infused Eva with enough vigor to ignore Valerie and Susan’s comments—even to treat them with extra kindness. You caught more flies with honey, right? And she’d found a new app to help her better stay on task.
Her phone vibrated in the back pocket of her jeans. Pulling it out, she glanced at the number. Strange. The caller ID indicated an international call from Unknown. After Brent died, Eva had arranged for his calls to be forwarded to her phone, and he had several international contacts who might be trying to reach him.
Probably a sales call, but curiosity got the better of her. She veered off course and headed toward the break room, which was likely empty by now. “Hello?” Stepping into the black-and-white room with three small round tables and a few kitchen appliances that looked older than she, Eva slid into one of the hard chairs at the farthest table.
“Good day.” A pleasant-sounding British woman spoke on the other side of the phone. “I’m looking for Brent Jamison.”
Would Eva ever get used to the way hearing someone ask to speak with him sliced at her insides and robbed her of her breath?
She found her voice. “Who’s this?”
“Tina Landry with Ultimate Race Adventures. I need to speak with Mr. Jamison.”
“Oh, well—”
“Is this not the number for Brent Jamison? I apologize if I’ve made an error.”
“Yes. This is his wife.”
“Ah, wonderful. Would you please have him call me as soon as possible? It’s quite urgent. We have not yet received the balance for his team’s entry fee into the New Zealand race this March. If it’s not paid by September 12—which is only eight days away, mind you, dear—his team will have to forfeit their spot, along with the thirty-four-hundred-pound deposit. Oh, and I also need to know the name of the specific charity they’ll be raising money for.”
Eva’s brain blurred around the edges at the woman’s rapid speech. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Eva stared at the vending machine, the only place in the room with any color thanks to Doritos, Skittles, Laffy Taffy, and the like.
“I sent him several emails and never received a reply.” Tina paused. “Will you please have him call me so we can work this out?”
Eva heard herself agreeing. It was easier than speaking the truth to a complete stranger.
“And would you happen to have the contact information for the other participants, Wesley Jamison and Marco Cinelli? For some reason that is missing from the application.”
“Marc?” What did he know about all of this?
“Yes, dear. Oh well, that’s all right. I can ask your husband for the information when he calls me back. Cheerio.”
The call ended, and Eva bent forward, placing her head on the table. Why hadn’t she told Tina Landry that she wouldn’t be getting a phone call back from Brent? Had she wanted to spare the woman the embarrassment of asking to speak with a dead man?
Or maybe she’d simply frozen, the awareness of her reality flattening her once again.
She inhaled deeply. Counted to ten. Tried to breathe normally as Charlotte had taught her to do in moments like these, when her emotions crashed over her in waves. Some days doused her with water so heavy she could only dog-paddle through, her head dipping under more times than she could count. Her lungs burned as if she were drowning. Her blood alternated between hot and cold; her heart sped up; her head pounded and then felt fuzzy and light.
Gradually, her heartbeat slowed and her mind functioned once more. Replaying the conversation, Eva decided it was the mention of New Zealand that had sent her into a tailspin. Going there had been on her and Brent’s bucket list.
They’d had so many plans. But because of one freak accident and the loyalty between brothers, her adventures with her husband were over.
Okay, Eva. Back to work. She had a meeting to get to, and now she was late. Hoisting herself from the chair, she hurried from the break room and toward Maryanne’s office, trying to forget the conversation with Tina Landry.
Trying . . . and failing.
One detail nagged her. Tina had mentioned Marc. Maybe he’d want to know about this so he could pay the money and still participate in the race. Other than the occasional yoga class and phone call to chat about essential business operations that he wanted her to weigh in on, she hadn’t talked to him much over the last several months. That was probably her fault.