The Fixer Upper by Judith Arnold Read Free Book Online

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    Feeling the woman’s gaze on him, he turned to study the cubbyhole mailboxes fastened to one wall. Most of the boxes had papers or envelopes in them. A table beneath them held another bouquet of flowers. Such an abundance of flowers—had someone died?
    A quiet buzz jolted him. He turned back to the counter to see the woman lift her phone. “Oh. Well, all right, then,” she said, then hung up and gave him a suspicious glare. “Ms. Kimmelman is willing to meet with you,” she said, her tone conveying that such a willingness was a rare thing. “Tara will be here in a minute.”
    Exactly one minute passed before a young blond woman entered the office through the glass door. Clad in a short skirt, a cotton sweater and enough costume jewelry to lead a Mardi Gras parade, she exuded more perkiness than he could handle on only one cup of coffee. “Hi, I’m Tara,” she said, then beckoned for him to follow her.
    They headed down a hall. “Libby usually doesn’t meet parents without appointments,” she informed him. “I don’t know why she agreed to meet with you, but I’ll warn you, things are really hectic right now. So don’t take it personally if she can give you only a couple of minutes. You can schedule an appointment with her for some future date, if you’d like.”
    Libby Kimmelman. He repeated the name silently a few times until it was permanently imprinted on his brain.
    “Today,” Tara told him, “she got five bouquets. It’s a good thing you didn’t bring flowers. She’d hold it against you.”
    Flowers had never even crossed his mind. Was he supposed to accompany an application to a prestigious private school with a gift? Or would a flat-out cash bribe be just as effective? How big a bribe?
    Tara swept through another door, passed an empty anteroom with a huge bouquet perched on a table just inside, and led him down a narrow hall to the end. She rapped on the door marked Director of Admissions, then inched it open. “Libby? Eric Donovan’s father is here.”
    A woman’s voice drifted out. “Send him in.”
    Tara pushed the door wider and stepped aside, gesturing Ned ahead of her. He entered the office and hesitated. His gaze took in more walls of walnut paneling, an elegantly patterned rug that looked authentically Middle Eastern and old, and a grand, varnished walnut desk.
    The woman seated behind the desk was surprisinglyyoung—mid-thirties, tops—and her dark shoulder-length hair was held off her face with a barrette. Her suit jacket hung across the back of her chair and the sleeves of her blouse were rolled up. Her brown eyes took up half her face, and a knife-sharp nose sliced straight down between them. Her desk was cluttered with towering piles of folders and a vase stuffed with flowers. She seemed exhausted, and it was barely 9:00 a.m.
    “Ms. Kimmelman?” He approached the desk, right hand outstretched. “I’m Ned Donovan.”
    Despite the fatigue shadowing her eyes, her smile struck him as genuine. She rose from her chair and shook his hand. “Libby Kimmelman. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
    A pleasure? Did she even know who he was? Or was she just relieved that he hadn’t brought her flowers?
    He liked the feel of her hand, cool and smooth, her nails short and shiny. He liked the curve of her smile, too, even though he sensed tension in it. She waved toward an armchair facing her across the desk, then busied herself shoving piles of folders around until he could see her without tilting his head.
    “I wasn’t aware that flowers were part of the deal,” he said, motioning toward the vase.
    “Flowers, chocolates, fruit baskets and a hamper filled with bubble bath, natural sponges and loofahs. That’s today’s haul. Tara, could you take the chocolates with you when you go?”
    “Sure.” The perky blonde bounded into the office and lifted a box of chocolates from a corner of the desk. Cradling the box in her arm, she started toward the door. “If you don’t want the