Page 33 of Pining for You

I’d been nervous about hanging out with Ellie and Malcolm’s friends. While Malcolm’s friends were mainly blue-collar workers like himself, Ellie’s friends were the type who had the means to hire Malcolm. The type of people who could afford the gorgeous Victorian home Ellie had inherited. People who had TFSAs and RIFs with lots and lots of zeroes, and dealt with the financial advisors at the banks, or the truly wealthy, money managers from Bay Street. Including a few lawyers who might be familiar with my ex-husband’s name. Maybe even mine since it had been splashed around as his wife. All I could hope was reverting to my maiden name had helped distance me from the scumbag.

But they’d all been lovely and gracious. Except for one older woman, who’d snapped her fingers at me and demanded I get her a drink as if I were the hired help. I would have responded, but I had no idea who the woman was in relation to Ellie or Malcolm. Instead of making a scene, I’d smiled at her, nodded and walked away, snapping mental comebacks.

But I sure didn’t get her a drink.

I found myself in the front of the house, tempted to walk all the way home. Except I wouldn’t give that woman the satisfaction of scaring me away, nor of leaving Brad before I found out what was bothering him, because something definitely had upset him right before I’d arrived.

I let myself in through the front door, nodded to a few guests in the living room, taking refuge from the heat, found the downstairs bathroom and used the facilities. I lingered, debating splashing cool water over my face to cool myself down. Except I’d spent ages getting my make-up just right and splashing it with water would end up with me looking a racoon after an all-night binge of the street’s recycling bins.

All right, I could do this. I’d worked retail. I'd flattered board members, mayors, and city clients. I knew how to feign politeness, and plastered on a fake smile.

I stopped in the kitchen to grab a glass of water when voices drifted in off the porch.

“Have you heard back from the bank about your loan?”

I recognized the voice as Josh Mason, Ellie’s brother, because he was my parents’ accountant.

Brad’s gruff, “Yup. They said no” had me freezing in place.

Brad had gone for a loan and he’d been turned down?

He hadn’t told me he was planning on buying anything. He hadn’t told me about needing a loan. Or that he’d been turned down. Why? Did he have a poor credit record? Did he already owe too much money?

I knew what he made per hour—that had been the topic of discussion amongst the B Team the first week I’d been transferred to them. I eased toward the back door which had been left open, but to the side so I could hear them but they couldn’t see me. Eavesdropping is not a good habit, but if Brad was in debt and hiding it from me, I needed to know before we got any deeper into our relationship.

“Sorry, man. Did they say why?”

“That my…”

“Phew, it’s hot out there, isn’t it?” Maureen Mason, an older woman in a smart summer-weight suit who was an older copy of Ellie, wandered into the kitchen, opened a cupboard and grabbed a water glass.

“It’s not the heat,” I murmured, “it’s the?—”

“—humidity,” she finished with a bright smile. “Still feels as hot as a witch’s britches.”

While Maureen sipped her water, I eased closer to the door so I wouldn’t miss any of Brad and Josh’s conversation.

“…much would you need?”

I gasped at the number Brad recited, clapping my hand over my mouth. He needed that much?

Maureen lowered the glass and stared at me. “Is something wrong, Chloe?”

I lowered my hand and tried to fake nonchalance. “No. I’m fine.”

“Honey, you’ve turned white as a snow. Do you have blood sugar problems? Or did something scare you?”

Scare me? Was I scared? No, more like enraged. I’d just discovered Brad had applied for a large bank loan for reasons unknown. And, worse, had been turned down. It took everything in me to stay in that kitchen, to not march out on the porch and demand to know why he needed such a large sum. Was he planning on buying a mansion? If so, why did the bank turn him down? Was his credit rating that bad? Did he have debts I didn’t know about?

Shoot, get yourself under control, girl! I’d been dating Brad just over a month, almost two. I hadn’t told him how big my legal bills had been, so why should I expect he owed me any type of explanation?

Except I didn’t want to get in with another guy who might run out and leave me with yet another mound of debt. Not again. Ever.

“You could always try a different bank. There’s more than one in town.”

Panic welled up in me at Josh’s suggestion. Mumbling some sort of excuse even I didn’t understand, I half ran to the front door, about to leave the house entirely when I remembered I’d left my purse—and my apartment keys—in Brad’s apartment. I thanked my luck that there was no sign of Josh or Brad on the veranda when I reached the coach house door. I retrieved my purse, hurried down the side of the house, and left.

I was halfway home when I realized I should have made some sort of excuse for leaving, not only to Brad but Ellie and Malcolm. My knee-jerk reaction might be branded immature by some. Including me. But I needed to think, by myself. Away from a group of strangers. Away from Brad.

---