“I trust you have what you need now for the events on the tour schedule?”
I jumped at the sound of his voice. He studied me, a gaze of his I’d grown used to.
“Yes, thank you for asking…and for coming along today. Cody had a good time.”
A cold chill invaded my gut as I thought about the huge debt I owed.
“It’s a part of the job.”
I nodded. Of course…I am his job. Remember that, Angie.
The car stopped outside of the T. Ross Building and I stepped out. I realized then that Pippy had never texted me back about the missing receipt. It took every shred of courage for me to ask him, but I needed to know the final number—the damage.
Turning back toward the car as Cody walked into the lobby, I indicated for Jackson to roll his window down. He did, tilting his head to the side, brows raised.
“Is there something wrong, Miss Flores?”
“Uh—not exactly, I just couldn’t find the receipt for the purchases today…and I need to know the total.”
His head tilted to the side as he seemed to ponder some deep, philosophical query. I was about to restate my question when he finally opened his mouth.
“You have no total. Your moral issue has been resolved.”
“I—what do you mean, exactly? I thought we had an understanding that I only wanted a loan. I am going to repay every penny, as I indicated to you earlier.” My frustration grew exponentially as he leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms, amusement dancing on his lips.
I opened my mouth, no sound coming out.
“You had a moral issue with the company expensing more than three dresses because that is all you could afford? Correct?”
My brows furrowed. “Yes, that is what I said.”
“Great. Well, your purchases today were not expensed. They are a gift. And after careful deliberation with my own moral compass, I hope you will come to the same conclusion as I have: a gift cannot be repaid.”
I gawked at him. He cannot be serious.
“No…” I shook my head. “There are six dresses in my room right now.” I pointed to the building as if he could see them with some magical x-ray vision. “That’s an extraordinary amount of money! I cannot accept any gift that large—not from the company.”
He was quiet for a beat too long as I tried to ignore what I was reading in his eyes.
“It’s not from the company.”
Flames engulfed my neck and face. “I cannot accept a gift of that magnitude, Mr. Ross.”
“I assure you I expect nothing in return. No need to jump to any ridiculous conclusions. They are only pieces of cloth, Miss Flores. Not a dowry.”
I was beyond mortified. If only I could die. Right here. On the sidewalk.
“I—I—”
“Goodnight, Miss Flores.”
He rolled his window up as I stared after the black town car driving away.
Despite my resolve to have the last word…tonight would not be that night.
Chapter Seven
Three interviews spread between NYC and Philadelphia, along with five bookstore signings and a whole lot of eating out later, there was one glaringly obvious common denominator: no Jackson.
I had begun to think he’d given all responsibility over to Pippy when he suddenly showed up Thursday morning at a radio interview in Rochester. Cody was waiting with Pippy just outside the studio, watching us through the glass. I had my headphones on, as did Sue Bolan who was representing our Publisher’s tour with me today. I knew the drill by now. They usually asked around six to eight questions, all of which I had read and approved beforehand.
Though I’d taken my own precautions by changing my last name from Luterra to Flores after the attack six years ago, I couldn’t be too cautious—not when it came to Cody. His name was innocent of his father’s sins. And I’d do anything for it to stay that way.
I smiled at the host, feeling confident about the interview…until I saw Jackson standing in the control room with headphones on, staring at me.
“…you have one son, and you have raised him entirely on your own?” Brian Marks—the radio DJ asked me.
“That’s correct. It’s just been Cody and me since his birth, although I’ve had wonderful support from my brother and some good friends.”
“So it does take a village then—to raise a child?” he asked.
“Oh, absolutely. I think one wrong assumption that is made about single parenting is that we have to be both mom and dad—and that is simply not possible. Responsible parenting involves creating a world in which there are multiple healthy influences pouring into your child’s life. We are connected to a church that has really helped me with that challenge. I think that is one of the most important aspects of parenting—whether single or married.”
“I think you make a great point, Angela,” Brian said. “A well-rounded child is one that is connected to the world around them. You certainly seem like you’re a good mom, and I’ll tell you folks, her picture on her blog, A Lone Joy, does little justice to the beautiful woman that sits before me now. Let me be the first to say, you don’t have a face for radio.”
He winked at me as I blushed, fingering my necklace. “Well, thank you. I do try to be a good mom, but behind every good mom there’s a mom that is afraid she’s failed.”
“And what’s your advice to those mothers—single moms in particular?” he asked.
“Not to give up. To look at each day with fresh eyes, no matter how hard things were the day before. To remember the reasons why your heart sings when you see your child succeed in something, or when you watch them make a choice for the benefit of another person. To stop comparing yourself to the mom down the street that has, does, and is everything that you are not. At the end of the day, if your child knows that you love them…let that be enough. And let tomorrow be a clean slate.”
“Well said.” Brian grinned at me. “Smart, talented and gorgeous. I have a feeling you won’t be single for long Miss Angela Flores. NYC, you’ll want to meet this pretty lady. Her tour dates and schedule are located on our website. Check them out…and we’ll be back in a moment to talk with Sue Bolan about her book Adoption Answers—what are the questions and answers you need to know?”
