“How nice,” she says, peering down at Lacy’s fingernails. Do they match the nail polish she found in Morgan’s medicine cabinet? Had all those things—the makeup, the tampons—belonged to her? Cece is paralyzed by her suspicions and potential folly.
“Everything going all right?” Morgan says tentatively, like he’s wading in rocky waters.
Remembering her hot tears, the stifling car, Cece blushes. The world seems intent on her humiliation. “Much better,” she manages.
“That’s good,” Morgan says, a broad smile peeking through his beard to assure Cece there are no hard feelings. “Haven’t seen you around much, that’s all. I was getting worried.”
“Yeah. Uh…” Cece says, looking down to gauge the girl’s interest in the adult conversation happening above. “Work’s been a little crazy.”
“I thought you might have had a change of heart, or maybe there was something else.”
Cece’s forgotten this feeling—like someone’s whipping egg whites in her stomach—and does her best to breathe.
Morgan continues before she can say anything and make a bigger fool of herself. “I was gonna text you, but then I realized we never exchanged numbers, and I can’t exactly go knocking on your door. Lorraine’ll have my head.”
Bernard sneezes and Lacy is up and standing between them, wiping a hand on the back of her shorts. Cece apologizes for the dog, but the girl just shrugs. “Do you really live next door? I’ve never seen you around.”
“Not exactly. I live a few houses over but on the same street.”
The clarification doesn’t seem to sway the girl. “Can I have the key, Dad?” she says, hand outstretched to Morgan. “Me and Zoe are supposed to watch our show.”
“Don’t be rude, Lacy. Your show can wait.”
“It’s bad enough that I have to come down here—now you’re cutting into myO.C.time with Zoe.”
Cece enjoys seeing this different side of Morgan, defeated and exasperated, caught between deciding whether to admonish his daughter or apologize to Cece. “Zoe is her friend back in Providence,” he explains. “I better go.”
“I was obsessed with that show in high school.”
“It’s the best,” Lacy proclaims as she walks away, her figure colt-like, all legs and knobby knees.
Morgan hangs back, stalling. “You sure everything’s okay over at Rayburn? The offer still stands. I can clock someone if you need me to.”
“I was in the city today, actually. Interviewing for an actuary position at a risk management firm.”
Cece thinks she can spot Morgan’s brow furrow. “I thought you were trying to get out of that line of work.”
“I’m just keeping my options open. You never know.”
“Right,” Morgan says and buries his hands in his pockets.
Cece isn’t sure why, but she’s feeling defensive, like she’s done something, betrayed a promise. “You seem disappointed.”
“Me?” Morgan flashes a thin smile. “No, not at all…So what’s going on at Rayburn?”
In the dark, Cece can’t read his face, whether he’s actually hung up on her actuary work, or if she’s just being paranoid. She lets it go, too tired to analyze and ruminate. “I haven’t exactly endeared myself to the other workers…They hate me.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
“Fine. They don’t respect me.”
“They’re giving you the greenhorn treatment.”
“Something like that.”
“The trick is…with men like that. Hard men. You’ve got to insist on yourself. Listen. Be respectful. Do the job. But keep going, keep putting one foot in front of the other—even when they tell you to stop.”
Job advice isn’t exactly what Cece wants from Morgan, even if it seems sound. She has other needs presently. “Give me your phone.”
