Creature of Habit (Creature of Habit #1) (14 page)

I snuck one last look at Amelia at her desk, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, reading emails on her computer before I climbed the stairs. Watching her sitting there feeling safe and content for that one moment made me realize I had bigger things to focus on, and I went upstairs to get started.

Chapter 25

Amelia

“You said what?”

Drew sat across from me at a table at my favorite restaurant, Little Bird Café. It was the best place to get organic, vegan food in town and I could only talk Drew into coming when I had some really interesting gossip to share. He complained the whole time that it tasted like cardboard. I’d been a vegetarian since I was nine and my class took a field trip to the meat processing plant. Once I found out exactly what was in a hot dog, my carnivore days were over.

"Shhhh…or you will get me fired. For real this time," I hissed. I knew I wasn't supposed to tell details of my job to Drew or to anyone else but I couldn't help myself. The whole day had been too much.

He looked around the nearly empty diner and whispered, "You actually accused him of being gay?"

I nodded, stuffing a hunk of falafel in my mouth. It was the same day as my confrontation with Mr. Palmer. I knew I had been somewhat inappropriate with my boss by questioning his sexuality, but I honestly hoped it would make us more comfortable around each other now that his secret was out in the open.

"What did he say?" he asked.

I swallowed and took a sip of my drink. "He didn't say anything. But he definitely didn't say no. And what guy wouldn't deny that he's gay if it wasn't true?" I reasoned.

Drew shrugged. “True, but as much as I’m glad to hear my chances have gone up exponentially, he totally doesn’t ping as gay to me.”

“You would if you’d seen his boyfriend the other day. He is equally gorgeous and so tall…." I let my mind wander to the shaggy-haired man who visited last week. "The tension between them was thick. They’re perfect for each other."

Drew didn’t look convinced.

“Whatever, it seemed to do the trick. He was a lot nicer to me after that. What’s going on with you and Jess?"

The change in topic was what Drew needed to stop focusing on Mr. Palmer. I listened as he went on about Jess and how they were meeting up later this evening to go see a movie. That piece of information sent an unwanted chill up my spine.

“You guys be careful, okay? Earlier I saw a poster at the coffee shop about a girl who went missing from the theater.”

“Wrong profile, honey. I don’t think kidnappers are into men,” he said.

“Just be careful, okay? After the other night everything is giving me the creeps.”

"Yeah, okay. We will definitely watch a movie at his house instead, even if that means I have to sit with Jess and Thomas all night for another round of lame games." He wrinkled his nose and I shook my head glad it was him and not me. “I guess I don’t have to tell you to take precautions.”

“Nope, I’ve got that covered.”

I'd taken to triple locking the door. The door, deadbolt and chain were locked every time I was home. I compulsively checked my windows and the balcony door. Plus, I practically ran from my car to the apartment every time I came home. I would have actually run if I hadn't been afraid of tripping in the middle of the parking lot. I really did appreciate Mr. Palmer allowing me to park in the garage. I felt much safer and I had the sense he was going out of his way to make me feel more comfortable.

"You know, how about you and Jess come to our place tonight? I was going to read anyway so you can have the TV to yourself. No need to hang out with his roommates and play video games all night."

"Really? That would be great.” He pulled out his phone to text Jess the change of plans.

The possibility of Sasha finding me was slim. She’d probably been locked up already for whatever mental-breakdown she’d had. Even so, I couldn’t shake this feeling that someone was watching me. I had it at night and sometimes at work. Drew’s phone buzzed and he smiled. “He’s coming over.”

“Good,” I said, already relieved we’d all be in the same place.

~*~

Several days had passed since I'd outed Mr. Palmer and things were, to my pleasant surprise, much better than before.

He seemed a little more relaxed and less tense when he was near me. My attempts at small talk were received better and I actually was able to get him to tell me a little more about his work at The Palmer Foundation. To my disappointment, he clammed up when it came to any personal information.

Understandable, I guessed, since he was my boss. We'd had such a rocky start, but at the same time it was awkward to work so closely with someone in their home and know so little about them. Therefore, it became a personal challenge to get him to reveal any small tidbit of information about himself. I'd decided to use his art, music and antiques as a method to find out more.

It was Friday, the day for dusting and general house cleaning. I'd asked him to work a designated day into my schedule so I could dress accordingly. He happily obliged and we even sat down with our calendars earlier this week and planned together. Little moments like these helped me get a chance to know him better. I realized he had a biting sense of humor when he relaxed enough. I also noticed, as we sat across the table from one another, that he smelled like no other man I'd encountered. It was all I could do to not walk over to him and run my nose up and down his body. For once in my life, I maintained composure and stayed in my seat.

For cleaning day, I wore jeans and a loose tank top with flats. It was causal but not inappropriate, and it made it easier for me to clean when I could get around on the floor and climb the step ladder in comfortable clothing.

There really was little to do so I understood why Mr. Palmer didn't pay for an additional cleaning person. Plus, it was becoming more and more apparent he didn't want company in the house. I'd heard him more than once telling Olivia on the phone not to come visit, that he was fine and very busy. His tone was terse and he always made excuses to get off the phone quickly.

As I dusted the paintings in the parlor I stopped at a particular painting that had caught my eye over the last couple of weeks. It had beautiful blues and reds and I could faintly see the shapes of two figures, although they were very abstract, mingled in with shapes and designs. I peered at it a little closer, looking at the thick paint, intrigued.

"It's called “Male and Female”.”

Startled, I spun around, glad I had nothing breakable in my hands. “Dude, you scared me.”

“Sorry.”

"The painting’s beautiful. There is so much going on, every time I come in here I find myself drawn to it. Who painted it?" I asked.

"Jackson Pollock painted it in 1940," he answered. With his long, graceful hands he began pointing out details.

