And for some reason…Eve didn’t want her to know. Not that she was ashamed of it, but a silly part of her just wanted to keep the knowledge of Khiva to herself.
Just for a little bit longer, at least.
Even Eve could see the pout on Genni’s lips. “I was going to invite you over to Erik’s with me. He’s having a small party tonight.”
Erik was her latest lover, or so she’d gathered through the brief calls they’d shared over the weekend after she ditched the tailor who worked next to the beauty shop. Genni had met him through a mutual friend, or rather one of her clients at the salon, which meant that Erik was rich. That was always enough for Genni, though she’d confessed that he was at least fifteen years older.
Apparently, the sex was fantastic, or so Genni claimed.
Eve could see the path this relationship would play out, just like all the ones before it, but she knew it wasn’t her place to say anything. She’d made that mistake in the past and had learned her lesson. Secretly, Genni knew how it would turn out too, though she held onto hope that maybe Erik was the one.
“Sorry,” Eve said, but didn’t really mean it. She’d been dragged to exactly three parties by Genni and every single one of them had turned out the same: her feeling left out and awkward while Genni flirted shamelessly with whoever she’d gone for. “I have to close up here soon and then I’m just going to head home to relax.”
Genni didn’t like that. Eve heard it in her impatient sigh. “You know, you’re never going to meet anyone if you don’ttry, Evelyn.”
Eve bit her tongue before she could say anything bitchy, something along the lines of her not wanting to meetanyonelike the men Genni went after.
In a dry tone, Eve said instead, “I think I’m past that age where it even matters, Genni.”
Which might’ve not been much better, considering her friend was only a year younger than she was.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Genni asked, her voice carefully quiet, her eyes direct. She didn’t even blink as she waited for Eve to answer.
Eve sighed, not wanting to pick a fight, but already knowing that Genni would take it there. “You know what I mean, Genni. It just means I’ve accepted I won’t be anyone’s wife, not on Everton. And truthfully…I’m thankful for it.”
“Don’t look down on me just because I haven’t given up, Evelyn,” Genni said, her tone sharp. “You always do this!”
“Do what?” Eve asked, surprised. “I don’t look down on you, Genni.”
“Not all of us have the luxury of giving up,” Genni said, her anger growing. “You think Iwantto work at the beauty shop until I’m dead? No. Iwantto be taken care of. AndIcertainly don’t have thousands and thousands of credits that my dead dad left me.”
Eve froze. It wasn’t the first time that Genni had thrown her inheritance in her face, but she’d never done it so directly and with so much disgust in her voice.
She was so stunned and hurt that her ‘friend’ would even say something like that, knowing how much her father’s death still cut her.
But she recovered quickly and said, in a controlled tone, “I’m not going to talk to you when you’re like this, Genni. Enjoy your party.”
Then she disconnected the call with a deliberate swipe of her hand.
Eve knew that Genni had a temper and she knew that come morning, her friend would probably call back and apologize profusely for saying something so hurtful. But Eve was tired of it, she was tired of pretending that it was okay.
She sighed, taking a moment to compose herself before she wrapped up the delicate book for the night. When she got her emotions under control, she did just that before closing up Mr. Wrenton’s shop. It was only a short walk to the tram and only a ten minute ride to the Garden District.
And once she reached her townhouse, she shook off the slight chill in the air. It was the Programmers’ way of saying the season was about to change and Eve was glad for it. She preferred colder weather.
For some reason, the moment she entered the townhouse, she went into her father’s study…now her own. It was where he had often spent his nights before dinner, pouring over his business transactions, or researching fair market prices for his goods among the colonies, or calculating how much fuel he would require on his next drop.
Eve opened the top drawer and opened the letter she’d read over a hundred times since his death. It was her inheritance contract, which her father had written out, by hand, himself. At the time of his death, the amount he’d left her had been 58,980 credits, but it was now well over 80,000 through investment. Including the townhouse, his precious antiques, and the two cargo ships that were currently sitting vacant and unused in Port, her net worth was well over 400,000 credits.
She’d never touched a single one.
Genni accused her of being rich…and in her own way, Eve was. But what Eve didn’t appreciate was Genni implying that she didn’t work hard because of it.
She worked just as hard as Genni, worked just as many hours at her job, if not more.
She’s just frightened, Eve needed to remind herself. It was a chilling prospect to be a woman, alone, with no family, and aging on Everton if you didn’t have an inheritance or ample savings.
It’s not an excuse,Eve thought.It doesn’t give Genni the right to say hurtful things.
