His sister turned to him with a frown. “Why not?”
He didn’t even know. There was an odd panic clawing at his chest that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. All he knew was that his need to keep Anne at a distance would be futile with Sophie Wentworth in the mix.
“I’m glad she’s going to organize things for you, but who’s going to be doing that on a daily basis when you open?” Freddie replied, trying his best to appear nonchalant. “There’s receipts, budgets, taxes. It’s a lot, and you can’t handle it on your own.”
By trying to keep his voice even, he sounded condescending, and both Sophie and their mother narrowed their eyes at him.
“Wow,” his sister deadpanned. “Thanks for that vote of confidence.”
“I just mean…” Freddie paused, trying to regain control ofthe narrative. “I still think you need to bring someone on full-time. Opening a business is hard enough—you have to actually run it, too. Who’s going to do all that work six months from now?”
“I think you’re just pissed that I have an excuse to spend more time with your ex-girlfriend than you do.”
“Oh!” Their mother jumped again, as if a life-altering thought had just entered her brain. “Freddie, you should ask Anne out for coffee!”
“We broke up eight years ago, Mom,” he reminded her again.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t befriends,” she replied, like she was almost offended.
His gaze went up, hoping somehow the popcorn ceiling would give him patience. “Well, I can’t. I’m busy.”
Sophie snorted out a laugh at the obvious lie. “Doing what?”
Leave it to his sister to call him out.
“I’m meeting with the CEO of a new green tech company in about a week,” he said, grasping at the first thing that popped into his head. “They’re starting to explore sustainable farming and wanted to talk to me.”
His mother turned around, her eyes hopeful. “A job interview?”
It took every ounce of his self-restraint not to roll his eyes. He already knew what she was imagining: her son in a double-breasted suit, walking down Madison Avenue like Don Draper.
“It’s not a job interview,” he replied. “We’re just grabbing lunch.”
His mother sighed, as if relieved. “Thank God. It’s a job interview!”
He threw up his hands. “Sure. Fine. A job interview.”
Sophie didn’t look as thrilled. “I thought you sold your company so you could have some downtime.”
He sighed. “And?”
“We need to be encouraging, Sophie,” their mother scolded. “Your brother hasn’t had a real job in years.”
His sister threw her an incredulous look. “Mom, he sold his company last year for a stupid amount of money.”
Jean Wentworth wasn’t listening, though. She began stirring again, a smug smile on her face. “This is wonderful. I can’t wait to tell Father Keenan to take you out of Sunday’s prayer requests.”
Freddie’s head fell back as he groaned.
He tried to blend into the background after that, listening patiently as his mother detailed the guest list for Thanksgiving and the ever-changing menu. When the Jets game was over, his dad brought him down to the basement, past his old hydroponics system, to where the Christmas decorations were piled in the corner. Each box was supernaturally heavy and about to fall apart, but when he finally left two hours later, exhausted and still covered with a dusting of glitter from his mother’s manger set, he was surprised to find he had enjoyed himself.
Freddie took the M train home and walked up to the front door of the Uppercross an hour later. He hadn’t run into Anne since the party, and over the course of the week he had let his guard down so much that he hadn’t expected to see her in the lobby when he walked in.
He froze in the doorway.
She was seated on one of the long leather benches against the wall across from the mailboxes, her blond hair tucked behind her ears and a stack of posters in her lap, listening to an older woman in a Ramones T-shirt who was gathering up her mail. She couldn’t see him at this angle, and he couldn’t help staring at her profile, the long delicate line that ran down her nose and over her bow lips…
What the hell are you doing?a voice chided in his head.
