At His Fingertips. Dawn Atkins
knew. “Yeah.”
“A friend of mine likes these.” He sniffed the cool surface. Pears. Yeah. And Esmeralda’s mouth. Mmm. He was getting moony over a piece of fruit and a pair of turquoise eyes.
And a mouth. Don’t forget the mouth….
Dale handed him a bowl and a spoon.
Maybe if Dale knew about Esmeralda, he’d be more interested. “Remember the girl I met at that fair we played before we went to L.A.?”
“That chick you were sitting on the hill with all night?”
“That’s the one.”
“She was hot.”
“That’s who runs the foundation. And the workshop.”
“You’re kidding. Small world, huh?”
“Yeah.” Esmeralda seemed to think their meeting had cosmic significance. Good Lord. She made him…nervous. One minute she made sense, the next she said something loony, then she joked—
“So you like the chili, I guess.”
He stopped, the spoon near his mouth. Thinking of Esmeralda, he’d mindlessly sucked down half the bowl. He paused to actually taste it. Blech. Grainy and dry and bitter with garlic. “You’re getting there,” he said, trying not to gag. “So you can meet her tomorrow night?”
Dale shrugged.
“Save me a few of these,” Mitch said, tapping a star fruit. He would take them as a peace offering. Go early and offer to help. Say nothing to offend her. Kook or not, she was in charge of a million-dollar foundation and could be Dale’s ticket out of limbo. He’d give her the benefit of the doubt. At least until he heard from Craig.
THE NEXT DAY, ESMERALDA GRABBED her yogurt from the office kitchen and headed to the front desk to check the afternoon schedule. Belinda should be at lunch, but she was hunched over a palmistry book, chewing a nail.
“Belinda?”
She jerked up. “Oh, Esmeralda. Sorry. I’m studying. It’s my lunch break, though, so I’m not robbing the foundation.”
“It’s fine. I just wanted to check the schedule.”
“I booked you back-to-back till five. Is that okay? Or do you want an hour in there to work on proposals? You know, I could save you time by prescreening some grants if you—”
“The schedule’s fine, Belinda. And you should take a lunch break. Eat something.”
“I’m fine. I want to be available. You never know when you-know-who might call.” She grinned. “Oh, that reminds me.” She read from a message slip. “A Mitch Margolin called to say he and his brother will attend the workshop tonight. Make sense?”
“Yes. Thank you.” He might be the one. Belinda would be thrilled to hear that, but Esmeralda wasn’t ready to accept it herself yet.
“So, how’s it going?” Esmeralda nodded at the palmistry book and sat beside Belinda, dipping into her yogurt.
“Not so hot.” Belinda sighed. “I can’t get the fingers—shape and lines and color. Last night, I was looking at this woman’s Mercury finger, and I thought it was long, but then it shrank before my eyes, so I couldn’t tell. I just froze.”
“Trust your first impulse,” she said. Belinda had the same enthusiasm Esmie had had when she’d started, but nowhere near the confidence. But then Esmie had sometimes been too sure of herself at first.
“Let me show you a couple of things.” She found the finger diagram in the book and talked through a few examples.
“I get it now,” Belinda said. “You make it so easy. This is fun, isn’t it? Talking like this.”
“Sure. It’s great.” Especially when she could see Belinda making progress.
“This is embarrassing, but sometimes I feel like you’re, like, my big sister, you know? I got so sick of three brothers.”
“I’m honored,” she said, very touched by the affection.
“I want you to know how much I appreciate everything. You’re so patient and I can be such a blockhead. Did you see I got you that new tea?”
“I did. You don’t need to do extras. I can wash my car when it needs it. Really.”
“I know, but I know Olivia made you hire me. I just want you to be glad you have me.”
“I am glad. Very.” Olivia had asked her to take Belinda under her wing and she was happy to. Belinda was smart and had potential if she could just lower her anxiety level.
Belinda was eyeing her yogurt.
“Here. Finish it.” She held it out.
“I can’t take your lunch.”
“I’m full. Also, there’s some teriyaki tofu in the fridge if you’re still hungry.”
“Are you sure? I really, really appreciate it.”
“It’s nothing. Enjoy. So, how’s the ledger coming? Rico helping you get it down?”
“Yes. Slowly. It’s coming. I’ll have what you need by the board meeting.” She bit her lip. “There’s one thing. Rico wanted me to ask you about a grant that an associate of his applied for. It’s a company that holds charity auctions of teddy bears dressed up like famous people. Corporations sponsor the bears that then get donated to crisis nurseries. It’s very cool.”
“I don’t recall.”
“You probably didn’t get to it yet. I know you’re behind. That’s why I offered to help.” She looked at her. “But if you don’t think I’m ready…”
“Give me this week, Belinda, to get a feel for the system, then maybe I can hand off some of it to you.”
“Okay.” She thought that over. “Anyway, Rico was wondering if you could put a rush on it? Uncle Louis knows the guy, so Aunt Olivia would want to fund it and all.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Okay. I told him I’d ask. Anyway, do you need anything for the workshop tonight? You’ve got newsprint, easels, markers?”
“I’ve got everything I need,” she said. Including the man from her past. Which gave her mixed feelings. The only thing they had in common was a hot-as-blazes attraction, and you could hardly build a future on that. She needed some kind of sign, an assurance. Some proof…
She noticed the newspaper folded to the horoscopes page.
“Want to check yours?” Belinda handed it to her.
Newspaper horoscopes were far too general to be meaningful, but on the cover was a photo of a starry sky with the headline, First Of Falling Stars To LightAugust Skies. She read on. The Pleiades meteor shower was scheduled to begin tonight. The same astronomical wonder that had lit the sky the night she’d met Doctor X.
Maybe this was the sign. Mitch could stay after the workshop and they would watch the stars shoot across the sky and he would feel like Doctor X again. And she would know it was right.
“Esmeralda? Is it something bad in your stars?”
“I hope not,” she said softly. “I hope it’s something really, really good.”
A HALF-HOUR BEFORE the Wish Upon A Star Workshop, Esmeralda checked the mirror. The spaghetti-strapped black silk tank top looked nice with the turquoise-and-yellow silk skirt. The colors would stimulate creativity and calm, she thought, and she liked the way the handkerchief hem tickled her calves.
She’d struggled to get ready, what with all the phone calls she’d juggled.