"I believe you," Giff said, "but it may look suspicious to some that you picked this morning to quit."
Addie blinked. "You quit? Not because of what happened to me?"
The brunette shrugged. "I had other offers on the table. It's no secret that you and I are both qualified to be team leaders, yet had never been given a project. It's because we're women, and I'm not putting up with that crap anymore. Let Parnelli and Jenner and the others pick up our slack."
Emotionally drained, Addie wandered back to the couch, clearing off toys and books from one of the cushions so that Pepper would have a space to sit, too. Giff, she wanted as far away as possible.
He caught her gaze, trying to give her that earnest, you-can-trust-me look. She stared him down, not willing to be suckered by the same con twice.
"I know you aren't the guilty party," he said. "I told Bill last week you were being set up and he agreed not to pursue the issue until after this Friday. He promised he wouldn't bother you with this until I'd had more time to build my case—that this was clearly an attempt at misdirection. I was just as shocked by what happened this morn—" Probably realizing how asinine and inaccurate that statement sounded, he stopped himself. "Bill lied to me."
"Gosh." Addie widened her eyes. "Don't you hate it when people are dishonest?"
Pepper snickered, then sat on the sofa and opened the bakery bag. She pulled out a cookie for herself and handed one to Addie. No cookie for Giff.
"I'm holding Bill to his original promise," Giff said. "I have until Friday. I'm going to find out who's really behind this."
"I appreciate you riding to my rescue," Addie said sardonically, "but don't you think it's a little late for that, Galahad?"
"Bill's going to have to fire the real culprit, and he's already lost Pepper. He'll be so short-handed by the end of the week that you can probably name your own salary and still get your job back. Hell, make him throw in corporate sponsorship for Tanner's soccer team if you want and get all the kids free uniforms. But even if you decide not to go back to work for Daughtrie—and who here could blame you?—we need to publicly clear your name. You don't want the specter of this hanging over you while you interview for new positions elsewhere."
Addie nibbled on the cookie, not really tasting it, and thought about what he'd said. He was right on all counts, which did nothing to lessen her anger with him.
"So I guess question number one," Giff asked, "is whether you've ever given anyone else in the department access to your password information?"
"Of course not," she said automatically.
"Not even in the case of a last-minute emergency? Maybe something had to be done immediately and they were having trouble logging into the system. You—"
"That is such a basic no-no that you're insulting my intelligence. And before you ask, no I don't have pass-codes taped to the side of my desk or anything ridiculous like that, either."
The only risk-free way someone could have got her information was if they'd actually seen her…"Jenner," she breathed.
"Robert Jenner?" Giff asked, looking alert.
"This is just an observation," she said slowly, "it's hardly proof of his being a criminal mastermind."
"I think we can rule out any kind of mastermind," Pepper interjected.
"Right before you were brought on board, Giff, Jenner took a very comforting interest in me," she admitted. "He was always stopping by my desk, asking about the kids, bringing me tissues, hugging me. I remember him being perched on the corner of my desk on Zach's birthday. I was a mess that day, not thinking straight at all. It took me two tries to log-in correctly and I remember Jenner patting me on the shoulder."
"He did just buy that flashy new car," Pepper added. "Not to mention he accrued legal fees for a contentious divorce, is probably paying alimony through the nose and still seems to have enough left over to wine and dine a string of bimbos."
Giff's jaw had clenched in righteous indignation. He was obviously ticked about Robert Jenner trying to exploit Addie. He seemed to be conveniently overlooking that, because of his own career demands, he'd tried to do so, as well.
"This gives me a good starting point to really focus on," Giff said. "Addie, I can call and let you know what—"
"Just send me an e-mail to let me know how it all shakes out," she said, the thought of having a conversation with Giff too exhausting to contemplate. "I appreciate your standing up for me with Daughtrie after I left and I hope you figure out who's behind this whether it's Jenner or not, but I don't want to speak to you again."
