Next To Nothing!. Barbara Dunlop

and perfectly suited to climbing. Comfortable furniture groupings and lush plants dotted the high, glass-ceilinged room, and the carpet was a maze of brightly colored pathways twisting among cute, brown monkeys.

      A week, maybe two at the most, and it would be ready to open. They were on time and on budget. And, on the strength of this project’s success, they’d been invited to submit designs to the public library.

      A design invitation wasn’t a guarantee, but Jenna was finally beginning to feel optimistic about the future. After Candice had helped her see Brandon for the control freak he was, they’d moved clear across the country and pumped their life savings into a new interior design firm.

      Though Jenna’s financial contribution was much lower than her friend’s, Candice had insisted they become equal partners. Jenna was determined to work day and night to prove her friend’s faith was justified.

      “Why don’t you call him?” asked Candice, turning to peer enigmatically at Jenna.

      “Call Brandon?” Jenna tucked her loose hair behind her ear, fingering the small gold stud in her lobe.

      She hadn’t spoken to her ex-fiancé since she’d left him. In fact, it was Candice who’d insisted she break all ties. They’d burned all his letters, kept their apartment phone number unlisted and screened calls at the office.

      “You want me to call Brandon?” Jenna repeated, having trouble with her friend’s about-face.

      “Yes. I do.” Candice sat up straighter. “Maybe I was wrong.”

      “You? Wrong?”

      “I know.” Candice waved a hand in the air. “It’s hard to believe. But, maybe you should tell him once and for all that it’s over.”

      “I told him it was over when I left,” said Jenna, reaching for the pencil in her clipboard, releasing it from the spring and tapping the eraser against the top page. She really had no desire to speak to Brandon again.

      “You were upset then, hurt, confused. He probably thought you’d calm down and come to your senses.”

      “I did come to my senses. That’s why I left him.”

      “Apparently Brandon needs a bit more convincing.”

      Jenna palmed the pencil and stood up. “You know, the minute I call him, he’s going to try to talk me into coming back.”

      Candice folded her manicured fingers together on her knee, tipping her chin in Jenna’s direction. “Would you?” she asked calmly.

      “No! Definitely not.” Not a chance in a million. Jenna absolutely did not want to live the rest of her life in a gilded cage, letting Brandon choose her clothes, her jewelry, her hair color. She’d had a taste of freedom, and she loved it.

      “Well, as long as you keep hiding from him—”

      “I am not hiding. You’re the one who—”

      “He’ll convince himself you still have feelings for him,” Candice finished.

      “There are no feelings. Period.” As she spoke the words, Jenna realized just how true they were. There was nothing. No hatred, no anger, no fear.

      Flat line.

      She hadn’t been intimidated by him, maybe overawed. Brandon had been a strong-minded, confident, charismatic guest lecturer at Boston University. While Jenna had been an impressionable undergraduate, fresh from a Minnesota farm community. It was pretty easy for him to convince her that he knew best—in all things.

      But those feelings were gone now. Jenna took a deep breath, inhaling the light fountain mist and the scent of the pepper trees. She was free.

      Sure she’d call Brandon. There was no reason not to anymore.

      “Think about it, Jenna.” Candice interrupted her thoughts. “Call him and let him know that malleable young woman doesn’t exist anymore. Then he’ll back off and call off his troops.”

      “You’re right,” said Jenna with conviction. Candice always did give the best advice.

      “I am?” Candice looked surprised by Jenna’s easy agreement.

      “You bet. He needs to know it’s over. He needs to leave me alone. We can’t have rent-a-Dick-Tracy hanging around the hospital halls scaring the children.”

      Candice grinned as she stood up and flipped a concealed switch to turn off the waterfall. “Go get ’im, Jenna.” The whirring motor stopped, and the water dripped to a halt against the huge lava rocks, plunking to silence in the cavernous room.

      Jenna nodded decisively, retrieving her tiny cell phone from the depths of her big purse. It was a serious purse, not one of those elegant little evening bags that Brandon bought her. They barely held a comb.

      Using the end of the pencil, she dialed quickly.

      Hopefully, someday soon, she’d forget his private number and free up the brain space for something useful. She lifted the phone to her ear, and Candice gave her an encouraging grin.

      Brandon picked up on the first ring.

      Little wonder. The only people who knew this number were his mother, a few captains of industry, some dubious politicians and Jenna.

      “Rice here,” he said in that unnaturally low tone that he thought made him sound three inches taller.

      “It’s Jenna,” she said, voice crisp and impersonal.

      “Jenna!” His voice brightened and rose an octave.

      “Finally. Where are you sweetheart?” He sounded so happy, so satisfied, so smug.

      “You know darn well where I am. Your hired goon is standing outside my job-site.”

      Candice gave her a thumbs-up.

      “Goon? What goon? You’re talking nonsense.” His low voice was back. He was displeased. Good.

      He was on the other side of the country. He could be as displeased as he wanted, and it wouldn’t affect her.

      “Call him off, Brandon.”

      “Jenna,” he sighed, and his tone turned patronizing. “Let’s not start this out by arguing.”

      “I’m not arguing. I’m stating a fact.”

      “You need to calm down and listen, Jenny-Penny.”

      “Don’t call me that.”

      “I don’t know what Candice told you—”

      “This isn’t about what Candice did or did not tell me.”

      “I always knew she was a bad influence.”

      Jenna’s voice rose, and she paced in a little half circle on the cool floor. “Give me some credit, Brandon. I can make up my own mind. I can make my own choices—”

      “Is it about the surgery?”

      “Yes!” She spun back to face Candice. The plastic surgery, and so much more.

      “It’s already cancelled.”

      “You bet your life it’s cancelled. So are my hair appointments and my spa membership. You might want me to have a perfect nose and sculpted abs, but that doesn’t mean I—”

      Candice’s eyes went wide. She made a frantic calm down motion with her hand.

      Jenna paused for a breath, raking her hand once more through her hair. Her auburn hair—a little bright, a little gaudy, but her own natural color.

      “Jenna, honey, you just had to say so.”

      Yeah. Right. Jenna scoffed silently and shook her head. Like her opinion about her body or anything else had ever counted.

      “Brandon,” she began again, calmer this