Mending Words With The Billionaire (Artists & Billionaires Book 5) Page 6

  Business people hurried down the sidewalks. Ahead of her, James waited at the door to the building. “Morning, Zoe. Ready for Friday?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be. Any Friday traditions I need to know about?”

  “Not that I can think of. Other than don’t take off early without clearing it with Gina.” James waited for the next elevator.

  April joined them. “Morning.”

  At her desk, Zoe put her bag in the locking drawer after turning her phone to silent. Company policy didn’t forbid phones in the building, but they were not allowed in certain areas due to sensitive projects, so the policy was to keep them locked away and out of sight. Use was permitted in the outer lobby and break room only. She turned on her tablet and computer. She was assigned to April this morning. There was no specific task, so Zoe made her way to April’s cubicle. When she entered, she made sure she stepped on the mat that flashed a light near the monitor. April turned and signed, “Come in. Sit.”

  “Sign or English?” Zoe asked in both languages.

  “Sign. I’ll teach you signs about work.”

  April brought up a layout program and flipped through the pages of an annual report. Within minutes, both women were focused on the project and the morning sped by. The light flashed by the monitor. Both women turned to find Gina standing there.

  “It was so quiet in here I didn’t know if you were working together. I didn’t know you signed, Zoe. Anyway, next Tuesday is 9/11. The firm is involved in several memorials and celebrations. One of them is out in Blue Pines. Have you ever heard of the town?”

  “One of my old roommates lives there.” Zoe both signed and spoke, knowing April was not at an angle where she would be able to read her lips well.

  Gina nodded. “That may explain this. You have been asked to join the PR group going to the opening of a new exhibition in the museum.” Gina handed Zoe an invitation.

  “Tessa did a new window. She was telling us about her design last week.”

  Gina raised a brow. “You know Tessa Doyle Cavanagh?”

  “Yes.” Zoe wasn’t sure if that was the wrong answer.

  “She is very talented. I got to go to her studio to take some photos for the informational brochure to accompany the unveiling.”

  “So are you going too?” Zoe continued to sign as she spoke.

  “I am. You’ll need to be here a half hour earlier on the eleventh. We’ll be taking a car service rather than the train.” Gina nodded and left.

  Zoe still could not tell if the invitation was a good or bad thing.

  April waved her hand in front of Zoe’s face. “I don’t understand. This is a VIP event. Wayne was not happy when Gina got invited and he didn’t. You are an intern. Why you?”

  “Maybe because I was also Tessa’s bridesmaid?”

  April signed a string of words that didn’t accurately translate to “Wow, you have connections,” but the meaning was about the same.

  “No, I have friends.” Zoe couldn’t help wondering which friend had orchestrated her invitation. Tessa was still on her honeymoon and probably wasn’t thinking about her old roommates.

  “So, will this invitation cause me problems with office politics?”

  “I don’t know. I am not always aware of the undercurrents. But I think Gina would be the better art director. Though Wayne’s design is brilliant, he grumbles too much at the other employees. Enough. Let’s finish this.” April pointed to her screen.

  Nick spent more time watching Zoe’s expression out of the corner of his eye than he did the stage. She tried to hide her reactions to the theater, which only endeared her more to him. Her wide-eyed response to everything made him see the city—both its beauties and bruises—with new eyes. Zoe tapped her fingers in her lap as the notes of the finale played. Her hands moved as they had during some of the other musical numbers. He assumed the movements were sign language.

  When the curtain fell, Zoe stood and clapped with the rest of the audience. “That was amazing.”

  “I noticed you have most of the songs memorized.” One more thing they had in common. One woman he’d brought to Les Mis thought that musical theater was dumbed-down opera and said as much to anyone who would listen. She didn’t even know any Italian.

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Zoe’s eyes darted about the theater as if she were trying to memorize everything. She needn’t worry. He would bring her back.

  “You have a point. Were you also signing?”

  “Bad habit. My brother Trey loves music, so I try to make the songs as much fun as I can. Sometimes my hands start moving on their own, and the songs from this musical are so fun.”

  Nick took Zoe’s hand and led her out of the theater. “Do you want to go get dessert?”

  “Sure.”

  “Should I call Sebastian, or do you want to walk?”

  “We can walk. No point in bugging him yet.”

  They exited the theater. Nick released Zoe’s hand but wished he hadn’t. “Cannoli, chocolate, or ice cream?”

  “I don’t care.” Zoe moved closer and took his arm. “Do you know you are being followed?”

  He pulled his elbow in a bit, knowing but not caring who followed them. “Tall guy, early thirties, brown hair? Or shorter, late forties, and a cap?”

  “How did you know?” She leaned into his side.

  “I pay them to follow me.” Maybe not enough.

  Zoe glanced over her shoulder. “How come I have never seen them before?”

  “They’re experts, and you haven’t spent that much time with me. I don’t need them often. But walking around the city in a crowd could be one of those times I need them close.”

  Zoe grew silent but didn’t let go of his arm. “Should I have chosen not to walk?”

  “They were in the theater.”

