“Call Mrs. Ring. Let her know you’ll be leaving tomorrow and won’t return for two weeks.
She gave a heavy sigh. He was right. If she was going to do this, she’d better get it over with. “All right,” she said, “but don’t expect any miracles. I have the vacation days, I’m just not certain they’ll be able to cover for me. It’s not protocol for requesting a vacation, and it’s such short notice.”
“Just call,” Vanni said, opening a newspaper that had been placed on the tray.
She realized he’d already found the number for her. She gave him a “here goes nothing” glance and called the hospice.
“It’s not a problem. Maureen can cover for you,” Mrs. Ring said a moment later after Emma had explained about needing time off for an unexpected situation that had occurred.
“That’s incredible, I’m so relieved,” Emma said. She glanced over at Vanni, barely containing her excitement. He gave her a small smile and resumed reading his paper.
I’m really going with him. Me—Emma Shore—in the French Riviera with Vanni Montand. Incredible.
“You’re an excellent employee, Emma. You often cover for others when we’ve needed you with no complaint. We appreciate that here. Besides, no one should have to pass up an opportunity to go to the South of France. I’m quite envious,” Mrs. Ring was saying. Emma blinked, her gaze fixing blindly on the sparkling pool.
“I never said where I was going, did I?” Emma asked her supervisor dubiously.
“Isn’t that where you plan to go?” Mrs. Ring asked.
“Well, yes, but . . .” She turned her head and stared at Vanni, her mouth hanging open. His eyebrows furrowed and he briskly folded up his paper.
“You’d called Mrs. Ring already?” Emma asked in a hushed, incredulous tone a moment later after she’d hung up the phone.
He lifted his eyebrows and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “I wanted to make sure you had the time off.”
“You wanted to make sure you got your way,” she said, stung. “I can’t believe you did that, Vanni,” she said, anger entering her tone. She swung her legs off the lounger, placing her feet on the hot slate terrace. She suddenly felt like she couldn’t look at him, she was so pissed off.
“Why is it a problem that I smoothed things over for you with your work?”
“That’s what you’d call what you did? Smoothing things over? That’s my job, Vanni,” she exclaimed heatedly. “Maybe you think it’s some kind of unimportant sideshow—I’m not a doctor, after all,” she said, remembering how he’d asked her why she hadn’t gone to medical school when Amanda was. His eyes flashed. “But my job is important to me. You had no right to barge in and demand I get time off!”
His expression stiffened in rising anger. She couldn’t believe he didn’t understand how heavy-handed and domineering he’d behaved. He was overtaking her mind and her body and her life, and he couldn’t seem to understand how much emptier that would make her when he was gone.
“You’ve already bought my home! Now you have to buy off my employer as well?” she demanded, standing abruptly.
“I didn’t buy anybody off,” he said through a hard mouth. “I simply put in a phone call to Mrs. Ring to explain the situation.”
“To explain what you wanted the situation to be,” Emma corrected as she picked up her cover-up. “And of course she was all too eager to make that happen. Don’t try to tell me that you didn’t make a huge charitable donation to the hospice. I suspected it ever since they assigned us to Cristina around the clock. That’s not normal operating procedure for us.”
“What if I did?” Vanni asked. How could he look so hot and sun-gilded reclining there, while his tone and eyes were frigid? “It’s a good cause. And I wanted special care for Cristina.”
“And you don’t think all the money you sent Mrs. Ring’s way had any effect whatsoever on her decision to give me a vacation on the spur of the moment when you requested it personally?” Emma asked sarcastically, trying to put on her cover-up and twisting it hopelessly because of her angry, jerky motions.
“I have no idea if it did or not,” he said.
“Give me a break,” Emma said disgustedly, jamming her foot into a flip-flop.
“Where are you going?” he asked sharply when she started to walk toward the house and the dressing room. Her clothing was still in there.
“Home. You know, that apartment you own?” she asked scathingly over her shoulder.
“Emma, stop.”
She halted instinctively at his tone, but her immobility seemed to make the fury in her chest froth even higher. He touched her upper arm and she turned to see him standing there, his blue-green eyes seeming to glow in his tanned, shadowed face.
“I’m sorry if you think it was intrusive of me,” he said stiffly. “I did it because I wanted to make things easier for you. Don’t make more of this than it is.”
Her eyes burned. “But it is more, Vanni.”