“As if another person withthat exact namehas justby coincidencedecided to take a job in a shop on a tiny arse-end-of-nowhere French island—”
“British island,” I interrupted. “It’s British.”
“Really? I looked on a map and it’s right by France.”
“You want to talk Anglo-French history right now?”
“No, I really don’t,” said Bri. “You know I don’t respond well to being educated. I want to talk about you. You backed down! Youknowthey didn’t offer the job to two people accidentally, butyou didn’t want to challenge this guy for lying about getting the job, so—”
Moved the phone away from my ear and winced. Brianna has always had a slightly Janice-from-Friendsquality to her voice when particularly animated. On the few occasions I’ve visited her on theEastside Closeset, have noticed the cast get jumpy when she adopts this voice, and that several of them refer to her as “Ms.Director, ma’am.” Sometimes wonder whether I’m the only person in her life who isn’t scared of her.
“Bri, look, it’s a man’s world,” I said, in my most sensible tone, when she paused for breath. “The odds were in his favor, not mine. And maybe they did give him the job, too! It’s a reasonable explanation for how this happened, isn’t it?”
“No! You’re just letting him stay because you’re scared. Why are you assuming he deserves this more than you?”
“Oh, I don’t know, because he probably does?”
“What have we said about low self-esteem?”
“Men find it a real turn-on?”
“Eww, disgusting. But true. How old is he, by the way, the imposter—is he old?”
Thought about it. “Midthirties, I reckon? But he’s kind of”—lowered voice—“rugged. Sort of ageless. You know, like…Daniel Craig.”
Glanced around nervously. Was standing on the little patio outside the kitchen, looking out at a hard-mown patch of hedged grass that would’ve been called a “stunning south-facing garden” by a London estate agent, but that Rosie had called “the wee patch if you’d come with a dog.” Last I heard, Jones was still in the shower, but I would not like him to hear me comparing him to a former James Bond.
“Ooh, OK, I get it: if he looked like Daniel Craig I’d let him sleep in my bedroom, too. Tabbie! Have you washed your hands?”
Tabbie yelled an indignant yes in the background. Felt a pang of nostalgia for Bri’s house, with Tabbie’s crayon artwork in frames on the walls and her sticky jam fingerprints on the sofa arms.
“He’s not in my bedroom, he’s in an adjoining room.”
“Is there a door?”
“There’s a doorway.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Look, it’s not like that. You know where I’m at—I’m done, Bri. Romantically finito.”
“Sworn to celibacy?”
“Well, maybe not celibacy forlife. But I want to be a mum someday soon, onmyterms, and that meansnomen.”
“I do think that’s wise,” Brianna said.
“And definitely notthisman.”
“On account of how he’s a job-stealing liar?”
“Well, that, possibly, and the fact that he seems to be in a perpetual bad mood. And now he’s my colleague and housemate. Anyway”—I adopted my brightest Cheerful Charlie voice—“I don’t mind having a comanager.”
“You don’t mind working with the imposter?”
I mind. This was definitely not on the script of my picture-perfect new life, nor was the massive salary cut. But…
“Running a remote farm shop is a super cute Hallmark movie job, but it’s also ajoband I don’t have a ton of relevant experience, so…I don’t mind sharing the load with someone else.”
