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The door opened and she stepped out, looking gorgeous in a woolly bobble hat with her dark locks flowing over her shoulders. Sam glanced away. He had no business thinking that she was gorgeous.
“Morning.” She shut the door, and they crossed the driveway to her car. Her voice was extra bright—the way it sounded when she was trying to cover that she was upset about something.
Wondering how he could read the tone of her voice when they hardly knew each other, he climbed into the passenger seat. She must have spoken to Hana. That’d be why she sounded funny. “You okay? Did you speak to your sister?”
Maya shot him a frown as she started the car. “I texted her.” She paused as she began to back out of the driveway. “Didn’t you get my message?”
Sam sat straighter. “You messaged me?”
She continued to frown as they drove through the estate. “Yeah. To ask your advice about it.”
Shaking his head, he took out his phone. One thing was for sure. If Maya had asked for his advice, he would’ve given it, no questions asked. Although he didn’t want to examine the reasons why he felt so adamant about that.
He opened his messages, but there was nothing from Maya. “It’s not here. Maybe it didn’t send?”
Maya stopped at a junction and pulled hers out. She speedily flicked through it and passed it over. Sure enough, the message was marked as delivered on her phone. He read it quickly. “That’s weird. Maybe it’s still bouncing around the satellites.”
Maya laughed, continuing their journey. “Yeah. It’ll probably arrive at Christmas. Next year.”
He smiled as he placed her phone down. “What happened in the end?”
“Nothing.” She sighed. “Ghosted. Now what do I do?”
Feeling privileged that she was asking his opinion on the matter, Sam thought for a moment. It was clearly difficult for her to get involved in any sort of conflict. But she was going to worry about it unless she did. “Why don’t you set a time limit on it? If she hasn’t replied by a certain point, then you contact her again.”
Maya nodded. “Text, or call?”
“Calling is more intimidating, but sometimes it’s easier to get stuff off your chest that way. Big conversations get kind of stilted via text.”
She was nodding, an intense expression on her face. He remembered that look from when they were younger. It was how he’d known that she was really tuning in to what he was saying, concentrating hard and not making any of her usual quips. At the time, he’d been either giving her advice, or confiding in her about his dad. At that point it had been eighteen months since his father’s disappearing act, and it all still felt very raw. Maya had been a natural confidante, not only because they’d gotten on so well, but because she’d already known the intricacies of the story from Liv.
She glanced over. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Sam smiled, warmth infusing him. “Sorry your message didn’t get through. I would’ve answered if it had.”
Maya returned his smile. “No worries. It’s something for you to look forward to when it arrives. Next Christmas.” She gave him a wink that set his skin on fire. “Hey, did you hear when your car might come back?”
“Next week hopefully,” Sam said with a weird mix of relief and disappointment. “Only thing is I’ve got another butler gig this weekend. I’ll need to see if I can borrow Cat’s car.”
“How will you do that, if she doesn’t know about the job?”
He let out a breath. “Not sure about that yet.”
“Maybe you can borrow Liv’s car. I know you don’t want to tell anyone what the dosh is for, but I’m sure she’d understand, whatever it is. Plus, she’s a good secret keeper.” She smiled. “Almost as good as you.”
Sam laughed. “She’s second to me in everything, including age, because I popped out three minutes before her.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’d like to tell her, but the person in question wouldn’t want me to. So . . .”
Maya nodded. “I understand.”
That statement made him warm and fuzzy. Enough to go out on a limb. “Listen. You remember how you asked me to tell you if I had any info about Ben and his gray-hair-inducing stress levels?”
“Yeah. What’s the lowdown?”
“I’ve actually known about this for a week or so, but I wasn’t sure whether to say anything.” He paused.
“Come on, Holland. Spit it out.”
Sam smiled, even though talking about the tax thing gave him palpitations. Goodness knows what it was doing to Ben’s ticker. “Ben thinks there’s been a miscalculation on the tax return, but the accountants are ghosting him whenever he contacts them. He’s worried that there won’t be enough funds to pay the tax bill, if it’s heftier than anticipated.”
