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“I’ve always been interested in the cave paintings. It’s apparent that you and Daphne are discerning art lovers, so when I came across it on an antiquarian book site, I thought you might be interested in them too.” She’d searched the antiquarian bookstores online and had finally found one she thought he’d appreciate—The Lascaux Cave Paintingsby F. Windels. She’d gulped when she’d seen the $75 price, but decided to go ahead and make this her one splurge. The paintings were over 17,000 years old, and the French caves had been named a UNESCO World Heritage Site. She had hoped he would be impressed.
Amber smiled to herself. She had definitely scored with this one.
Daphne rose from the sofa. “Okay, everyone, time for dinner.”
“Just a second. One more thing.” Amber handed her the box of cookies.
“Goodness, Amber. These look delicious. Look, girls, don’t they look yummy?”
“I want one.” Bella stood on tiptoe and looked in the box.
“After dinner, sweetheart. Amber, this is so sweet of you.”
“Well, Rollins closed early yesterday, so I enjoyed baking them last evening.”
“What? You made these?”
“It’s not a big deal. It was fun, really.”
They walked into the dining room together, and suddenly Bella was by Amber’s side. She took hold of Amber’s hand and smiled up at her. “You’re a really good cookie maker. I’m glad you came today.”
Amber looked down at the little brat and smiled back. “Me too, Bella.”
She felt a swell of satisfaction rise inside her.
Sixteen
Amber had a New Year plan that she hoped would ramp things up. Her panicked phone call had done the trick, and now Daphne waited for her as she walked to the door.
A worried look crossed Daphne’s face as she ushered Amber in. They went directly to the sunroom.
“What’s happened?” Daphne asked with concern.
“I’ve been trying to work this out on my own, but I just can’t take it anymore. I have to talk to someone about it.”
“Come, sit.” Daphne took Amber by the hand and led her to the sofa. “Now, what is it?” She leaned forward, her eyes focused on Amber’s face.
Amber took a deep breath. “I was fired today. But it’s not my fault, and I can’t do anything about it.” She began to cry.
“What do you mean? Back up and tell me everything.”
“It started a few months ago. It seemed whenever I went into his office, Mark—my boss, Mark Jansen—would find some reason to touch me. Brushing something off my shoulder or putting his hand on mine. At first I thought it was nothing. But then, last week, he asked if I would go with him on a client dinner.”
Daphne was staring at her intently, and Amber wondered if she thought she was too homely to be hit on.
“Is it usual for you to attend client dinners?” Daphne asked.
Amber shrugged. “Not really. But at the time I was flattered. I figured he valued my opinion and wanted my input. And maybe, you know, there might be a promotion in the future. I drove myself and met him at Gilly’s. He was already there, but he was alone. He told me the client had called and was running late. We had a couple of beers, and I started to feel funny.” She stopped again, taking a deep breath. “The next thing I knew, his hand was on my knee and then moving up my thigh.”
“What?” Daphne’s voice exploded in anger.
Amber wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth. “It was horrible, Daph. He slid closer to me in the booth and stuck his tongue in my mouth and started fondling my breast. I pushed him away and ran.”
“That pig! He won’t get away with this.” Her eyes were blazing. “You have to report him.”
Amber shook her head. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”