Loving Mr. July (16 page)

Exhaustion made Kurt cranky as he sat in the
corporate conference room, listening to yet another manager tell
him why he would likely end up over budget for the year.

The last few weeks had been hell. He’d tried
everything he could think of to reach Cynthia. He’d even hung out
on her street, feeling like a stalker, until the police had come by
because a neighbor had called in his license plate number.

Luckily, the responding officer had been a
buddy from his gym. Although he’d felt like an idiot explaining to
the guy why he was parked on the same street for the third night in
a row, and had endured the resulting ribbing with good grace, he
knew that approach was no longer an option. Not that it had helped
him locate her anyway.

He knew from what Sharon had let slip that
Cynthia was back in town, and back to work at Grandma’s. But she
hadn’t contacted him. Kurt had to accept that she wasn’t going to.
And there was the part of him that still smarted over her lack of
trust. He’d done everything he could to show her how much he cared.
Now it was her turn. A man had his pride after all.

When a fourth manager pulled up a spreadsheet
indicating red ink, Kurt slapped his hand down on the table, so
hard the laptops near him bobbled.

“What the hell is wrong with you people?
We’re running a company here, not a credit card agency. So far not
a single one of you has remained within budget.”

Kurt noted the stunned faced around the room,
but he couldn’t stop his tirade. “I don’t want to see another
spreadsheet. Each of you has a task, and it trumps any other for
the day. You’re to go back to your offices, scrub your numbers, and
find a way to end the year within budget. I want options,
tradeoffs, and suggestions. You all have until 5 p.m., and you will
clear your calendars to meet again tonight. No exceptions. Is that
understood?”

He slammed the table again. “This meeting is
over!”

His top managers scurried out of the room,
some of them looking over their shoulder as if they were afraid he
might chase them down. If he weren’t so tired and upset, he would
have laughed at the sight. As it was, he just felt like the jerk he
knew he’d sounded like.

When the door finally closed, and he thought
he was alone, he put his head down on the table, resting against
his arms, and took a ragged breath.

“Quite a performance.” Blake’s quiet voice
near his left shoulder had him lifting his head in a hurry.

The look on his brother’s face was one of
pity, but the twitch at the side of Blake’s mouth told Kurt that
his brother was also angry.

Kurt held up a hand. “I know. I was a jerk.
I’m sorry.”

Blake considered him for a moment. “You had
justification. I’ve thought for a while that you’ve been a little
too lenient with everyone on budget.”

“Usually, we make it up in profit at the end
of the year.”

“True.” Blake inclined his head. “But it’s
also created a culture with associated expectations.”

Kurt nodded.

“You need to get your shit together, Dude.”
Blake clasped his hands together on the desk. “If you need to take
a break, take one. I’ll handle things here. But you can’t go on
treating people like you’ve been the last few weeks.”

“Been that bad, have I?” Kurt rubbed his
faced, hard.

“People have been coming to me, Kurt.” Blake
toyed with his keys. “Your tirade last week against the operations
manager, felt just short of being out of line. We’re going to have
people quit if you keep this up. People we can’t afford to have
quit right before we want to take the company public.”

Kurt hung his head, feeling sheepish. “I’m
sorry.”

“I’m not the person you need to apologize
to.” Blake pushed his chair back from the conference table. “Look,
I think I know how you feel. I was in your shoes not too long ago
with Sharon.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got the nose to prove it.”
Kurt rubbed two fingers across the bump in his nose.

“If you want this woman, do something about
it,” Blake continued as if Kurt hadn’t spoken. “And if not, then
get her out of your system. I don’t care how. Just don’t bring your
personal problems to work.”

“Easier to say than do, though isn’t it?”
Kurt gave Blake a wry smile. “Or have you already forgotten what a
mess you were?”

Blake sighed, compassion clear in the look on
his face. “I don’t think I will ever forget the pain I felt when it
seemed hopeless with Sharon. And you know I’d do anything to help
you. But you’ve been pushing me and Sharon away now for weeks.”

“Did Sharon explain anything to you?”

Blake nodded. “I think you should have told
Holly. You know she’d go over to Cynthia in a heartbeat, straighten
her out.”