Brian hit two buttons in sequence then took off his headphones and stared at me.
He pushed long blonde hair out of his eyes and reached his hand out for mine as I stood. “Wow, you were awesome—a pro! If being a big time author doesn’t pan out, you should look me up. I’ll hire you, though I was serious about your face not being made for radio. You shouldn’t be held up in some dark hole like me.”
I shook his hand as heat rushed my face. “Well, thank you, you made it easy.”
He was handsome, in his own way. Blue eyes, fair skin, and a couple tattoos on his right bicep. His face wasn’t made to be in radio either, but I wouldn’t dare say that aloud.
“Here…” He handed me his card. “If you ever want a tour guide while you’re here, I’ve grown up in New York. I can show you an insider’s tour.”
“Oh, well…thanks. I have Cody, so I doubt I’ll have a free evening.”
He shrugged. “I like kids. Bring him with you. I gotta get back on the air, but call, anytime. I mean it.”
“Thank you again, Brian.”
I left the studio just as Sue began drumming a nervous rhythm with her fingernails on the table in front of her, headphone on, eyes closed. She hated radio interviews; she had told me so earlier, which was why I had gone first.
Cody opened the studio door and rushed to hug me. “You did so great, Mom! Pippy said it was your best one yet.”
Pippy nodded in confirmation as I saw Jackson step out of the control room—face tight, pensive. As he walked past us, I fought the urge to ask what he thought.
Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold.
The man was a broken water heater.
Keeping my eyes on Jackson—who was ten steps ahead of us—I asked, “So what else is on
the agenda today?”
“Well, I promised Cody he could meet my brother today. What do you think about getting a little tour through Pinkerton Press?”
“Oh that sounds great…how far away is the office building?”
“About an hour from here, give or take, with traffic. It’s only a few blocks down from where you’re staying.” She smiled and shrugged, stopping in the hallway as Cody ran to catch up with Mr. Ross.
“Aren’t you coming?” I asked her.
“Oh, didn’t I mention I have to stay until Sue is finished?” She smiled at me sweetly.
“Uh…no. Do you want us to wait with you, then?”
“No, absolutely not. Mr. Ross is going to take you. He’s agreed to give you the tour—thinks it will be fun, actually. I’ll just meet up with you there.”
“Are you serious? I highly doubt Mr. Ross wants to be our tour guide. He barely wants to say hello to me. I think I’d rather wait for you.”
Now she was laughing, full-on Pippy-laughing.
“What? I’m serious. The guy is like a dark rain cloud who keeps the sun away on purpose! Does he even know what fun is?” I planted my hands on my hips, battling a smile that kept trying to sneak across my lips.
“I promise…he’s not usually…like that—” Pippy was laughing so hard she could barely speak.
“Pippy, I am an expert in the art of denial, and you’ve got it, bad.”
Her laughing slowed as she shook her head. “It isn’t like that. I’ve known him a very long time…he’s one of the best people this world has to offer. He’s just going through an rough season-”
“Yeah, I’ve said that line myself. I know all about ‘rough seasons’. Believe me.”
I stared as her face sobered almost immediately. What was her loyalty to this guy?
Suddenly I remembered all the times she’d come to his defense. And when I saw her straighten his tie before dinner last week. How she brings him a morning coffee without being asked, and laughs when no one else finds him funny.
She was a sweet-natured girl, but could it be more?
Could Pippy be in love with Jackson?
She may have been close to ten years his junior, but that wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility…was it? Pressure built in my chest, almost to the point of explosion. I opened my mouth to—
“Are you coming, Miss Flores? Cody and Mr. Ross are waiting in the car for you.” It was Walt. Good old, sweet Walt who had probably put up with years of ego-driven demands from Jackson Ross.
I narrowed my eyes at Pippy. “We are not done with this conversation. There is a lot more I feel I need to say to you.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Oh…okay, sure.”
Her face had guilt written all over it.
I shook my head, heart reeling at the results of my detective work.
Chapter Eight
“You know, if your brow was any more furrowed, I believe steam would be coming out your ears.” Jackson glanced at me for the millionth time since I got into the car.
I ignored him again.
The longer I sat on the knowledge I’d uncovered, the more anxious I became. I cared about Pippy—a lot. I felt a sort of loyalty toward her that caused my inner-mama bear to awaken. I wanted to protect her, her heart especially. Though I had never sensed any physical danger from Mr. Ross, his personality type was dominant, one that could easily overpower her sweet spirit and optimism for life—and her innocence.
I couldn’t sit back and watch that play out. I wouldn’t. My fingers curled into fists.
“Mom, do you have the grumpies?” Cody turned around in his seat.
“What? No,” I said quickly.
“It looks like you do. You’ve had a lot of think time, and you still look grumpy.”
I shook my head, “No, Cody—”
Jackson leaned forward and grinned at Cody. “Hmm…what’s this about curing the grumpies, Cody?”