I listened to him describe the painting with fascination. "There is some confusion as to what exactly is in the painting. Some people feel it is a man and a woman. Others think it is one figure but defined two ways. Pollock was very ambiguous in his artwork. He didn't feel the need to explain his paintings to anyone."

"Isn't he the guy with the splatter or drip painting?" I asked searching my brain for filed away art history lessons.

For once my questions seemed to work and his typically smooth face became animated as he spoke. "Yes, but this was an earlier work. He didn't start with the drip paintings that are more recognizable now until later in his career. I prefer this style to the other. When you look at it, it can be almost anything you want it to be. You can find what you're looking for in it each time you see it." He looked down at me through the hair dipping down over his eyes. "I feel this is how most people live their lives, seeing what they want to see, not what is really there."

We stood for a moment, absorbing the painting quietly until he asked, "What do you see?"

"I do see the male. Here is his strong, sharp jaw and thick brow. His hair, it's bushy and golden brown." I tilted my head and studied him for a moment. "He resembles you."

Mr. Palmer studied me back before flicking his eyes back to the painting. "And the female?" he prodded.

"I'm not sure about the woman," I said, pointing to the figure in red. "Her facial features are much less refined, yet her body clearly implies her gender. She’s very vague, almost like she is something just out of reach."

I leaned in further trying to make sense out of Pollock's chaos but deciding, ultimately, for this day I was satisfied. I faced Mr. Palmer to find him looking intently at the painting, perhaps dreaming of his own version of what the artist was trying to convey.

I said softly, "Thank you for sharing that with me. I'm going to get back to work now."

Mr. Palmer glanced my way, his eyes never fully leaving the canvas. "You're welcome, Ms. Chase."

I took a last glance as I left the room Mr. Palmer was still standing in front of the piece, hands in his pockets, completely still. I realized this may be the first time since I'd met him he seemed completely at ease and comfortable with me and our surroundings.

Later that afternoon I was surprised to hear the doorbell ring. Mr. Palmer had retreated upstairs to his offices and I had been entering in more names, dates and addresses into the database on the computer. We were not expecting deliveries.

I hopped up and ran to the door, hoping whoever was outside had an umbrella since it was raining quite hard.

I pulled the door open and was happily surprised to see Olivia standing on the stoop under a bright green umbrella. She wore a matching raincoat cinched at the waist with a belt. Next to her was the tall, lanky frame of Mr. Palmer's blonde friend, who was wearing a gray trench coat to stay dry.

“Good afternoon, Amelia. Hope we aren’t interrupting."

"Of course not, please come in,” I said. “I didn't know you were coming. Hurry and get out of the rain."

“Spur of the moment visit. Don’t worry about Grant. We’ll handle him.”

"Let me take your umbrella and coats," I said, taking them and hanging them up on the hooks by the door.  "Please make yourself comfortable and wait in the parlor while I fetch Mr. Palmer."

I bolted out of the room as quickly as my feet would take me and ran up the stairs to Mr. Palmer's door. I knocked gently and he opened the door a moment later, an expectant look on his face. His lean body filled the space between the door and the frame, blocking me from seeing further into his room.

Watching him lean in the door way was one of those moments and a bundle of butterflies exploded in my stomach. God, he was handsome. His hair was pushed back off his forehead, except for several small pieces, and my fingers twitched with the desire to bush those back with the rest. I felt my face warm at the ridiculous thought and said, "Sorry to bother you but Olivia and your friend are here. I asked them to wait downstairs."

"My friend?" He blinked twice. "Oh, you must mean Elijah. I didn't hear them arrive." He shut the door behind him and waved his arm for me to go ahead of him down the stairs.

At the bottom of the steps I turned to him and said, "Elijah is really cute. Good job."

"Amelia.” He grimaced, but I waved him off.

"I'll behave," I promised. “But seriously, double thumbs up.”

In the parlor Eli and Olivia sat together on the love seat engaged in quiet conversation. Mr. Palmer entered the room behind me and when I glanced back I saw the pained expression on his face. He and Olivia shared some kind of silent communication. She lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Confused at the energy in the room, I glanced at Eli, who only looked amused.

Wow. Whatever was going on with this group didn’t need my involvement. I backed out the door and said, "If you need me I’ll be at my desk.”

I heard a low rush of words and possibly a hiss from Mr. Palmer as I passed him. I was almost safely out the door when he called, "Amelia, wait. In the chaos the other day I forgot to introduce you to Elijah."

I stepped back in and noticed Mr. Palmer was looking at the ceiling. Olivia had picked up Elijah's hand and smiled at him. I smiled, a little confused at their affection, but said, "Nice to officially meet you, Elijah. I'm Amelia."

He gave me a breathtaking grin and said, "Hi, Amelia.”

My eyes shifted from Elijah to Olivia and then to Mr. Palmer. I had the sudden, sinking realization that I was the ugly duckling in a room full of extraordinarily attractive people.

Mr. Palmer coughed and grunted, "Olivia," under his breath.

Olivia smiled warmly at me. "Amelia, Elijah is my husband.”

I felt my jaw drop a little and I looked between Olivia and Mr. Palmer trying to figure out what was going on.

Mr. Palmer was still not looking at anyone. In fact, he was strategically looking anywhere but at me, Olivia or Elijah.

"Your husband? No, I had no idea you two were married,” I replied through clenched teeth. I hissed in Mr. Palmer's direction, "No idea at all."

The tension in the room was thick. I was pretty sure it was due to my immense embarrassment since I had accused Mr. Palmer of having an affair with his cousin-in-law or whatever they were. I wanted to melt into the carpet and disappear, or at least I thought I did.

“No worries,” Elijah said. “People make that mistake all the time.”

“They do?” Oh God, this is terrible. Now they were making fun of me.