Page 142 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
Now I’m excited about and dreading lunch in equal measure.
Chapter Twelve
Lila
A freaking picnic lunchin the apple orchard? Am I dreaming right now?
I lean back into Perry’s desk chair, my hands sliding down the butter soft leather on the armrests. The chair alone probably costs more than all the furniture in my house, and yet, nothing about Perry’s office feels opulent. The whole farmhouse feels nice, comfortable, but not excessive. I wonder if the office is designed to match Perry’s preferences or if he inherited the space from his dad and didn’t change anything,
Somehow, itfeelslike Perry, though that could be wishful thinking because I’m pretty sure I could live in this office with its tasteful simplicity and easy comfort. Slide a twin bed into the corner and give me a mini fridge, and I’ll be set.
It took me hours to finally respond to Perry’s text last night. Because my feelings were hurt that he dismissed my ideas and that even though he did apologize, his apology felt so sterile and businesslike.
Which, of course he should be businesslike. It was only that I’d allowed myself to hope, and his texts squashed that hope right into the ground.
But now?
Now I’m swimming in hope. Practically drowning in it. It’s not lost on me thatdrowningisn’t actually a good thing. That I am in very real danger of getting swept away. My hope might as well be a fast-moving current on a river after all the snow melts and comes flooding down. And I’m swimming—did I mention I’m not a very good swimmer?—with no life raft. No vest. And no one on the shore to throw me a rope and pull me to safety—orto stop me from making bad extended metaphors in my head.
But honestly, how can I not hope?
Perry asked about Jack. He complimented my hair. And last night, he texted me actual APPLE PUNS.
It only takes an hour or so to look over the reports, something which I could have easily done from home, not that you’ll hear me complaining. I’ll choose to work in a cushy leather chair that smells like my sexy boss any day of the week.
I notate the few discrepancies I find, then pull out my laptop so I can pull up my work email. I haven’t checked it since yesterday, so there’s probably enough to keep me busy for at least another half hour. I could check it on my phone but responding is so much easier on my laptop. Except, Perry didn’t mention Wi-Fi before he left, which means my laptop is basically useless.
I look toward the door. Surely there’s someone else close by who could help me get connected. I make my way out of Perry’s office and head down the long hallway that leads toward the front reception area. There, I find a lovely woman with shoulder-length gray hair, a pair of glasses perched on her nose, her head leaning close to the computer screen on the reception desk.
She looks up when she sees me, her smile warm and wide. “Hello,” she says, looking toward the hallway out of which I just emerged. “I don’t think I know you.”
“Hi. I’m Lila. Perry’s assistant? I’m hoping there’s someone who can get me connected to the Wi-Fi?”
“Oh.Oh!Well, of course. It’s been ages since I’ve used the Wi-Fi, but I’m sure there’s someone here who knows the password.” She stands and moves toward me, extending her hand. “I’m Hannah Hawthorne.”
“Hawthorne?”
She nods. “Perry’s mom.”
That’swhy her smile looks so familiar. It’s Perry’s smile.
She takes my hand, engulfing it in both of hers.
“Mrs. Hawthorne. It’s so nice to meet you. I didn’t expect—but then, I guess it makes sense that you would be here.”
“Please. Call me Hannah. Usually you’d have to come to the barn to find me, but I needed a computer, and the one I have at the house has a broken power cord. This one I can’t seem to make work for me though.” She looks over her shoulder at the offending computer.
“Is it anything I can help you with?” I ask. “I’m not a computer whiz by any means, but I’m happy to try.”
“Oh. Well, sure, if you don’t mind. I just need to upload a few pictures into a shared google drive. But whenever I click on the link, it tells me I don’t have access.”
I follow her to the computer, looking over her shoulder as she explains further. “See, I’ve got the pictures here, in my email. And the link to the shared folder is here, in this message. It says it’s been shared with my email address, but when I click it—” I watch as she clicks the link and receives a message denying her access.
“Oh, I see what’s happening,” I say. “It’s defaulting to the Stonebrook Google account instead of yours.” I reach for themouse, and she shifts to the side, making room. “But if we click here and switch over toyourprofile, it should let us right in.” Sure enough, as soon as I switch the profiles, the shared folder opens up. My eyes catch on the name.Silver Creek High School Class of 2007 15-Year ReunionSlide Show.“Is this for Perry’s reunion?” I ask.
“You know about it?”
“Only that he’s been invited,” I say, not wanting to insert myself into Hawthorne family drama. Maybe Perry’s mom doesn’t care that he’s not planning on attending the reunion, but maybe she does. “The invitation came to his work email. Do you want me to upload these photos for you?” I ask, gesturing back to the computer.
