Sunday's Child(15)
Dee, still pale around the mouth, nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Just wondering how I could have missed that gap. I’ll e-mail Vecchio to see what’s up. Probably won’t hear from him until after the holidays. I think he’s visiting family in Italy.”
Claire gave an appreciative whistle. “Must be nice.”
Dee’s voice had lost its strain, returning to the teasing tones with which Claire was familiar. “Which one? Family or Italy?
“ Italy of course.” Family was nice too. Claire’s was very small. Just her and Jake. But the holidays in Italy? Maybe one day—when she won the lottery.
“Invitation still stands if you want to come to my parents’ place for Thanksgiving.” Dee wheeled her chair back to her cube. “Mom promised she wouldn’t serve the turkey raw this year.”
Claire laughed. Dee’s mom was notorious for her epic culinary failures. “Thanks, but Jake couldn’t handle a combination of strange place, strange people and noise for several hours. Besides, I have company that day.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before Dee zipped back into her cube. “I’m not much of a betting person, but I’d lay money down company is the hot preparator you’re attached to at the hip these days.”
Ignoring the suggestive eyebrow wiggle Dee gave her, Claire sniffed. “Maybe.”
Dee disappeared behind her cube wall once more. “I’ll want details.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “You always want details.”
Andor had accepted her invitation to Thanksgiving dinner two days earlier. Claire had set herself up not to be disappointed, fully expecting him to decline for any number of reasons—family out of town, another commitment with friends. She didn’t even want to imagine he might spend the holiday with another woman. Claire had no claim to him. She had lunch with him almost every day, and he visited her house for dinner several times a week. They’d even made it to the symphony once and a play, with Elise threatening to kill her if she called the house twenty times to check on Jake.
“Don’t even think about it,” the babysitter warned. “I know my job. You know I know my job. Jake and I will have fun eating all the toppings off the pizza and watching Total Drama Island. Have a good time. Stay out late. You won’t be missed.”
She closed the front door on Claire and Andor and turned off the porch light. Claire had glanced at Andor. “Elise is a little blunt.”
“And obviously very capable,” he said. “I like her, especially her eyebrow piercings.”
While Claire couldn’t imagine how Andor might be seeing someone else when he spent so much time with her, she was far too fearful of engaging her heart more than it already was by assuming they were now a couple. He hadn’t mentioned it; neither had she. Hell, they hadn’t even kissed yet, something she hoped to remedy very soon.
When lunchtime rolled around, she left the office space she shared with Dee and sought out Andor. She found him in one of the lower-level workrooms. The screeching blast of multiple power saws cutting wood made her clap her hands to her ears. She spotted him in one corner of the room, ripping boards on a table saw. He wore a long-sleeved sweater that hugged his torso, delineating muscle and the width of his shoulders. His hair was tied back in its usual ponytail, and he’d donned safety lenses and ear muffs while he worked.
Claire waited by the door until he finished ripping a board. She didn’t want to wave and distract either him or the two other preparators working at the saws. He glanced up, saw her and shut the saw down. Claire motioned she’d wait for him in the hallway.
The hall was silent as a crypt compared to the noise in the workroom. Andor emerged, sans ear muffs and lenses. His slow smile warmed her down to her bones. “Hello, Claire.”
She liked that he didn’t address her as “babe” or “beautiful” or the numerous terms of affection so many people used. Claire didn’t have a problem with them per se. While she and Lucas were still married, she often called him “babe.” But Andor had a way of uttering her name as if he savored something sweet, letting it glide slowly off his tongue to breathe across his lips. Never had she been so glad to bear that simple, one-syllable name.
The chilly hallway had suddenly grown stifling. She plucked at her sweater and returned Andor’s smile. “Working through lunch today?”
He glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. “That time already?” Regret darkened his eyes to cobalt. “I’m afraid so. We’re building the display bases for the gala decorations so we can just snap them together and move them when the designer says it’s time.”
“The Ainsley Hall is gorgeous already. I can’t imagine how much more you can add for the gala.”
She’d stood in awe along with the rest of the employees and gawked at the miracle the preparator and design teams had wrought. The Carmichael always created a holiday exhibit of huge trees decorated with ornaments from cultures around the world as well as themes based on movies, history and literature. Preparators and designers worked through the day and night to complete the exhibit, unveiling it first in the early morning hours to the rest of the staff. Andor had given her a bow at her applause, the only hint of fatigue from a laborious all-nighter, the faint shadows under his eyes.
“Are you going to the gala?” His gaze searched her face.