“Uh-huh. And no one else can make coffee for you the way she did, is that it?”
“Exactly,” Duncan said. At least someone got it. “Rosabel had just the right mix of cream and sugar. She could always blend it just the right way—wait. Are you laughing? You’re laughing.”
“Sorry,” Maddox said. “I’ve never heard you so bent out of shape over a woman.”
“I mean, it’s Rosabel,” Duncan said, as if that should say it all.
“Yes, it is. So what are you going to do about it?”
Duncan slumped into the chair behind his desk, his posture sagging. “She didn’t just quit, man. She slammed me. Hard.”
“How?”
“I asked if she would date me. And she said no.”
Maddox laughed louder this time. Laughter. Of all the reactions he could possibly have.
Duncan rolled up his left sleeve, then his right. “May I now remind you who was there for you after Ruby dumped your sorry backside and left you destitute? And who gave your theme park a chance? Who gave you the brilliant idea of rebranding that has now paid off in the region of millions?”
Maddox’s laughter died off. “All right, all right. I guess I am enjoying this a little too much. You’re just … usually you’re so closed off about personal stuff. This is kind of strange for me.”
“What else am I supposed to be?”
“Nothing.” Maddox’s tone was more serious this time. “Tell me what happened.”
Duncan did. He told the whole blasted situation with his grandmother, his mother, his preposterous, impulsive offer to Rosabel, and her unapologetic, automatic rejection.
“Sounds like she needs help,” Maddox said.
Duncan gaped at the retro painting with its red and black shapes on the wall, gripping the phone in his hand. Rosabel needed help? “What? What makes you say that?”
“You said she wouldn’t quit because she needed the money. That probably hasn’t changed. If her dad is sick, she is probably hurting right now, and you’re being, well, you. Dude, she probably couldn’t handle one more thing, and to have you throw a relationship at her was too much.”
Duncan remained silent for several moments. He and Maddox had talked about women many times, but his friend had never displayed such sharp powers of deduction. Then again, he had changed quite a bit since marrying Adelie. “Since when did you get this perceptive?”
“I’m only saying, sometimes having someone else’s view on things can help us see it differently.”
He sifted through Maddox’s suggestions. Rosabel’s dad’s disease—he couldn’t do anything about that. But he could offer something else. “I can give her money,” Duncan said, “if that’s what she needs.”
There was a pause. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Sure.” Duncan grew increasingly certain by the minute. “Money. Security. If that’s what she wants, I can do that. I’ll offer her a raise if she comes back.”
“I’m not sure that’s …”
“Thanks, man. I’m glad we talked this out.”
“Dunc, wait—”
“See ya.”
Duncan hung up, bursting with renewed energy. It was about time Maddox pitched in with a good idea or two, seeing how Duncan had given him several over the years. He hadn’t been kidding; it’d been thanks to Duncan that Maddox had met his wife, Adelie. Maddox owned the Wonderland theme park, and the place had needed some major repairs and a new logo. Not six months ago, Duncan had convinced Maddox that Adelie would be perfect as Alice, and now she was perfectly more than that.
Rosabel could be perfect for Duncan too. He just had to make her see it.
4
After helping Dad bathe and dress, Rosabel waited until Sarah arrived before donning her favorite professional attire—her lavender blouse with pin-striped skirt—and heading into the city. Westville wasn’t huge by industry standards, but plenty of work could be found if a person knew where to look for it. She decided to stop by New England Staffing and see what they could offer her—hopefully something in the editing arena.
Hours later, after a few unsuccessful interviews, she returned home, downtrodden and discouraged. When she pulled into the driveway, Sarah’s gray Dodge wasn’t the only car parked on the street in front of her house.
Rosabel froze. She was tempted to veer past, cruise through the neighborhood for a handful of minutes, and see if Duncan’s red Corvette was gone by the time she got back, but something told her that wouldn’t happen. He was nothing if not persistent, and if he wanted to talk to her, it would happen sooner or later.
But why had he come to her house? He’d never bothered to before, not the night she’d managed to pry him drunk from a night club after his latest flame had broken up with him, or the time another woman had ended things and he’d gone on a shopping rampage, insisting on buying Rosabel everything she’d wanted from the department store. When she hadn’t picked anything and demanded he take her home instead, he’d only dropped her off at the office. She’d had to arrange for her own transportation.
Did he notice what a pattern he had with women? She’d only worked for him for a year and a half, and in that short time she couldn’t count the number of botched relationships the man had had. Generally, in instances like this where an outcome continued to repeat itself, looking at the common factors in the equations helped. There’d been businesswomen and farmer’s daughters, sports addicts and divas. No two women had anything alike except for one thing—Duncan.
How could he not see he was the root of every ruined relationship? She was surprised his family wanted him to come home at all.
Rosabel winced and backtracked, regretting the thought. Of course, his family probably saw another side of him no one else did. But at this point, Rosabel doubted there was anything more to him than shallow, entitled greed.
At the sight of her car in the driveway, Duncan exited his gleaming red Corvette and stood on the corner. He knew how to dress the part; that was for sure. He was burning concrete in a pair of Armani slacks and a fitted polka-dot button-up shirt, with the dots too tiny to be noticeable unless you looked up close.
With his hand on his hip and sunglasses perched on his nose, he analyzed her. His beguiling appearance was enough to ratchet her pulse. Too bad the contents didn’t exceed the luster of the wrapping.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, feeling her heels sink into the grass. Curse it. She ripped them from her feet. The lack took her down a few inches, and she suddenly wished she was taller.
Duncan peered at her through his designer sunglasses. “I came to offer you a job.”
“Ha.” The laugh barked from her chest of its own accord. Rosabel didn’t bother trying to remedy it. “Why would I ever want to work for you again?”
“She couldn’t make my coffee.”
Her brows drew together. “Who couldn’t make your coffee?”
He glanced to the street, attempting to appear unperturbed. “Theresa. Tabitha. Tammy. T-something. Whatever her name was, she quit after a single day.”
Rosabel exhaled. So much for this being a brief conversation. She considered roasting him for his level of pickiness or pointing out just how needy this man was. He’d grilled the new girl over coffee. “Sounds like a smart girl.”