“Yeah, this time, Blake.” Kurt got up and
paced the room. “But what happens the next time that Cynthia sees
me with someone. And the next?” He raked his fingers through his
hair. “You know what my life is like, how many people I come across
on a daily basis, both male and female. I can’t live constantly on
pins and needles worried about how a casual action might be
perceived through Cynthia’s insecurity.”

His gaze pensive, Blake nodded. “See your
point.”

“I mean, for God’s sake, she won’t even
answer my phone calls. All because she apparently saw me with a
woman!”

After a moment’s consideration Blake asked,
“So what are you going to do?”

Kurt let out a sigh. “What I have been doing.
Waiting for her to come to her senses.”

“How’s that been working for you?”

Kurt let out a harsh laugh, waved a hand at
the door where his managers had exited. “Apparently not so
well.”

Blake cleared his throat, and waited for
more.

Kurt gave in to the silent question in
Blake’s eyes. “So, I’m putting a plan together for the Bocher
Foundation auction. I know she won’t miss that event. She’ll be
forced to see me there.”

“Anything we can do?”

“There might be.” Kurt’s eyes took on a
gleam. “I’m considering some ideas. Let you know?”

Blake nodded, got up, then slapped a hand on
his brother’s shoulder. “Any time, Dude. Any time.”

About a month after the appreciation dinner,
Cynthia opened her inbox to find an email from Patty. Her
contribution to the foundation was free photography. And the
foundation was sure lucky to have her, Cynthia thought, as she
eagerly opened the attachment, hoping to find something she could
use for the next foundation newsletter.

The pictures were stunning, as usual. Patty
seemed to be able to capture moments of pure emotion on her
subjects’ faces. Cynthia scrolled through the speaker and audience
photographs, noting which ones would bring the most impact for the
monthly newsletter. Patty had outdone herself again, Cynthia
thought, as she took her time, carefully examining the angles and
noting the photograph numbers. She hummed happily, until she came
to the very end of the hundreds of samples.

Patty had taken photographs of Cynthia during
her speech. It surprised Cynthia, even though it shouldn’t have.
After all, she had been one of the speakers too. But in her effort
to block out that weekend with Kurt, she somehow had included her
speech as well.

In the sample album, Patty juxtaposed
photographs of a very emotional Cynthia with the even more
emotional crowd. One photograph had Sharon and Blake looking at
each other, Sharon’s face a picture of sorrow, Blake’s one of
compassion and comfort. The emotion in faces of other people ranged
from stunned disbelief, to pity, to sadness. A few appeared
uncomfortable.

But it was the last few photos that had
Cynthia catching her breath. Patty had captured a series of Kurt.
In the first one, he leaned forward in his chair, his chin in his
hands, attention rapt. In the second, he sat back, his face a
picture of raw emotion, and his cheeks glinting with the tracks of
tears. In the last photo, he appeared to be one of the first to
stand, in what had become as Cynthia now remembered, a standing
ovation. The tender expression on his face, and the knowing looks
of the family members around him made one thing very apparent—this
was a man smitten, and one who didn’t care who knew.

The sinking feeling in her gut became so
strong, Cynthia felt physically ill. What had she done?

Her night with Kurt, blocked out for the last
few weeks, came back to her in a rush. The way he’d looked at her,
the words he’d spoken, the way he’d held her.

Had she been wrong about him? And if so,
would it even matter anymore? She’d ignored every effort he’d made
to contact her. Hadn’t even allowed him to explain. And why?
Because of her own feeling of unworthiness?

Cynthia stared out the window, tears
streaming down her cheeks. She thought about the last few months
with him. How hard he’d tried to be a friend. How decent he’d been.
How respectful he’d acted, and she felt a deep sorrow. Sorrow
because it hit her that despite everything, despite her words to
herself, even on their fateful night, she’d never really taken a
risk with him, or even for him. Instead, she’d hidden behind her
insecurities.

She watched a sparrow in the meadow below,
flitting about, pecking here and there for food, and just narrowly
escaping the clutches of a barn cat that jumped out of a bush and
pounced without warning. The bird flew up to a tree, but moments
later came back to the ground a ways away. It pulled up a worm, and
flew up to the tree again, emerging just minutes later to peck
again.

