Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
I rolled over in bed and reached for Harlow.
My hand caught a handful of pillow feathers instead.
Screw this.
Sitting up, I grabbed my phone and called her.
“The number you’ve reached is no longer in service!” A robotic voice yelled. “ Please check the number you dialed and try again.”
Maybe she blocked me, too.
I pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt and searched for Miss Rivers.
“Good evening, Mr. Dawson.” She waved from the parlor. “Something wrong?”
“A lot of things are wrong.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She frowned. “Would you like me to sing a song to make it better?”
“Do you honestly think singing solves real-world problems?”
“I believe the world would have far less problems, if we all sang together more often.”
You’re lucky you’re good at your job.
“I need to leave and check on someone—I mean, something,” I said. “Can you stay here for an extra two hours?”
“Absolutely, sir.” She patted my shoulder. “But before you go, can I say something?”
“As long as it’s not in song.”
“Please just rememberrr,” she sang anyway. “If you ever have problemmms … A little music can solve ‘emmm!”
Jesus Christ.
I grabbed my coat and headed for the elevator.
I made it to Harlow’s place in twenty minutes flat.
Throwing on my hazard lights, I jumped out and approached the door.
A yellow note clung to the bricks.
New Tenant Showings All Weekend!
Beautiful 1BR, Fully Furnished
Call 978-098-6756 for alternative times
I rang the doorbell, and the door swung open within seconds.
“Well, hello there.” An older woman smiled. “May I help you with something, sir?”
“I’m looking for Harlow Hawthorne,” I said. “Is she here?”
“I don’t know anyone by that name. Are you sure you’re at the right place?”
“She lived here a few weeks ago.” I didn’t mention that I saw her when I drove by. “Surely you saw her before you came in.”
“I’m here to clean up.” She threw up gloved hands. “That’s all I was hired to do.”
“Can I come in and check for myself?”
“Would you let a stranger randomly walk inside and check your apartment?”
That’s fair. I pulled a business card from my pocket.
“Can you give this to whoever hired you and have them call me, please?”
She nodded, and I returned to my car.
I tried Harlow’s number again, hoping the ‘wrong number’ message was just a fluke, but the robotic voice served me the same words.
FIFTY-THREE
PIERCE
Can you come to my office?
I need to talk to you.
Jerry
On my way.
“Good afternoon.” He shut the door. “What do you need?”
“A favor.” I motioned for him to have a seat.
“I’m all ears.”
“Do you keep in contact with any of your old coworkers?”
“That’s against your staff policy.”
“I’m aware, but do you do it?” I clicked my pen. “Like Max, Sean, or Avery? You all were great friends before they eventually retired, so I’m just wondering if you still keep in touch.”
“I occasionally comment on their social media accounts and send them letters, but they know what comes with this job.” He eyed me suspiciously. “As the longest member of your staff, I follow all your rules to the letter.”
Of course. “Thank you very much. That’s all I wanted to know.”
He walked to the door, and then he looked over his shoulder.
“Mr. Dawson?”
“Yes?”
“Miss Hawthorne is subletting her apartment to earn extra money,” he said. “She’s working part-time at The French Laundry’s kitchen.”
“Who said anything about Harlow?”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome.”
FIFTY-FOUR
HARLOW
“Ineed chocolate truffles and tarts for table seven!” “Malt brownies and cream brûlée!” “Baumkuchen for our favorite regulars on the balcony!” “Go, go, go!”
Flames hissed on the ranges at Hudson Kitchen, soothing my mind as I prepared a custom cake.
The daily feel of sugar sifting through my fingers was enough to make me stop thinking about Pierce. But once the lights were out and the kitchen was silent, when were all sent away, memories of him flooded my mind.
Even though he sent a woman to take back the storefront, my heart refused to let him go.
“Beautiful work, Chef Harlow.” Chef Grant dipped his finger into a chocolate bowl. “I’ve yet to witness you making anything less than stellar.”
“Thank you, Chef.”
“Now, Chef Watson?” He spoke to the chef next to me. “What the foookkk is that? WHAT. IS. THAT?”
I held back a sigh.
It was only a matter of time before my ‘newbie darling’ status wore off, so I didn’t plan to stay here for much longer.
Pulling amber caramel sauce from the stove, I poured it over a heart shaped-pie.
“Sir, you can’t be in here!” Chef Grant bellowed. “Sir, sir, sir!”
I looked up to see who was drawing his ire.
Pierce?
He stopped walking when his eyes met mine.
Dressed in the same three-piece suit he wore on the day we first met, he commanded everyone’s attention.
“Is this intruder a royal or something?” Chef Grant yelled. “Get back to work while we get security to haul him out of here.”
I swallowed as Pierce strolled straight toward me. The pain in his eyes mirrored mine.