Trouble In Bloom (7 page)

"She's fine, Nina," Tam said, picking up. "I didn't mean to worry you."

I hadn't really believed Nic was sick, so I hadn't been too worried. "What's going on?"

She sighed. "Those cameras. I can't deal with them."

"Why? Wait. You don't have any outstanding warrants, do you?"

"No! Well, not that I know of." Her cultured drawl was part Queen Elizabeth, part Lil'Abner. She had regal diction with a good ol' southern girl accent.

I tapped a pencil on my desk blotter, opened my bottom drawer for an Almond Joy.

Empty.

I kept forgetting. And I wished I wouldn't. Every time I saw that empty drawer, it made me want to cry.

I am so not a crier.

Maybe the new me was. Would that be so bad?

"Then what?" I asked.

"There are . . . people, Nina. People I'd rather not have know where I am. If they saw me on TV . . . "

"Tam!"

"Let's just say I hacked into someone's computer a few years ago," she explained, "and they still haven't forgiven me."

"Are you in danger? Does Ian know?"

Ian Phillips was Tam's live-in love, but not the father of Tam's baby. Nic's dad was in jail on bigamy charges, and I doubted he even knew of her existence. If Tam had her way, Nic would probably grow up thinking Ian was her dad. And I think Ian wanted it that way too. Ian had recently switched from the FBI to the DEA, taking a job that would give him more free time at home. Tam, who had a law-enforcement phobia, hadn't quite reconciled herself to living with the law quite yet.

This could be part of the reason they hadn't made wedding plans.

"I'm not in danger if they don't know where I am! Which is why I can't be on TV. I'm sorry, Nina, but I just can't come in this week."

"It's all right." My goodness, I didn't even want to think about life without Tam in it. She was like the little sister I'd always wanted. Not the bratty spoiled one I actually had. Over the years Tam had become part of my family—everyone had welcomed her with open arms. "The whole somebody's-after-you thing is freaking me out, but if you're not worried . . . "

"I'm not."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay."

"And Nina?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you please tell your mom I don't need a baby shower? Break it to her gently—I don't want to hurt her feelings. I have everything I need. It would feel wrong to get any more."

I doodled a cake onto my blotter, imagined it was German chocolate with extra coconut. "So, you did know."

She laughed. "Don't I always?"

"I tried to tell her that."

"She is stubborn. Just like someone else I know."

I heard the chimes out front. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"Right."

"I'll see what I can do," I said.

Brickhouse poked her head in the door. "Someone here to see you."

"Who?"

"Jeff Dannon."

"Who?"

I heard a young male voice say, "Ana sent me."

Tam must've heard.

"Are you laughing?" I said to her. "Do I need to remind you Sassy is here at my mercy?"

"You wouldn't!"

"'Bye!" I flipped the phone closed, looked at Brickhouse. "Tam will probably be calling back in a minute."

Brickhouse clucked and turned away.

"Jeff, you can come on in!" I probably should have gotten up to meet him at the door, but I was feeling lazy. Not a good sign the morning training session I'd scheduled with Duke would go well.

Jeff came in, and I did a double take. He was cute. Seriously cute. Much too young for me, but I wasn't blind. Dark hair, light eyes, olive skin that had the look of a perpetual tan. He shook my hand and sat down in the ancient wing chair facing my desk.

"Um, Ms. Bertoli sent me. She thought you could, um, maybe, uh, help me out. Get a job."

I knew why Ana sent him. She was a sucker for goodlooking younger guys. "I don't suppose you have any experience?"

He shook his head.

"What were you arrested for?"

"Petty theft."

I was going to kill Ana.

"I don't—"

"Ms. Quinn, I'm a hard worker. Strong." He showed me his bicep.

Yep. He was strong.

"I made a mistake and now no one will hire me."

I took a deep breath. Ana wasn't the only sucker in the Ceceri family tree. My weakness was for sob stories.

