Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(99)

The party was at the Busbee property north of Seattle, outside of Woodinville. According to the invitation there would be hayrides, a buffet dinner, and, later on in the evening, a bonfire. No way Libby could wear her suit and pumps. Jerking a sweater out of her closet sent the hanger into a seesaw rocking motion. While pulling the sweater over her head, Libby grabbed jeans and stuffed her feet inside slip-ons.

She barely had time to run a brush through her hair and put on some lipstick when the doorbell rang. Phillip!

Libby squirted on a quick spray of her favorite perfume and dragged in a deep breath to steady her pounding heart before she opened the door.

Phillip’s eyes widened as he stepped into the condo. “It looks like a cyclone landed here,” he said, looking past her. Libby’s suit jacket was tossed on the floor, followed by her skirt, leaving a trail that led into her bedroom.

“I was running a bit behind schedule,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the breathless quality to her voice.

“Libby, Libby,” he said, kissing her forehead and holding her close for a moment. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but he hesitated. “Get your coat, or we’ll be late.”

“My coat,” she repeated, opening the closet and grabbing her dark wool jacket. The weather had turned decidedly cooler over the last week.

With his hand on the small of her back, Phillip led her to the elevator. Libby didn’t relax until they were inside his car. Then and only then did she breathe a sigh of relief.

“You weren’t at the gym this morning,” he commented.

“No, I needed to get to the office early.” It was necessary if she intended to leave in time to make this birthday party. She need not have worried about missing out on gym time; she’d gotten a good workout on her mad dash from the office to her condo.

She’d tried; she’d made a genuine effort not to put in too many hours at the office, but all her good intentions had quickly fallen by the wayside. By the end of the day she was too tired to think, too tired to feel.

What Robin had said to her before she rejoined the firm had often come to mind over the past few weeks. Her dearest friend had asked her if, deep down, she was choosing to bury herself in her work as a way to forget about the baby she’d loved. At the time Libby hadn’t been one hundred percent sure. She was now. Working unbelievably long hours felt comfortable. Inside the office she could block out the pain. She had purpose, ambition, and drive, and she was able to convince herself the firm needed her. Mrs. Reed needed her.

“Robin was at the gym.”

Libby glanced at Phillip. “I called to tell her I couldn’t make it.” She figured Phillip would comment on her absence and held her breath waiting for his censure. None came.

“Robin mentioned your call.” Phillip was quiet for several minutes while he maneuvered through the busy Seattle traffic, taking back streets to get to the I-5 on-ramp. Once they were on the freeway he asked, “So how’s my sweater coming along?”

He had to ask! He didn’t berate her for all the overtime she’d been putting in; instead, he just asked pointed questions. The fact was that she hadn’t picked up her needles all week. Not a single stitch. “The sweater’s great. I’m up to the armholes on the back.”

“Weren’t you at the same place the last time I asked, which was when? Two weeks ago? Three?”

“Yes, well, it’s been a busy few weeks.” She hadn’t gotten home before seven a single night. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. With Phillip’s help she’d even made up a list of rules, modeled after some of his own. These were guidelines that had helped him, and Libby had hoped they might keep her from falling into the same old groove of all work and no play.

Rule number one. She would never bring work home again.

Rule number two. She would keep up with her exercise program.

Rule number three. She would stay in touch with Ava.

Rule number four. She would make time for her newfound friends: Robin, Lydia, Abby, and Sharon.

Up until now her track record hadn’t exactly been stellar. It didn’t take a week for her to fall back into the pattern of bringing work home. She didn’t feel good about it, and the only reason she did it was because of Phillip. He called her every night and if she wasn’t home before seven she could see that it irritated him.

Phillip hadn’t said anything negative about her return to the firm. Really, she hadn’t been able to turn down that kind of money, and her savings account was so low it frightened her. Her credit cards were all hovering near their credit limits and she needed to pay them off as quickly as possible. The job offer had come at exactly the right time and for more reasons than she’d given Phillip and Robin. Because she felt she would rather work from an office at the firm, Hershel had negotiated the termination of her lease.

She had kept up with the exercise program … with a few skipped days. Before going back to the firm she’d worked out at least four times a week and more often five. That had quickly dwindled down to three, and this week she’d been to Frankie and Johnny’s only once. Libby promised herself next week would be different.

Once she was done setting up the Buckley account, straightening out the mess Ben had made of Martha Reed’s paperwork, and training her new paralegal, Libby wouldn’t need to work these long hours. But for now it was becoming harder and harder to get work done in the office with meetings, conference calls, and other demands on her time. It was either arrive early and stay late or take work home with her.