The Golden Couple(72)
“Isn’t that enough?” she cries.
“Actually, there is one more thing. How did you enjoy working at Anthropologie?”
Polly has a terrible poker face. Her flush extends to include her ears.
Or maybe she’s a brilliant actress.
“Look, I didn’t really have a job there, okay? Please don’t tell Marissa. The truth is, I had stopped working as a nanny and I was temping when I walked into Coco and I never wanted to leave. It’s sophisticated and elegant and everything.…” Polly looks down at her lap and her final words come out as a whisper. “Everything I’m not.”
I breathe in deeply, wondering if she’s talking about Coco, or the woman who owns the boutique.
“I’ll let you get to work now.” I open the car door, but before I step out, I decide to toss her a bone. Polly could be useful in the future. “It was very smart of you to check the camera.”
She smiles, and I straighten up, shutting the door and watching her drive away.
I learned a lot about Marissa during the past couple of minutes. She has plenty to answer for, and I deliberately didn’t tell Polly I am also heading to Coco, because I don’t want Marissa to have any warning of my impending arrival.
But I learned something about Polly, too.
Every time I inhaled, I smelled a delicate, floral perfume—subtle, but distinctive enough that I recognized it.
It’s the scent Marissa wears.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
MARISSA
MARISSA DOESN’T ARRIVE at Coco until almost eleven, and even Polly’s usual barrage of questions or the news that Avery stopped by unexpectedly right after the store opened, hoping to catch Marissa, can’t erase Marissa’s smile. Her chin is slightly red from rubbing against Matthew’s unshaven stubble, and throughout the day she finds her hand rising to touch the tender skin, as if to seal in the memory.
Lovemaking with Matthew felt different this morning. Powerful, raw, fierce—Marissa can’t put her finger on the exact word to describe it, but those come close.
Matthew’s eyes had been closed; he’d seemed to lose himself completely in the physical act, not even feeling the pain of his injuries. At the very end, he’d opened his eyes and stared into hers. You’re mine, he’d whispered.
Polly touches Marissa’s shoulder. “Marissa?”
Marissa pulls herself away from the reverie. “Yes, what is it?”
“I was just saying a few gift certificates came in for your school benefit.”
“Great. Put them in the back room along with the rest of the auction items. I need to get them to…”
Her voice trails off before she completes the final word in her sentence: Natalie. Marissa frowns, watching as Polly picks up the gift certificates. Polly is asking if Marissa wants her to order more tissue paper inserts for the shopping bags, since they’re down to a few hundred sheets. Marissa nods, but it’s a different question, one that was asked by Natalie earlier this morning, that Marissa is focused on:
Oh, can’t that eager young assistant of yours mind the shop?
As far as Marissa knows, Natalie has been to Coco exactly once, and it was more than a year ago. She was in the neighborhood, Natalie had explained as she’d greeted Marissa with a kiss on the cheek that left a smudge of coral lipstick. Natalie wandered through the store, taking it all in with an appraising eye, and left without purchasing a thing.
At the time, Marissa’s assistant was a woman in her midfifties, a mother of twins who’d decided to return to the workforce after her children left for college.
Natalie would never refer to her as young. She must have been talking about Marissa’s current assistant.
But how does Natalie know such specific details about Polly?
Marissa’s breath catches as she recalls Polly’s roommate asking if she, Marissa, was Polly’s boss at the real estate company.
Natalie is a real estate agent.
Could Polly have temped at the same company where Natalie works? Do they actually know each other?
The skin on Marissa’s arms prickles as she watches Polly open the store’s laptop, using the password Marissa provided her, and begin updating the spreadsheet containing customers’ contact information.
Polly seems to feel Marissa’s gaze and looks up. “Oh, I forgot to tell you Janice Henderson called yesterday and asked me to let her know when we get in more size-eight swimsuits. I was just making a note of it.”
“Great.” Marissa casually walks into the back room, but keeps Polly in her peripheral vision.
Polly has access to most of Coco’s business information. She knows every inch of the shop; she has even slept here. She has slept in Marissa’s home, too!
Marissa’s heart is pounding. She forces herself to draw in a few even, slow breaths as she thinks back to the circumstances of Polly’s hiring. Polly had wandered into the shop a month or so ago, all fresh-faced and sweet-seeming. It was a slow Monday morning, and Polly had knowledgeably discussed a few items Marissa sold, favorably comparing Coco’s handblown glass vases to the brand carried by Anthropologie. As Marissa was ringing up the picture frame Polly selected, Polly had said almost wistfully, “It would be a dream to work in a place like this. You don’t happen to need any help, do you?”