Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye - Jacquelyn Middleton Page 0,18

today at 12:54 P.M.

Subject: Full-time Position – Collections Management

Dear Leia,

Happy New Year! I hope Italy is treating you well, but not too well because New York City needs you. We’ve been granted approval to hire another full-time collections management assistant and interviews are happening this week. Would you be available for a Skype interview this Friday (January 4) at 1 P.M. ET? Please advise at your earliest convenience.

Best, Violetta

For a moment, Leia forgot AWOL Tarquin and Simon, and giddily dashed off an emailed Yes and Thank you. She then texted “I’m here” to Sarah, letting her know she had arrived safely, but the moment she hit send, butterflies swarmed her belly. Whether she’d stick around for much longer, she wasn’t sure.

“Can I help you?” A sleepy Yorkshire accent quieted Leia’s trepidation. A twenty-something brunette sporting a mussed-up bob and a sickly green pallor stood beside an antique glass case holding cocktail rings hostage. “Sorry, was in the back.” The woman blinked her feathery false eyelashes and clutched the skirt of her long pink gown with two hands, lifting it so the material didn’t drag along the tile floor. She wore a fuzzy cardigan over top—in clashing green—giving her the appearance of a little girl playing dress up with whatever random clothes she had found in her mother’s closet. Leia almost expected to see her traipsing around in heels four sizes too big, but nope—she was wearing chunky platform sneakers.

“Hi.” Leia smiled, adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “I’m supposed to meet Tarquin and Simon here.”

The shop girl’s eyebrows twitched. “Oh, you’re Leia.” Her response sounded like an accusation.

Not the friendliest. Leia’s nod slipped into a grimace. “I’m a little late. The Overground train—”

“We were supposed to close at half five.” Dress hiked up, the woman stomped past Leia and flipped the ‘Closed’ sign on the door.

Shoot. She had to stay because of me.

“Tarquin needed coffee. They’ll be back soon. Then, I can go.” The woman clomped behind the sales desk, planting herself on a wooden chair. She gulped a large mouthful of a neon-orange energy drink and crumpled facedown onto the desk.

O-kay. Someone’s not in the mood for chit-chat.

The door’s bell jangled and a burst of cold air sailed up the back of Leia’s tights, the breeze flirting with the hem of her black dress.

“Ah, here you are!” Pink-cheeked and grinning above his blue and green tartan scarf, Tarquin held a steaming coffee in his hand. Behind him, a tall guy with a close-cropped moustache and beard and short brown hair shut the boutique’s door.

Oh, thank god—he’s not pissed off. Leia smiled. “Hi!”

Tarquin nodded. “It’s so lovely—”

“Simon!” Hollering over Tarquin’s greeting, the employee came alive, rising from the desk. “Freddie rang twice. Said your mobile’s off.” She grabbed her retro ski jacket from the coat rack, jamming her arms down the sleeves.

“Oh, right! Cheers, Spencer.” Simon retrieved his phone from the pocket of his dark jeans, giving a smile and a “Sorry” to Leia, and began checking for missed voicemails. “Any sales while I was out?”

“Nope.”

Yeah, ’cause you were in the back room. Leia smiled to herself, and then at Tarquin, who smirked back.

“Well, thanks for today,” said Simon, listening to his message. “You’re a lifesaver, Spence.”

“That’s me.” Spencer squeezed past, ignoring Leia and Tarquin. “You can pay me in prosecco next weekend. Laters.” Her hasty exit out the door ushered in another gust of brisk air from Wilton Way.

“Let’s try that again.” Tarquin left Simon to his messages and moved closer, a glimmer in his eyes. “It’s lovely to see you—again!” He extended his right hand.

His handshake was firm—like last time—but short. “Thanks for meeting me.” Leia smiled as they let go at the same time, his grin and dimples a flirty distraction. So attractive—and so not why you’re here. She shook her head, banishing such thoughts. “I’m sorry I’m late. I thought I gave myself enough time…”

“Ah, the bane of a Londoner—you’re one of us now.” Tarquin’s gleeful swagger and kind words put Leia at ease. “The Overground gets all mardy when the temperature plunges. It plays silly buggers with the doors.” He cautiously sipped his coffee before returning for a larger gulp.

“Mardy?”

“Oh…basically, unpleasant. Grumpy.” Tarquin’s eyes mischievously leapt toward the door. “Bit like Si’s staff!”

Simon frowned, tucking his phone into his jeans. “It’s a good thing Spence only fills in occasionally, but still, I can’t have her being rude—or hungover. And, god—that sweater she had on…”

“Rude staff, tardy transit—welcome to London, Leia.” Tarquin chuckled,