Page 6 of Finding Noah
Huh. Not as much dust as I expected.
“What employment are you planning to seek?” Noah followed me in. “You’ve been a junior executive in your family’s company since finishing business school. I don’t know how many executive jobs there are in Foggy Basin.” He eyed me dubiously, with a little furrow between his brows.
“I’ll cope.” I grinned. “I always land on my feet.”
The furrow deepened.
“What?” I stepped closer to the very floral pink- and-white sofa. And eyed the side table with its shocking amount of lace in the cloth.
“You’ve never had to struggle, Christian.” He rubbed his face. “Which is why I don’t understand why you’re doing it now. I mean, how much money were you able to bring with you?”
I squinted as if I was doing some quick math in my head. “Enough for a few weeks.” I crossed my fingers at the blatant lie. “I’ll need to find employment straight away, but I don’t believe that will be difficult. This town has a robust service-and-goods sector.”
“A what?”
“I plan to get a job in a store.”
He blinked. “Doing what? You think they’ll just make you a manager?”
“Of course not. I intend to work as an employee. Cashier, or greeter, or sales assistant.” I tilted my head as I examined a table lamp, trying to find the switch. Oh, as part of the cord. Well, why not? “Why don’t we check out the dining room before proceeding into the kitchen?”
“You’re as formal as this house.” Noah nudged me. “Yeah, we can do that.”
He’d been teasing me for twenty years about my formality. Still, my parents had ingrained in me that Carters behaved a certain way. That much was expected of them. And I’d done everything I could to meet those expectations. Even going so far as to remain at home until I married—so as to not be living a profligate life.
Well, you can see how well that went.
My parents had, collectively, left about twenty-two messages on my phone.
I need to get a new number. The few acquaintances whom I trusted to not share that new number would receive a text before I shuttered the Tennessee number entirely.
Noah’s phone had, to the best of what I could see, been silent.
Hope he blocked Leroy.
My friend didn’t need that riffraff in his life.
The formal dining room stunned with its elegance and a table that sat twenty.
Noah caught my gaze and arched an eyebrow.
I grinned. “We’re going to have so many friends that they won’t all fit at the table.”
He snorted.
Of the two of us, I’d always had more faith in positivity. Which, given my family’s predicament, I really wasn’t entitled to. “I believethis room will require much dusting.” I moved to the china cabinet that bore a stunning blue-and-white Delft pattern on display. “I don’t recall Miss Esmeralda mentioning she had Dutch heritage. Somehow…” I considered. “I figured she would have…”
“Floral?” Noah pointed to the large canvas of a vase overflowing with pink roses.
“She painted that.” I grinned. “She’s an accomplished painter and, to the best of her memory, she has at least six of her paintings displayed. Another eight or ten are in the attic. She likes to rotate them. Oh, we must find those and honor the tradition.” Excitement grew within me.
“Are they all—” Noah tilted his head. “Pink?”
“I didn’t ask. She volunteered the history of the artwork and, after some cajoling on my behalf, imparted the news of her talent. I promised to take photographs of all the works and have them framed in a collage for her to keep at the nursing home. I offered to bring them to her in a rotation, but she felt her work was too dignified for that.” I leaned in closer, as if sharing some great secret. “I believe she’s embarrassed for people to know her talent.”
“Exactly how long were you talking to her?”
“Three hours.”
