Page 140 of The Holiday Hate-Off
“I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”
“She’s not,” Lars says conversationally. He’s been sitting with us, good sport that he is, drinking some glögg. We all developed a fondness for it last weekend.
She nudges him with her shoulder, he kisses her head, and Iacheinside.
I know this is my own doing. Enzo probably wouldn’t have accepted the interview if I hadn’t hounded him about it. But there’s a chance they won’t offer him the job, or he won’t accept, or even that they’d allow him to work remotely.
Except…how likely is that? The internet is hardly reliable here, and?—
Don’t borrow trouble,I think to myself.
The next afternoon, Enzo calls my cell phone. The signal is patchy, so I call him back from the main line at the Sip.
“They want a follow-up interview tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll be home on Friday, Lucy. As soon as I can.”
The day before Christmas Eve. That’s cutting things close, especially since his grandmother already has big plans with Nico for the Feast of the Seven Fishes. We’re all supposed to go. Even Charlie and Lars were invited, but Charlie’s parents are flying in from Asheville to meet his family, so they can’t come. Eileen will be there for part of the evening, but I know she has at least a dozen invitations.
“Okay,” I say, hearing the choked sound of my voice. “Of course.”
“This is only about seeing what they offer, if anything, Lucia,” he says. “I’m coming home.”
Hearing him call it that—home—makes me hopeful. I want him to see it that way again.
I want to believe it can be true.
CHAPTER 33
ENZO
It’s Thursday afternoon, two days before Christmas Eve, and Martin just offered me a job.
Thejob.
I’d be the one calling the shots, controlling how things are done. I could do it all my way.
I study Martin. He’s a big guy in a tailored suit, behind a ridiculously large mahogany desk that commands an expansive view of Midtown Manhattan. It’s a power office that speaks of money and opportunity. He’s just promised that if I play the hand he’s given me, I can have my own share of money and power.
“Is there any way I can work remotely?” I ask. “At least part of the time.”
He doesn’t even consider this before shaking his head. “We need boots on the ground, Enzo. Your full devotion to the position.”
Given what I know about Hideaway Harbor’s spotty connectivity to the rest of the world, I know he’s not wrong. But it’s a hard pill to swallow.
“Can I think about it?”
He gives me a severe look, his brows knitting together across his forehead. “What’s there to think about? This is the opportunity of a lifetime, and I don’t mind telling you we wouldn’t normally offer a job like this to someone so young. How old are you anyway, thirty-five?”
“Thirty-three.” He knows exactly how old I am. This is his way of hammering home what a fantastic opportunity he’s offering me. It’s a manipulation—the backbone of what they do here at Murphy & Associates.
Doesn’t sit right.
“Look at you, making my point for me,” he says shrewdly. “But sure. You can have twenty-four hours.”
“When would the position start?”
“Monday,” he says significantly. “You’ll be pulling long hours at the start, I don’t mind telling you. You’ll need to clean up after Tom. He didn’t leave things nice and pretty.”
I take a moment to think. Not about the job, but about Lucy and the life I’ve been living this past month. I’m proud of what I’ve done at Hidden Italy. Of having been there for my family and for Lucy. If I take this job, all of that’s over.
