Take a Chance (12 page)

“Before I forget,” he said. “Would you give me your account password? There are several files I need to access and it would be easier for me not to have to go through Cherie piecemeal to get them.”

“I can do better than that. Tell me what they are and I’ll email them to you,” Jem replied.

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble especially when I know how busy you are going to be,” Mark said.

“N
o trouble,” Jem assured him. “I’ll be working remotely after the children go to bed as I have a few things on the go and don’t want to stuff up meetings set up with potential clients next week, not to mention annoy a few software developers in the bargain. Emailing you files won’t be a hardship.”

“I’ll
send you a list of what I need and I’d appreciate it if you could email them to me as soon as you can,” said Mark, pleased. “See you tomorrow.”

He held his baseball cap to his head and headed out in the wind and rain towards his new company car, a silver Toyota Prius.

Jem tried not to be resentful as she closed the door. When she had his job she was only paid mileage on her car. She had done a lot of travelling in her position and the amount she got paid didn’t even cover replacing the brake pads due to regularly getting stuck in the stop-start peak motorway traffic. Not to mention exacerbating other problems that appeared in older cars.

He’d been in the job for less than a month and had negotiated himself a new lease vehicle, upgraded every other year.

“It‘s all in how you sell yourself,” Mark had once told her. “You give people the information in a way that makes them do what you want. I just pointed out that we looked more successful if we presented ourselves that way. When asked what could give that impression of course I had a few ideas...”

And they all involved
a friendly chat after a few beers with Nate who happened to have attended the same school
, Jem thought sourly.

She returned to the kitchen to find Eben leaning back against the kitchen bench with his arms crossed.

“That’s quite a skill he has,” Eben said.

“What skill?” Jem asked as she scooped the empty cat food can off the floor and rinsed it in the sink.

“How he twists the knife by rubbing in his special treatment from the boss and tells you to go to hell yet sounding regretful about it.”

Jem tossed the can more forcefully than necessary into the recycling container inside the pantry door.

“The weather isn’t getting any better. How about we move your car out of the garage and we transfer everything from the trailer into there?” she asked, ignoring his comment.

Eben hadn’t finished reflecting upon things.

“I suppose it’s a handy skill to have
in sales,” he mused.

Jem
leaned her elbows on the bench, brought the mug to her mouth, took a sip of hot chocolate and nearly groaned in delight.

It had taken longer than they had thought
to shift the trailer uphill to the garage door. The plan had been to transfer everything off without being exposed to the rain only to discover the trailer was too high to fit in the doorway. Instead they’d had to wipe everything down as they went and were soaked by the time the trailer was finally empty.

Mark had arrived back shortly after they had finished. If
Jem hadn’t known better she would have thought he had just waited out of sight until the work was done.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes she found her drink of hot chocolate satisfyingly rich and it was warming her on the inside which was more than Eben’s earlier comments had.

“Mark didn’t tell me to go to hell,” she corrected
, resurrecting their discussion.

“Of course he did,” Eben replied
beside her, recalling what he had said. “I’m just paraphrasing.”

“No, he didn’t.”

Eben put his coffee on the bench, his eyes steely in colour.

“He did.”

“Did not.”

“Did so.”

Jem put her hot chocolate on the bench and glared at Eben.

“Why are you so determined to make Mark sound bad?”

I didn’t like him touching you so familiarly as though he had the right to.

Eben fiddled with the handle of his coffee mug as he sought for a reason that wouldn’t cause her to accuse him of acting like a Neanderthal.

Hmm. Too tricky. Put her on the defensive instead.

“You’ve always talked highly of him and I can’t see why. What makes him so great?”

“He’s career motivated, has goals and knows what he wants to be doing in five years.”

“Admirable, I’m sure.”

“Yes, it is,” Jem agreed, noting his sarcasm. “Aside from having a plan instead of drifting like
some
people I could name it means he’ll be a good provider.”

“You don’t seem to be the sort of woman who would like to be kept,” Eben observed, choosing not to remark about her drifting comment which he knew was aimed at him. He picked his coffee back up and took a sip.

“I’m not. I have a job I love and I’m great at it.”

“What about kids? If he had kids would he be a stay-at-home parent?”

