Page 12 of Something Borrowed

“Okay . . .” Vic agreed slowly. Why did Madeline seem so pleased that she’d been drawing on the job instead of working? Wasn’t it time theft or something?

Chapter 9

Cal was hit with a bone-deep weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion as he trudged through the heavy rain toward his office, hungry for lunch and desperate for a caffeine hit.

Friday midday, almost the weekend again. How did that happen? It had been a good week, so busy it passed in a blur, and for whatever reason, possibly in the hopes of clearing debts before they racked everything up again on Christmas presents, pretty much everyone had paid off their accounts. So, it wasn’t lack of business and it wasn’t cash flow problems weighing him down. What was it then? Damned if he knew.

He didn’t see the lake of rainwater that had formed on the low edge of his shop’s parking lot until he stepped into it. Cold water surged over the top of his hiking shoes. Double soakers. Perfect. Just perfect.

Inside, Carrie was humming the theme song from Star Wars—annoying because now Cal would have it playing in his head all night. Less annoying—in fact, not annoying at all, lovely, even—their humble office (originally a storage closet in the one-bay shop) smelled like oranges. Carrie had polished the old oak desk he’d salvaged from the college when they were “updating,” AKA replacing furniture that was classy, had history, and would last forever with tacky white laminate monstrosities. Ah, well. Their loss, his gain.

He sighed heavily.

“Well, you’re in a good mood,” Carrie said cheerily.

“What? I am.”

“Oh, yes, I can see,” she countered. “You’ve what, muttered three words since 8:30 this morning?”

It was 12:00 now. And he’d only just gotten back from a job, so how would she know how many words he’d spoken? He got her point, however. Not that he’d admit it to her.

“I don’t get the point of talking for the sake of talking. Idle chit-chat and all that.”

“Idle chit-chat and all that,” Carrie copy-catted like a kid.

There was definitely a downside to having one’s sister as an employee.

“I’m your boss. You should respect me.”

“You’re my brother. Suck it.”

Cal rolled his eyes, pulled off his sodden shoes and hung them on his boot dryer, then turned to grab a pod for the coffee machine.

“Seriously, though. Why so glum, chum?”

Waiting for the machine to hiss to life, he contemplated her question. “I don’t know. Just have a lot on my mind.”

“Business is good.”

“Yeah, and you’re a big part of that, so thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

“Hilarious. Your stand-up comedy skills explain why you’re here.” Cal passed Carrie the just-finished steaming coffee and started one for himself.

“Thanks.” She lifted her mug. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” he agreed, clinking his freshly filled mug against hers. “So, what’s my afternoon looking like, sage and shrewd taskmaster?”

“Vic called again. Paid the invoice.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Why did it feel like Carrie was watching him carefully?

“And guess what?” she asked.