She followed him back to the living room.
They sat together on the sofa, his pile of stuff between them.
“We probably just need twenty minutes,” he said. Does that work for you?”
“Honestly, I’m good all evening. After you’re done with yours, I have a presentation to show you.”
“You do?”
“I pitched Joan to send me to Cannes.”
He looked genuinely impressed.
“But let me see your REBBL work first.”
Phoenix pulled out an oversized sheet of paper. “You’re going to love the sustainability angle.”
Orchid could see from the colorful graphics that the work had progressed well.
As they sat together, he presented his logic, growing more and more animated.
Orchid weighed in, adding her ideas.
Phoenix was scribbling notes when his phone buzzed.
Orchid thought it sounded like a petulant child insisting on attention.
He looked at the screen and frowned.
“Do you need to get that?” she asked.
“Nah, I can call her back. We haven’t looked at your presentation yet.”
Orchid saw apology in his eyes.Her? she wondered. “It’s fine if you want to grab it. I have my computer, so I can work.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Make yourself at home. There’s wine.”
“Can I rummage around the kitchen?”
“God, yes. It’s wasted on me. Help yourself to whatever… open the wine.”
She stood, then turned to him. “Take as long as you want.”
He punched a button on his phone, picked up his Mac, and headed to his bedroom. “Hey, Tish, sorry I missed your call. How are you? I’m in the middle of something.” He shut the door, and the sound became a muted version of his comforting rumble.
Tish?! THE Tish? The one who Caleb had used as a cautionary tale? “He’s mercurial,” Phoenix’s twin had warned about his brother. She shook off the inner voice and pulled up her presentation deck, typed a few edits, undid the changes, then shut her laptop. She was filled with nervous energy. She had no right to wonder, yet she was filled with an itch to know what this mysterious woman wanted. Eavesdropping would be below her.
“Make yourself at home,” he’d said.Home.That’s why she’d yearned to travel to China. Still seeking a place to call home.
Orchid pushed the power button on the music system’s remote. Music sprang to life, quiet and soothing. A female singer crooned over lost love and sacrifice. It not only suited her mood; it gave her energy to explore.
She shucked her shoes and padded barefoot to check his bookshelves. Tucked among business memoirs and titles touting stoicism were photos of Phoenix and older people she assumed were his parents. They laughed while they skied, swam, and hiked. This was what Orchid had missed: family experiences. Phoenix’s relatives looked happy. They liked each other.
She grabbed her phone and crossed to the kitchen. A whimsical clock, with joggers to mark each hour, told her it was after five. That must have been a kitschy gift.Maybe from Tish. Jealousy was beneath her.
She found the opener and twisted the cork out of the chilled Sancerre. Wine glasses were on a high shelf. They were dusty as if they hadn’t been used in a long while. She used a kitchen towel to clean them off, and then poured herself a glass. The first sip sparkled crisp over her tongue.
A low murmur of conversation hummed through the wall. Why did Orchid want to know what they were discussing? What business was it of hers?
