Page 5 of Things We Tell Ourselves

Camille turns her gaze out to the pool, watching Leah’s reflection in the glass. Hesitant, Camille searches Leah’s face for a hint of anger or jealousy. Finding none, she relaxes.

“They like to think of themselves as our biggest competitors, but I can tell you that they most certainly are not.” Leah’s eyes flicker over at her.

Camille averts her eyes to stare out at the glistening water.

“Did they invite you to Austin?”

“They flew us to Toronto,” Camille replies, intentionally keeping her answer short. The last thing she wants to do is tell the owner of Bloom and Bloom that the meeting went poorly, nor does she want to admit that she and Evelyn walked out before the meeting was over. Knowing that would only encourage any other interested parties to lowball them.

Leah eyes her carefully. “I bet that was nice,” she says slowly. “I’ve never been. The Flexinburg Group has never been what I would call ‘friendly competition.’ But from what I’ve heard, their Austin lake house trips with potential clients and business partners have been impressive enough that they’ve taken people from us. However, I’ve also heard that it’s only those of the male persuasion whom they invite out to their Austin property. I’d hoped you’d tell me otherwise.”

Camille frowns, trying not to look too annoyed that they could have driven from Dallas to Austin versus flying all the way up to Toronto. Not that she’s surprised, given how they were treated at the meeting.

“It definitely would’ve been a shorter plane ride,” she admits, the corner of her mouth curling.

“That it would,” Leah chuckles.

Camille relaxes, feeling more at ease from her own joke.

Leah examines her face a moment longer before facing the living room. “You can take her things to the guesthouse, the upstairs loft.”

Camille realizes Buck is standing silently near the fireplace opposite them. She hadn’t heard him walk inside. Buck’s brow furrows.

“Wade’s place?”

“To be clear, all of this ismyplace,” Leah retorts, rolling her scooter toward the patio door, “and I say who stays where.” She grabs the doorknob, swinging it open.

Buck’s mouth is a hard line as he walks out the back door toward the pool, Camille’s suitcase rolling behind him. Camille looks at Leah, who’s still standing at the door.

“Should I follow him?”

“I was hoping that you’d be hungry. My chef’s cooking is phenomenal, but…” she shrugs slowly, “if you aren’t, then that’s fine too. I can make you one of my amazing omelets for breakfast.”

Images of past summer vacations come to mind, her favorite kind, back when her mother was still alive. She remembers a man in a white chef’s coat standing behind a breakfast buffet, pouring eggs, tomatoes, chopped onions, and cheese into a hot skillet as she stands hand in hand with her mother, waiting for their omelets. She’d been maybe in middle school at the time, but she could still smell the eggs cooking like it was yesterday.

“I haven’t had an omelet in so long.”

The corners of Leah’s eyes crinkle as she beams at her. “It’s settled then.” The sound of heels clicking softly against the floor turns their attention to the hallway. “You can come in, Delilah,” she calls.

A tall woman emerges wearing black capris and a fitted white blouse, cradling a leather-bound padfolio on her hip, her heels hitting against the floor with more vigor thanks to Leah’s invitation. A long, straight, dark ponytail sways behind her. She smiles meekly at Leah. “Sorry about Nancy—”

Leah throws a hand up to silence her. “You did nothing wrong. Nancy is in one of her moods. Don’t worry; you’ll get used to it, as we all have. She gets like that when she frets over my health, always has. I’ll send Buck over to check on her later. This,” she waves her arm gracefully toward Camille as if to showcase her to her assistant, “is the lovely Ms. Lee.”

Delilah smiles, walking up to her. “So happy you made it. How was your flight?”

“Great,” Camille replies, noting Delilah’s firm grasp on her padfolio. No shaking hands with this one. “I’ve never flown first-class before.” She gives Leah a sly grin. “Not even to Toronto.”

“Cheap bastards,” Leah chuckles, looking at her assistant, who chuckles along. “We are going to show you what life can be like,” she declares to Camille, “if you choose to join Bloom and Bloom.”

She likes the sound of that. Thejoinpart more than anything. She doesn’t admit it, but the last thing the Flexinburg Group wanted was for her and Evelyn to join them. They wanted her product. Nothing more.

“Shall I show her to her room for the weekend?” Delilah asks.

“Yes, please,” Leah says, resting both hands on the scooter’s handles.

“The weekend,” Camille repeats, watching Leah adjust her knee on the scooter’s thick pad. “I wasn’t expecting to be here more than a day, maybe two.”

“Oh,” Leah exclaims, looking at her assistant, “I assumed that we sent you an itinerary.”

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