Handle with Care Read online

  We’re led to a table, and I take the seat across from my dad.

  “She really enjoyed volunteering with you,” he says.

  “I think it was good too.” I focus on smoothing out my napkin in my lap. I’d expected it to be awkward, or maybe even painful, but more than anything, it had felt like the beginning of closure for me. “Is she doing okay?” The anniversary of Robyn’s birth and death is quickly approaching, and it’s a hard time of year for my mother. For all of us.

  “She’s keeping busy, which I think is helpful.”

  I nod. “That’s good. And what about you?”

  “I’m always busy.”

  I smile, aware that he’s trying to diffuse the sudden sadness.

  He leans in, dropping his voice. “I’ve been watching the media feeds; you’ve done a great job setting things up for the older Moorehead boy.”

  I chuckle. “He’s hardly a boy, Dad, but thanks. It’s amazing what a haircut and a new suit will do for someone’s image.”

  “Mmm … He’s done good things based on what I’ve seen; all his work in developing countries will definitely appeal to the public. Lord knows Moorehead needs some positive publicity after the last couple of years.”

  It’s my turn to mmm since I can’t really comment either way.

  My father reaches across the table and gives my hand a squeeze. “You know, Wren, I can help you get the kind of position you want if this ends up being too much for you.”

  “I know, Dad, and I really appreciate it, but going about it this way feels less like nepotism. Besides, the challenge is good for me.” I don’t have to agree with or accept other people’s bad decisions. I just have to find ways to help reframe them in the public eye. And thankfully, Lincoln doesn’t have a terrible reputation in the media to clean up, so it’s much easier this time around.

  My father gives me a knowing, sad smile. “I think you’ve had enough challenges thrown at you, but I know you want to make your own way. Just know that I’m here to help if you want me to.”

  I nod, but I can’t quite meet his gaze. “I appreciate that, but Mom already helped me get this position, so I feel like halfway to favoritism is better than all the way, you know?”

  “I understand, and I’m aware your mother’s heart was in the right place when she suggested working for the Mooreheads, and that you took this position as a means to make things better between you, but it shouldn’t be torture either. Your mother thinks the best of all people, which is a noble trait, but you and I both know that’s not always the way things really are.”

  “I promise it’s better this time around.” And leaving the Moorehead position would feel a lot like abandoning my attempt to repair my relationship with my mother. “I’m a big girl. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  He squeezes my hand again. “You will always be my baby girl, even when you’re forty and you have your own child to love.”

  I know he means it. And I believe his sincerity, but I also remember how devastated my parents were when they lost Robyn only days after she was born. I shoot him a wry grin, swiftly moving the subject away from painful memories. “I’d need a boyfriend in order for that to happen. Anyway, let’s talk about the fundraiser this weekend. I think it’s going to be great for the subsidized hospital daycare program.”

  “If everything goes well, we’ll be able to get that project under way, which will be wonderful. As much as the Moorehead family seems to struggle with drama, they certainly know how to pull on heartstrings with their charity fundraisers.”

  “That they do.”

  “I’m so sorry I’m late!” my mother says, startling us both.

  “Abigail. You made it.” My father smiles broadly and pushes out of his chair. Despite having been together for more than three decades, and all the ups and downs they’ve been through, including the loss of a child, his face still lights up whenever she enters the room. It’s a testament to his love for her.

  They embrace, and my father places a gentle kiss on her cheek.

  My mom turns to me, her smile slightly apprehensive, as is the way with us. But she’s here, so that means something. I’m her biggest mistake, and there’s nothing I can do to erase that because I can’t undo my own existence.

  I stand and accept her hug, already feeling emotional. She holds me at arm’s length, then fingers the ends of my hair. “You did something different.”

  “I added a few highlights.” After the eyebrow incident in Lincoln’s office, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to lighten up the color a little, so I went ahead and made an appointment with my stylist. I’ve dyed it since I was a teenager, mostly so it’s closer to my dad’s hair color, at least before he started graying at the temples.

