Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)(88)

No. She’d known if she got stupid about him it would ruin everything. She had already started to care too much—so much she’d almost believed he was devastated by her rejection. But then he left. Just like that.

She’d done the right thing. Thank God, because otherwise she’d be miserable. Sleeping on the couch in an industrial office building over the weekend, crying and angry and heartbroken—that was bad enough, but to think it was unnecessary, that she’d made some kind of mistake—well, that would crush what little hope she had left.

With the thick smell of soy sauce and peanut oil wafting over from where Rachel stood across from her, Bev took a deep breath and slid her keyboard away from her on the desk, knowing she couldn’t put it off forever. She’d have to tell people. Not everyone, and not today, but she had to start somewhere.

“He might not be coming back,” Bev said. “He—he says he has some things to figure out.”

Eyes wide, Rachel dropped into a chair. “Not coming back?”

“Probably not.” She tried to smile.

Rachel’s eyes widened further. “You figured it out, didn’t you? About your grandfather’s sick little plan for you guys?”

A hollow pit gaped open inside Bev’s stomach. “Little plan?” She didn’t want to hear this. Her voice dropped. “What plan?”

“Only one way to keep it in the family and put Liam in charge. He was totally obsessed with keeping it in the family. Not like he could set him up with Ellen—not that she’d mind being with a younger man, but they always hated each other. I bet he would have made it a condition of the will if that had been legal.” Rachel’s mouth curved up on one side.

Bev swallowed over the lump in her throat. Kate and Rachel both thought the same thing—

“I didn’t think Liam would do it, going after you and all, but I guess he really, really loved his job,” Rachel said.

That was too much. Bev stood up. “You should go eat your lunch and get back to work.”

Rachel snapped her mouth shut, looked down at the white and red plastic bag of takeout in her lap. “But what are you going to do?”

Bev smiled tightly. “Do?”

“Without him. How will you keep it together?”

“He wasn’t that indispensable. Nobody is.”

“Liam was. You must be totally freaking out.”

For the first time she wondered if she’d made the right choice in her right-hand woman. “We’ll be fine. Everyone needs to have a little faith—in themselves most of all.” She got to her feet and walked across the office to the door.

Rachel followed. “No, their faith in you is what matters.”

“Then you better start singing my praises.” Whether you believe them or not. Rachel might not love her, but at least she did an excellent job helping Bev fake it with everyone else. “Start with Engineering. They’re the source of all the gossip around here. Maybe I can win over the sales guys after the Target deal.”

“That’s still on?”

“Damn, it better be. We’ll be dead with out it,” Bev said. “What are you doing?”

Rachel put her lunch down on the floor outside Liam’s office and rattled the doorknob. “We better get in there and finish the presentation, don’t you think? Where’s your key?”

“I was just about to do that.” She had been putting it off, loathe to make Liam’s absence official. “Go have your lunch. I’d rather do this by myself.”

Rachel hesitated, her hand still on the knob. “You sure? If it’s as big a deal as you said—”

“Just for now. Let’s meet at five and get it into boxes for tomorrow. That too late?”

“Five? I wish. I haven’t been out of here before six in years.”

“You should work on that.”

“Gee, thanks, boss.” Rachel picked up her lunch, rolled her eyes, and disappeared into her office.

Bev stared after her for a moment wondering why her family’s most annoying characteristics seem to have been institutionalized at Fite. When Kate and her mother had watched her drive away from the Oakland house, their faces had looked exactly like that. The same wounded-but-disgusted expression.

She retrieved the master key from her purse and went back to open Liam’s door, trying not to get emotional about it but getting emotional about it.

“It even smells like you,” she muttered into the dark. Not wanting to deal with Rachel’s moody scrutiny, she closed the door behind her and patted the wall to find the switch. She turned and looked at Liam’s desk just as the delayed overhead lighting illuminated the disaster.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

His office had been torn apart. Tattered clothing sagged off their hangers on the wall, torn sketches covered the chairs, and zigzagging piles of white foam core boards littered the floor. Bev turned around slowly, checked the unforced door latch and locked it. She went over to the desk on quiet feet, listening for any hint of another occupant but deciding she was alone.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to keep it together. In spite of the shocking mess all over the room, most of his desk was untouched. The computer, the cup of pens and pinking shears, the hangtag gun and strands of tape measure—all neat and tidy in the corner of his desk, just like Saturday night.