He swallowed hard. "I know you're mad—you have every right to be—but you don't mean that."
She shot to her feet, unwilling to have her own feelings dictated to her. "The hell I don't. I—"
"And this is my cue to wait outside," Pepper said, slipping off the end of the couch and toward the door.
No one spoke again until she'd shut it behind her.
"You told me you loved me," Giff pointed out, the optimism in his expression nearly painful to see.
Was the man an idiot that he couldn't see how big a tactical mistake it was to bring up her declaration right now? As she recalled, he hadn't been able to say it back; now she wondered if she'd always been more emotionally invested.
"The very first time you ever asked me to lunch, that day we met Brooke in the bistro, why did you ask me to go with you?"
"I…wanted to get to know you better."
"Wanted to, or had been instructed to?"
He looked away, swearing savagely. "Both, all right? I discounted you as a possibility pretty early—"
"How early?"
"But Bill wanted me to pay special attention to you and Pepper since the two of you get paid less."
She stared at this man she'd honestly thought was the most trustworthy person she'd ever met. She hadn't even realized until now, when he was no longer standing beside her, how much she'd allowed herself to lean on him. It was like having a crutch ripped away from a crippled person.
"Get out of my apartment," she said softly. "I tried telling you before that I don't have time to date, and that's more true than ever. Not only do I have two kids to raise, I need to find a job."
"Keep in mind what I said. He might be willing to hire you back by the end of the week."
She shook her head, willing herself not to cry. "It doesn't matter what he wants, not anymore. I deserve a fresh start."
Chapter Sixteen
By two o'clock, the appeal of having some alone time to sort through her feelings had completely disappeared. Instead, Addie washed her face and called the elementary school to let them know she'd be picking Tanner up and not to put him on the day care van today. She'd thought it would be a nice treat for them—maybe they could go for ice cream. No, forget that. Her mind ricocheted away from the memory of slow dancing with Giff in a dark parking lot. Maybe she and her nephew could go see a matinee or something.
But she hadn't realized the unannounced change in schedule would alarm the little boy so much.
"Aunt Addie, what's wrong?" he asked, as the teacher on the sidewalk tried to help him into the car. "Nothing, honey."
"But why are you here?"
"Get in, buddy, and we'll talk about it once you're buckled. We're holding up car pool." She felt terrible, the world's most self-absorbed mother figure, because for all of her initial hemming and hawing that she didn't want to date Giff because Tanner would be hurt if they broke up, this was the first time today the repercussions of telling Giff to go to hell were really dawning on her. What am I going to tell the kid?
She pulled away from the curb, trying to organize her thoughts as she exited the school parking lot.
"Aunt Addie, have you been crying?"
She refused to lie to him point-blank. "You know me, sweetie. I cry at everything. Remember?"
"Did someone die?" His voice trembled.
"What? Honey, no! Everyone is fine."
"Can we call Grandmom and Grandpop in Florida a
nd make sure they're okay?" he asked, unconvinced.
"Sure, we can call them tonight if you want to," she said. "But everyone's all right. I do have some news, though. I'm not going to be working at my old job anymore."
"At the office I visited? With Gabi and the candy bars?" He sounded disappointed but no longer concerned that this was of life and death consequence.
"Right." She took a deep breath, bracing herself. "And Mr. Giff. He and I both worked there, but now I don't. And he won't be there much longer. He'll be moving on to another job. So we probably won't be seeing him anymore."
"But he didn't die?" Tanner clarified.
"No." I resisted the urge to strangle him. "I swear to you, no one died."
"We might see him sometimes, though, right?"
"I doubt it."
"But what if we ran into him at the grocery store? Or I saw him on TV at a baseball game?"
"I suppose either of those things could happen," she allowed.
"Will I still see Jonna?" he asked.
"Of course." She gave him a reassuring smile in the rearview mirror.
"But you don't work with her," he pointed out, trying to find the holes in Addie's logic.