As I thought about it, this was my chance to implement a

key element in my self-discovery quest: saying no. Wasn't I supposed to be changing? Doing things I normally wouldn't? Wasn't I freshly waxed and coiffed?

"Please?" he said with eyes that reminded me of BeBe.

"Oh, all right. But just part-time."

I was weak, and this self-discovery stuff was hard.

Damn hard.

"Part-time is okay. I just went back to school anyway."

"School's good. What year?"

"Junior."

"That makes you, what? Twenty?"

"Almost twenty-one. December birthday."

I nodded, easily seeing him with Deanna. "See Mrs. Krauss on your way out to get some paperwork. You'll be working under Kit. You'll get your orders from him, you'll do everything he tells you. Got it?"

He nodded.

"Except for anything to do with his dog! Just say no to that."

"Okay."

"Come in tomorrow to meet everyone, and you'll start Wednesday. Be here at six-thirty."

"Okay." His leg bounced.

"You can go now."

He jumped up, held out his hand. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Ana owed me big-time.

An hour later Deanna couldn't stop staring at me. "You look so . . . pretty."

I didn't want to think about how she thought I'd looked before.

"Thank you," I said again. It was the fourth time she'd told me. I doodled a cupcake next to the cake on my blotter.

Nels and Roxie sat in the corner. Nels had his head tipped back and was napping (I think it
had
been the doughnuts that perked him up that morning). Roxie was engrossed in a Sudoko puzzle book.

Deanna fidgeted.

I dropped my pencil into the cup. "Do you know how I've been making changes around here lately? Cutting back the schedule?"

"Yes?" She clasped her hands together, one thumb making nervous sweeps over the other.

"I've been thinking that there's really not a need for two designers to work on the surprise makeovers full-time."

Her eyes widened. "You're firing me?"

"What?"

"I knew it! I just knew it." She jumped up, tugged on her pencil skirt.

I leaned forward. "Deanna, wait. You don't understand."

"I had a feeling this was coming. That's fine. Really, it's fine. I mean, I'd been thinking about moving on anyway."

"Deanna—wait. Moving on?"

"To another company. For more experience, you know."

"No." My jaw set. "I didn't know."

"This is probably for the best. Really."

I slumped back in my chair. This hadn't been what I intended at all. I'd been about to promote her, give her more design freedom, and now she was quitting? Or was I firing her?

"Deanna, I don't want you to leave," I said.

"Well, I can't stay knowing that you don't want me."

"I never said that."

"It was implied."

"No it wasn't."

She looked at Roxie. "Wasn't it implied?"

Roxie peered over the rim of her glasses. "Kind of."

I gave her the Ceceri Evil Eye. She shrank back and cov ered her face with her puzzle book. "It wasn't," I said to Deanna.

"I have an interview at The Grass Is Always Greener on Friday. I'll be okay."

Hurt flooded me. "You have an interview scheduled?"

"I had a feeling this was coming."

"Nothing was coming!"

"I'll get my things and go."

The phone rang. I heard Brickhouse pick it up.

I would have argued but I was too upset. An interview. With The Grass Is Always Greener, one of the top landscaping design firms in the area. That was just downright traitorous. And besides, asking her to hear me out was something the old me would do.

"Fine. If that's what you feel you have to do."

"It is."

I let her go.

The intercom on my desk buzzed. "What?"

"Temper, temper, Nina Ceceri."

I rubbed my suddenly aching temples.

"Riley's on line one."

"Thank you." I picked up the phone. The cord stretched as I walked around my desk, and I kicked the door closed with my foot. Nels snorted awake.

The crackled noise from a TV set came through the line as I said, "Riley?"

"Hey."

"What's wrong?" I dropped into my chair, swiveled to look out the window. The garden showplace in the back looked beautiful. Abundant fall fl owers glowed.

He must have muted the TV because I didn't hear it anymore. "Why's something have to be wrong?"

"You never call."

"Oh. Right. Well, I was just on my way to Mrs. Greeble's to do some yard work—"

"Don't charge her too much, you know she's on a pension," I reminded him.

