A Moment Like You (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #2) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,18

my problems, not sit down and cry while feeling defeated.

Once I arrive at the penthouse where I live, I go to my closet and stare at my clothes. This is the one perk from my job that I adore. Merkel pays for my apparel. Since I’m Henry’s assistant, I have to dress for the part. Now that I’m moving to Baker’s Creek, can I dress down? Not that I mind wearing dresses, skirts, and the occasional dress slacks. My most favorite thing about the required designer clothes are the shoes. My collection is priceless.

I’m taking all of them with me, but what about the rest? Am I losing my house? I have so many questions, but I’m not in the mood to speak to him.

Sophia: Am I moving out of the penthouse?

Henry: Temporarily.

Sophia: When am I coming back?

Henry: I don’t know.

Sophia: Six months, a year…eighteen months?

Henry: You’ll probably return with me when this is over.

Sophia: Is anyone going to occupy the penthouse now that I won’t be needing it?

Henry: No, it’s your place.

Sophia: The hotel could be making money if it’s available.

Henry: I make money regardless.

Sophia: So I can just pack what I’ll be needing?

Henry: Listen, this is a temporary move, however, I recommend you bring everything you think is necessary to make you feel at home.

Sophia: My parents would make me feel at home.

Henry: I know. Please send a list of what they’ll require to come to Baker’s Creek often to visit you.

Sophia: You’re kidding, right?

Henry: No. I want to make this as painless as possible.

“Then, don’t move me. I have a family that needs me!” I shout to the empty room.

Instead of calling him to yell at him, I call Blaire who asks, “What happened to your mom? Henry mentioned she’s sick.”

“She had a stroke that caused her to have blindness and deafness on her left side,” I explain. “I was about to graduate from high school when it happened. We thought she’d recover. I mean, she’s young and even old people tend to recover, but not her.”

“So she’s been like that for twelve years?” she concludes. “Does she have any other limitations?”

“Let see, she can barely use her left arm, hand, leg, and foot. She can’t walk without a cane,” I continue telling her the ways my poor mom can barely function. “Obviously, she can’t drive. She’s depressed and can’t sleep.”

“Can she travel?”

“She’s not coming to Baker’s Creek,” I tell her, and my voice comes so forceful I apologize, “Sorry. It’s just…”

“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now,” she says in that sensible voice of hers. “It’s valid to be frustrated, angry, even bitter for what he’s doing to you. Quit. I’ll help you.”

“No one is going to give me a job that pays for my parents insurance or provides housing. Saving money on rent allows me to pay for my parents’ bills, my mother’s debts, her therapies, and everything that my family needs,” I inform her.

The corporate credit card pays for my expenses. The chef cooks whatever meal I want when I’m at home. The benefits are endless, but days like today I don’t think is worth the trouble. Now, Henry is meddling with my parents’ lives.

“I’m delusional when I believe that someday I’m going to get rid of Henry, when truth be told, I don’t think my mom would be alive if it wasn’t for this job. Dad is her primary caregiver because I can support them.” She’s silent for several seconds then I break the silence by saying, “Please, don’t offer to fix my life because I can’t take pity when I’m angry.”

“No, I am—what do you want to do with your parents?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly because I do want them close, but they shouldn’t be moving just because of me. “Do we have the resources in Baker’s Creek for Mom?”

“Henry wants us to make sure they exist,” she says. “He told Hayes, ‘Money is not an issue.’”

“Well, let’s say that Henry makes it happen, but he’s shoving my parents into a place where they don’t know anyone. My brothers and sisters are here. The only reason he wants to bring them along is so I don’t travel often to New York.”

“Deep breaths, Blaire,” I hear Leyla in the background. “Murdering him might be the smartest option, but no one wants to listen to me.”

“Put me on speaker,” I request. “I take it you two have been talking about me.”

“Plus wondering if it’ll be best to hire a hitman or involve