  “Well, I like it. It’s fresh and summery.” My mother takes the seat next to my father and props her chin on her fist, eyes lighting up. “It’ll look lovely for the fundraiser. Are you planning to bring a date? There’s a doctor who works in the neonatal unit at Saint Margaret’s Hospital who’s single. I believe he’s planning to attend. I could introduce you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” I can feel my cheeks flush. “I assume I’ll be working that event, so I won’t have a lot of time for mingling.”

  My mother frowns. “You’re almost thirty, sweetie. I know your career is important to you, but when was the last time you went on a date?”

  “Mom, please.”

  “What? I can’t worry about my little girl? All you do is work and spend time with Dani.” Her eyes flare, and she puts her hand on mine, dropping her voice. “You know your father and I would be completely okay with it if you were to tell us you’re gay.”

  I burst out in laughter. “Thanks, Mom, but I’m not gay and neither is Dani. It’s good to know you’d be accepting if I were, though.”

  “You never know.” She pats my hand and winks. “I’ll still introduce you to the doctor at the event, in case there are sparks.”

  “Abigail, let her be.”

  “Really, Kieran? Weren’t you just saying how you were worried Wren is working too much and not spending enough time being young and enjoying life?”

  I put up a hand. “I love you both, but really, you don’t need to worry. I’m more than capable of finding dates all on my own.”

  “Well, if the fundraising event isn’t a good place to stage an introduction, I could always orchestrate one the next time we volunteer at the neonatal unit.” She pauses as if uncertain, but quickly continues. “Only if you want go with me again, though. And I don’t have to introduce you to the doctor either, if it will make you uncomfortable.”

  I fight back the sudden swell of relief. “Okay. I mean, okay, I’d love to volunteer with you again.”

  “Really? Well, that’s wonderful. Maybe we could make it a weekly thing, if you want.”

  “We could do that, sure. But let’s put a pin in the doctor introduction for now.”

  She smiles and blinks a few times, maybe working to control her own emotions. “Of course, we could plan for next week?”

  “That would be great, Mom.”

  Her smile makes my heart ache, because the one thing that’s always felt like the rift between us is also the thing that seems to bind us together.

  * * *

  “Wren, just the person I’m looking for!” Gwendolyn catches me as I return from lunch. Prior to Fredrick passing, I rarely saw her, but now she’s here more frequently, which makes sense, I suppose.

  I force a polite smile. I’m feeling emotional after my lunch with my parents, and all I want to do is disappear into my office and be alone so I can process. “What can I do for you, Gwendolyn?”

  She threads her arm through mine. “I wanted to speak with you about the fundraising event this weekend.”

  “Of course. I have notes for Lincoln, and we’ll be reviewing his speech and what he should expect at the event. I have a tux fitting set up for tomorrow to make sure everything is as it should be.” Which I need to remind him o
f.

  “You’re always so on top of things, Wren.” She pats my hand. “I’m sure everything will be in order.” We slip inside Fredrick’s office, which she’s taken over, and she drops into the executive chair behind the massive desk, motioning for me to do the same on the other side.

  Fredrick was always so much less formal, never using his desk as a barrier. Although with Fredrick, it was always he and I against whatever idiocy Armstrong had pulled. Lincoln isn’t nearly as difficult to manage, which is good, considering I still have to deal with Armstrong. Although he’s been less demanding and not quite the pain in the ass he usually is now that Lincoln is around. Small blessings.

  Gwendolyn leans back in her chair and smiles. “Now about the event, I’m aware all invitations include a plus-one, but since you’re technically working, I’ll assume you’ll be attending alone.” The way she says it indicates that’s the expectation.

  “I hadn’t planned to bring a date.” It seems pointless when I’ll be spending my time trying to keep Armstrong from hitting on everything with a pulse.