Cynthia stood, crossed to the window, and
raised the creaky glass pane. She heard the unmistakable squawks of
baby birds. Apparently the sparrow had a nest in the branches, and
was willing to risk the cat in order to feed her babies. Cynthia
rested her head against the glass. There was a lesson there, and
this time she was going to listen to it.

She crossed back over to the desk, where
Sharon had scribbled a phone message on a scrap of paper. Marjorie,
Kurt’s mother, had called again. She knew why. Both were on the
Bocher Foundation auction committee, and she hadn’t exactly honored
her duties there lately. Now apparently Marjorie had taken matters
into her own hands. Cynthia had to show up for brunch

~ ~ ~

A rush of cool air hit Cynthia when she
opened the door to enter the lobby of the Hotel del Coronado. When
Marjorie did brunch, she did it in style, Cynthia thought, as she
peeked into the Crown Room to see if Marjorie had already been
seated. It had been a while since she’d been to one of the famous
Sunday brunches at ‘The Del,’ and certainly not since she’d learned
to do portion control.

A vision in front of her halted her mental
calculation of the number of miles she would have to walk this
afternoon in order to do justice to the brunch. She recognized the
swing of silky brown hair and slender, athletic build—she’d seen it
before while hiding in the bushes at Kurt’s house. The woman with
her was also familiar to Cynthia. Before Cynthia could figure out
how to leave without being seen, it was too late. Marjorie turned,
saw her, and hailed her over to where they were standing in the
serving lines.

Cynthia took a deep breath and moved to join
them. The girl next to her turned and Cynthia’s heart sank. The
woman was stunning.

“Cynthia!” Marjorie enveloped her in an
effusive hug. “I’m so happy you could meet us here.” She set
Cynthia back from her for a moment. “You’ve lost more weight.” She
peered into Cynthia’s face. “You’re not turning anorexic or
anything on us now, are you?”

“No.” Cynthia laughed “And I think I have a
ways to go before that would even be an issue.”

“You look fantastic.” Marjorie patted her
arm. “But I’m forgetting my manners.” She turned to include the
beautiful woman next to her in the circle. “This is Holly, my
niece. She’s offered to help with last minute needs at the
foundation. Isn’t that lovely?” She beamed at the woman.

“Your niece?” Cynthia knew she sounded a
little strange. The curious look on Holly’s face confirmed it.

“My sister was Holly’s mother.” Marjorie
smiled at Holly, then turned back to Cynthia. “And even before my
sister passed away, I always borrowed Holly as much as I could,
surrounded by males as I was.”

Cynthia watched the fond look pass between
Holly and Marjorie. “So you’re Kurt’s cousin?” Her voice rose to a
squeak by the end of the question.

“And Blake’s.” Holly watched her with bright
eyes.

Cynthia had a feeling that she didn’t miss
anything.

“And she works as Kurt’s assistant.” Marjorie
put in. “It was meant to be a summer assignment while she finished
her law degree, but reasons unknown to me, she decided to stay
on.”

“Someone has to keep an eye on those two.”
Holly gave a graceful shrug and grinned at her aunt.

As a sick feeling came to her stomach,
Cynthia couldn’t find words. She stared at Marjorie, watched her
lips move, but it was as if she watched a movie without sound. When
she swayed, Holly caught her elbow.

“Are you okay?” A look of concern came to her
face, and intensified when Cynthia could only shake her head.

Marjorie, with her usual take-charge
attitude, put her arm around Cynthia’s shoulder and propelled her
to their table. She sat down next to her. Holly took the seat on
the other side.

“Are you lightheaded? Feel sick?” Marjorie
put the back of her hand to Cynthia’s forehead.

“Oh God, I’ve been such an idiot.” Cynthia
almost couldn’t bear to look at Kurt’s mother. “And your son has
every reason to hate me.”

“Which son are we talking about, dear?”
Marjorie lifted one aristocratic brow.

Cynthia turned to Holly. “I saw you with him,
you see. At his house. And I thought you were his girlfriend.”