“It was late at night,” she said. “I was going to call you this morning.”
“I wanted to call you last night, but your mother didn’t want you to worry,” Pete said. “I’d just finished telling her she had to call you this morning when you got here.”
“It really was very minor!” his mother said. “Someone making a left turn hit me, they weren’t going that fast, I’m fine! I just have a broken wrist, that’s all.”
“And a totaled car,” Pete said.
She glared at him.
“We don’t know the car is totaled.” She turned to Luke. “Just because the airbag went off, Pete thinks it must be. Anyway, I’m going to be fine. And I was going to call you this morning, I just had to call Beth to make sure she could get to the inn early today since I won’t be in.”
“Or for the next month,” Pete said.
Luke turned to Pete.
“Month?”
“Pete, I really don’t think—”
Pete broke in.
“The doctor said that she shouldn’t drive for three weeks minimum, maybe six weeks. Or more. It’s more than just a broken wrist, she has a few sprained ribs, too.” Pete glared at Luke’s mom. “And she said you had to rest.”
“I know,” his mom said, “but I have the inn, and while Beth is lovely, and I like her so much, she’s still new. I have to be on hand to do all of the hard stuff. I’m just not confident enough in her, that’s all.”
Pete shook his head.
“Well, you need to get confident. I don’t want you to run yourself down, Lauren.” He turned to Luke. “Your mother wants me to drop her off at the inn every day. Maybe she’ll listen to you.”
Unlikely.
“Mom, if the doctor said that you should rest . . .”
His mom sighed.
“I know, I know. If only I had Samantha still, but she moved to Los Angeles. She was so detail oriented.”
Pete frowned at her.
“What if you call Samantha? See if she could come back up here, fill in for you for the next month or so?”
His mom brightened up.
“Oh, that’s an idea. And I bet she could live with her sister.”
And then it hit him. The solution to both of their problems.
“I have a better idea,” Luke said. “Mom, what if I took over for you at the inn for the next month? I already know how stuff works there—well, most stuff—and you trust me to take care of things. Would that keep you at home, make you rest?”
Her whole face relaxed, and then she shook her head.
“Of course that would be wonderful, but you can’t do that. You’re working for Noble—I’m sure they need you, too.”
He tried to keep his face neutral.
“I’m sure the Nobles will understand. I’ll talk to them. What do you think?”
He could see the relief in her face.
“If you’re sure, then . . . yes, that would be perfect. You’ll check in, let me know how everything is going, right?”
He nodded at his mom as Pete clapped him on the back.
“Thanks, Luke.” He lowered his voice. “She never would have agreed to take the time off otherwise.”
“I heard that,” his mother said. “But Luke, promise you’ll tell me if the Nobles need you?”
He nodded.
“Yeah, I’ll tell you.”
Thirty minutes later, he walked into Margot’s office. How would she feel about what he was going to tell her? Had he just made a bet that he was going to lose?
Margot and Elliot were standing in there, laughing together. If he hadn’t desperately wanted to see Margot alone, he’d be glad to see that, after everything Margot had told him last weekend.
“Oh good, I’m glad I found you both here together,” he said. What else could he say?
Margot turned and smiled at him, and then her smile dimmed, maybe because Elliot was there next to her, maybe because of the way Luke was looking at them; he didn’t know.
“Hi, Luke,” she said.
“Hi, Luke,” Elliot said. “Come on in. What’s up?”
Luke took a deep breath.
“I’m really sorry to do this to you two,” he said. “But I have to resign.”
He looked at Margot and saw a brief flash of something in her eyes. He didn’t know if it was shock or sorrow or anger or happiness. God, he wanted to know. He turned to Elliot so he wouldn’t betray himself.
“I wouldn’t do this for any other reason,” he continued. “But I have to help my mom out; she got in a car accident last night—she’s fine, but she has a broken wrist and some sprained ribs, and she can’t work for the next month or so. Her front-desk staff at the inn is pretty new, so I said I’d help her out, but I’m really sorry to—”
Elliot cut in.
“Of course you have to help your mom,” he said.
“Yes,” Margot said. “Of course you have to help your mom.”
She said it casually, with a smile on her face, but it wasn’t that friendly smile she’d given him when he’d walked in the door. It was her boss-to-employee smile.
“We’ll miss you around here, but the rest of us can pick up the slack in the tasting room,” she said.
“If we get desperate, I can help out,” Elliot said.
Luke and Margot both burst out laughing.
“No offense, Elliot,” Margot said, “but that’s a terrible idea.”
“Do you see what I have to put up with here?” Elliot asked Luke.
Luke grinned.
“The thing is . . . she’s right.”
Elliot sighed. “Yes, of course she is.”
Margot turned to Elliot, a look of sheer glee on her face that almost made Luke laugh out loud again.
“Did he really just say that?” she said out loud.
Elliot either didn’t hear that or heard it and ignored it. He walked over to Luke, his hand out, and Luke shook it.
“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Elliot said.
Margot nodded at him, but didn’t come over to shake his hand.
“It’s been a pleasure having you at Noble,” she said. She said it in such a formal way, like she’d say it to anyone.
Luke nodded at both of them.
“It’s been a pleasure being here. I’ve really learned a lot from this place.” He turned to the door and winced. “I have to go tell Taylor now, don’t I? She’s going to kill me.”
Margot and Elliot both laughed as Luke walked out toward the tasting room.
Later that evening, after a long day at the inn, getting up to speed on everything and fielding what felt like dozens of phone calls from his mom, he got in the car to drive home. And he could think about only one thing.
Margot wasn’t his boss anymore.
Was she thinking about that? Would she care about this as much as he did?
He had no idea. But he had to find out.
Fourteen
MARGOT GOT OUT OF the shower and wrapped her longest, plushest bath towel around her body. She’d given two tours that day and pitched in for an hour in the tasting room, in between many phone calls and emails and voice mails. She had needed at least an hour of undivided time alone to commune with her spreadsheets for the party, update her to-do lists, stare at her conspiracy wall and check things off, and she hadn’t gotten it. The party was less than a month away, she had so much to do, so much was riding on it. So when she’d gotten home, hot, sweaty, and sad for reasons she didn’t want to think about, she’d dropped her laptop on the coffee table, pulled her hair into a bun on the top of her head, and gotten straight into the shower. She’d get work done after she felt like herself again.
After she dried herself off, she pulled on her favorite silk robe to cheer herself up. What she needed cheering up from, she didn’t have the time or inclination to dwell on just now.
He’d walked out just like that. Out of her office, where she’d been standing with Elliot and couldn’t really say anything to him, and then out of the tasting room, and had driven away. Had he walked out of her life, too? He didn’t smile at her or give her any looks like he wished she were alone in her office, or like he wished . . .
No, she wasn’t going to think about this now. What did it matter, anyway? They weren’t anything to each other, really. She should think about her robe. Wearing it did help. She’d splurged on it the year before, with visions of herself swanning around her house in it, lounging and drinking champagne and entertaining gentleman callers. It was deep red, with a floral pattern, and looked great on her. She rarely wore it, though. When she was at home, she was usually either working or snacking or both, and it felt too nice to wear while working, and she didn’t want to get pasta sauce or olive oil or Cheeto dust on it, so she usually kept it in her closet. But it wasn’t like she was going to change her work habits anytime soon, and it felt like a shame to let it just hang there in her closet. What good did it do her, just gathering dust? Absolutely none. Even if she got potato chips on it, she’d at least get the joy of wearing it.