Page 12 of One Small Secret

Except me. But that doesn’t mean I can only succeed at Palmer Hotels. I could go somewhere else.

Christian is nearly out the door but still facing me, looking hesitant. I raise my hand. “Actually, could you do one thing for me?” He stops, uncertainty flashing over his face. “If you see Ruben Palmer, will you tell him about Axley? Ask him how he feels about firing a woman with a child to support right before Christmas.”

“If I see Ruben Palmer? When would I see Ruben Palmer?”

I shake my head. He's right. It’s not like Ruben comes to the 11th floor for social calls. Not anymore. “You know what? Forget I said that. Life isn’t fair. It’s about time I learned that.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

I’ve spent the last two days debating how I could ask for my job back. And there's no good answer.

I zip up Axley’s new coat and pull the stroller Mom and I bought yesterday out of the closet. It’s frigid, but I can’t sit in the apartment for another minute. I’m used to working, and when I’m not working, either relaxing or having intelligent conversations with…well, anyone.

Thank you Axley and Moira for taking not only my job away from me, but my methods of coping with life as well.

I could talk to Ben. I haven’t even seen him since I got back. But I shouldn’t have to resort to using connections. I’m a good employee, and I know it.

I have enough savings to last a few months. My time in Vietnam was inexpensive and I'd gotten a raise before going. But if I don’t want to use it all up watching Moira’s baby, at some point I’ll need to find another job. And if I want Mom’s help with Axley, it will need to be in Rosco.

Even if I could pay for someone to help Mom so I could leave town, I have to admit, I’ve grown a little attached to the goober. I give him a wink and ruffle his soft curls. His hand shoots up and his chubby fingers grab mine. “We’re going to stick around, aren’t we?”

Which means everyone in Rosco will know I failed at Palmer Hotels.

But I didn’t fail. I had one really bad day, for a really good reason.

There’s a small part of me that hopes Christian will deliver my message and…what? That Ruben will feel terrible and offer me my job back?

Do I even want my job, if it’s only mine because Ruben feels bad for me? No. I want him to want me there, not to pretend he doesn’t know me and cart me back to Vietnam. His fame has turned him into some kind of narcissist. I’d suspected it when he first sent me to Vietnam, and this whole thing has confirmed it. I’m not good for his ego.

I unfold the stroller and strap Axley in. “Let’s take your new wheels for a ride.” He gurgles and bounces in the seat in response. It’s definitely the cutest thing I’ve seen all week. Totally worth going out in the snow for.

I open my door, then roll him to the exterior door and kick it open. A gust of wind and snow envelopes me. Almost instantly my teeth start to chatter. Axley’s eyes go wide and his body stiffens from the shock, but then he catches sight of the snow falling through the air and his excitement returns.

I narrow my eyes against the onslaught and turn to the left. There’s just enough new snow on the sidewalk to make pushing the stroller nearly impossible, but it moves a few inches. I lean forward and laugh. I’m an idiot. The weather had been cold yesterday but at least it hadn’t been storming. “Why in the world did I think we needed to get out in this?” I shout above the wind to Axley. His only response is to grab for another snowflake. Babies needed to be walked, didn’t they? I mean, dogs get walked daily or they go crazy. If I didn’t take him on a walk maybe he would start chewing up the sofa or something.

Or get jaundice. Babies who don’t go outside get jaundice, right?

Maybe I should head to the bookstore and find a book on child rearing. Mom seemed to know what she was doing, but she hadn’t mentioned jaundice even once. If she wasn’t going to worry about things like that, maybe I should.

“Ms. Crane.”

I crack an eye open further and look up. A black Porsche Macan is parked in front of my apartment building, and through the tinted, partially open window, Ruben is scrutinizing me and the stroller. What is he doing here? How does he even know where I live?

“Ms. Crane?” I holler back at him through the wind. What is with him and all this professional language? “Since when did you start calling me Ms. Crane? I crushed you in the third-grade spelling bee.”

It might be the dusting of snow flying by me, but I think I see the corner of his mouth rise. “Get in the car.”

I want to stick my tongue out at him so badly, but I also want to retain the smallest bit of dignity. Being an adult is lame. “This may be hard to believe, but I’m outside on purpose. I don’t want…” I sneak a glance at Axley. “Anyone to get jaundice.”

He slides his jaw to one side, then turns off the ignition and gets out.

He’s wearing a long, thick, wool coat with a scarf that’s probably made from some exotic animal textile, like baboon butt hair or something equally ridiculous. It’s probably all the latest rage in Monaco, or wherever rich socialites hang out. He strides over to me, his athletic legs looking perfectly sculpted in his tailored trousers. It really isn’t fair. I could look like a million bucks too, you know…if I had a million bucks.

The only thing my family has passed down to me are way too many apples. Well, that and now Moira’s baby.

I look down at Axley in his Supercenter coat, and he tilts his head so he can stare back at me. I touch the tip of his already pink nose. “We don’t need designer clothes, do we, Axley? We're doing just fine.”

The crunching of Ruben’s footsteps come to a halt right next to me. “Can you please tell me what is going on?” His voice is low, like he doesn’t want anyone to hear him. Not that anyone else is out on the street today. I glance up. Ruben’s eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth a tight line. A thunderstorm is raging in the depths of his mahogany eyes.

---