Determined: To Love: (Part 2 of the Determined Trilogy) (7 page)

To: Gina Moretti

From: Samantha Sharp

Subject: Re: Job offer

Hi Gina,

Thanks so much for your email. I do hope your friend enjoys the piece.

Regarding the position, I’d love to hear more. I’m actually available tomorrow (Tuesday), if that works for you. I’m also CC’ing my home email address here. If you could, reply to that account.

Sincerely,

Sam Sharp

I waited a few moments and clicked refresh. Nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief, and deleted the email from Gina. Standing up, I downed the rest of my afternoon coffee and went to help Curtis in the back.

~

That evening, even though David had to work late, I went directly to his place after work. I probably should have felt guilty that he was paying a penalty for spending the weekend away, but I didn’t. I knew he’d weighed the options before leaving. Figuring I hadn’t had any formal exercise during our time in Hawaii, I took advantage of the time alone to go for a run.

The encounter that started on the top of Nob Hill still fresh in my memory, I decided to take it easy and run a flat route out to the Embarcadero, where a wide sidewalk ran along the water.

Running past the sparkling lights of the piers, I reveled in the beauty of the City by the Bay. San Francisco was stunning in any season, and winter was no exception. The fog lent a romantic veil and provided a cushion against what should have been a much colder night. I passed the Ferry Building and pounded the pavement all the way up to Fisherman’s Wharf. By then, the sidewalk was dense with tourists shuffling to dinner, so I crossed the street and started to make my way back. I knew Elliot was out there somewhere and gave him a run for his money, sprinting the last ten blocks.

In front of David’s building, I slowed to a gentle, circling walk as I waited for Elliot to catch up to me. He came up a few moments later, his breathing a bit more belabored than usual.

“Beautiful night for a run, don’tcha think?” I said, catching my breath as I pulled out my ear buds. He shot me a look, and we both went inside.

As I exited the elevator into David’s apartment, the lights were on, and it was clear someone was home. My heart leapt to attention, eager to find him. I didn’t have to wait long; I was less than fifteen feet into the apartment when David came around the corner.

He looked amazing, as usual. He was still dressed for work, in charcoal dress pants and a white dress shirt that had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’d removed his tie and unbuttoned his collar, and his hands were tucked casually into his pockets. He’d removed his contacts and exchanged them for his dark-framed glasses, which were always my preferred option. There was just something so captivating about a ridiculously handsome man in glasses. He stood there for a moment, staring at me, the edges of his mouth curled up.

“Hey, I didn’t know you’d be home already,” I said, walking up to him and pecking him on the lips.

He grabbed me by the small of my back, and pulled me in closer. “My meeting got moved.”

I tried to push away, “Hey, I’m all sweaty from my run.”

“I don’t care.” He caressed my jaw line.

“I should take a shower.”

“Why? I like you all flushed and hot.” He leaned into my neck and inhaled deeply. “And you smell so good.”

What was I going to do with this man? I looked up at him, his dark eyes powering through the frames. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” He released his grip and slapped me on my ass. “Come on, let’s eat. I want to hear about your day.”

Over a dinner of steak, salad, and an excellent pinot noir, I told David about the interesting customer I had had at the gallery that morning. By now, I had really started to jazz myself up about the opportunity.

“So then, at the end of the day, I get an email from her. I don’t even know how she got my email address, but she asked me to come visit her house in Tiburon. Isn’t that a trip?” I said, watching David carefully for a reaction.

He put his fork and knife down, and sat back in his chair, quietly eyeing me as he chewed. He didn’t say anything, so I continued.

“So, I was thinking of heading up there tomorrow, since I have the day off. It would be a great opportunity to put something on my resume besides the gallery.” I looked down at my plate and played with my salad. I wasn’t sure how David would react to me skirting off to the house of someone he - and I—didn’t know. I paused a few beats and looked up at him.

“And who is this woman?” he asked calmly. Too calmly.

“Uh, Gina Moretti. She uh, just moved to the area.” I realized that I didn’t really know much about her, either. Other than that she was rich, lived in Tiburon, and had a friend who liked art.

“What does she do?”

