It didn’t take a genius to deduce this wasn’t the best mindset for a yoga instructor—or honestly, anybody with a pulse.
Cleo picked up her yoga bag. “You don’t want this to get wet,” the woman said, handing over the tote but not before glancing inside. “Is that the kind of gong you use in a yoga class?”
Libby hooked the strap over her shoulder. “It is. I’m actually here today because of yoga.”
“Are you here to meet with the Tri-Derricks for the fitness thing?” Laney asked.
Libby brightened. This could be the break she needed. How had she not connected the dots? These lovely sexed-up ladies must work on this floor. Perhaps they could offer up some info on the venture capital group. And it would be a godsend since she hadn’t been able to find anything about Tri-Derrick International online.
A comforting kernel of hope bloomed in her chest. “I am. Did my outfit and yoga bag give it away?”
“Yeah,” brunette Laney answered, then shared an uneasy look with Cleo, whose blond, bubbly countenance vanished.
Yikes!
The warm, glowing kernel of light in Libby’s chest petered out.
“Do you know much about the Tri-Derrick venture capitalists?” she continued. Her appointment was mere minutes away. This was her last chance to ask. Laney and Cleo could have pertinent information to give her the jump on her competition. But there was more. Despite her current karma conundrum, she didn’t believe in coincidences. Everything happened for a reason. And like dominoes, perhaps this is why the universe had facilitated a chance meeting in the bathroom.
Cleo pressed her lips into a hard line. “The Tri-Derricks have been renting the conference room on our floor this week. We’ve seen a few women dressed like you come and go,” she answered as the ladies shared another unsettling eyeball exchange.
Libby’s pulse kicked up as her gaze bounced between the pair. The energy had shifted. The sunny yellow auras Laney and Cleo had sashayed in with had morphed into a dishwater gray. She parted her lips, prepared to ask the women to elaborate, when her phone rang. She pulled her cell from the tote, and that little kernel of light brightened.
It was Anders and Alec.
“I’m sorry,” she said, holding up her phone. “My brothers are calling. They’re in Ecuador, and I hardly get to talk to them. I should answer this.”
“Sure, good luck with your appointment,” Laney replied with a manufactured grin before sharing yet another look with her companion.
“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll be…fine,” Cleo added with a plastic expression.
What weren’t these two saying?
Libby tried not to take the women’s aura sea change to heart. Perhaps they ran a rival venture capital group. That had to be it. Tri-Derrick must be their competition. She nodded to the ladies as they exited the restroom, then picked up the call.
“How are my two favorite college students?” she crooned, pushing aside Cleo and Laney’s foreboding energy.
“Hey, big sis. We’re doing great. We called to see how your meeting went. Are you the world’s next yoga sensation?” Anders asked.
She retrieved another paper towel and patted her damp yoga pants. “I don’t know anything yet. My meeting starts in a few minutes.”
“I told you, Anders,” Alec chided playfully. “We’re two hours ahead.”
“Then it’s a good thing we got you before you went in,” Anders continued, unfazed by his brother’s teasing rebuke. “We can wish you luck. There’s no better yoga instructor than Libby Lamb. You’ve got this, sis.”
She leaned against the wall, picturing the twins with their broad shoulders, dark hair, and amber eyes, like hers. While her brothers were identical twins, she could always tell them apart from their voices and their energy. Easy-going Anders’s tone rose and fell like the calm waters of a lake at dawn, while driven Alec’s voice hit each syllable with a crisp, precise cadence. Despite their bickering, the twins balanced each other and were the distraction she needed after the strange end to her conversation with Cleo and Laney.
“I’ll text you later and let you know how it goes. Thanks for calling, boys.”
Boys.
Despite being a good foot taller than she was, in her heart, Alec and Anders would always be gap-toothed, gangly eight-year-olds. The same little boys she’d made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for and read to each night before bed.
“One last thing, Libbs,” Anders said, and she could hear the rare uptick of unease in his voice.
“Sure, what is it?”
“The university doesn’t need us to pay the balance now. That’s due in sixty days, but they did want us to sign the letter officially accepting the spots in the program. I wasn’t sure if—”
“Do it. Tell them you both accept your spots,” she blurted, cutting him off.
“Are you sure?” Anders asked, trepidation still lingering in his tone.
She stared at the gong in her bag. “Don’t you worry. I’ve got it covered. I’ve got everything under control.”
Okay, having lost the majority of her teaching gigs over the last seventy-five days might not be the definition of having it under control. Still, despite the hit to her chi and her absent O, she knew today, a door would open—a door that would lead to prosperity. And that prosperity would ensure that she could help support her brothers.
“Thanks, Libbs, you’re the best. We owe you everything,” Alec replied as a calming relief coated his words.
“We love you, yoga master sister,” Anders chimed.
A warmth spread through her as she ended the call. She sighed, then peered at the spot where Cleo and Laney had stood—their floral scents still lingering in the air. She couldn’t let the women’s cosmic karma one-eighty cloud her perception of the Tri-Derrick group. There could be several reasons why the women had soured when she asked for their opinion on the company. Perhaps they needed the meeting room, and the venture capitalists had reserved it first. That could be it. It could be as simple as a scheduling snafu.
She closed her eyes and released a slow breath. “Your path will lead you to your intended destination,” she whispered, her words mingling with the faint floral wisps of scent. She checked herself in the mirror and lifted her chin, taking in the hues of green, red, white, and gold. She was cloaked in the colors that would usher in success. She opened the door to the restroom, searched the hallway for the meeting room, then spied a piece of torn notebook paper taped to the wall.
Tri-Derrick Venture Capitalist International this way was scribbled in black ink with an arrow pointing to the left.
She started down the hall and inhaled the floral scent. Laney and Cleo must work down this corridor, too. She turned the corner, then startled as a young woman barreled down the hallway, sniffling and wiping tears from her cheeks as she charged toward the bank of elevators on the other side of the building. The blubbering gal disappeared in a bluster of muffled whimpering when a harsh voice called out.
“Are you Libby Lamb?”
She turned toward the sound and saw a man standing at the entrance of a glassed-in conference room. “Yes, that’s me. I’m here for the interview with the Tri-Derrick Group.”
The man looked her up and down once, then twice, then a third time. A sickening sensation washed over her, and she closed her wrap, concealing her exposed midsection as she did her own once-over on the guy.