The first door she attempts to open is locked, but we manage to get in through a side door, where I discover a huge room flooded with sunlight.
“We’ve got this amazing space up here and we’re using the dungeon downstairs for lunch instead? Why?” My head is already spinning with plans Caleb will hate, and the walking program has given me enough confidence to hope I might be able to pull them off.
She doesn’t answer until she’s done typing. “It was something about cutting costs.”
“But there shouldn’t be a cost to maintaining a break room,” I argue. “The food wasn’t free, right?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It was before my time. I heard Caleb went through some personal stuff a few years ago and changes were made.”
I assumed Caleb lives for his job. Maybe it isn’t entirely by choice.
I’M SITTING down by the shore Thursday night with the twins when Caleb appears, still in suit pants and a button-down.
His eyes flicker to my bare legs and remain there a moment before jerking away. “I have a conference call soon,” he says, “but do you have a minute to discuss the interview?”
I consider pointing out that I’m off work, an entirely foreign concept to him, but he’s clearly stressed out, so I remove my phone from the Adirondack chair beside me and gesture for him to sit.
He stretches his long legs in front of him, looking ridiculously out of place. One false move and he’s going to ruin those pants.
I hold up a hand to block the dying sun as I meet his eye. “I was just thinking about that raft you and your friends tried to build. Remember that? You’d have been twelve, maybe?”
He frowns. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“Are you kidding? It was the highlight of my week. You guys spent the whole damn day on it, but some older guy was with you and when he climbed on, it freaking exploded.”
“Beck.” His smile is a bare thing, nothing like what it was when he was young. “He wasn’t older. He’d just hit six feet before the rest of us had even entered puberty. That was a fun day.”
The sun is beginning to slip over the horizon. I slide my feet into the sand, burrowing them there for warmth. “They all seemed like fun days.”
He hitches a shoulder. “I thought so, yeah.”
There’s something darker hidden there. “You don’t sound sure.”
He exhales. “It was hard for my mom. She bought this place hoping it would get my father to work less. Instead, he was just relieved we were gone so he could work more.”
“Did he ever slow down?”
Caleb rakes a hand through his hair. “Not exactly. TSG was his company, but he got into some financial trouble and died of a stroke right after I left Wharton. I’ve been trying to sort it out ever since.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. Did he actually want to take over at TSG or did he have other plans that got derailed? I’m not sure how to ask, though, or even if I should.
“It was a while ago,” Caleb says, shrugging. “Anyway, are you ready for tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure.” I narrow my eyes at Sophie, who seems to be threatening Henry with a bucket of mud. “We’ve still got no results, but also…the reporter’s going to ask me how the company has changed, and it hasn’t really, right? I mean, be honest—you hate everything about this.”
“Look, I just think people should settle for the benefits that were outlined in their employment contracts. Everyone expects a morning massage and Frappuccino waiting on their desk these days, as if they’re doing the company a favor by showing up at all. I might be willing to throw money at something if you can prove the potential benefit, but I’m not writing you a blank check so you can blow it all on therapy dogs and incense.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of meditation candles and healing crystals.”
His mouth twitches. “I’m not at all surprised by that.”
Sophie and Henry stop bickering and Sophie runs to me with a bucket of sand. “What flavor do you want?” she demands.
I hold out my hands. “Can I have strawberry?”
She shakes her head. “I-D-H-T.”
The code game again. Sophie’s now the only child in her class who joins the first graders for reading, which makes Henry’s struggles that much more obvious. I feel guilty for introducing it in the first place and guilty that I’d take Sophie’s success away from her if I could, to protect Henry. Your children grow and change—the one constant of motherhood is the fucking guilt.
“I don’t…have that?” I guess. “Ummm...mint chip?”
“Okay,” she says, dumping the wet sand on my hands…and all over my legs. Caleb’s gaze lands on my thighs again.
“What’s with the initials?” he asks as I brush the sand off.
“Just a phonics game I play with them. It mostly gives Sophie ample ways to express her disapproval.”
A wistful thing passes over his face. “It’s cute.”
There’s a small, strange twist in my heart. Cute is the last word I’d expect from a guy who called children ‘monsters who require an unreasonable amount of care.’
Henry walks up the beach like Sophie did, but rather than coming to me…he goes to Caleb.
“No, Henry,” I say. “Mr. Lowell is in nice clothes.”
Caleb’s gaze softens as he looks at Henry. “I’ll take…peach.”
Henry shakes his head no, a ghost of pleasure on his face. I swallow hard—sorrow and joy at once.
“What about rum raisin? Do you have that?”
Henry shakes his head again and Caleb laughs.
“I really feel like your business could stand to diversify, but fine. I’ll have vanilla. Please tell me you have vanilla.”
Henry nods and shovels the wet sand into Caleb’s open hands, which promptly seeps straight through to his pants. And to my absolute shock, Caleb laughs. A real laugh—the kind you can feel in your chest, the kind that would make you smile even if you didn’t have a clue what it was about.
That dimple of his hits every bit as hard as it did thirteen years ago.
He rises, brushing off his pants. “Just do your best tomorrow,” he says abruptly, and he’s already walking away before I’ve thought of a reply.
Who are you, Caleb Lowell? What happened to the boy you once were?
Because it sort of seems like one of us should be trying to find him.
10
LUCIE
The next morning, I don the same green dress I wore for my presentation to the executive committee. It’s the most businesslike thing I own, but when I walk into Caleb’s office, he frowns, his eyes catching on the dress for a moment too long. I kind of assumed no one would notice I’m repeating an outfit so soon.
I run my sweating palms down my sides. “I wanted to see when we’re leaving.”
His brow furrows. “For the interview?”
I grin. “No. Coachella.”
“Look who’s suddenly a smart-ass.”
“To be fair,” I counter, “I was always kind of a smart-ass. You just didn’t listen to me before.”
His mouth curves, but his gaze is already back on his laptop. “Still not listening, actually. Eleven thirty, but let’s plan to drive separately.”
It seems silly to take two cars, but what can I say? I’m crazy nervous about this interview and I inexplicably find your presence comforting?
Ninety minutes later, Caleb reaches the front doors just as I do and comes to a sudden stop. “Are you okay?”
“I’m a little nervous,” I reply, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Careful, though. You almost sounded worried about an employee there.”
“I figured it was better than saying, ‘Don’t make us look like assholes today.’”
I give him a weak wave. “I guess I’ll see you there.”
He regards me, quietly wrestling with something. “Ride with me. I can’t have you passing out at the wheel.”
“Because I might die or because I might not be able to provide you with some good PR?”
“The PR, obviously,” he says. “Your death would save the company money.”