  “Good, good. That’s wonderful news. With this being Lincoln’s first charity event, I need you focused on him, not on entertaining someone else.” Her nose wrinkles, sort of. “Besides, you and Lincoln have been spending a lot of time together. We wouldn’t want people to make inappropriate assumptions.”

  “Inappropriate assumptions?” I fight with my fingers to keep from tapping the arm of my chair.

  “You know how people speculate. There have been some pictures of you and Lincoln recently, very helpful in building his popularity in the media, especially with the makeover. He looks very much a part of this family again, so job well done there.” She taps on her keyboard and turns her monitor so I can see what she’s talking about. There are several pictures of Lincoln and me together over the past couple of weeks. Most of them are taken as we’re leaving his penthouse or entering the Moorehead Media building, but there are a few of me adjusting his tie or his lapels and they’re almost … intimate. And the look on Lincoln’s face is quite riveting.

  She turns the screen away and inspects the image, and then me. It makes me nervous. Have I been lusting after him in my dreams lately? Maybe a little. Okay, maybe a lot. But they’re just dreams, they don’t mean anything. We spend a lot of time together, and he’s attractive. It’s not really much of a surprise that he’s weaseled his way into my subconscious.

  Ever since the incident in his office, I’ve been trying to convince myself that him telling me I was the only good thing about working here was purely to assuage my ego. That he didn’t almost kiss me. That I didn’t fully invite him to—thankfully not with actual words.

  I swallow down my embarrassment. I need to have a closer look at the pictures that have gone up lately, specifically the ones not posted by me. “Does that mean Lincoln won’t be bringing a plus-one either?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to discuss it with him. I can’t tell you the number of women who have expressed interest in him since his return to New York. I’m sure he’ll be making the most eligible bachelor’s list at some point. He really is such a handsome man.” Her expression flattens, and she gets a faraway look in her eyes. “Just like his father was.”

  I wonder if I’ve misread Gwendolyn, and she really did love Fredrick. She almost looks sad.

  She turns her smile back on me. “You’ll need to check with Lincoln regarding his plus-one situation and do a background check on whoever he’s bringing. I’d hate for his date to undo all the good this charity event will do for his image by having a questionable past.”

  “Of course. I can check with him now. Would you like me to do the same with Armstrong?”

  “Oh! No, that will be unnecessary. Armstrong has been sorted out already. However, if Lincoln doesn’t have a date lined up yet, I have a few prospective women who would be a good fit.” She pushes a folder toward me.

  “I’m sorry, but does this mean you’d like him to have a date? Won’t he be busy with networking?” I’m confused about this whole thing, frankly.

  “Mmm. I think so, yes. He will be busy, but it would be a good idea for him to have someone respectable on his arm. It will help dispel any potential speculation about the two of you. Regardless of whether he chooses one from this list or a date of his own, I’d like you to ensure whoever he’d like to bring doesn’t have any demons to uncover.” She steeples her hands and smiles. “You’re doing a fabulous job, Wren. I’m sure with a bit more time and energy, I’ll be able to put in that recommendation for the position with the charity of your choice. I believe you’re interested in the Pediatric Foundation, is that correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right, thank you. I truly appreciate your support, Gwendolyn.” I take the folder, displeased that I have to deal with this now. “Will there be anything else?”

  “That’s it for now.” She turns back to her computer, effectively dismissing me.

  Once I’m out of her office, I flip open the folder. There are at least half a dozen profiles of women in their mid-to-late twenties. All from exceedingly rich families. My stomach twists at the thought that Lincoln might actually have a date lined up for this event, and if he doesn’t, Gwendolyn wants me to set him up with one of these women.

  He spends the majority of his days in the office, but I have no clue what he does with his evenings. On the few occasions I’ve busted into his temporary penthouse, he’s been alone, thank God, but I’m honestly unaware if he’s actively dating. The only thing I can be certain of is that when he first returned, he said he hadn’t had sex in a long time. Is that still the case? Why does it actually feel like there’s a giant green-eyed monster taking over my entire body?

