“No, I’m fine…” Ebony looks down at her leg, her face contorting in surprise as she sees the blood.
It’s a thin gash running down the side of her calf. Basically, an oversized paper cut. Had it been any of my crew, I’d have thrown them a Band-Aid and kept moving. But this isn’t one of my bulletproof guys, or a scratch. This is Ebony.
Urgency crashes through me, this unwavering need to make sure she’s okay.
Before she can protest, I lift her up in my arms and rush over to the steps, where I gingerly set her down. “All right, sit tight. I’ve got a first-aid kit in the kitchen.”
I’m gone just long enough to grab the kit and an ice pack. When I return, she’s wincing and trying to stand, clearly not thrilled to be wounded.
“Okay, you’ve got a flair for the dramatic, I see, but you really don’t want to bleed out over a busted heel,” I say, taking her arm and helping her settle back on the step. “Besides, this is what happens to folks who don’t make it to the end of the movie.”
“Ha, ha. I could’ve sworn I saw someone outside, but…” She lets out a breath, amusement coloring her cheeks as I gather the supplies to tend to her wound. “I get it. I’m a mess. I might not be final-girl material, but hey, you heard me hollering. I’d make a killing as a scream queen.”
She gives me a mock-terrified look, like she’s ready for her close-up, but then cringes slightly as the pain in her leg catches up with her.
“It’s just a little peroxide to prevent infection,” I tell her, gently dabbing at her cut. “And to answer your question, I wasn’t planning on being here. It was such a nice night, I didn’t want to head home yet, so I was just going to drive by, check on the landscaping, and make sure the crew locked up, when I saw the lights on.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed you working longer hours. The clock’s ticking louder for me, too.” She gives me a small smile. “I was going to work for an hour, but then I got an email about the insurance claim for my office at Ellswood Mill.”
I wince. “Vincent told me about the fire. Sorry about your props.”
“My desktop and printer, too.” Ebony sighs, somberly. “Pretty much all my business’s fixed assets. Gone.”
“Well, that’s what insurance is for,” I say, tossing aside the cotton pad. “Next, I’ll add antibiotic ointment, bandage you up, and put the ice pack on for a few minutes. You’ll be good as new. Is that okay?”
Ebony nods. “Unfortunately, my claim was denied.”
“Why?”
“That’s the complicated, enraging part about it.” She begins explaining why she doesn’t have a policy for Ebony Grace Events. Instead, all the Livingston businesses were covered by an umbrella policy under JDC Livingston, Inc.—named after Cornelia’s sons, Julian, Donovan, and Cornelius. With the corporation as the named insured, even though Ebony paid for her business’s coverage, she can’t file a claim. As CFO of the corporation, only Cornelia can.
I tear open the antibiotic packet. “Oh no.”
“Right. But at the end of the day, the claim is basically a moot point now.” She lets her head fall back on her shoulders with a sigh then meets my gaze again. “As part of the divorce settlement, Julian relinquished his rights to Ebony Grace Events,but, and this is the infuriating part I learned tonight,” she says, shaking her head, “three days after I sent Cornelia my annual payment, JDC removed Ebony Grace Events from its policy. Which means, rather than inform me about the cancellation, that vindictive woman—who Iknewwas trying to sabotage me—will be laughing all the way to the bank with any fire-related payments going to JDC. Meanwhile, I’m uninsured and shit out of luck.”
“I’m sorry, Ebony.”
“Well, I’ve got a new policy,” she says, “though it doesn’t do much for the props I’ve lost.”
Her face betrays every frustrated and overwhelming emotion she’s feeling. And I can’t ignore how much it means that she trusts me enough to share this with me.
The silence thickens as she watches me take care of her wound. And there’s a moment, a tiny shift in her posture, the brief staccato of her breath, the weight of her stare. I sense she wants to say something. We both do. But I don’t want to be the first, and I guess she doesn’t either.
And then I’m finished, and like I’ve had to do for the past week of our working together in the manor, I remind myself that nothing’s changed.
“All better, scream queen.” I force a smile, pressing the ice pack over the bandage before I sit back on my heels.
But she doesn’t move, so I don’t either.
“I hate this,” she says finally, and it might be the moonlight glinting through the window, but her eyes are glassy. It makes me pay attention. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you when you tried to warn me before.”
I drag in a small breath, my heart racing.
How many times have I imagined us having this conversation?Arewe finally having this conversation?
“Thanks for saying that.” I laugh. “I was trying to be a good friend, but maybe I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.”
Ebony’s expression is a watercolor blur of remorse and resentment, but I don’t rush her. “I knew he’d been with someone else,” she admits, and for a split second, I think that’s it, that’s the end of it. We’ve apologized, and we can move on. But then our eyes meet. “Everyone was looking at me like I was this pitiful pearl, and I just couldn’t stand the thought of you looking at me like that, too. And now look at us…”
