Page 7 of Trial Run

Amy crossed her arms over her chest, pressing her lips together. She stood a head shorter than Nell, so she had to look up.

“I guess you weren’t planning to tell me you had him with you today,” she said.

“I’m so sorry.” Nell smiled as brightly as she could. “But he had a fever, and we got a late start this morning, and—”

“I’m not a fan of excuses. But you already know that. And I don’t like making excuses for other people, either. When Mrs. Hayes called and said her delivery never arrived, I told her you were running late, and you’d be there soon. I should have calledyou. I trusted you’d be there, but maybe I shouldn’t have.” Her sharp hazel eyes pinned Nell in place.

“I went to the wrong address and I dropped the vase. But I’ll pay for it. And I’ll take the new flowers to her right now.”

“Why didn’t you call and let me know what happened?”

“Because I … I didn’t—”

“You didn’t want me to know you made a mistake. And you probably didn’t want me to find out you had Marco with you.”

“Yes.” Nell’s throat tightened and she dropped her gaze to her sneakers. Amy was about to fire her. It was that kind of day.

Amy cocked her head to the side, considering. “I don’t like people hiding things from me.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll make it right. I got back as soon as I could, and I’ll go out now and deliver the new ones.”

“That’s what I was going to tell you to do. Until I saw you with your boy.” Amy jerked her chin at the back window of the van. “He seems pretty sick.”

“He is.” Her voice came out almost a whisper.

“Also, if you’d called me, I could have told you about a phone call I got this morning. From a Dr. Ben Friedman. You know him?”

“I … Yes, kind of. He was at the wrong address I went to.”

Amy’s brow furrowed. “First thing he asked me was, do my drivers take tips, and could he leave one. I said yes, I can process a tip for him. And then he said, he wanted to make sure my driver, Nell, received this tip.”

Amy cleared her throat, clearly quoting Ben. “‘For her kind assistance on a difficult day,’ he said. All formal, just like that. He paid for the flowers you dropped, too.”

“Oh.” Nell let out a puff of breath. “That was nice of him.”

Amy raised an eyebrow at her. “The tip he left you was five hundred dollars.”

“He … What?” Nell’s mouth dropped open. The tears were back, burning her eyes for the dozenth time today, and she fought them back hard.

Amy studied her face, her expression softening. “Whatever you did to help him out, it obviously meant a lot. Go home, Nell. I’ll have Jackie deliver those replacement flowers.”

Nell’s hand flew to her throat. “You’re firing me.”

“I’m not firing you,” Amy said, sounding exasperated. “I’m telling you to go home and take care of your boy. And let me know if you need to stay home tomorrow to take care of him. You’ve got the sick days, you know.”

“Okay.” Her brain raced ahead. Five hundred dollars plus her coffee shop paycheck would cover the extra late fee on her rent. Why would Ben want to give that much money to her? He had to expect something in return. Gifts like that didn’t come without obligations. People always had motives, and sometimes those hidden motives were a nasty surprise.

But she was too damn poor to refuse the money, and Amy had just given her a free pass to go home. She’d take the opportunity to escape, and think about the rest later. Relief flooded her system, and with it, a wave of exhaustion.

On impulse, she reached out and squeezed Amy’s upper arm. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank him.”

Chapter 3

Ben studied his daffodils as he ate his usual breakfast—a protein bar and black coffee—standing at his kitchen counter. He’d put the flowers in a pitcher two days ago, and they hadn’t started to wilt yet. Tillie’s sold high-quality flowers, he’d give them that.

Every time he walked into the kitchen, the yellow cup-shaped blooms reminded him of the woman who’d barged her way into his brain with a shattering of glass.

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