“She,” I paused to cut a piece of steak with my fork, “I don’t know yet. I didn’t want to pry.” I was embarrassed. He was right. I didn’t know a thing about this woman. I felt stupid for even bringing it up.
Just stick with being a gallery girl, Sam. That’s your place.
I felt myself start to blush a deep crimson, and looked away, focusing on the floor next to the table. “I’m sure I’ll find that out tomorrow.”

“Well,” David exhaled, “Make sure you take Elliot with you.” I looked up, and he had resumed eating, “And promise me you will be safe.”

I beamed at him. “Tiburon is ridiculously safe. Don’t worry. But yes, I will take Elliot.”

He reached out and caressed my hand, “You are very important to me, Samantha. More than anything.”

Suddenly I remembered something. I jerked my hand out of his at the thought.

“I almost forgot. It’s my dad’s birthday this Saturday. I thought we could go down to Saratoga and celebrate with them. What do you think?”

David looked surprised but quickly recovered. He replaced his hand on mine.

“Of course, Samantha, whatever you like. What should we get him as a gift?”

I felt so lucky that David got along so well with my family. He’d spent quite a lot of time with them since we’d been together, and managed to charm them all.

“Hmm. I don’t know. I need to think about that.” I took a sip of my water and gazed over at him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now finish your meal. You are going to need your energy for later.”

5

I woke up late on Tuesday morning, taking advantage of my day off. I had emailed Gina back last night, and we’d made an appointment for a late lunch. David was gone, having gotten up early for a virtual meeting with his London office. That meant I had the entire, enormous bed to myself for the morning. I pulled a magazine out of my bag and was reading about the latest celebrity wedding when Hilde knocked on the bedroom door. She poked her head in first, and then followed with a French press of coffee and a gooey cinnamon roll on a small white plate.

“Hilde, you are awesome, you know that, right?” I said, sliding upright.

“Oh, I’m just so glad I have someone to bake for, Miss. Mr. Keith prefers… other things,” she said, sweetly.

“Like kale smoothies?” I joked.

She leaned in, “Tastes like hedge trimmings, if you ask me,” she whispered, her low voice edged with a husky German accent.

“I knew I liked you, Hilde,” I said with a smile. She winked and left the items on the bedside table.

I ran my fingertip along a drip of icing and tasted it. Incredible. David didn’t know what he was missing. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sunk back into the sea of pillows, entirely content.

~

Later that morning, the drive across the Golden Gate Bridge and up to Tiburon was beautiful; the sparkling coast giving way to little towns nestled amongst rolling green hills. I fiddled with one of my earrings, unable to stop the nerves churning in my stomach. Was I crazy to be meeting with this woman? After all, she was practically a total stranger. Sure, I was starting to outgrow my job with the Kinsler Gallery, but weren’t there more sensible ways to start a job hunt? Maybe apply at a museum or an auction house? Self-doubt took over.
Was I even qualified for a job like this?
I didn’t have any experience as an art buyer.

I resolved to calm down until I learned more. No one was forcing me to decide anything now, anyway. This was just lunch. Information gathering. Nothing more. I pulled out my phone and typed her name into a quick Google search. An accountant in Michigan, an Italian author, there were many Gina Morettis. I’d need to learn more about her before I could pin down which one I was having lunch with.

I hadn’t been to Tiburon before, despite having grown up in the Bay Area. It was a small, affluent town with a yacht harbor and an epic view of the San Francisco skyline from across the bay. We passed through the downtown area in less than five minutes and headed out along a street that traced the water. Winding through grand bay vistas, we zig-zagged past the homes of the wealthy, perfect in their understated opulence.

At long last, we hit the end of the road, and Elliot continued onto a long driveway. It ended at the front door of a large, modern residence constructed of glass and concrete. I couldn’t see the water, but heard soft waves lapping, so I knew we were close. I nodded at Elliot as I walked to the front door and rang the bell.

The front door was made of glass as well, and almost immediately, a large German Shepherd appeared behind it. It started barking when it saw me. I glanced back at the car, double checking that Elliot was still there. He was.

Then Gina Moretti appeared behind the glass. She grabbed the dog by the collar and shouted something at him before opening the door.

