Maybe it was time she shook off that fear.
Twenty-Eight
Jake stepped off the elevator on the fourteenth floor of the Capital Bank Building and unwound the scarf from around his neck. Part of him was astounded to find himself still living in Beaucoeur as winter knocked on the door of the city, and he was grateful that he’d grabbed cold-weather gear on his last trip to Chicago.
He was unlocking his office door when another elevator opened and disgorged Mitch, a lawyer at the firm across the hall.
“You beat me in this morning.”
Jake glanced at the clock in the hall. “Shit, it’s after seven. What will your boss say?”
“He’ll say it’s two days before Thanksgiving and all the judges are on vacation anyway. Speaking of, no poker tonight. Let Robbie know, wouldja?”
“Sure thing. I’ll enjoy hanging on to my cash this week.” Jake wasn’t much of a gambler, but when a few of the attorneys across the hall invited him to join their regular game, he figured he’d be gambling with his sanity if he didn’t say yes because he’d been living like a hermit. He dragged Robbie along with him the first night and was relieved to discover that the big guy had an even worse poker face than he did.
“If I don’t see you again, enjoy the holiday,” Mitch called before disappearing beyond the double glass doors of his firm’s suite.
“Same to you.” Jake stepped inside and flipped on the lights in his closet-sized office, dropped his briefcase on the desk, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window running along one wall. The space was tiny, but he had to admit that his view, showcasing the renovated warehouses of downtown Beaucoeur and the Illinois River sparkling just beyond, was superior to the one in his Chicago office, which showcased the west wall of the building next door.
Turning back to his desk, he checked his email and ignored the rest of his inbox to click on the one from Finn right away. As he hoped, it was the focus group results, and although she’d presented him with an organized document, he wasn’t sure he was reading it correctly. So he did what any sensible person would and called his brainy younger sister.
“Help me understand this,” he said by way of greeting.
She didn’t even have to ask what he meant. “Okay, so basically, your girl needs to be back on mornings,” Finn said. “At least that’s the conclusion of the focus group.”
“Good. That’s good news.” He sagged back in his chair in relief.
“Also, I have to ask: Does Mabel look the way she sounds like she looks based on these demos?”
He pictured his sister sitting at the desk in her chic Chicago office, pointy little nose twitching in excitement over the opportunity to grill him about this relationship. It’s what he used to do to her, after all. “How does she sound like she looks?”
“Like Lou Dobbs.”
“Hey!” he protested.
“Oooh, so touchy,” Finn laughed. “Actually, she sounds witty and smart.”
“You forgot gorgeous.”
Finn was quiet for a moment. “Is she also the reason you’re still living three hours south of your condo?”
“No. That’s because of my job,” Jake said. Sort of. In truth, he suspected he could make a strong case to move back to Chicago and finish the Lowell Consolidated work from there, but for some reason he just hadn’t pushed for it. Inertia maybe. Or misplaced optimism.
“Is this going to help you get her back?” Finn’s question was tentative.
“That’s not why I did it. She didn’t deserve to have her life uprooted, and I’m just trying to fix that.”
“You’re a nice guy.”
“And we all know where they finish.” God, he was depressing himself.
“Stop. She could come around.”
“Negative. Nothing’s changed between us.” Just because they were constantly texting didn’t mean she wanted anything more than casual friendship. Time for a new subject. “Speaking of change, any chance you changed your mind about me writing you a check for the rest of your student loans?”
Finn’s response was immediate. “Negative.”
“Finnie—”
