Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
That man is totally in love with her, Daniel thought.
It was the way the car didn’t move as she came back to the groundskeeping building. How when the driver finally hit the gas, he departed with speed. How Daniel was willing to bet the vet’s eyes were locked on the rear view as he went down the lane.
“I’m going to head back to my office,” she said. “Are you leaving soon?”
“Yeah, I’d like to get a head start on the trip back to Glens Falls.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you on Monday. Be safe.”
“I always am.”
She turned away. Turned back. “I can’t have dinner with you, I’m sorry. It just wouldn’t … it wouldn’t look right. I’m not your boss, but we’re a small organization and … you know.”
“I totally understand,” he murmured. “You’re a professional and I respect that.”
With a nod, as if they’d come to a negotiated position as intractable as a brick wall, she lifted her hand to him and murmured a goodbye.
Daniel watched her go. And was certain Rick had been given the same message at some point. It explained the yearning on his face.
If Daniel had been a different kind of man, he’d have understood how the guy felt.
Good thing they had nothing in common.
BACK INSIDE THE main building, Lydia went up to Candy, who was pulling on her coat. “Hey, did Daniel fill out his paperwork to get paid?”
“Sure did. I put everything in the system.”
“Oh, good.”
“You want to see what he put down?” Candy raised an eyebrow. “In a purely professional capacity, of course.”
“It’s none of my business—”
“He’s twenty-eight. His mailing address is in Glens Falls. No emergency contact listed and no next of kin. There are four fours in his social security number—not sure what that means, but it’s my favorite number so I’m taking that as a good sign. Oh, and I checked the bank. You haven’t cashed your paycheck even though you went into town on your lunch break. So I’m guessing that’s how we’re affording him?”
Lydia opened her mouth. Closed it.
The woman hiked her heavy purse up on her shoulder. “That’s not right. You’ve got bills, too.”
“Maybe I just didn’t make it to the bank.”
“Sure. And this pink hair is convincing anybody I’m not in AARP.”
Lydia had to smile. Today’s sweater was lavender with a string of butterflies around the collar and cuffs. Under the woman’s parka, it was like spring trying to break out from under winter’s weight. A metaphor made of wool.
“Is that why you colored your luscious locks?” Lydia asked.
“Luscious? Really?” Candy shrugged and got a faraway look on her face. “And I don’t know, sometimes … you just don’t want to look like yourself. Even if it’s only for a couple of days and for a stupid reason. Considering I’m about to go home alone to feed my cat and decide which Stouffer’s to put in the microwave, you can understand why I might want a change.”
“Oh, Candy—”
A sharp forefinger was lifted. Then she cupped her ear. “Did I ask for sympathy? I don’t think so. I am quite happy with my choices. I don’t have to do someone else’s laundry, I always know what is and is not in my refrigerator, and I control my remote. There are women all across America who wish they were me.”
“I was offering no sympathy, I swear. I think independence is really important.”
“Good. But you’re still going to have to pay me back.”
“For what?”
“Putting you down as our groundskeeper’s emergency contact—oh, don’t give me that look. First of all, I’m not doing it as a matchmaker, and second, it’s policy. Everybody has to have one and I would have listed Peter, but like he’s around? So there you go. Now I’m off the clock and not talking about work until Monday at eight-thirty a.m.—well, maybe eight-forty-five if I get stuck behind Miser’s tractor again.”
“Candy. I don’t believe you’re not matchmaking.”
“No work talk ’til Monday—”
“You pulled a numerology on his social security—”
“Just making an observation.”
“You said it was a good sign.”
She shrugged. “I can’t help you. Until Monday morning, I’m not talking shop and you two are shop.”
“Which is why we can’t be dating—”
“Aha!” That forefinger made another appearance. “I knew you liked him.”
“Wait, what—I don’t like him. I mean other than as a human being.”
Candy laughed. “I saw the way you looked at him. And so did he.”
Lydia opened her mouth. Closed it. Felt like she was on a sinking ship—or maybe one that was already at the bottom of the ocean.
“I don’t know what to say to that.” She kept going fast before Candy explained and she heard waaaaay too much about everything everybody had noticed. “But I do want to ask you if you have the guest list? For the fundraiser at the end of next month? I was going to get the invitations stuffed and addressed over the weekend, and yes, I know you’re off the clock—but think of how much easier your job will be if I take care of all of that for you.”