Chapter 66

I regretted not stealing something Mr. Czarn scented before going back home.

Maybe it was some ancient instinct to keep a ‘protector’ around in the vulnerable state of pregnancy, but I tossed and turned that night until I finally fell asleep around midnight. Because of that, when I rolled into the office at seven, I was ready to sacrifice my pride and beg Mr. Czarn’s couch off him, my paycheck be damned.

“Oh, look at those bags,” said Mrs. Woods. “I have some concealer for that if you want. Our skin tones are close enough.”

With or without the liver spots? I couldn’t help thinking, despite acknowledging that Mrs. Woods made an adorable little old lady. She wasn’t too bad with her makeup either, as she never went too far and only used a light layer. She wasn’t like other old women who were in denial and tried to cover the old barn that just needed to be burned with fifty layers of paint.

“I might take you up on that if Mr. Czarn lets me out of the office today,” I said.

She chortled, and Mr. Jewks, who was munching on a donut at his desk, smiled.

“Twenty years I’ve known him, and I would have never guessed he’d be so adorable,” she cooed.

I snorted. “Adorable? It’s paranoia; that’s what it is.”

“I don’t appreciate you discounting my concerns, Ms. Scharf.”

I flinched and turned to find none other than Mr. Czarn. The pre-coffee version, as signified by his mussed hair, half-lidded eyes, and perpetual scowl. He didn’t look like he had slept all that well either, but then, he was more attached to his morning coffee than most.

“Would you like an extra shot of espresso with your beverage this morning?” I said, extra primly just to sound snarky, so I could cover up how in trouble I felt. I didn’t know when it became important to save face in front of Mr. Czarn of all people.

“Please. And the doctor’s appointment is at three this afternoon, correct?”

“Yes?” No, I hadn’t forgotten that I’d given him permission to come, though I wish I had.

He nodded wearily, then sniffed. “I’ll take that coffee.”

Which meant I’d be getting it after not having to for ages. Boy, what crawled up his sphincter and died? Wasn’t this a bit much even for pre-coffee?

But it was just pushing a button on the coffee machine and dumping some cinnamon in (still a weird combination, at least without sugar and cream), so I went ahead and got it. I hoped Mrs. Wood took note and didn’t try calling him cute again.

LeFevre came in just as I put a lid on the cup.

“I’ll take that to him.”

I turned to find mirroring shadows beneath his eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He grunted and held out his hand for the coffee. I gave it up straight away.

“Would you like me to make you one?” I asked.

“That’d be nice.” He pushed his glasses up his nose, which was oddly greasy for once. “One cream, three sugars, not a hint of that damn cinnamon. In fact, throw it out the window when you have the time.”

Ah. So this was Mr. Czarn’s fault.

For some reason, that amused me. Maybe it was because, for once, I was watching someone else’s drama rather than my own. Or maybe it was because I was irritated at Mr. Czarn for being so grouchy with me this morning. I mean, yeah, I’d complained a bit unfairly when he was just trying to look out for me, but a few casual errands around the building weren’t going to kill me. He had seen me take five flights of stairs just fine, hadn’t he?

I managed to ignore the temptation to make myself a coffee and managed to get LeFevre’s on his desk before the office clock hit the quarter hour. Mr. Jewks was already on the phone and dabbing sweat off his bald head (he hated phone calls especially; they riled up his anxiety more than public speaking), and Mrs. Woods was finger-deep in calculations on her computer.

“You wouldn’t have happened to bring the gun Mr. Czarn loaned you today, would you?” asked my weary boss over his cup.

“Oh! Yeah, did he want it back?”

LeFevre gave a long sigh.

“No. I would. At least until you get a proper conceal and carry permit, for legality’s sake, because unfortunately, money can give a false illusion that laws don’t exist.”

I had the gun out of my satchel and onto LeFevre’s desk in the blink of an eye.

“I’m sorry. I should have thought—”

He cut me off with a raised hand.

“Ms. Scharf, you’re in a highly stressful situation and, please don’t take offense to this, but my minute experience with pregnant women is that with everything their body is busy with, it’s not uncommon for things they would have usually thought of to slip their minds. I don’t hold it against you in the least.”

It was then I remembered LeFevre was married and had a daughter. Rather than get offended by his comment, I felt a huge wave of relief.

“I’m not offended at all. Actually, I appreciate it.” I hesitated. “Did your wife…?”

“Every pregnancy is different, but yes, she was more scatterbrained than most.” The corner of his mouth rose, as though finding something cute. “To her utmost frustration. If you need someone to talk to, I can give you her number.”

“Oh! I wouldn’t want to impose. I know you’re really private about your family life.”

“It would be not an imposition. She offered.”

It warmed me deeply to think a stranger would spare such concern for me when my own mother hadn’t called me in weeks, and when I had sent texts or called her myself, she’d soon hung up with an excuse of a show being on or, simply, running off. Tammy and Maria hadn’t been any help either, having never gotten pregnant and having no interest in being married themselves.

“Then, if it doesn’t bother you…”

Mr. Czarn came out from his office then because he must have had a sixth sense for when his entry would be the most dramatic.

“Fine, you can run some supplies down to engineering. I get it. You can’t sit still to save your life or anyone’s life for that matter.”

I didn’t have to glare. LeFevre did it for me.

Thus, since Mr. Czarn’s coffee had apparently yet to kick in, I just smiled.

“Thank you for consideration, Mr. Czarn.”

“Reuben.”