  “Oh. I should have guessed. Abbie was Mandy Crawford’s bodyguard until this summer. I got used to having someone from Hastings around all the time.”

  “Does having them around bother you?” He hoped it wouldn’t. Having a detail came with the territory. Eventually, his wife and children would have them too.

  “Not really. Having Abbie around this year has gotten me used to the concept. I can pretend they are not around. So, what are we going to get for dessert?”

  Her hold on his arm relaxed. Several places over ten blocks away became dining possibilities, if only so they could walk like this. Reluctantly, Nick chose a place on the next block with to-die-for cannoli.

  ten

  Zoe hugged Tessa. “The window is beautiful. Thanks for making sure I had the opportunity to come to this.” Sean cried openly at the unveiling of the window, as had many people in the room. The reverend added an impromptu prayer to the program, the rare type of prayer that made Zoe believe God listened and cared.

  “I didn’t invite you. I mean, I wish I’d thought of having you here, but with the wedding, the only thing I was worried about today was the window. Not that I needed to. Nick made sure about that. I even bugged him at the reception.” Tessa turned to the crowd. “I’d better go meet some of these other people.”

  Zoe searched the crowd and found Nick conversing with an older couple at the other end of the hall. She recognized them as the donors of one of the paintings their daughter had completed weeks before she’d died in the terrorist attack. Zoe bit her lip. There would be no way to prove Nick had arranged for her to attend the unveiling, and even if she did, what good would it do?

  The atmosphere in the office yesterday was arctic chill. April said the department was usually “cold-strange” like this after Wayne returned from one of his vacations or business trips. Other than a two-minute welcome-to-the-team speech in his office after the Monday morning meeting, she’d had no contact with the art director. Zoe searched for the other Scott
& Ricks employees and found them chatting near the door.

  Gina was speaking with a woman who appeared to be in her fifties and who had been introduced as the director of the public-relations arm of the firm. Zoe struggled to remember her name. They both turned to Zoe.

  “Are you ready to go?” asked Gina.

  Zoe nodded and followed them to the car.

  “Gina told me you used to be roommates with the new Mrs. Cavanagh, and I noticed you in a couple of photos from the wedding I was given to release to the media. I assume that is why Adrian added you to the attendee group today.” There was only curiosity in the woman’s voice.

  Zoe hoped she wasn’t stepping into something political. “That is my assumption also. Although I didn’t ask for it.”

  “The interesting thing is, as near as I can tell, it is all coincidence you are here. Adrian had no idea about the connection when he called his old friend asking for a last-minute intern recommendation.” The woman took the seat on the left. Gina signaled for Zoe to sit in the middle again.

  The head of PR had checked on her. Zoe stiffened. How deep would she have dug and why?

  After the driver closed the door, Gina spoke. “It is more than a coincidence. I think you both being here demonstrates the caliber of your art college. Maurene, Zoe has only been with us a week, and so far she is the best new intern I have had in the past two years.”

  Zoe tried to hide her shock. Best in two years. It couldn’t be true. All she accomplished in a week was finding some photos and listening in on meetings.

  Maurene leaned forward. “I see your point about the school. Sorry if I am making you feel nervous, Zoe, but I am constantly on the lookout for things that may need to be handled later, even internally. Yesterday someone complained that a mere intern had been added to the group for the Blue Pines Museum, though the fact you attend the college Tessa Cavanagh graduated from should be enough to explain your invitation, especially since Adrian also has connections at your school.”

  “I didn’t mean to make anyone upset.” Words could get vicious when the wrong person was crossed.

  “Some people get upset very easily. Don’t worry about it.” Gina patted her arm.

  But Zoe did. If she was right about the origin of her invitation, then admitting she counted Nick Gooding among her friends might put a spin on things she didn’t want to deal with. Her phone vibrated. Since the other two women were consulting their phones, Zoe decided to check the text. It was from Nick.

  —Do you want to attend the 9/11 light memorial with me tonight?

  Yes, but—I am going with a friend from work.

  —K. Have a good day.

  You too.

  Friends was a comfortable place to be.

  It had been nearly a week since he had seen Zoe, an unexpected trip to deal with hurricane cleanup having goofed up his schedule. The side trip to Chicago had been more enjoyable. Candace had reacted to the carousel like a kid with a golden ticket in a candy factory. Nick had completed his part of the plan by giving Candace a reason to be in Chicago for the next several months. The rest would be up to Colin. One Wilson woman was all Nick had the time for.

  Zoe’s texts and phone calls added an element of fun his life had been missing. Last night they had exchanged over fifteen pun texts that had him laughing so hard Sebastian may have questioned his sanity. Their nightly chats helped him clear his head after a long day. Zoe saw the city through new eyes, a view he hadn’t experienced since he was a child—the unpleasant smells, the experience of riding the subway after years of having a driver, the way an old lady from the Bronx reacted to a friendly smile. He wished he could help her keep the Midwest friendliness that made New Yorkers look at her like she needed to be locked up in Bellevue. One just couldn’t smile at old ladies on subways or laugh at children in the park you weren’t related to. That was one of the nice things about Blue Pines. Zoe had solved a mystery he’d spent his entire life wondering about—namely, the answer to why his parents hadn’t raised him in the city.