“It’s what mom and I do when one of us is having a bad day. I just need to find the right music…”
“Cody,” I warned through my teeth.
“Sorry, Mom, but you always say we don’t make good decisions when we’re grumpy. Mr. Walt, can I search for the right station on your radio?”
“Certainly, Mr. Cody. Be my guest.” Walt laughed.
I closed my eyes. This is not happening!
Soon the car was filled with a beat that could have roused the dead. Cody began his signature car dance in his seat, and a deep laugh boomed from Mr. Ross. Soon Walt was grooving, also. I bit the corners of my cheeks to halt my smile from filling out my face, but soon lost the battle. When Mr. Ross joined in the hip-hop with a roll of his shoulders, I had to surrender.
A giggle spluttered from my lips. My whole body quaked with chuckles that demanded release. Mr. Ross turned his head toward me and raised his eyebrows.
“It really works then, huh? The cure?”
“For the moment.”
“Ah, yes. That does seem to be the way of a woman.” He shook his head and looked down at his phone.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I raised my voice to compensate for the music. Walt and Cody were still dancing in the front seat.
“It means you women never know what you’re feeling. One moment up, the next moment down…pick one.”
“At least I have more than one mood to choose from!” I hissed.
He glared at me, searching my face.
“Good to know.”
“What’s good to know?” I balked.
“What you think of me.”
“I…I don’t think of you in any way…I don’t think of you at all.” I was digging a slow grave.
A crooked smile painted his mouth. “Well, you might consider thinking about me a little bit more the next time you accept a date while on the clock—a clock I help provide payroll for.”
What? What was he talking about?
He held my gaze, pushing me to remember a memory that I didn’t have. I never accepted a date…wait…
“You mean with Brian? That’s not—”
“Please keep your personal agendas from interfering with company time.”
“Unbelievable,” I murmured under my breath.
“What is?” He said, leaning toward me.
“Your attention to personal detail within this company is quite limited if you ask me, yet no one is willing to step in to protect the virtue of a young woman who’s in way over her head.”
He furrowed his eyebrows as his mouth turned down. “Excuse me?”
I leaned in closer and spewed the words. “You know exactly what I am talking about.”
The car lurched to a stop. Cody opened his door and stared up at the skyscraper in front of us. I was much too distracted by the intensity of the man sitting beside me to shift gears.
“I’m afraid I have no earthly idea what you’re referring to, Miss Flores.”
“Pippy! She’s in love with you! And you treat her like a groupie in your fan club, leading her on without a care in the world.”
His mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened.
Closed.
Then . . .he laughed.
Tears poured from his eyes. It was the first light-hearted laugh from him I’d heard. I refused to let my body warm and relax the way it wanted to at the mellow sound. Instead, my cheeks heated at the nerve of this man—this man to whom I was so physically attracted it was almost painful.
Bolting from the car, I grabbed Cody’s hand and stalked to the building’s main entrance.
At least for once, I’d had the last word—sort of. If you didn’t count the laugh of an evil villain as a word.
**********
I heard Jackson—Mr.Ross—behind us. He was still cackling as he walked into the building. He laughed in the elevator, and all the way down the hall, composing himself only when we reached the doorway to Peter’s small office.
“Hey, there!” A masculine version of Pippy stood before me: charm
ing, slim, handsome. He shook my hand and waved us inside, greeting Cody with a fist bump.
“You must be Angela Flores,” Peter said. “Pippy has told me so much about you—she really likes working with you.”
“Well, I have really loved working with your sister as well. She’s a special girl.” I glanced behind me at Mr. Ross, who had started laughing again.
“Tell…tell Peter your diagnosis of Pippy,” Mr. Ross said.
“What?” I scowled at him.
“What diagnosis?” Peter’s lighthearted attitude showed through his question. He was just like his sister, smiling like the world was made of gumdrops and mint patties.
“Mrs. Flores has just informed me that Pippy is in love with me. Weren’t those your words?” His gaze gleamed amusement.
Peter gaped at me and then scratched his head, cheeks reddening. I was so confused. What is going on here?
“Uh, that’s not possible.” Peter’s face quickly went from embarrassment to pure pity.
“Why’s that?” I asked softly, already feeling the weight of my body pressing against my knees. I wasn’t stable. This wasn’t going to end well. I braced my hand against the wall.
“Mr. Ross is our Uncle.”
Oh Gosh…Oh Gosh…Oh Gosh…
I’m an idiot…I’m an idiot…I’m an idiot…
“It’s okay…he’s only ten years older than us, so I could see how…well, maybe…” Peter started then his voice trailed off.
He was trying to make me feel better—very Pippy-style—but it wasn’t going over well. If I could melt and slither away between the seams of the wood paneling, I’d jump at the chance.
“No, I’m so sorry. Gosh, I’m so very sorry.” The lame words stuttered from my lips. “Is there a restroom nearby?”
“Sure, right down the hall next to the elevator. Want to meet us on the second floor in the café? It’ll get too busy if we don’t secure a table soon. Pippy is on her way.”
All Who Dream (Letting Go) Page 6