laugh. “Wait, why do you have to package up designer skivvies?”
“It’s a long story. Maybe I’ll tell you another time.”
“I hope so. And if it’s designer, you better use bubble wrap so the fabric doesn’t snag on any cardboard edges or anything.”
“I like how you think.”
“Yeah, well, I like how you actually care. Can you give my brother a few lessons on being a better human? For being a smart guy, he’s surprisingly deficient in the ‘caring’ department.”
“I guess it’s like you said: no one’s perfect.”
The sun pouring through the windshield feels nice, and I enjoy talking to Kate.
I lean back against the headrest and look out at the view. Brock’s mansion is on the north side of Windsor, not far from the Isabella Heins Frederick Castle. I can see the castle’s round central tower, poking up past the tops of the pine trees.
Oak and maple trees line Brock’s driveway and are scattered across his manicured, vast lawn. The brightly colored leaves dance each time a breeze kicks up.
“True, true,” Kate agrees. “We all have faults. Sheesh, I sure messed up, getting into the jam I’m in.”
“You mean, the pregnancy?”
“Yeah. See… this is actually what I want to talk to Brock about. He’s my older brother, and he should give me advice about life stuff. Right? And I really need some advice right now. I can’t talk to our mother because she’ll be mad. Same goes for our stepdad, and my bio dad and his wife. Our family doesn’t do the whole baby-out-of-wedlock thing. For the Benson clan, it’s get married and have kids, or don’t get married, don’t have kids. There’s no in-between. Black or white, you know?”
“Life comes with a lot of gray tones.”
“Girrrl! You are so right. Gray tones. Like, everything in my life is a freaking shade of gray right now. I’m not kidding.”
“Why don’t you start at the beginning? How did you meet the father?”
“So, me and Sawyer met years ago. He was traveling around, living in a van, doing all this adventure stuff. Rock climbing, mountaineering, deep sea fishing. He traveled all over, but Long Island, where I live, was his home base. We dated now and then when he was in town. I had a major crush on him. But he always left to travel around. Oh, and he works on this big fishing rig six months out of the year. Up in Alaska. That’s how he has money to travel and explore on his months off.”
“He sounds like a neat guy. One of a kind.”
“Yeah… I guess he is. He’s interesting. Unique, for sure. Anyway, we finally got a little more serious this past summer. He was in town for months, and we were hanging out all the time. He rented an apartment right near the hotel where I work. Spending so much time with him was ahhh-mazing. Totally fantastic.”
“He’s the father?”
“Well, he doesn’t know that, but yeah, he is.”
“He doesn’t know?”
“I’m getting there!” She snaps her gum. “You said start at the beginning. Okay, so we spent this incredible summer together. It was like… I don’t know how to describe it. Like magic, I guess. I had this feeling like the whole world was sparkling. Colors looked brighter. Nothing could upset me. It was weird… You have a boyfriend?”
“No…”
“But you have had one. Do you know the feeling I’m talking about?”
“I mean. I can imagine it.”
“You’ve never felt like that?”
“Not really… not that I can think of.”
“Wow. It surprises me that you’re single. You sound like you’re probably pretty, and you’re sweet, so of course men are after you. You’re really not with anyone?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“I could give a sob story, but this is about you.” I nibble the edge of my nail and glance out at the expanse of trimmed grass, foliage, and distant mountains.
I’ve never enjoyed talking about my love life, probably because it’s so pitiful: a handful of dates, even fewer serious relationships. Every one ended badly, with a lot of resentment on both sides.
“Let’s get back to your magical summer with Sawyer,” I suggest. “What happened?”
“Well, I knew he was going to leave for Alaska at the end of September. It was hanging over us. At first, I tried to be cool about it. I didn’t ask him what would happen between us. He’s not a talkative guy, and I didn’t want to freak him out by mentioning anything about a long-distance relationship. But then, finally, I couldn’t stand it. I asked him if we could be together, even while he was away. You know what I mean? Like girlfriend and boyfriend. And he said it wouldn’t be a good idea. I got all stupid and cried and stormed out. Slammed the door. That whole bit. We didn’t talk for two weeks, and then he left town. And then… the day after he jetted off, I tossed my cookies before breakfast. I took a pregnancy test…”
“And realized you were carrying his baby.”
“Exactly.”
“And you haven’t told him?”
“No! We’re not talking. We broke up. He doesn’t want a baby, and he doesn’t want me.”
“You don’t know that, Kate.”
“Yes, I do. He said so.”
“Wait, he said so?”
“I mean, not exactly. But it’s like I told you. I asked him if we could be an item, and he said no.”
“You asked him about a long-distance relationship, and he said it wasn’t a good idea. That could have just been his fear of talking. Maybe he’s scared he wouldn’t live up to your expectations, or whatever. If you share your fears, then he can be honest about his. If you ask me, he’s seriously into you.”
She’s been so talkative, but now, suddenly, she’s mute.
I wait.
“Kate? You there?” I ask eventually.
“Um… yeah, I’m here,” she whispers. “Wait… you’re saying he might still have feelings for me?”
“Totally! I mean, based on everything you’ve just told me, it sounds like you two have a lot of fun together. Over the years, you keep connecting, even though he travels. Then, there was your magical summer. That sounds a heck of a lot like love to me. It takes two to really be in love… to make that world-sparkling feeling. So, he was probably in love with you, too.”
“I can’t believe this… I never thought of it like this.”
“I think you should tell him about the baby, Kate. You won’t know for sure how he feels about the whole thing until you have a conversation with him. Communicate, figure out how he feels, and then go from there. That’s better than putting words in his mouth.”
“You really think?” she breathes. “Whoa… this is mind-bendy. I’ve been too scared, but you’re so right about how the risk is worth it. Zoey’s got attachment issues, and Mr. Brown’s been a real handful lately. But it doesn’t matter—talking to Sawyer and being honest with him is exactly what I have to do…”
Zoey?
Mr. Brown?
I have no idea who she’s talking about.
She goes on in a rush without letting me get a word in. “I feel excited for the first time in ages. Oh my gosh, and now traffic’s actually picking up. Isn’t it funny how these things go? It’s like this whole traffic jam was just the universe’s way of getting me to talk to you. Thank you, Gwen! You’ve been so helpful.”
A horn honks in the distance, and she hangs up in a hurry.
Who are Zoey and Mr. Brown?I wonder as I lower the phone.
Well, I don’t have to worry about it. The call is over, and now Kate’s on her own.
When I glance at the phone screen, I see that I talked to Brock’s little sister for 59 minutes. Yikes. That puts me behind schedule for the afternoon.
I cruise down the long driveway with my thoughts already on the task ahead. Kate is right about packaging the bikini bottoms. Swimsuit fabric is delicate. Lots of bubble wrap is totally the way to go.
And then I’ll head back to the office… and Brock.