Jem snorted.

“Not likely. I can’t see him swapping business lunches for nappies and projectile vomiting.”

“What about you? When you have a baby would you like to be a stay-at-home mother?”

Jem blanched and was quiet for long enough that Eben turned to put his coffee back on the bench so he could hug her.

Something is not right here
.

“Why are you asking these questions?” she asked instead. “What do you have against Mark?”

I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to answer questions.

Eben made a mental note to find out later why the thought of a baby would upset her. He turned and faced her.

“I don’t like slick people who shift work to others and make it sound as though they’re doing you a favour.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She’s not going to like me pointing this out
.

“It means that I’ve observed this guy dump the responsibility of
setting up a client function on your lap when you’ve moved here to look after the kids during a stressful time for your family. Not only has he delegated everything to you he’s made sure he is
too busy
to be of any help whatsoever.”

“Okay. You’re right,” Jem conceded and touched his arm in a conciliatory gesture. “Mark is very career orientated so he tends to only think about work. He probably hasn’t considered that I’ve been given everything to do because Cherie usually takes care of this sort of thing
and makes it seem effortless.”

“So his dedication to his career compensates for him being a prick the rest of the time then?” Eben asked. “He also seems like the sort of person who’ll take credit for everything at the end while he is at it.”

To his surprise, instead of denying it, Jem frowned.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Eben said, amazed by his insight.

I should rant more often.

“We’ve had discussions about him taking credit for my work before,” Jem admitted.

“What did he say?”

“Only that he doesn’t point out who contributed what during a presentation and if he has left out giving me credit at times it was by omission and not on purpose.”

“You said times as in plural,” said Eben. “Does that mean despite pointing out his
omission
he keeps taking credit for your work?”

“On occasion,” Jem said reluctantly.

“What are you going to do about it?” Eben asked. “You can’t let him get away with it especially when it could affect who gets picked for the promotion to Hong Kong.”

“There’s not really much I can do without looking petty. At any rate part of the success the sales reps have is due to me doing the background work for them. All of them know how much I contribute. I doubt anyone would believe Mark does it all on his own.”

Eben placed his hand over hers.

“That might be true but the reps aren’t the decision makers. What does your boss think?”

Jem gave a humourless smile.

“I have two bosses. One is a throwback to the era where women were expected to stay in the kitchen and not think for themselves. Nothing I ever achieve will get his respect. The best I can do there is work with my male counterparts who may get the credit but know it’s not all theirs. Martha, my other boss, is pretty switched on. She knows who does what and she knows me. I’d like to think she’s too clued up to be fooled by Mark.”

“But who makes the final decision?”

“Officially they both do but when Martha has a strong opinion on something she finds a way to get
Duh
-boss to share it. She’s made Sachs Wall far more competitive, productive and profitable since she became actively involved. If she has chosen someone for the job then they will be the best person for it.”

Jem removed her hand from under his.

“Hang on a moment. How do you know about the Hong Kong promotion?”

He was saved from having to answer by a loud thump and a scream coming from upstairs
as well as a knock at the front door.

Thank heaven for Aidan
.
Who would’ve thought I’d ever think that?

“I’ll go sort Aidan out. You need to
answer the door and tell them where to stick their tent.”

He gratefully headed towards the chaos upstairs.

“You never said who told you about Hong Kong,” Jem called after his retreating back as she moved to the hallway.

“Jess must have mentioned it,” Eben said
, pausing on the bottom step.

“Why would she tell you?”
Jem demanded, ignoring the door buzzer being held down.

He turned around at the foot of the stairs. “Because she knows I’m interested in what you’re up to.”

Especially since you broke up with your fiancé Alan.

A further shriek had him taking the stairs two at a time.

Several minutes later Eben ushered Daisy and Aidan into the kitchen where Jem was working. She looked very competent and motherly wearing Jess’s
Kiss the cook
apron as she stood there creaming butter and sugar in a large bowl. On the bench a variety of containers were lined up beside an open cook book.

“What are you doing Aunty Jem?” asked Daisy.

“I’m making a chocolate mud cake,” Jem answered.