Unable to continue with this particular line of questioning any longer, she asked brightly, "How about we go see a movie?"
"Okay. As long as there's no kissing."
Addie couldn't agree more.
* * *
To: Addie Caine
From: Giff Baker
Date: Thursday, September 30, 2010
Subject: You were right
Addie, how are you? I know you won't speak to me and am trying to respect your wishes but I did stoop to calling Jonna. Short of saying you'd set up some interviews she stonewalled me. I wanted to let you know that Robert Jenner was the person who sabotaged you, although he insists he would never have done so voluntarily. Once we had the slightest bit of proof to accuse him with, he turned on his partner, a woman in the finance department he'd been having an affair with. He claims the whole thing was originally her idea but that she didn't have the necessary e-skills and "seduced him" into cooperating on the first few jobs. He'd planned to take the pay off and quit but she blackmailed him into the Groverton bid. If you've changed your mind about the fresh start, Daughtrie is desperate to have you back.
But not half as desperate as I am. I miss you. I'm sorry I hurt you. Mom and Jake and Brooke—people you would think would surround me with love and support now that I've had my heart handed to me—mostly call me names and suggest that I'm stupid for letting you go.
Giff
* * *
"ARE YOU SURE THERE'S NOT anything else I can do for you?" Jonna leaned against the kitchen counter Friday evening, looking miserable.
Addie glanced up from her kneeling position on the floor where she was tying Tanner's cleats before they left for the soccer field. "Jonna, you're loading my dishwasher. You helped me edit and copy résumés all week. You've let me cry on your shoulder, you brought me a bottle of wine last night, you even changed one of Nicole's big bomb diapers. You've gone above and beyond the call of best friend."
"I know, but…" Jonna pursed her lips, staring at Tanner. Neither woman was comfortable saying the G word in front of the little boy. "I feel guilty."
"Because you encouraged me to have a good time or because you're in a happy relationship? Because those are both ridiculous reasons to feel bad. I'll be fine." That's what she'd been telling herself since she tossed Giff out of the apartment Monday, but she'd missed him like crazy all week and yesterday's e-mail had only intensified the ache. "Now wish the Sea Turtles luck, and go enjoy your date with Sean."
"Okay." Jonna kissed Tanner's cheek, laughing when the boy put up the predictable fuss. "Go, Turtles! I know this week you guys can win for sure."
Tanner shrugged. "Mr. Giff says it's not about winning, it's about being a team."
The two women exchanged helpless glances. It wasn't as if Addie was going to forbid the boy to talk about his former friend. Even if it did feel as though she was being stabbed every time she heard his name.
"Mr. Giff is absolutely right," she said, standing. "Let's get your sister and hustle out to the soccer field so we have plenty of time to warm up."
In the car, Tanner said, "I know you said we won't be seeing Mr. Giff so much anymore, but he'll be at my game."
Her heart squeezed; she'd forgotten that Giff had promised to make the second game. "No, honey, I don't think he will." In his e-mail, he'd reiterated that he was respecting Addie's wishes. And she didn't want to be anywhere near him.
Did she?
Tanner was affronted. "Of course he will! He promised. Mr. Giff would never break a promise."
Since she and her nephew might disagree about that, she bit her tongue.
As they pulled onto the gravel lot adjacent to the fields, Tanner let out such a shriek that she almost drove into a tree.
"Tanner! Are you hurt? What was that?"
"No. Sorry," he added sheepishly. "But see? I told you. I told you Mr. Giff would be here! He promised me."
She ground her teeth together, not sure yet whether she was overjoyed that Giff hadn't let down the little boy or if she was irritated that he might consider using the kid to get to her.
"Well, go say a quick hello to him but then get your tush on the field. We've got a lot of practicing to do."
Addie dragged the sack of soccer balls to the field, along with water bottles for herself and Tanner. All the while she prided herself on never once looking toward Giff, but his being there was like an electric tingle over her spine. Goose bumps raised across her skin. He didn't approach her until right before the game, when Tanner had dragged Caleb off to the side for a man-to-man discussion of sportsmanship.
