Good For You
I sigh and examine her face. Chelsea is a girl who absorbs gossip. She loves it but doesn’t spread it unless it’s common knowledge. “Fine. But leave it alone.” She locks her lips and tosses an invisible key behind her, nodding.
“Come on, gossip girl, let’s go find your husband and get something to eat.”
*** *** ***
Dori
Every time I convince myself I’l never see Reid again, he turns up. Roberta straightens every item on her desk and avoids my gaze while pretending she’d forgotten that Reid was one of the celeb volunteers. The two red spots on her cheeks beg to differ. “And anyway,” her brows crinkle, “I was under the impression you two were friendly.” Now it’s my turn to be visibly flustered, and with my darned ears ful y exposed, too. What can I say? My parents don’t want me dating a Hollywood heartthrob who’ll just use and discard me, or how about I told him I couldn’t see him anymore and he couldn’t comply fast enough, and now I haven’t seen him in a month and I didn’t think I’d ever have to be this near him again.
When I continue to stand there, silent and disconcerted, she misinterprets my uneasiness as repulsion. “We’l find you a different project to work on. They’l only be here this week. You can come back next week. I’l just cal —”
“No, I’l be fine.” She thinks I dislike Reid, when nothing could be further from the truth.
When I saw him this morning, I wanted to run across the room and throw my arms around him and not let go. I wanted to tel him I would take whatever he could give me, however long it lasts. That’s when I recal ed the Janis Joplin quote Deb taped to her bedroom mirror years ago: Don’t compromise yourself. You are all you’ve got.
And then he said, “Hey boss.” So glib and casual and over whatever had been there between us. Whatever I’d imagined was there. The other stuff, the flirting, that was just classic Reid—sexy and effortlessly seductive. And replicated with his stunning costar ten minutes ago.
Maybe I should switch projects. Be smart and bolt while I can.
“He’s got enough experience to be given specific tasks, so you won’t have to supervise him or even be near him,” Roberta says.
Fighting the urge to tel her she’s got it al backwards, I nod and slip out back to get something to eat. I don’t look around the yard for him, and don’t intend to remain outside any longer than it takes to gather lunch and go back inside.
As luck would have it, what I grab is a bowl of fruit and an iced tea, and my ears go hot remembering the first time Reid tried to kiss me, when I shoved him away. I’m Reid tried to kiss me, when I shoved him away. I’m conscious of someone speaking nearby, hearing the name before I’m ful y paying attention. “…Chad Roberts, and despite my good looks, I’m not an actor. I’m just Chelsea’s husband.”
Frank laughs in response. “That is not a position to be taken lightly, young man. That girl is a firecracker.”
“Oh, don’t I know it!” They both laugh.
My head is spinning.
Chad Roberts.
Chelsea Radin’s husband.
The same name of the attorney in charge of Deb’s trust.
***
“Mr. Roberts? Could I speak with you a moment, please?”
“Certainly.” He seems genial, and he is good-looking.
I’ve had a hard time catching him separated from Chelsea’s side. He and his actress wife are obviously friends with Reid, and I’ve concluded that what I thought was flirting between Reid and Chelsea earlier was just the two of them play-acting for the photo shoot People is doing that wil benefit both Habitat and the opening weekend of their movie.
Jealousy is an unpleasant, alien sensation.
We walk a few feet from the demolition site—Chad has been helping Frank take down a dilapidated shed in the back yard. “This may be an odd question, but by any chance… are you an attorney?”
“Yes, I am.” He gives me a perplexed look. “Do you need legal assistance?”
This is too bizarre to be coincidence. “No. Maybe. Um.
Do you work for Barnes, Bancroft and Cole?” He pul s the work gloves from his hands and takes the water bottle I hand him. “Yes, I do.”
I take a deep breath as al the dots connect. This has to link to Reid. There’s no other explanation.
After a long drink, he peers at me. “What is this in relation—”
“There’s a trust that you administer, I think. It’s for Deborah Cantrel ?”
His eyes flick towards the house, where Reid is, then right back to me, like he realizes he’s giving something away. “Um, yes, that’s true.”
“I want to know who’s funding it.”
Swal owing, he frowns. “Look, Ms…?”
“Cantrel . Dori Cantrel .”
His eyes widen and understanding dawns. “Oh. You’re her sister, I assume?”
I nod and he purses his lips, laying a hand on my arm.
“While I can certainly appreciate your wanting to know that information, I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.” I glance towards the house. Reid is inside, assisting with the kitchen demolition. Has he told his attorney not to tel me anything? And if so, why? “How can that be? I’m her family. I have a right to know.”
His look is placating, which makes me want to scream. “I understand your feelings, Ms. Cantrel , I assure you. And there are copious details of the trust that I can divulge, if you’d like. In fact, I’d encourage you to come by my office you’d like. In fact, I’d encourage you to come by my office sometime next week perhaps so we can discuss those details—but the identity of the donor is restricted information.”