"I
know,"
he said. "I just thought I'd call and warn you."

Warn me? "About what?"

The intercom buzzed again. I swiveled. "Hold on, Riley. Yes?" I said to Brickhouse.

"Carson Keyes is here to see you."

My gaze zipped to Roxie. "Why?"

"For his behind-the-scene piece, remember?"

Nope. I'd forgotten.

"Okay," I said to Brickhouse. "Show him in please. Riley? Warn me?"

"About the picketers."

I sat upright. Somehow I'd gotten the cord tangled around my neck. I fought to get free. Hands tugged, elbows fl ew.

My office door swung open and Carson Keyes walked in, took one look at me and signaled his cameraman to start filming.

Grrr.

I held up a finger to him, finished unraveling myself and said to Riley, "What picketers?"

"Two guys with signs that say 'Reality TV Is Evil.' "

Chocolate. I needed chocolate. I opened the bottom desk drawer, saw it was empty—damn it—and slammed it closed.

"That's not the worst part," Riley said.

"How can it possibly be worse?"

"The construction guys actually showed up today."

"But that's good news!" Images of me sleeping in my own bed soothed me.

"Um, not really. They refuse to cross the picket line. Something about union rules."

On edge, I grit my teeth.

I pumped Riley for more information, but he didn't know much else so I hung up. Picketers. Great.

Looking at Carson, I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile, and held out my hand.

As he shook it I couldn't help but think about Ana and what she'd do to me if she found out Carson was here in my office and she wasn't.

I'd probably be keeping this little tidbit to myself.

After introducing him to Roxie and Nels, I asked him and his cameraman to have a seat.

"Did I hear something about picketing?" he asked.

"At my house. Something about reality TV being evil."

"I spoke with Mario Gibbens earlier, and he too had picketers at his place. The footage will be in my report tonight." He tapped something into his BlackBerry, and I wondered if footage of my house would be on the news tonight too.

"Did you interview them?"

He nodded, tucked his BlackBerry into the inside pocket of his tailored suit coat. "Activists for a morality TV group."

"Oh."

Was
Hitched or Ditched
immoral? Maybe I needed a quick brush-up on current vices because I didn't think so.

Carson leaned forward, smiled. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions off camera? Then do a little filming?"

"Not at all."

Carson seemed like your everyday average guy, and not the most popular TV reporter in Cincinnati. I thought for sure he'd be carrying around a big ego, but he seemed humble and down to earth. I worried about Ana's chances with him—or rather, his chances with her. She enjoyed the narcissistic type.

His questions ranged from why I was doing the show—I came up with a doozy of an answer about long-distance relationships and everlasting love—to how I met Bobby, to if the home audience actually voted for Bobby and me to get hitched, would we?

"Tough one," I said.

"But isn't that why you're doing the show?"

"Well, yes." I was stuck. If I said yes, that Bobby and I would get married, then all of southern Ohio, northern Kentucky, and eastern Indiana would be expecting a wedding. It could bloom out of control.

If I said no, everyone would wonder why we were on the show in the first place. And I couldn't very well explain about Josh Drake and his cockamamie idea to get dirt on Willie Sala for a lawsuit, now could I?

"You're just going to have to wait and see," I hedged.

He smiled. "Said like a woman trying to evade a question."

"Said like a woman who would like the audience to keep tuning in."

He laughed. "Good point."

"Thank you. Now, can I ask you a couple of questions?"

"Me? Why?"

"Curiosity."

Amusement lit his eyes. "Okay."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

He took a second to respond. "No."

That had been a very pregnant second. A lot was hid den in that second. That second put me on edge. "Recently dumped?" I fished.

"Nope."

"Want a girlfriend?" This would tell me a lot. One, if he was gay. I hadn't thought of that until his pause. Being a very popular TV personality, he might not want the world to know his sexual preference. Two, if Ana had a chance at all.