Page 37 of Three Sweet Nothings (The Blindfold Club)

Chapter

FOURTEEN

RUBY

Morgan’s dress was twelve hundred dollars. She’d worn it as a presenter at some broadcaster awards ceremony last year. Since she wasn’t going to use the dress again, she was surprisingly cool about it. I delivered the silk gown to a dry cleaner and tried to explain what happened. The Korean woman didn’t appear to understand a word of it, but she nodded enthusiastically and announced, “Thursday, you pick up.”

Kyle had cleaned me out of almond flour and egg whites. I’d set down the box containing my last batch of macarons in the office break room this morning, and my associates swarmed. It got me to crack a smile. At least my misery brought happiness to others.

Since my macaron making supplies were depleted, I told myself that was enough. I was done thinking about Kyle McCreary. I was successful for the majority of the day, until an email arrived in my inbox from ‘k.mccreary’ followed by his firm’s domain name.

Ms. Carter,

There is business my client needs to discuss, but due to its sensitive nature, I would prefer not to document it. Please call my assistant at the number listed below and arrange a meeting at your earliest convenience.

Thank you for your time,

Kyle McCreary

I fought back the rising anger. The email was professional, but so very him. I drafted and deleted three nasty responses before composing the right one.

Mr. McCreary,

I am no longer involved in the Crawford divorce as it is a conflict of interest. In the future, you should contact Henry Reed directly. I will forward your request to him.

Sincerely,

Ruby Carter

I fired off the email, and was stunned when his response was immediate.

This is unrelated to the Crawford case.

A strange tickle developed in the back of my throat, which I tried to swallow away.

What is it regarding?

This time either his response was slower, or the clock ground to a halt. I held my breath when the new message popped in.

Please see my previous email about the sensitive nature, and call my office to schedule the meeting.

I actually hissed at my computer screen.

Never had I been so incredibly annoyed and curious at the same time. What the hell was this about? Life would be just great if I didn’t see him again, even in a professional capacity. There were plenty of attorneys in Chicago. I’d gone more than a year without running into him, and it stood to reason I could go the rest of my career without it happening.

I dragged my feet about making the appointment, knowing if I wanted answers, I’d have to do it. Did he have a client he wanted to push off on me? Was this some sort of offering as a way of apology? Like throwing work my direction would make everything better?

Because if so, fuck that. I snatched up my desk phone and punched in the numbers with force.

“James, Franklin, and McCreary. This is Suzanne. Can I help you?”

I took a deep breath. “Yes, Suzanne. This is Ruby Carter, calling from the Law Offices of Sterns and Clifford. I need to set up an appointment with Kyle McCreary.”

“Sure, please give me a moment to pull up his schedule.” There was a short pause. “It looks like the only thing he has available is tomorrow at four. Does that work for you? He’s booked solid next week.”

I clenched my teeth. I didn’t want to meet with him, and definitely not on a Friday, an hour before close of business. If his office was anything like mine, the senior staff cleared out early, and the junior associates were scrambling to finish work before the weekend.

“Is he available during his lunch? I’m fine with meeting outside the office.” In fact, neutral ground was preferable.

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