“So, there is something you’re leaving for? That’s exciting. No one has said a word about what you’re doing next,” Amy said.
Emma paused. “I’m not ready to tell anyone quite yet.”
Amy chuckled. “Well . . . it was a shock to hear you were leaving, but even more, who replaced you.”
She’d already been replaced? That would explain the near-empty inbox.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t a part of that process.” You would think her father would give her the courtesy of telling her who took her place.
“I always thought Davila was more of a beer drinker.”
Amy’s words had Emma’s back up straight. “Davila?”
“Yeah . . . I thought you knew.”
Emma blew out a breath. “I didn’t.”
Davila worked directly with Kyle. A cozy hire that screamed interoffice relationship.
“I’m surprised. She doesn’t have a tenth of your knowledge and zero management skills . . .” Amy went on about a contract she’d been trying to land for four months that finally was inked while Emma was in Europe.
While Amy chatted away, Emma pulled up the portal with R&R to check her accounts.
Davila’s name was changed on the point of contact. Two of Emma’s accounts were crossed out as active and placed under pending.
When she tried to dig into why, Emma found herself blocked by a password that didn’t belong to her.
Davila . . . and likely Kyle.
Why? What did it matter if Emma saw what had happened to pull two prominent restaurateurs that collectively owned several four- and five-star establishments?
Emma backed out of the system with her name and pushed back in with her brother’s.
All while Amy chatted with very little encouragement from Emma.
In Richard’s files, she found everyone in retail and then saw Davila’s name. She clicked on the two accounts that said pending and looked at the notes.
Both said identical things.
Clients were unhappy with the service from their previous rep, and upon renewal, they were likely to cancel their contracts.
Previous rep? That was her.
Amy was well into her personal life when Emma interrupted her. “Really? That’s crazy . . .” Emma had no idea if her response was appropriate but pushed forward anyway. “Listen, we’re going to have to continue this conversation another time. I have a call beeping through from my father and I have to take it,” she lied.
“Of course. Go. Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t. Thank you.”
She hung up to stare at her computer screen.
Unhappy with their rep.
Emma called bullshit. She pictured the two clients and the elaborate dinners she had with them. The personal attention and conversations with the head chefs.
She went on to look at the other accounts on her file . . . now Davila’s file.
Phone calls were made informing the businesses that their representative was changing, as would be expected. There were two notes suggesting that Davila’s communication had been the only one since the account had been secured. Which was utter bullshit.
Not only had Kyle’s pet project taken over Emma’s job, but she was attempting to slander Emma’s name after taking over. Or at least make the books look like she was crappy at her job.
Why?
What possible reason would Davila have for doing this?
Emma was already out.
Unless Davila worried Emma would return and wanted to try and cement her name in the position.
Yeah, that made sense. Insecure people did stupid things.
Not knowing if her backdoor entry to the company files would last forever, Emma printed out the database of her previous clients, their numbers and contacts. And because she was feeling spiteful, she jumped onto Kyle’s base, which was limited since he had the supervisor role, and printed his out as well.
With the sun high in the midmorning sky, Emma took a quick shower and got dressed.
A good-morning text had come in from Gio while she was drying her hair.
The simple greeting put the biggest smile all morning on her face.
Can you talk? he typed.
She needed to think more than talk. I have a busy morning. How about tonight?
I’ll hold you to it.
Without makeup and her hair in a ponytail, she jumped into her car and headed to the new house.
She pressed in the gate code her mother had told her to use and pulled into the now-cobblestone driveway. “That was fast,” she muttered to herself.
A brand-new fountain splashed water on the newly planted landscape. Her mother had run with Emma’s vision. A vision brought on, in part, by her mother’s sense of style. A proper villa needed a fountain and circular drive. How many had she seen like that in Tuscany? Too many to count.
It was beautiful.
There wasn’t one construction truck in the drive. Her mother must have had a staff on standby with big bonuses to finish the construction in less than a month.
Emma cut the engine and stepped into the heat.
Spring had given way to summer while she’d been in Italy. And the Temecula heat took no prisoners in its assault.
Emma unlocked the front door.
Her mother had put the temperature on frigid.
Emma found the thermostat and bumped it up five degrees.
She set her purse on the island that now separated the kitchen from the great room.
It was pretty spectacular. Again, her mother’s eye for details shined. Two iron chandeliers hovered over the kitchen island . . . a space that would sit five easily. A massive double wine fridge had replaced the single one Emma had noticed when she viewed the house that first day.
The floors had been refinished with a darker stain, and all the walls had a fresh coat of paint.
She slowly walked into the great room, looked at the fireplace. She envisioned a Christmas tree to one side and rows of deep green garland laced with tiny lights over the hearth.
Dark furniture would make the room feel cozy. Area rugs over the hardwood floors would warm up the space even more. The image of her and Gio warming their feet by a winter fire, toes bundled in fuzzy socks, made her smile even more.
Back in the primary bedroom she realized her queen-size bed would look like a child lived in the room. Brighter colors in here . . . she decided.
Outside, the pool also had new landscaping and potted plants filling corners and edges. Pots of citrus reminded her of the fields in Italy.
They, too, reminded her of Gio. “I want lemon trees so I can make my own limoncello.”
“To sell?” she asked.
“No, bella, to drink.”
Emma thought of everyone on the tour gathered around the patio and pool, music playing and wine and food flowing.
The vineyard beyond the pool kept the smile on her face.
She hadn’t asked for this, but now that it was in front of her . . . Emma wanted it.
On her own.
And if that couldn’t happen, then visions of Christmas trees would just have to wait.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I miss you already.”
Emma leaned into Giovanni’s voice, hearing his slight Italian accent that seemed to have gotten thicker as the days went on while they were in Italy. She pictured his grin and the way his hair always seemed ruffled by this time of night.
“It’s unsettling how often you popped into my head today,” she told him.