“What’s going on here?” Annica asks when we walk in.
“I’m practicing my proposal for my dad tomorrow,” Wes says. “Ladies, please have a seat.” We file into the room and Charlie moves over on the big couch to fit us all. In the corner on therecliner Asher sits with his feet up. The little dark-haired girl that I once saw leaving his room sits on the edge beside him.
Annica does a double take. “Who the hell is that?” she says to the group, motioning at the girl with her thumb, but not addressing her directly. And for once I agree with her unjustified rudeness, because who the hell is that?
“This is Erin,” Asher says. The girl gives a snarky finger wave to Annica.
“Should we really be letting strangers in on a business proposal?” Annica says to Wes.
“She’s not a stranger,” Wesley says to her. “She’s Asher’s new... friend.”
“And who are you?” Erin asks Annica.
Annica blinks at her. “The fact that you don’t know that means you shouldn’t be here.”
“Okay,” Wes says. “That’s enough. Let’s get on with the presentation.” He starts to hook up his laptop to the TV.
Annica concedes, leaning back on the couch with her arms crossed, giving me a better view. Erin’s long, pin-straight hair falls over her hooded Pembroke sweatshirt. She tucks a piece of it behind her ear, revealing at least six piercings going up to the top of it. She smiles down at Asher, crinkling her small button nose. I look over at him to find he’s already looking at me. I turn my focus back to the presentation as Wes passes out a printed copy of it for us.
Wes presents the beach house, earning oohs and aahs from the group. He walks through the drawn-up plans and I start to flip through the pages of the presentation. Each room has a mock-up of what it will look like after renovation, the design details provided by Russel Interiors. And there’s something familiar about that business, though I can’t put my finger on it. Wes continues through the financials, the projected ROI, a marketing plan, and a bunch of other business-related material I don’t understand. At the end he includes all the contact information for the contractors he’s already received quotes and information for, and again there is Russel Interiors with the email below it listed as [email protected]. It hits me then. Kate Holland’s maiden name is Russel. Miles had mentioned it once before. Could this be her? Is Katherine Russel Kate Holland?
“Where did you find this interior design firm?” I ask after the presentation.
“The owner actually reached out to me. Her name is Kate,” Wes says, and my stomach drops.
I try to school my features so no one can sense my unease. “Kate Russel reached out to you? How did she find you?”
“I’ve been posting some things on LinkedIn,” Wes explains.
“I see.” I look over at Asher but now he’s whispering something to Erin.
The boys ask questions about how much money Wes is going to make, and if he’s going to let them stay there for free. I google Russel Interiors, finding that it’s located right in Bloomfield, down the street from Cantine. I make an appointment request for this weekend and hit send.
I’m going to talk to Kate Russel myself.
Chapter 27
I need your help
Itext Asher when Russel Interiors approves my appointment request for Friday afternoon. He doesn’t reply.
Kate Holland is Kate Russel. Wesley’s interior designer. I made an appointment for Friday at noon, at her studio in Bloomfield. What do you say to one more investigation?
Still nothing. I partially don’t blame him for still being upset with me after what I said to him, but he was just as hurtful to me.
Friday morning I apply a coat of lip gloss in the car mirror and adjust my blouse before going into the studio. I tried to dress as professional as possible in a white button-down blouse, tucked into jeans so you can see the Gucci belt I took from Adrienne’s closet.
“You didn’t say there was a dress code,” a voice says from downthe sidewalk. Asher. He walks up in beige cargo pants and a navy long-sleeve, with a jean jacket over top. He looks like an H&M model.
“You came,” I say, surprised.
“You called,” he sighs.
“I texted actually. Which you could’ve replied to.”
“I could’ve.”
He opens the door to the studio and walks in, not bothering to hold it open for me. It swings back fast, causing me to stumble in my heels. A bubbly blonde who looks to be in her mid-twenties greets us when we walk in.