  Nick smiled and checked his watch. Zoe wouldn’t be off work for at least another hour. He texted, knowing not to expect a response soon.

  The first weekend of October. There are some apple festivals upstate. Leaves are changing. Will you come enjoy them with me?

  Three hours later he got his reply.

  —When would we LEAF?

  He smiled at the pun and struggled to come up with an apple pun in return.

  Dessert at Lucinda’s to discuss it?

  — You are ROTTEN with the puns tonight . . . Dessert sounds good. I’d like to see you.

  Pick you up at 7.

  — Sounds DELICIOUS.

  Best place in the Big APPLE.

  — Rolling eyes three to one. You must have jet lag.

  Not really. Nick just couldn’t think of another pun that didn’t involve how appealing it was to spend part of the evening with her. And he wasn’t sure she was ready for him to admit that.

  eleven

  The small towns of upstate New York each had their own flavor—so different from the city that dominated the perception of the state. Zoe wondered which of the cars following them contained the ever-present bodyguards. Now that she knew what they looked like, she noticed them often. Occasionally one would ride with Sebastian. She had grown used to Sebastian at the wheel and not needing to pay attention to traffic for fear of interrupting the driver at a critical moment. Today Nick drove, his eclectic mix of music playing through the stereo, something he never played when they rode in the town car. The three-hour drive was the longest she had been alone with him.

  Alone.

  She turned the word over in her mind. In this car with this man, the word held no fear, only comfort.

  When the song playing ended, Nick interrupted her musings. “You have officially spent one-twelfth of your year in New York. How do you like it?”

  “I still feel a bit like the country mouse. Work is wonderful, although I still feel the art director, Wayne Dodd, is not pleased with me. Gina says the surliness is his manner.” She had to agree with April—Gina would be a better art director than Mr. Dodd. For some reason, calling him Wayne didn’t work for her. It implied a closeness she didn’t feel.

  “Office politics. You would think I am one of the few people immune, but I have to be careful not to start something. We all bring our preconceived notions and beliefs to work with us, and where telling one person they did a good job means exactly that, another will manage to turn my words or actions into a sign I am racist or have a gender bias. Statements my father made when he was my age would put me in the crosshairs of some special-interest group if I said them today.” Nick followed the instructions on a roadside sign and turned left for the festival they were going to attend.

  “A month ago, I thought you had life easy, but you work harder than anyone I know. I’m really sorry for the way I treated you at the wedding.”

  Nick smiled but continued to look at the road. “Well, I had to work to get all my gold back.”

  “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous didn’t show the whole picture. I’m glad we are friends.” Zoe savored the word. She had a friend who was a man. Not that she was ready to put the thought together in one word, but for the first time in two years, the idea that she could have a friend who was a guy didn’t send her into hiding.

  “Me too.” He gave her a quick smile before focusing on a curve in the road.

  Below them, a valley opened, along with a vista of greens, yellows, and oranges. Zoe blinked. The view was stock-photo worthy. “Don’t tell the Indiana Department of Tourism, but New York leaves blow their ads away.”

  Nick chuckled. “As a New Yorker, I shouldn’t say this, but Vermont and New Hampshire probably win.”

  “My old roommate Araceli is from Boston, and she
said the same thing every fall whenever the ad for Indiana ran on TV.”

  Nick found a parking space. Zoe reached for the handle of her door, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “We need to wait a moment for security to get into place since there is a crowd. Also, what would my mother say if I didn’t get your door?”

  He didn’t remove his hand. She didn’t want him to. “I don’t know your mother very well. What would she say?”

  Nick furrowed his brow. “I’m not entirely sure, but I think she might include the words uncouth and Neanderthal.”

  “I wouldn’t want her to lecture you. I’ll wait.”

  Nick’s phone beeped. He exited the car and opened Zoe’s door with a flourish that would make his mother proud. Zoe inhaled deeply. The air smelled of apples and cinnamon. “I think I found a bit of heaven. I hope they have applesauce donuts and caramel-apple cider.”

  “Deep-fried pies are my favorite. Why don’t we get something now, and then we can eat more before we go?” They set off down one of the rows of vendor tents.

  Apple sausage, apple crisp, apple hash, apple salad, apple-and-ham sandwiches, apple dumplings, caramel apples . . . “How can I choose? There are so many options.”

  “I’m going to start with something that has protein, like the apple ice cream, so I can pretend I had a balanced diet.”

  Zoe side bumped him. “I don’t think that is very balanced.”

  “Well, I will try some games for exercise after, like the bushel lift and apple bobbing.”

  The day was filled with laughter fueled by too much sugar. When Nick attempted the apple bob, his bodyguards moved closer than they had all day. His head came up flinging water everywhere, a MacIntosh gripped firmly in his teeth—his shirt plastered to his upper torso. Zoe’s breath caught. Under the suits, she had never noticed the muscles. She looked away before he found her blushing.