“Samantha. Hi. Thank you for coming,” she said between barks, “Sorry about Finn here. He just doesn’t know you yet. Finn this is Samantha, be nice to her. She is going to help Mummy out.”

I glanced at the dog. He was big… bigger than most German Shepherds I’d seen. Still, I bent over and put out my hand so he could smell me. “Hi Finn. I have a dog, too. His name is Rex.” I said, looking back at Gina. She smiled. Finn sniffed my hand tentatively, and then reached out and licked it gently. “Oh, you are just a big softy, aren’t you, boy?” I patted him on the neck.

“He is. He’s my big spoiled baby. What kind of dog is Rex?” she asked, smiling.

“He’s a sheepdog. Ten years old. He lives with my parents down in Saratoga. How old is Finn?”

“He’s just two years old. Finally getting out of the puppy phase, thank God. How was the drive up?”

“Good, good. Faster than I thought.” I stood back up and looked around. Gina’s house was impressive. Even from the foyer, you could see through a huge, vaulted living room, straight out to the bay. It was gorgeous. “Your house is lovely.”

“Thank you. I like it too. The location mostly. The house itself is a little stark for me; it needs warmth.”

I glanced around the living room. She was right. It had the distinct feeling that someone had just moved in. There was barely any furniture, save for a large suede sectional and a few cheap floor lamps. Nothing on the walls. It was in sharp contrast to Gina herself, who was outfitted in an elegant tweed skirt and soft cashmere sweater, with lots of gold jewelry layered on her neck and wrists.

“Some art, perhaps?” I said with a wry smile.

“My thoughts exactly. Here, come with me, I’ve got some sandwiches and iced tea in the sun room. We can talk in there.” She motioned for me to follow her.

The sun room was a bright glassed-in room perched on the edge of the property overlooking the water. We sat at a rattan table and ate chicken salad sandwiches as Gina told me about herself. She recently had relocated from Manhattan, having divorced her hedge-fund husband. She said she had found him in bed with his secretary.

“Honestly, what bothered me more than the actual cheating was how stereotypical it was. I mean, I wish he’d at least slept with someone interesting—someone I could admire or be jealous of, but the freaking blonde secretary with big tits? It was so embarrassing. I had to get out of there. So I figured, what’s farthest from the East Coast?”

“The West Coast,” I intoned.

“Exactly.” She paused, taking the last bite of her sandwich, chewing slowly before she continued. “And so here I am.” I didn’t know what to say, but she continued “So, Sam. May I call you Sam?”

“Sure.”

“Sam, this is a big place,” She waved her hand in the air. “And the best way to punish my ex is by hurting him financially.” A fire started to brew in her eyes. “I’d like to do this place up right. I want the best, most expensive art. I want to coat the walls. I want it to be a fucking museum.”

I was taken aback. I thought that she was going to ask me to help her go to a couple galleries here or there, and pick out a few pieces for her home. This sounded like a much bigger job. I sipped on my iced tea, buying time. “Hmm. That sounds like quite a project,” I finally uttered. It was all I could come up with.

“I’m prepared to compensate you accordingly, of course.” She added, as she dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, “I’ll send you the details via email. Do you have time for a tour before you have to go?”

“I actually have an appointment this afternoon I need to get back to town for,” I said, removing my napkin as I stood up. It wasn’t true, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.

“Drat. Well, you’ll just have to accept the position and come back again then,” she said, looking bemused. “Thank you for coming up, Sam. Let me walk you to the door.” Finn ran over and followed us down the hall. “I will be in touch soon.”

“Thanks Gina. And thank you for lunch. It was lovely.”

“Anytime, Sam. Have a safe trip back.”

6

After lunch, I went back to my place. It had been a while since I’d been there. I surveyed the space—it was just as I had left it—my down comforter strewn hastily over the bed, a pair of jeans tossed over the back of my desk chair, unwashed dishes in the sink. I’ve never considered myself a slob, but after having access to housekeeping service at David’s, I was starting to understand the point. I threw the jeans into the hamper and promptly ignored the dishes in the sink while I booted up my computer.

I caught up on my favorite blogs and scanned updates on social media before logging into my email. Right there, at the top of the feed, was an email that made my breath catch. It was from Gina Moretti.
That was fast
, I thought as I clicked on her name.