Page 3 of False Confidence

“Shit. That soon?”

“Yeah.” Maggie sighed. She only had six people on her team; losing even one would be a headache. “I’m happy for them. It’s what he’s been working toward, but giving a family of five a week’s notice to relocate almost five thousand miles isn’t ideal. Anyway, I’m obviously going to have to replace her and I know it’s not exactly what you’re used to, but I was wondering if you might be interested? You have experience and you’ve been a ton of help over the past few weeks. The team all love having you around.”

Surprise flitted through him. As much as he enjoyed being with Maggie and her team, he’d assumed he was annoying them. Though he’d worked at the Seattle Art Museum for over a decade before the incident, he’d only been the Head Curator for a few years. And as much as he’d loved running the curatorial department and overseeing everything, he had missed being in a more hands-on role. He had plenty of experience staging exhibits and sourcing pieces for the museum, and for the smaller galleries he’d worked at when he was in college. But he’d never worked in any kind of home design capacity.

“What does sourcing and staging look like for you?” he asked, and Maggie, ever-prepared, opened her tablet to a job description he knew she would have written up as soon as she found out Grace was leaving.

“Sourcing would be specific pieces, if me or one of the other designers has something in mind, or sourcing a selection based on a brief so we can pick the best thing for the space. Staging would basically be the final touches in a space, making sure everything looks intentional,” she explained. “The staging is more about the video side of things than the design side.”

It was all stuff he was familiar with, just with a different medium. But even though she’d told him otherwise, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was only asking him because of who they were to each other.

Maggie must have taken his silence as hesitation because of the job itself, not the fact she was offering it, because her face fell a little and she said, “I know it’s not art in the traditional sense but?—”

“Of course what you do is art,” Liam interrupted. “I love your work.” That wasn’t the problem. He knew he would enjoy working for her, and he loved the Maggie Makes Home team. Maybe he needed to just get over himself. Maggie put a hundred and ten percent into every area of her business; she wouldn’t be suggesting this if she hadn’t thought it through.

“You’re only saying that because you’re my stepson,” she replied with a wry smile and he laughed.

“Of course I’m not. Can I call you Mom at work?”

“Try it and see what happens,” she warned. “Does this mean you’re in?”

“Are you sure you want me?” he asked, and her face softened. She swiped on her tablet and slid it across the table. It was an employment contract with his name, probably written by an attorney from his dad’s firm. Liam scanned it, raising his brows when he spied the date. “This was written two weeks ago.” Before Grace gave her notice.

Maggie nodded. “I was planning on offering you a job anyway, but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it, so I’ve been procrastinating. It’s just become a little more urgent with Grace leaving. I really think you’d be a perfect fit.”

Liam took a deep breath, his eyes roaming the contract and job description. It was something new, and definitely more exciting day-to-day than his work at the gallery. And he’d been working with Maggie.

“Yeah,” he said, finally. “I’m in.”

Jazz must have been a bad girl in a past life. There was no other reason the universe would punish her with an almost two-hour phone call with her mom on a Sunday night. Every time she tried to lead the conversation toward goodbye, her mom suddenly remembered some other family friend Jazz didn’t care about that she had to update her on. They’d been on the phone so long that Instagram had run out of posts to show her and she’d been forced to move her scrolling to Facebook. She supposed that’s what she got for avoiding the past three monthly Cannon family dinners.

“Are you even listening to me, Jazz?”

Shit. She took the phone off loudspeaker and held the phone up to her ear. “Sorry. It’s been a long week. What was that?”

Her mom sighed, as if Jazz’s shitty attention span was the world’s biggest inconvenience for her. “I said I ran into Denise Hamilton at brunch this morning. Do you remember her?”

“Vaguely.”

“Her son is engaged now. And her oldest daughter has a newborn.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. She knew where this was going. “That’s nice for them.”

“It is nice. Denise has a wedding to plan and grandchildren. And not one of my three children is even in a long-term relationship.”

It was the same conversation every time one of her mom’s friends’ kids settled down. “Take it up with Xan. He’s the oldest.”

Her mom tutted. “You know he’s so busy working for your dad and getting ready to take over the company when he retires. And Rose has med school. They’re focusing on their careers.”

“I’m not allowed to focus on my career?”

“Maggie’s husband offers a good maternity policy.”

He did, but that didn’t mean Jazz was planning to take him up on it anytime soon. “How do you know that?”

“There was an article about him on Facebook. Maggie settled down and got married. Why can’t you find yourself a nice rich man like she has?”

Jesus. “I don’t think Maggie would appreciate the implication that she married Cal because he’s rich,” she pointed out, dodging the question.

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