"I know you don't want to speak to me," Giff said, in lieu of a hello, "so you don't have to say a word. I won't bother you or Tanner again and I can let him know that I have work travel coming up. But I promised him I'd be here. I can barely live with having hurt you, I wasn't going to add hurting him to that."
Moved in spite of herself, Addie darted a glance at him, noting that his eyes were shadowed and bloodshot, his face leaner than it should have been. Had he lost weight this week? His jawline was also dusted with golden stubble. And his faded polo shirt, which sported an ink stain halfway down the side, was untucked. She'd never seen him so disheveled.
"You look like hell," she blurted.
His lips cracked in a wry grin. "Wish I could say the same. At least then I could try to salvage my pride by telling myself you missed me."
"I…" Better to let it go. "Thank you for coming. Tanner would have been devastated if you weren't here."
He nodded, then turned toward his seat along the fence line.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she called after him, "I do miss you! I just don't…It's a trust thing." She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, her voice cracking when she hollered, "Huddle up, Turtles!"
Addie hoped that, to anyone watching the game, it looked as if she was following along and not obsessing about her own love life. At random intervals, she'd loudly comment, "Nice effort, Turtles!" or "Good hustle." But the kids on the field could have been playing croquet for all she noticed.
She thought about her nephew's easy acceptance that Giff would be here and not let them down. Had he ever really let them down? There was the investigating her, but did she think that all FBI agents and undercover cops were bad people who should be punished for their jobs? And there was the painful humiliation of getting fired, but he'd fixed that so that she could come back if she wanted. Frankly, she was pretty excited about one of the job interviews she'd lined up for next week, so returning to Daughtrie looked like a distant Plan B.
Addie was angry that he'd slept with her all the while knowing her job might be in danger, but men tended to compartmentalize their professional and personal lives more than women. Was being angry a good enough reason to throw away one of the best t
hings that had ever happened to her? She bit her lip, jumping guiltily when the other coach announced that it was halftime.
Tanner jogged off the field, sweaty but happy. "Did you see that, Aunt Addie? I was this close to making the goal."
Guiltily, she promised herself she'd pay better attention once the game resumed. And she was certainly glad she did—instead of hogging the ball, which they'd discussed at every practice so far, Caleb passed it to Tanner who scored in the last quarter, putting the Sea Turtles ahead by one. Addie cheered like a maniac, congratulating both boys.
"Great goal, Tanner! Great teamwork, Caleb!" Without even thinking about it, she turned reflexively to find Giff, sharing the moment with him. He held his thumb up, grinning like a proud papa bear.
Whether the Turtles held on to their slight lead or not for the few remaining minutes of the game, this one had been close and they could hold their heads high. It in no way resembled last week's fiasco. Crying Sam hadn't even shed a single tear! One of the kids on the other team attempted a desperate high kick even though he was on completely the opposite side of the field from his goal, and several of the Turtles scrambled to get control of the ball. Tanner sprinted toward it, misjudging where it would land, and got nailed squarely in the head, falling backward.
"Tanner!" Trying not to think about the memo she'd seen about freak brain injuries being the reason this league didn't allow head shots, she raced toward Tanner. It wasn't until she reached his side that she realized Giff was right next to her, somehow having caught up even though he'd been farther away.
Tanner glanced up at the two of them and frowned. "Could someone help me up?"
"You sure you're all right?" Addie demanded, checking him for bruises or cuts. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Two. Jeesh. I'm fine. Tell her, Mr. Giff."
"You go sit with Giff, I'm calling in a substitution." Addie felt foolish for overreacting, shaky in the aftermath of her adrenaline rush. Mandy filled in for Tanner and acquitted herself well but no one else scored. Tanner had made the last goal of the game, taking the Turtles to victory.
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