Holden sank down in his chair and ground the knuckles of his hands against his eyes. “I’m so sick of him.”
Eileen sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and looked at Holden. Gently, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure there’s a way we can deal with this.”
“How?”
Eileen shrugged. “Maybe get your own lawyer. You know, fight fire with fire.”
“Right…so pay a lawyer, figure a way out of this lawsuit he’s dragged me into, pay all the bills and work like a dog so that no matter what happens, Paul benefits?
Eileen raised an eyebrow at his tone. “That’s not what I’m saying. Maybe…“ she heaved a breath, “…you could consider splitting the business in two as you mentioned before; give him his half and you keep yours. That’s an option.”
“So walk away and leave my only living relative?”
Eileen clasped her hands to steady her breathing. “That’s not what I’m saying. But the fact remains that Paul makes life difficult for you…difficult for us to be happy."
“The ‘us’ I need to worry about is me and Paul.” Holden’s voice grated like a knife on ice as he glared at her.
Eileen’s chest deflated as though he’d cuffed her. “Then what am I? Just a good way to end the weekend? What kind of relationship can we have with your brother saying I’m a whore while he drags down the business?”
Holden rubbed his temples as he shook his head. “It’s Paul’s business too.”
Eileen clamped her hand on her hips. “You said yourself that I’ve worked hard to help you save this business. I’ve done that because I love you, but also because I care about what happens to this place. Don’t make it seem like I’m just here for a pay cheque.”
Holden groaned, grabbing tufts of his hair as he shot up from his desk. “Eileen, stop! He's my brother. I can't just ignore that fact.”
“Don’t tell me about flesh and blood! You spilt yourself inside me last night,” Eileen said, her voice rising by three octaves. “You don’t think that connects us? Or should make us loyal to each other?”
The prep room’s glass door creaked open. Clifford and Dorothy slid out sideways, trying to make themselves inconspicuous, an impossible task given the office’s open-plan layout.
Holden fidgeted, nervous and embarrassed at being caught in an all-out brawl. He pulled out his chair and sat down again, straightening the books and pens on his desk. He didn’t make eye contact as he said, “We’ll talk about this later.”
Eileen snatched her handbag off her desk. “No. Don’t talk to me at all. I quit.”
Chapter 27
A Change is Going to Come
“Excuse me, young lady. Eileen, is it?” Dorothy Greaves shouted as she hobbled across the car park. Despite Dorothy’s sensible shoes, she could barely keep up with Eileen’s high-heeled stomp as she called out to her.
Eileen dragged open the car door and tossed her belongings inside, cursing herself for romanticizing her relationship with Holden. She didn’t care to hear Dorothy defending her sweet little Holden’s love for his degenerate brother.
Dorothy’s face was flushed and her gutsy wheezes sounded not unlike wind rushing past an uncovered Coke bottle. The bottles of embalming liquids inside the box clattered against each other as Dorothy finally caught up to Eileen and leaned against the car to catch her breath. No wonder she sounds worse than my car, Eileen realized with a start. The jaunt across the gravel lot had undone Dorothy, loosening her tightly tucked blouse from her skirt. Beneath the frilly pink top, Eileen saw a close-set row of eyelets and laces that ran straight up Dorothy's side. Her corset was pulled so taut that it was a miracle she could breathe in the first place.
Eileen reached over and took the box from Dorothy, then helped her to stand upright. “Can I help you?” Eileen said a bit more harshly than she intended. She wanted to get away from Buckworth Street, but it would be rude to just leave the woman standing there.
“Y-yes,” Dorothy rasped. “I wanted to talk to you about that unpleasantness back there…it’s just unfortunate.”
Eileen clenched her jaw. “It’s also a private matter.”
Dorothy looked away, focusing instead on the bottles inside the box. “You and I are the same, aren’t we? The night of the party, Clifford went home with that skinny little thing, June Haynes, and it’s troubled me since.” Dorothy hesitated, her voice breaking as she fiddled with one of the bottles.
Shame crawled into Eileen’s stomach. She bit her lip, unwilling to verbally classify herself as a rejected woman whose love was at a man’s mercy. But dogged determination only had the power to deny the truth, not change it.
Her gritty voice cracked as she turned away. “You know that my brother recently passed — Lloyd. I haven’t found any good hires since then, especially none with your talent for makeup and flowers.”
Eileen exhaled. “I don’t think I want to stay in this business, especially since —”
Dorothy held up her hand, making Eileen’s words evaporate in her throat. “I’ll double whatever Holden paid and you won’t need to do prep or grief visits.” She shrugged guiltily. “I shouldn’t try to poach Holden’s assistant — he’s a good boy, and all — but you deserve better.”
Dorothy’s words struck a chord. For all the good that Holden represented, she was now standing on the other side of his door. She’d grown a lot and gone through a gamut of emotions inside that peach building: fear, courage, pain, friendship, love and finally, distrust and confusion. Who was to say she hadn’t outgrown the place?
Eileen straightened her shoulders and nodded. “When do you want me to start?”
* * *
HOLDEN FOUND NO SOLACE in balancing the books like he usually would. The day after Eileen left, a runny river
