disappointments crowding in on her devotion to her brother. “Don’t do that, Gabe. Please.”
“Lisa, it’s a dead-end job. The pay sucks and the work is boring. I’ve met up with some guy who runs a shipping company. He needs a part-time accountant.”
In his overly optimistic voice Lisa heard echoes of other opportunities that had sounded too good to be true. “I thought you said you couldn’t get another accounting job without a reference.”
“Well, this guy doesn’t need a reference.”
“Shouldn’t that tell you something?” Lisa closed her eyes. And prayed. “Gabe, I’ll come see you as soon as possible. Maybe tonight. Please. Don’t quit yet. Something will happen here. I know it.”
His silence pressed heavily down on her.
But Lisa knew how Gabe’s thoughts went and how impatient he could be. “Hang in there,” she said, struggling to sound positive. “I’ll come see you tonight.”
He sighed. “Okay,” he said, reluctance edging his voice.
Lisa closed her cell phone and sighed lightly. Dear Lord, she prayed, I don’t deserve to talk to You, but please take care of Gabe. Please don’t let him do anything silly.
It was such a short prayer. And uttered so spontaneously. Yet Lisa felt a gentle peace surround her.
Dylan was already hunched over his desk, fruit and a bagel on a plate at his elbow. He looked up when she came in. “I thought I would get started.” He held her gaze a moment, a soft smile curving his lips. Thankfully he didn’t ask her about the phone call.
Lisa put a plate of food together and joined Dylan in the study. She sat down at the computer and worked at finishing the job she’d started on Friday.
Though her attention was on her work, she couldn’t help the occasional glance Dylan’s way. One time he was looking at her, but as soon as their eyes met, he looked away.
Lisa didn’t want to read anything into it. Couldn’t.
She was finished and walked over to Dylan’s table and pulled another file. A piece of paper, stuck to one of the files, fell to the floor.
Dylan picked it up, wrinkling his nose. “This thing’s a mess.” It was crumpled and stained with rings from a coffee cup. “Does it look like anything?”
Lisa took the folded-over piece of paper from him. “Looks to me like messy bookkeeping. It was just stuck to one of the files,” she replied. She tried to peel the folds apart. “I could try steaming them.”
“I can do it.”
“I don’t mind. I need the break.”
“The kettle is in the pots-and-pans cupboard beside the stove,” Dylan said.
The kitchen was empty, and Lisa easily found the kettle, surprised that Dylan would know. When she and Gabe had lived together, the only pan he’d been able to find was the frying pan, and that was because it was always in the sink or on the stove.
While the water was boiling she tried one more time to pry apart the folds of paper with a knife, but succeeded only in ripping it a bit more.
The steam was pouring out of the kettle now and she held the paper above it, careful to avoid burning her hand. The paper slowly crinkled away until she could unfold it.
It was an invoice. Inside was another paper, a memo to Dara. In Gabe’s handwriting.
“Don’t know if I can keep doing this,” Lisa read. “Ted needs to know.”
Her heart skittered, and deep inside she felt as if something had been yanked out, torn up by the roots. The words shouted at her.
Keep doing this? Doing what? And what did Ted need to know?
Lisa lowered the memo, her hands shaking. Her first reaction was to crumple up the paper and throw it in the garbage. Her second was to grab it and run across town to her brother to ask what it meant.
She glanced quickly around the kitchen, then folded the paper and slipped it into the back pocket of her pants. She couldn’t let anyone see this until she had talked to Gabe about it.
She doubted Dylan could have seen the memo. It was smaller than the invoice and tucked right
“Lisa, it’s a dead-end job. The pay sucks and the work is boring. I’ve met up with some guy who runs a shipping company. He needs a part-time accountant.”
In his overly optimistic voice Lisa heard echoes of other opportunities that had sounded too good to be true. “I thought you said you couldn’t get another accounting job without a reference.”
“Well, this guy doesn’t need a reference.”
“Shouldn’t that tell you something?” Lisa closed her eyes. And prayed. “Gabe, I’ll come see you as soon as possible. Maybe tonight. Please. Don’t quit yet. Something will happen here. I know it.”
His silence pressed heavily down on her.
But Lisa knew how Gabe’s thoughts went and how impatient he could be. “Hang in there,” she said, struggling to sound positive. “I’ll come see you tonight.”
He sighed. “Okay,” he said, reluctance edging his voice.
Lisa closed her cell phone and sighed lightly. Dear Lord, she prayed, I don’t deserve to talk to You, but please take care of Gabe. Please don’t let him do anything silly.
It was such a short prayer. And uttered so spontaneously. Yet Lisa felt a gentle peace surround her.
Dylan was already hunched over his desk, fruit and a bagel on a plate at his elbow. He looked up when she came in. “I thought I would get started.” He held her gaze a moment, a soft smile curving his lips. Thankfully he didn’t ask her about the phone call.
Lisa put a plate of food together and joined Dylan in the study. She sat down at the computer and worked at finishing the job she’d started on Friday.
Though her attention was on her work, she couldn’t help the occasional glance Dylan’s way. One time he was looking at her, but as soon as their eyes met, he looked away.
Lisa didn’t want to read anything into it. Couldn’t.
She was finished and walked over to Dylan’s table and pulled another file. A piece of paper, stuck to one of the files, fell to the floor.
Dylan picked it up, wrinkling his nose. “This thing’s a mess.” It was crumpled and stained with rings from a coffee cup. “Does it look like anything?”
Lisa took the folded-over piece of paper from him. “Looks to me like messy bookkeeping. It was just stuck to one of the files,” she replied. She tried to peel the folds apart. “I could try steaming them.”
“I can do it.”
“I don’t mind. I need the break.”
“The kettle is in the pots-and-pans cupboard beside the stove,” Dylan said.
The kitchen was empty, and Lisa easily found the kettle, surprised that Dylan would know. When she and Gabe had lived together, the only pan he’d been able to find was the frying pan, and that was because it was always in the sink or on the stove.
While the water was boiling she tried one more time to pry apart the folds of paper with a knife, but succeeded only in ripping it a bit more.
The steam was pouring out of the kettle now and she held the paper above it, careful to avoid burning her hand. The paper slowly crinkled away until she could unfold it.
It was an invoice. Inside was another paper, a memo to Dara. In Gabe’s handwriting.
“Don’t know if I can keep doing this,” Lisa read. “Ted needs to know.”
Her heart skittered, and deep inside she felt as if something had been yanked out, torn up by the roots. The words shouted at her.
Keep doing this? Doing what? And what did Ted need to know?
Lisa lowered the memo, her hands shaking. Her first reaction was to crumple up the paper and throw it in the garbage. Her second was to grab it and run across town to her brother to ask what it meant.
She glanced quickly around the kitchen, then folded the paper and slipped it into the back pocket of her pants. She couldn’t let anyone see this until she had talked to Gabe about it.
She doubted Dylan could have seen the memo. It was smaller than the invoice and tucked right
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