Page 127 of Out of the Gold

Melody

A week haspassed since the fateful dinner at my parents’ house, and I’m back where I belong in New York City. My first agenda item was to clean my condo from top to bottom. Everything’s scrubbed clean, with no traces that anyone but me has been here.

All of my attention has been focused onLadies of the Abbey.As soon as HBO officially offered me Judith’s job, I set out to hire two new members of my costume design team. It’s been surprisingly difficult.

Becca, an assistant producer for the show, enters Judith’s office. My office. “Your next interview is here.”

“Thanks, Becca,” I say while picking up the résumé and reviewing it one final time.

“I hope you like him.”

“Me too.” I place his résumé on the top of my desk. “I want to get this right.”

She nods. “I understand. Let me bring him in.”

Why did I decide to interview a man for this job? I take a deep, cleansing breath. Because his background is great, he went to my alma mater, and he’s had more years of experience in the field than I have, only at smaller networks. Man or woman, it doesn’t matter so long as they’re competent. Right?

A tall, muscular man with dark brown hair worn in an undercut enters my office. My body tenses as the thirtyish man crosses the threshold and offers his hand. His eyes aren’t blue, thank God. I force a smile and we shake.

Thirty minutes later, I know he’s the right fit for the job. His attitude, his outlook, and his positivity are contagious. Well, the combination will be contagious to the rest of the team. Not to me. But I can fake it.

“It was a pleasure meeting you. I really enjoyed hearing your views about costume design on the small screen.”

“Thanks.” He rubs his hands on his thighs. “The pleasure was all mine. I appreciate how hard you work on the show, and all of your efforts have been showcased so well over the past seasons. I hope to be added to your team.”

I stand. No use keeping him in suspense. “No need to hope. I think you’ll be a perfect fit around here and would like to offer you the job.”

He rises to his full height, causing me to tip my head backward to meet his gaze. Like I used to have to do with Charles. Chase. He diverts my thoughts with a broad smile. “Thank you so much. You won’t be disappointed.” Thank God he doesn’t have a cleft in his chin.

I force my cheeks to inflate. “I’m sure I won’t. Do you have time now to meet with HR and go through all the required paperwork? You can start on Monday.”

“Thank you, again, Miss Hunte. I promise to give you my all.”

I escort my new hire to human resources and lean against the closed door. I hope I didn’t make a mistake. He looks sort of like the movie star, but that’s it. He’s qualified. He has a winning personality. He’ll do a good job. So what if I want to hurl when I look at him? That will subside. It has to.

Blowing out a breath, I stop at the kitchenette and make a coffee. As I doctor it with creamer and stir, my mind flies halfway across the globe. Drinking coffee in Amalfi while Charles drank his stupid fizzy water. I shove the memory away and return to my office.

One hire down, one more to go. I sort through the résumés and invite three more people to come in to interview. With that chore completed, I turn to more exciting tasks. Like designs for the opening episode, which will start to film in a month.

After I’ve been working and reworking the lead actor’s dress for hours, I’m satisfied with the result. Hers was the final costume needed. Accomplishment courses through my blood.

I did it. I created all the designs for the first episode. Only twelve more to go.

I twirl around in my seat and look out over the now dark New York City. Becca raps on my office door. “I’m heading out. Want to grab a bite to eat?”

Becca’s asked me to join her for dinner every day since I returned to the City. And every day, I give her the same answer. “Not tonight. I’m still trying to get my arms around things.”

Similarly, her reply is the same as well, “Okay. Maybe tomorrow?”

Sometime later, I pack my tote and head out, saying goodbye to the security guards at the front. I take advantage of the nice evening by walking the twenty minutes to my condo. The fresh air does not soothe my soul, though. Nothing ever will.

Along the way, I stop by a salad bar and pick up dinner. The only thing, besides coffee, I’ll eat today. Not hungry anymore.

In my condo, I plop down on the sofa, take-out container on my lap. It’s time for me to redecorate in here. I need new furniture, something untainted by where others have sat.

Without thought, I direct Alexa to turn on the TV as I start to eat the lettuce. The music forEntertainment This Eveningstarts. I don’t want to watch anything about the business. Before I can formulate the command to change the channel, the voice-over says, “Last night was the ladies’ turn, but tonight it’s the men’s. Let’s check out the red carpet from last weekend to see ‘Who Rocked the Premiere’!” Flashes of several men walking the red carpet follow her announcement. Chase Wright among them.

My fork, forgotten in my cold hand, lands in the Styrofoam.

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