By eleven, Damien is on yet another conference call, this one scheduled for half an hour. Miraculously, it’s calm enough that I can hand the reins to Mila and run to the break room for coffee.
I pass Trent on the way in, and seeing him reminds me of the conversation I’d had with Jackson about Nathan Dean. I know that Dean is working on Trent’s new house, but if he doesn’t have any other projects going on, he might be interested in being Jackson’s second in case Jackson gets arrested. And, worse, convicted.
Just thinking about it makes me jumpy. Then again, I’m already jumpy. Every time the elevator opens I turn that way, expecting to see two detectives with handcuffs.
But I can’t just push it out of my head. I need to get this wrapped up. I need to know there is someone in place if the worst happens. I consider waiting to run it past Damien, but the bottom line is that I’m the project manager, and this is the kind of call the manager makes.
So as soon as I’m back at Damien’s desk, I pick up the phone. “Can you grab Damien’s line? I need to make a call about the resort.”
“Sure.” Mila is smart and competent and in another month or two she could work Damien’s desk alone. With any luck, it will be Rachel’s job to train her because I’ll be in my new office in the real estate division. Right now, though, she’s my shadow.
Dean answers on the first ring, sounding a little out of breath. “Ah, Nathan Dean.”
“Nathan, good morning. It’s Sylvia. How are you?”
“Oh.” He clears his throat. “Sorry. I was—I was just in the middle of something. I thought you were Damien. Is he—”
“He’s fine, but I’m not calling on his behalf.” As a rule, Nathan’s quiet and pretty easy to intimidate. Hopefully if he knows Damien’s not about to jump on the call, he’ll chill. “I was hoping to set up a meeting. I’ve got a potential project coming up, and if you have time to add it in, we should talk. You know I’m working in the real estate department now, right?”
“Of course, of course. I—well, I’m flattered you’d think of me, but the truth is that my schedule is jam-packed through the spring at least.”
“That’s wonderful.” I’m genuinely pleased for him. Since I hadn’t read anything about him in the trade papers, I’d feared he didn’t have many projects. “I know about Trent’s house, of course, but what else have you got on your plate?”
“Well, there’s another with Trent and—”
“With Trent?” I know it’s not for Stark Real Estate Development. “Is he building a vacation house in Santa Barbara?”
I’d asked the question lightly, just as a toss-away because of Trent’s recent trip up there. So I’m surprised when Nathan stumbles over the answer, saying, “Santa Barbara? No. No. I mean, he’s not—actually, you know, I’m running late for a meeting.”
“Sure. No problem.” We end the call, and now I’m wondering what’s up with Trent. I can’t think of any reason why he’d want to keep a project secret. Unless he’s relocating and doesn’t want anyone at work to know yet? I frown, because that’s actually a real possibility. He was genuinely pissed off when I got Cortez and he didn’t. But I hadn’t thought that he was pissed enough to go shopping for a new job.
I’d hate to see him go, but I can’t silence the selfish little voice that points out that without Trent in the real estate division, there will be more opportunity once I shift permanently into that department.
I’m making a mental note to ask Rachel if she has any gossip when Mila glances up from the phone by the couch, where she’d just ended a call that had come in for Damien. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I frown. “Except that the one guy I’d hoped to entice with the promise of steady work is all booked up.”
“But that’s good, right?”
“It is for him.” I puff out my cheeks as I take a breath, then blow it out, feeling edgy and frustrated and slightly off. “Not so great for me.” I press my fingertip to my temple. “I need another coffee. Want one?”
“No, thanks. But I can get you one if you want.”
I wave off the offer. “I need to move anyway.”
I’m standing as my cell rings. It’s Ethan, and I answer as I’m stepping away from my desk. “I’m so glad you called. I was on the boat and didn’t get your texts, and I’m—”
“Sylvia, honey, it’s Dad.”