Eben gestured at the group of men on the back lawn unfolding
the marquee in the pouring rain and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a coping strategy,” Jem told him pertly. “This way I don’t have to see what they’re doing to the lawn. I’m giving them half an hour
until this goes in the oven and I can’t help myself going out there and micromanaging anyway.”

Eben grinned. The combination of his eyes turning silvery and that dimple caused her to suck in air. She was brought back to earth by the children trying to peer into the bowl.

“Can I help?” asked Daisy.

“No! I help!” said Aidan.

“You can both help me but first you both need to wash your hands... make sure you use soap,” she added as they raced to the downstairs bathroom.

Eben
’s dimpled winked at Jem. She stirred the wooden spoon faster in the bowl. The creamed butter and sugar was getting a lot easier to mix.

“I can see you’re going to be busy for a while. If you like I’ll collect Jeremy from school and get groceries on the way home if you tell me what we’ll need.”

Jem put down the bowl, ripped the top page off her notepad and handed it to him in relief. She told herself she would feel normal the moment he left the room.

It must be that Bulgari I can smell. Perhaps they’ve stuck pheromones in it
.

“Thanks for that,” she said instead. “
I was trying to figure out how I would get time for everything.”

“No problem. We’re a team.”

She considered the concept and smiled back at him.

“Seeing as you are “it” do you want to tell me what was going on upstairs?”

Eben thought for a moment.

“You probably don’t want to know. I’ll just mention that it involved Aidan jumping off Daisy’s bed, Jess’s nail polish which Daisy wasn’t supposed to have, Daisy’s dress and the carpet.”

As Jem made a move towards the stairs Eben stopped her by putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Don’t worry it’s all taken care of.”

“What did you do?”

“I told Daisy to wear her dress backwards and moved the rug on her floor over a bit.”

At the look on Jem’s face Eben laughed and kissed her.

“Kidding!”

She still didn’t look like she believed him so he added “I used the nail polish remover from Jess’s room. Luckily it was still wet so it wasn’t too bad to get out of the carpet and it didn’t stain.”

“How do you know about such things?”

“I have three older sisters.”

“I didn’t know that. I bet you were spoilt rotten.”

“It was hell,” Eben agreed cheerfully.

Eben took the opportunity to kiss Jem again. It started off as a relatively chaste kiss, one suitable for a puritan bride and groom sealing their vows. Even so, Jem found herself clinging to him and the kiss deepened.

They were interrupted by Daisy and Aidan returning to the kitchen.

“He’s allowed to kiss Aunty Jem,” Daisy told her brother upon seeing them. “Daddy said the apron says
K
iss the cook
and that is what Uncle Eben is doing. Just wait a bit. They’ll get bored soon.”

Taking Daisy’s comments as being given permission to continue, Eben lingered for a few seconds but had to let go when Aidan pushed the kitchen stool onto his shoe and climbed on it.

Nothing like the weight of a toddler compressed to an area the size of ten cent piece on your foot to halt amorous intentions.

Eben nudged the stool off his shoe with his other foot as Jem released him. He took the opportunity to move towards the kitchen door
.

I don’t need the kids asking about the fit of my jeans
.

From the safety of the hallway he waved the list at Jem to show that he still had it.

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he said and disappeared towards the garage.

Wow
, thought Jem.
This is getting to be a habit I could get used to
.

She distractedly moved the bar stool that Daisy was sitting on to the other side of her so that Daisy and Aidan couldn’t hit each other.

Now what was I doing?

She looked blankly at the cook book in front of her.

“Can I beat the eggs?” asked Daisy.

“Yes! I mean, yes, you can,” said Jem.

“What I do?” Aidan asked.

Jem finally recalled what she had been doing before Eben distracted her.

“I’m going to measure the flour and cocoa. You have to tell me when I get up to the right number on the measuring cup then you can help me sift it.”

She took three eggs which had been warming in water from the sink and set them up beside the bowl. After Daisy and Aidan independently counted them she took one and cracked it into the bowl.

“How many do I have left?”

“Two,” said Daisy.

“One, two,” said Aidan as he pointed and counted the remaining eggs.

“Now I take away one egg,” said Jem and cracked another into the bowl. “What do I have left?”