she answered phones and handled purchasing. I was pretty sure she’d contributed to the company’s financial woes just as my father had. But I kept that to myself.
When she reached the door, she turned around, holding one finger up. “Oh. I almost forgot to tell you. Ben Rutherford called. He wants you to go over and take a look at the house his daughter Esme bought. You remember Esme Rutherford, don’t you? You graduated in the same class?”
I shook my head slowly. I only vaguely recalled an Esme Rutherford.
“What’s up with the house? What do they want done?” I asked.
“Esme bought the old Buckner house with a fiancé with the intention of fixing it up. But… he stood her up at the altar.”
She clicked her tongue and shook her head with disapproval.
“And now she’s stuck with it. Her father Ben feels like if they did a little fixing up, they could turn around and sell it at a small profit. You know, so all is not lost.”
The Buckner house. That piece of shit? I didn’t even think it was safe to enter.
The best thing to do would have been to throw a lit match at it.
“They really bought that place?”
Mom nodded. “Can you believe it? They wanted to flip it.”
“Who was the guy?” I asked.
“Not sure you know him. He works for that big law firm downtown. Eddie Sanders or something.”
No fucking way.
“I know that guy. He’s a jerk.”
Mom stood, apparently all gossiped out. “Well, maybe that’s why he stood her up at the altar. Can you imagine?” she asked, shaking her head as she headed to her desk.
The Buckner house, cripes. Who the hell in their right mind would go near that dump, much less actually buy it?
Looked like I was going to find out.
4
ESME
“Nice to see you back in the office, Esme.”
Twenty or so heads in the conference room whipped in my direction like I was some sort of exotic novelty. Which I guess I sort of was.
It wasn’t every day you saw a woman who’d been stood up at the altar.
“Thank you, Adam,” I said with my best nothing-to-see-here smile, waiting for him to move on to the next topic of discussion for our staff meeting.
But he wasn’t done with me.
“I hope you had a good couple weeks off.”
Really?
The only thing that kept me from leaping across the room, strangling him, and ending up in prison for life, was my fear of leaving my dad alone in this world, unable to fend off all my girlfriends who were madly in love with him.
Yeah, I ran interference for Dad on a regular basis.
I didn’t want a murder on my conscience, anyway.
Amidst the stares, I hung on to my fake-ass smile. “It was lovely, Adam.”
What the fuck? I had two weeks off for my honeymoon-that-never-happened, and he thought I was having fun?
I’d considered going right back to work after the ‘incident,’ but Adam had insisted I take the two weeks to ‘heal’ and sort out my ‘emotions.’
Asshole.
Did he think I wasn’t already humiliated enough without his spotlighting me in his stupid fucking meeting?
He was still pissed he hadn’t been invited.
The only person from the office who had been invited was my work husband, Matt.
Who, thankfully, was sitting right next to me, nudging me discreetly in a show of support.
Fuck Adam for insinuating I’d had a leisurely two weeks off. I needed that time to get my head straight.
And eat.
My courtship with Eddie had been a whirlwind. Hell, I’d only known him six months. But he came on strong, and I believed he loved me, even though Charli told me he was a bit on the smarmy side.
I attributed his eagerness for tying the knot to the fact that he was a rising star at his fancy downtown law firm and that everyone around him was married and starting families. He’d figured it was time to do the same. And I wasn’t a bad catch. Not at all.
Although we were an odd pair—Eddie in his expensive suits and hundred-dollar haircuts, and me working at a free weekly newspaper, perpetually broke from working for pennies, and obsessed with shopping at thrift stores. But hey, it worked. Or it seemed to.
My dad had pointed out how he and my mom had been an odd pair.
And I pointed out right back how well that had worked out for them. Neither of us had seen her in ten… or was it twelve?… years.
Adam raised his voice, yanking my thoughts back to the meeting. “Remember