Chapter 9
Caroline had to speed a little to ensure she got to work on time.
Thank goodness the gallery opened at eleven. J.T. had teased her about her lack of coffee and the random tea bags stuffed in the back of one of her kitchen drawers. Upon learning she usually had her coffee at work, he’d pressed his hands to his face in horror and told her he just couldn’t love her anymore, which had made her laugh. Then he’d stopped her mirth by opening her robe and taking her on the granite countertop.
She’d finally had kitchen sex! Oh, she couldn’t wait to tell her sisters, especially Moira, who was always bragging about her sexual escapades with Chase. Natalie was a little more reserved, although she’d told them about the Highlander kilt Blake used to role-play Jaime in Outlander, one of Natalie’s favorite heroes.
A wave of giddiness made her want to skip to the front door of the gallery. She and J.T. were in love, and despite his ex’s intrusion into their lives, she was happy. Happier than she’d been in a long, long while.
When she reached the gallery, the lights were already on inside. Weird. She could have sworn she’d turned them off last night. That worry was easy enough to swat away, but the door was also unlocked, and when she opened it, the alarm didn’t beep. She scanned the gallery in a panic, relieved to see that all the paintings were still on the walls.
“Caroline,” she heard and looked over to see her boss standing in the doorway of the break room decked out in leather gaucho pants and a cashmere sweater.
“Kendra! Whew! I didn’t know you were coming in today.”
While Kendra didn’t always tell her when she was going to pop in, she usually had a reason for coming by, like a meeting with an artist or a high-rolling client. The kind of thing Caroline scheduled. They didn’t have anything like that today.
“For a moment, I was afraid someone had broken in or something.”
“With the door unlocked and the alarm off, I don’t think so,” Kendra said dryly.
Who got up on the wrong side of the bed? Well, not everyone could be as sexually satisfied as she was this morning. “Have you had coffee yet? I was going to make some.”
“No,” her boss said, her frown firmly in place. “Caroline, let’s sit down.”
A frisson of worry went through her as she walked to where Kendra was standing. “Sure. Let me put my things in the break room.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Kendra said, taking her by the elbow and steering her to the sleek white desk in the corner where they conducted client business.
Okay, now she was really getting upset. “What’s wrong, Kendra?”
Her boss sat behind the desk Caroline usually occupied and pointed to the chair across from her. “Sit down.”
She complied, her coat still on, her purse still in hand.
“Caroline, I’ve had a bad report about you, and I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to let you go.”
Caroline’s stomach dropped like she’d taken an unexpected plunge on a roller coaster. She’d never considered the possibility of getting fired. Kendra had never been anything but satisfied with her work. “What? But that’s crazy. You know how hard I work to make clients happy.”
Kendra cleared her throat. “Yes, I do, but it seems you might have had personal reasons for being rude. I was surprised, of course, but—”
“Personal reasons?” Her brain clicked, and suddenly she knew the answer. “Did Cynthia Newhouse say bad things about me?”
“Yes,” Kendra said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
Caroline had never seen her smoke inside the gallery—it was prohibited, after all—and she coughed when her boss blew out a few puffs of smoke.
“I was a complete professional, Kendra, and between us, she didn’t make it easy, but—”
“She said you asked her reasons for divorcing her husband, whom you apparently spent time with in Rome,” Kendra said with a pointed look. “I thought you were on vacation, but Cynthia said you’re working with J.T. on a proposed museum to house the Merriam collection at Emmits Merriam University in your hometown. Is that true?”
Her diaphragm felt like a boa constrictor had wrapped around it. So this was how Cynthia Newhouse worked. God, she felt like she needed to take a shower. “My great-uncle asked me to help him out as a family favor.” That was true, at least.
“So you aren’t going to quit working for me when this museum gets further along?” Kendra asked, drawing on her cigarette hard.
Caroline stared at the line between the fire and ash. That was pretty much where she was standing right now. “Kendra, I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“You didn’t answer my question, Caroline,” Kendra said, stubbing out her cigarette.
Caroline looked her in the eye. She’d always believed it best to be truthful, but oh, this was going to hurt. “Yes, I’ve been strongly considering it, but the museum hasn’t even been officially announced yet and—”
“But there are rumors,” Kendra said, leaning forward. “I made a few calls last night. When you told me J.T. Merriam had bought a painting from us, I was over the moon. Now I realize he was poaching my manager. In my very own gallery.”
“That’s not how it was,” Caroline said, wanting to defend J.T. “He was in town on business and decided to swing by after my great-uncle told him I was open to helping him.”
Her boss’ brow knit. “So he didn’t try and talk you into working with him?”
Oh, this was bad. He had, she realized, but not in the way Kendra was thinking. “Well, he might have mentioned it and—”
“Bullshit!” Kendra said, standing up. “He was poaching. I’ve heard a lot of rumors about J.T. Merriam from people close to Cynthia Newhouse. I’m starting to believe some of them.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Caroline said, lurching to her feet. “He isn’t like that. She’s the one who’s a…” She cut herself off before she let the word slip.
“A bitch?” Kendra finished for her, crossing her arms. “Talk about personal. Caroline, you’ve been a good manager for me, but that ends now. You’re fired. I want you to leave. Someone will pack up and deliver any personal effects to your house along with your final check. I have to say, I’m disappointed in you. This is something I would never have expected.”
She felt tears burn her eyes. Disappointed? Kendra wasn’t the only one. “And I never expected you would listen to idle gossip and be influenced by someone like Cynthia Newhouse. Talk about personal. No one else has said a bad word about me. I did a good job for you here, Kendra.”
Kendra’s mouth twisted. “Yes, you did. That’s what makes this whole situation so hard. Goodbye, Caroline.”
She thought about attempting to reason with her, but why bother? Kendra had made her decision, and it was clear she wasn’t interested in continuing the conversation. She probably wouldn’t believe her anyway. God, this shouldn’t have happened. Not like this. She’d loved this gallery and everyone she worked with—especially the artists—and while Kendra could be challenging, she’d found a way to create a rewarding professional relationship with her. Or so she’d thought.
Score one to Cynthia Newhouse.