Fuck. Okay, get a read on her and figure out how to make it work. Deference. She’s in charge here, just take a little abuse and let her get it out.

“That’s fine, Denise. Mrs. Thornton. I’m willing to work my way up. I can start in an administrative assistant capacity, it’s something I’ve done before … how are your boys, by the way?” She received a cold stare in response.

“Jason and Steven were both accepted to Ivy League schools. Due to financial concerns, they both chose to attend community college for their first two years and deliver pizzas to help bulk up their college funds for their undergraduate studies. It’s also helped to have them contribute to the household.”

Andy had no idea what to say that wouldn’t make this situation even more uncomfortable, so she wisely said nothing. She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. Never, ever during her time at Ellis had she considered the real-life ramifications of her recommendations.

Maybe it wasn’t Max that was to blame for her bad karma, but herself.

“As I was saying,” Denise continued, “I do have two positions open at current that would suit your résumé. The first is at Skybar.”

The exclusive Pierce Industries club downtown? It’s not an office, but I could hostess for a bit, if I get to hobnob with the clientele they pull.

“Their second-shift bathroom attendant is on maternity leave.”

It was impossible for Andy to keep the look of contempt off her face.

“No? All right, the only other position I need an unskilled laborer for is with a local landscaping company. You would be required to do a moderate amount of physical labor, as well as work unusual hours and weekends. Is that something you could handle?”

Andy took a deep breath. She could quit her hot yoga classes and save that money while still getting a workout in. Maybe learn a thing or two about growing plants instead of just killing them. “I believe I can handle that, ma’am.”

“Wonderful.” Denise Thornton smiled a wolfish grin, and played her trump card. “Mataya Landscape and Design’s primary client is Ellis Investments. You can report to the building at four a.m. tomorrow. Won’t it be nice revisiting your old stomping grounds? I imagine you’ll run into quite a few former co-workers. Wear blue jeans, you’ll receive a company T-shirt as well, the cost of which will be deducted from your first paycheck.”

Andy’s eyes widened. This woman was good. Would have far outranked her husband, if she’d worked for Ellis, in fact. Unfortunately the balance of power was rather different right now.

“If neither of these options feels … suited to your profile, of course you are welcome to take your résumé to another temp agency. I have personally taken the liberty of sharing what I know about you with every staffing solution business in town that caters to Boston’s high-end firms. We are a very supportive community, you know.”

Andrea was not at all happy to discover that Blake Donovan’s Order-a-Bride offer had suddenly become her most appealing option, and yet it was a relief to be able to assure Ms. Thornton that she had decided to accept a different offer, and could see herself out. Not that anything was going to make her feel any better about herself at this point. She’d always thought Max Ellis was a shitty human being. It had never occurred to Andy that she was as bad as him. It was only out of love and respect for Lacy that she was able to keep the tears in as she called her sister to report back.

That lasted right up until she heard her sister’s voice, then she lost it.

“Andy, calm down. I can’t even understand you. Did you not get in with the agency?”

“I have twenty emergency dollars in my purse. I’m buying french fries and ice cream,” she sniffled in response.

“How could things possibly have gone that badly, good God! We practiced. We practiced all fucking night. What the hell did you say to them? Wait, did you say french fries?”

*   *   *

Halfway through the best meal the girls had enjoyed in a week—the handfuls of crispy fries perfectly salted, cherry ice cream eaten straight from the tub—things started to look up.

“Look, Andy. You know how desperate this is. But it hasn’t been totally fair of me to ask you to start supporting us with no notice, either. I can look for something else part-time, too. I still remember how to bartend. It’s been the lot of musicians forever, not to mention good song fodder.” This time Andy’s tears were of gratitude.

“No, Lace, I’m not going to let you work multiple jobs while I sit around. I can suck it up and take the Donovan job.” Ouch, it hurt to say that.

“No way … From what you told me, you’re way too good for him. Just because we need the money doesn’t mean you need another Ellis in your life. No one treats my big sis like that. Well. Not anymore.”

“Thank God, you agree.” She detested the idea of working for that man. Thinking about it made the fries and ice cream in her stomach want to come back up. She would have taken the position, though, if Lacy had insisted.

But she hadn’t.

“Hey, remember how you got our rent lowered the time you told the landlord he was taking his divorce out on the female inhabitants of our building?”

“Yeah.” That had been a gamble, but one that had been worth it. The landlord in question has postured big, but when Andy read him like a book—a heartbreaking book, but a book nonetheless—he’d teared up, apologized, and, instead of raising the rent by thirty percent as threatened, lowered it by a hundred bucks a month. That paid for two weeks’ groceries, with no more work than a simple Freudian analysis.

“Or when you convinced Mom and Dad to let us spend that spring break in Florida without them?”

“Probably my finest moment, Lace.” That one had been inspired, Andy had to admit. Knowing how adamant their parents were on college, Andy had woven a story about self-reliance, common sense, and adventure that had their strict parents practically falling over themselves in their haste to send the girls off to Panama City Beach.

That they had spent their vacation vomiting and wishing Mom was there was beside the point.

So Lacy wasn’t going to force the Donovan job, thank goodness.

Andy would take another one of the less desirable options before her, which, compared with working for Blake Donovan, seemed like an exec position at The Boston Consulting Group. “Then I can wait tables while I look for something permanent.” She squirted some mustard into her ketchup and stirred it into an orange puddle with a burnt fry. “That might work better anyway. We need cash before two weeks from now if this isn’t going to be our last hot meal until then.”

“Sad days when a couple cones of fries becomes a hot meal, isn’t it? Tell you what. I’m playing backup for Lua Palmer tonight at the new hipster wine bar place that opened up across from the studio. It’s all trendy and young and too cool for school. Why don’t you come with me? We can split my comped drinks, and maybe talk to the manager about picking up a few shifts. We haven’t worked together since high school. Remember the good old days at the Steak Buffet?”

Andy flicked the end of her fry at Lacy’s face. “Oh, I remember that all right. I remember doing all your side work while you flirted with the tattooed cook, what was his name—Olaf? Bjorn? Something as Scandinavian as it was fake. I served his mother one night, and she told me it was really—”

“Georgie!” Lacy shrieked. “I totally stopped flirting with him after you told me that. Besides, he sucked at guitar, and that was so not hot.”

“But then you immediately transferred your attentions to Salvadore, the buffet attendant who didn’t even speak English. So I was still bussing your tables and refilling steak sauces while you batted your eyelashes and pocketed the tips.”