Page 67 of Not So Very Sensible

“It’d be good to make sure. I don’t want to embarrass you or the firm by being dressed inappropriately.”

“Just wear a nice outfit. I gather you’re to go there more as a fact-finding mission than anything else.”

“Okay, then. Fine.”

“Thanks, Ellie. You’re a lifesaver.”

“That’s me.”

Saving lives. Making a difference. Shining a light in the world. Even if it was only figuring out where in the rich woman’s garden lights should go.

Then Annabelle’s words bobbed back to memory. Actually, she did have a role to play, and her attitude was important. So she smiled at Nicola, genuinely this time. “Thanks for trusting me, Nicola. I appreciate the opportunity.”

“I know you won’t let me down.”

She nodded and pushed back her shoulders. Some people might let others down, but Ellie could always be relied upon. Even to show up at a party of a rich person who she struggled to like. At least God loved her. Which reminded her that she was supposed to demonstrate God’s love to Mrs. Dashwood too. Even if Ellie didn’t like her.

She went back to her desk, slumped in her seat, stared out the window, and prayed. “Looks like You’re gonna have to help me with that too.”

For all Francine’s assurances that the fuss about his supposed engagement would die down soon, it hadn’t. Ethan had been inundated with congratulatory texts and emails and had even seen a clip where he’d been featured on the news. All of which made him wonder who was feeding outsiders the photos and images he knew had been faked. But anytime he went to explain, an image of Christine’s pleading eyes crossed his mind, or the memory of his father’s need for a scandal-free election campaign surfaced.

He didn’t want to, but he had gone to see Lucinda on Saturday afternoon. She’d immediately burst into tears and promised that it had only been a moment’s weakness, and that she’d confess the truth this week, not this weekend as first discussed.

But the week was ticking along, and there was still no sign of a confession, which left him wondering how long it would take. How long did he have to maintain this lie? What if Ellie had found out? It had been hard enough to face people in church on Sunday knowing they all thought things about him that weren’t true. Charlene hadn’t even talked to him, just given him a disgusted look, shaken her head, and walked away. Was she that upset with him? Did she dislike Lucinda that much? Or was it more that she’d thought his protestations to the contrary were the lie? Whatever it was, she’d refused to take his calls or respond to his messages.

He sighed, tried to refocus on work.

Gordon Phillips knocked on the office door, then immediately entered without waiting for an answer. “Ah, Ethan. I wanted another look at the Larbow file. Have you got that handy?”

“Sure.” He found it and handed it to him. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. Good to see you’re not too busy planning your honeymoon just yet.”

“Honeymoon?” What the—? “Uh, no. I’m not thinking about that at all.”

“You should be.” Gordon winked.

Ugh. Gross. If Gordon wasn’t his boss, a comment like that might tip into an HR complaint. It wasn’t exactly professional.

“I know I congratulated you before, Ethan, but the partners and I were talking and feel like this engagement of yours is a real boon to the firm. You being married to Lucinda Steele will bring us into the attention of others of that wealth bracket, which can only be good. If you play your cards right, I think you’ll find people will be far more receptive to talks of partnership and the like. So you’d better not do anything to mess this up.”

How was he supposed to answer that? “You know I have always worked hard and would rather make partner based on my own merits than on any connections I may be perceived to have.”

“Perceived? When you’re the son of the opposition leader? I think you do yourself a disservice.”

Gordon’s phone rang, and he frowned. “Elton, again?” He exhaled and left, leaving Ethan feeling stickier than ever.

How could he get out of this? He had nothing left to say that wouldn’t be construed as a lie. He couldn’t wait for the day to end.

He was thankful when the clock hit six and he was free to go. The office might advertise nine-to-five hours, but most partners and associates didn’t leave until six. And since he was wanting to make partner, he needed to play by their terms. Apart from on Fridays, of course, when youth group responsibilities meant he had to leave early.

He’d collected his things and exited the building when his phone rang. Francine. He was sorely tempted to ignore it—his sister had done enough damage this past week—but the well-worn path of family obligation made him answer. “Yes?”

“Wow. Do you need to sound so blunt? Especially when I’m offering you an invitation.”

“An invitation to what?” he asked suspiciously.

“An invitation to the estate.”