“I’m content, Georgie, but I’d be even better if you would get some rest.” He stood and held out his arm. “Let’s get you upstairs.”
Later, in his home office, Theo replayed Georgie’s words while he worked. Growing up in a family with a strong political legacy, the weight on his shoulders had felt immense at times. The dedication and commitment displayed by his family had instilled in him a sense of duty from a young age, and when hisparents died, that responsibility had become more important than ever.
Theo worked hard to make Northfield the kind of place that people wanted to settle down. It wasn’t easy work, but he considered it his life’s work, and he wanted a shot at four more years. Beckerman had snuck up on him in the polls, but Theo was up for a challenge to his office.
And yet, Georgie’s words hung over him as he worked late into the night. He knew he worked too much. For the first time, however, he felt a bone-deep exhaustion as he looked at the stacks of paperwork and mail that had piled up since Kelsey left. He should be sleeping, but lately sleep had been elusive. When he tried, his mind refused to shut off, cycling through tasks and upcoming decisions until he finally gave up and went downstairs to work.
When Ford had brought up Amber’s name as a replacement for Kelsey, Theo hadn’t really considered it, but now, looking around at the stacks of paperwork on his desk, he wondered if he was making a mistake by not offering the job to her.
Life is about the chances we take.
Solving problems with logic and reason was second nature to him. This one seemed deceptively simple. He needed an assistant. Amber needed a job. It was a gamble, but his grandmother’s words repeated in his head. Why not just try it?
Lord knew he needed the help. Why not see if Amber Hart was up for the job?
Chapter Four
“So you got shit-canned,huh? Nice work.” Valentine Monroe, Amber’s neighbor, smirked and threw herself onto the couch.
The girl’s pitch-black hair hung in limp strands over her face, and her black clothing stood out like a death knell in Amber’s colorful apartment. It was early Saturday morning and already sweltering hot with no AC. One more thing she couldn’t afford to fix.
“Get out,” Amber said mildly. “You’re not helping.” She sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by fabrics and patterns, her fingers deftly picking the stitching out of a swatch of fabric.
Throughout her apartment, various bins and baskets overflowed with scraps of fabrics, jackets, and a shoe collection that made her tingle in her loveliest places.
All of her clothing was thrifted or purchased on deep discount from boutiques. Clothing was the one thing in her life she knew with absolute certainty she was good at. Buying it, designing it, choosing the exact right shade to flatter people, she knew her stuff.
She’d had a fascination with fashion since shewas little. How what you wore made a statement about you, and how you could change that impression on a whim. It was a creative escape she had held onto from the first time her aunt Rosa brought her a little secondhand Singer sewing machine to their apartment.
She stroked the silky Versace print in her lap. It looked like Frankenstein now with the cuts, but she had an idea to turn it into a cute scarf dress that crisscrossed over her chest and tied at the waist.
“I’m almost eighteen. I can take your spot. Think Killian would hire me?” Valentine asked. Val, her little sister Holly, and their mom, Sandy, had moved into the apartment next door to Amber’s last year.
Amber had met them during one of her volunteer shifts at the Maple Street Center, a temporary shelter for domestic violence survivors. She collected secondhand clothing throughout the year, gave them a wash and usually added something pretty, before donating them to the women and kids there.
Amber had connected with Sandy and the girls on their first night at the shelter and eventually helped get them their apartment, although she had told no one else that. Sandy was a proud woman, and she was trying her best to make a living and raise the girls.
Amber helped them out as much as she could. It made things tight financially, but she had made it work for almost a year now. Her little setback at work wouldn’t change that.
“Nope. We’ve been over this. Where’s Holly?” Amber leaned her head back against the couch and heard the telltale crackle of cellophane. Her stack of overdue bills. When she got home last night, in a fit of temper, she had stuffed them under her couch cushion. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.
With the sun coming in and the scent of bacon wafting up from the downstairs apartment, Amber could almost close hereyes and forget that she had no money and no job. What she did have was $200 in the bank after she paid her rent. As for the loan, she wasn’t going to think about where that would come from.
“Why do you care? You’re not my family,” Valentine sneered. Well, she tried. Her heavy black eyeliner hid some of her glare.
“But I’ve always wanted a sweet sister just like you,” Amber shot back. “We could do each other’s hair and stay up all night and talk about each other’s crushes.”
“You’re so weird. And you’re way too old to be my sister.” Val’s nose wrinkled in disgust. Amber knew there was a cute smattering of freckles hidden under the gobs of makeup on Val’s face, but they never saw the light of day. One day Val would turn into a lovely young woman. Today was not that day.
Dealing with teen angst took her most impressive charm skills and she wasn’t usually successful. Sarcasm tended to work better with Val, anyway.
“Seriously, where’s Holly?”
“I left her next to a white van in the parking lot.”
Amber glared at her. “Not funny.”
Val rolled her eyes. “Relax. She’s at Allie’s for breakfast. You know your sister’s a way better cook than you, right?”