  It’s in this highly negative, territorial frame of mind that I knock on his office door.

  “What?” he barks out.

  I throw the door open, ready to give him hell for the less than pleasant greeting, but I’m momentarily thrown off by his huge grin. Aside from his gorgeously disarming smile, he’s rolled up his shirt sleeves so his muscular forearms are on display. Why does he have to be so ridiculously attractive on all levels? Maybe I should suggest he grow the beard again. At least the chin dimple would be covered, and less of a weakness.

  “We’ve talked about this, Lincoln,” I scold.

  His smile growing wider. “I knew it was you.”

  “How? I didn’t announce myself.”

  “I know your knock. You rap three times quickly, pause, and rap twice more.”

  “I do not.” At least I don’t think I do.

  “Yes, you do. Every time. And Marjorie has a timid knock. My g-mom only ever knocks once, and Armstrong usually pounds on the door like he’s slamming his head against it, so I knew it was you.” He folds his arms behind his head and leans back in his chair. His biceps pop and stretch the white fabric. I wonder what he looks like when he’s working out. I’ve seen him in his underwear enough times that I’m sure I can accurately imagine all those muscles flexing.

  “Wren?”

  Dammit. I’ve been daydreaming. “Hmm?”

  “Did you do something different with your hair?”

  “What?” I touch it. Maybe I should’ve stopped in the restroom before I came in here and checked my appearance.

  “Your hair looks different. Is it lighter?”

  “Oh. I had some highlights put in earlier in the week. It’s nothing.” It’s also the first time I’ve worn it down since I had it done.

  “I like it.”

  “Thank you.” My cheeks feel hot. Why am I so flustered over a compliment?

  “Sorry. You came in here for something, didn’t you?” Lincoln leans forward and rests his forearms on his desk.

  “Oh. Right. Yes. The fundraiser event is this weekend.” His smile drops, but I power on. “I have a tux fitting arranged—”

  He holds up a hand. “Didn’t we already do enough fittings with the damn suits?”

  “Yes, but you need a tux for special eve
nts. They already have your measurements; this is to make sure it fits properly. It won’t take very long.”

  “I hope not.” He tosses his pen on his desk. “Anything else?”

  “We’ll need to review your speech, but that can wait until tomorrow if you’d prefer. The draft is already in your email.”

  “Of course I don’t get to write my own speech,” he mutters.

  “You can give your input if you’d like.”

  He brushes off the offer. “Why bother? It’s not like I’m going to be here in a few months, anyway.”

  I let it go for now. “I also need to know if you’re bringing a plus-one to the event.”

  “What?”

  “A plus-one. Do you have a date lined up for the event?” I can’t look at him, so I consult the file folder of women’s profiles. Potential dates for the event. I’m sure every single one of them would offer to make it a happy ending too.

  “Why does it matter?” he asks.

  I look up, but focus on his chin. It’s better than looking him in the eye because that reminds me of the almost-kiss, and then my heart starts racing. That damn dimple winks, taunting me. I want to bite his chin. Suck that pouty bottom lip. Dammit. I focus on his forehead. That should be safe. I clear my throat and try to sound unaffected. “If you have a plus-one lined up, I’ll need to perform a background check to ensure there aren’t any potential issues.”

  “Potential issues?” he parrots.

  “We’ll need to know if your date has a history of unsavory behavior.”

  “I don’t have a date lined up, so I guess there’s nothing to worry about.”

  I nod woodenly. “Your mother has intimated that a date would look good for optics. I have a list of profiles you can browse.”

  “A list of profiles?”

  I wish he would stop repeating things back to me. This could not be any more awkward than it already is. I set the file folder on his desk and flip it open. “These women have already been vetted and approved.”

  Lincoln looks up at me with an expression I can’t quite read. I don’t know if it’s disbelief, or possibly anger, or maybe even disgust. “You’ve vetted potential dates for me?”