Page 18 of The Fixer

“Thank you, Vera.” My throat closed in, and I swallowed hard. The woman grasped my hands in hers, and the warmth of them fought against the chill that settled over me.

“What can I do for you? Are you looking for Niles?”

I shook my head as my gaze roved over the room behind Vera’s desk. A few of the people who had been with the company for years were standing in groups around their desks, not even trying to hide their gossiping ways. I turned back to Vera but caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

“No. I was going to start going through Dad’s office. Try to figure out what’s going on around here.”

The older woman rested her hand on my arm, giving me a small smile before she glanced over her shoulder at the thing that had caught my attention.

Coming down the stairs from the second level of the office was the man who’d been my father’s best friend my entire life. We’d spent holidays and vacations together. I was there at his wedding as a tiny baby, he was there at the funerals of both my father and mother. Both my parents were either only children or the only surviving children left in their families, and Niles had been Uncle Niles since I learned to talk.

Tears gathered in my eyes as the man came sweeping across the room, and they fell like raindrops as he pulled me into his arms.

“Eliza, what are you doing here?” He edged back, blue eyes moving across my face as his hand raked through his curly gray-blond hair. “Are you ill?”

His concern, and his absentmindedness, tugged at my heart. “No, not ill,” I assured him. “I’m actually feeling okay today. So, I thought I’d come in and go through Dad’s office, and I have something to talk to you about.”

The deep V gouged out in his brow didn’t lessen as he took my arm. “Come,” he said after a sharp nod. “Let’s go to my office.”

He didn’t loosen his grip as he guided me up the stairs and ushered me down the hallway, bringing me to the small couch set up near his office windows. Once I was seated, he sat across the low table from me in one of the tan upholstered chairs.

“Have you eaten?” Niles asked as he appraised me, his brow furrowed. “You look so thin, Eliza. Are you taking care of yourself?”

With a shrug, I lowered my eyes to the rug. I hadn’t been eating and taking care of myself, but I hadn’t realized it was noticeable. “I had breakfast this morning,” I promised. “And I had a big supper last night.”

“What did you eat?” He leaned forward, and I wanted to laugh at the serious look on his face. Niles had never had children of his own, but he’d always treated me like I was his. Like everything I did, every boo-boo and scrape, every childish drawing and good grade, was something of the utmost concern. “Are you still getting food from…?”

“I am. Fried chicken and Jell-O salad—”

“And you ate that?”

I shook my head and smoothed my hands over my knees like I used to when Niles would grill me as a kid. As if my artwork and my grades, my scrapes and bruises, were the topics at hand. “I ended up throwing out most of that this morning.”

“But last night?” he prodded, and a smile tipped my lips.

“I had spaghetti and garlic bread.”

Niles pulled his head back and his brow raised. “You cooked?”

“No,” I said with a laugh, and the surprise on his face diminished.

“You ordered out?” My cheeks warmed as I shook my head again. “Eliza? You didn’t cook and you didn’t order. Did the food magically appear?”

Palming my cheek, I let out a sigh. Though he didn’t need to be, Jet was a secret. My secret. Someone kind and caring, gorgeous beyond belief. Someone forbidden, a man I’d met at my father’s funeral, for goodness’ sake. “A friend came over and cooked for me,” I mumbled.

Calm settled upon Niles’s features. He wiped a hand across his jaw. “Brooke’s a good friend. Now,” he said, pressing his palms to his legs to help him stand. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest.”

“Actually, I have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” He sat on the edge of his seat, taking the time out of his busy day for me. “What is it?”

“I was thinking about the company. I don’t know that I can—”

“You don’t need to worry about this now.”

“But I do, Niles. I don’t know the first thing about running this company. I know I have you, but it feels like a disservice to you and our customers to hold onto the ownership and make you do all the work.”

“Eliza.” He clutched a hand over his heart.