by Dara Girard
“No, I’m not. You?”
“No.”
She bit her lip. She wouldn’t ask him if he was seeing somebody, although she was dying of curiosity, that would be taking things too far. Unless he asked her.
Which he didn’t.
She changed the subject but had never been able to look at him the same neutral way again. She remembered the slow, tender way his large hand had slid through the terrier’s short white fur, its tail wagging in pleasure; the quick way he grabbed Mr. Fischer’s elbow when the older man briefly lost his balance after turning too quickly. And she looked at the hand now, large and strong as it rested on his lap and wondered what else it could do. How it would feel touching or holding her.
Now she’d never know.
4
A woman.
He’d nearly blown his cover because of a woman.
Dylan tapped his thumb against the steering wheel as he made his way home under a sky that threatened rain.
Getting fired was one thing, falling for a woman like Jodi was another. It wasn’t shaping up to be a good day. No, but I like you. He groaned. Telling her that had been out of character. He was usually more detached, more controlled. Instead he’d been reckless and nearly ruined everything. The phone call had been a savior. The moment she left, he bolted. It was the best strategy. She could never know who he really was or, better yet, who his grandmother was.
He glanced at the backseat of his car and saw the empty leash he’d tossed there. It had once belonged to a little mutt called Roscoe who’d he’d taken care of for three years. But he felt as if he’d owned the friendly dog all his life. A dog who seemed to read his moods, who looked like he was always smiling and could make any bad day turn around by picking up his favorite toy—an orange octopus—and placing it on Dylan’s lap.
He could blame his strange behavior on having to put Roscoe down, but he knew that was a lousy excuse. He’d said what he’d said because he wanted to. He wanted her to know. He wanted to get it off his chest. He thought it would make him feel better since he’d lied to her all these weeks.
It hadn’t helped. But he knew he had to focus on something else. What he would tell his grandmother. He knew she wouldn’t like what he had to share.
Elena glared at her grandson. “Nothing! You have discovered nothing?”
Dylan sat in front of her in the conference room. He could have sent her the final report, but decided to deliver it to her in person. “I’ve sent you updates—”
“That were as empty as a beggar’s pockets.”
He shrugged.
“Don’t do that. I hate when you do that.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“I sometimes wonder if you’re truly an imbecile.” She lifted a finger. “And if you shrug I will throw something at you.”
He folded his arms.
“I want you to find something useful.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I got fired.”
“You what?”
“Fired.” He cut his hand cross his neck. “The ax.”
“Why?”
He shrugged.
She balled up a sheet of paper and threw it at him. “Tell me why?”
“There was a misunderstanding, but it was better this way. Things were getting…uncomfortable.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
Briefly. Yes. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.
“When things become tough you fight harder.”
With Jodi I was ready to surrender. I don’t think you would have liked that.
“You’re completely useless.”
He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. “No, I’m not. I’ve saved you from wasting your time. I’ve told you the things you can do to make sure that By Your Side doesn’t corner the market. You can create a chasm they will never be able to cross. Don’t dilute yourself by worrying about what they’re doing.”
Elena stood and pointed to her chair. “Do you want this seat? Do you think you can run this company better?”
“I was just—”
“I give orders, I don’t take them. Especially not from someone who can’t do a simple job. Someone who doesn’t care about where this company will be in twenty years.”
He rubbed his nose. “Are we done?”
“If Flynn’s Fleets fails in any way, whether in market share, revenue, anything, I will blame you!”
Dylan stood. “I met someone.”
Elena’s eyes widened. “What?”
He pushed in his chair and walked towards her. “Someone who for a moment made me not give a damn about you or this business. Someone I wanted to be with.” He stopped in front of her and waved her questions away. “Don’t worry. I won’t see her again. There’s no chance of that. I just thought I should warn you.” He looked down at her. “You’d better lengthen this leash or you will regret it.”
She met his gaze. “What do you want?”
“You know what I want.”
“Your mother isn’t worth—” She stopped when his gaze darkened. “Promise you’ll come back to us.”
“No.”
“Put your suggestions in writing and I’ll see about your mother’s investment.”
He straightened, pleased. His grandmother had been pulling the purse strings on his mother’s money for too long. He wanted his mother afforded a little more freedom and share in the company. “Good.” He turned to the door.
“But be careful.”
He looked back at her. “Why?”
“Don’t let another woman become your weak spot. I will use it to my advantage.”
He grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”
5
Cara looked up surprised when Jodi entered the office. Their office was an open space with three desks and a corner office where the supervisor worked. Cara worked as the receptionist. It wasn’t a large office, the owner, Larry Williams, worked in another office down the hall. “I didn’t expect to see you back here,” she said.
Joyce Dennis shook her head, her curly brown hair, bobbing against her smooth round cheeks. Although she was a few years older than Jodi’s thirty-three years, she looked younger. She headed operations and Jodi worked as her assistant. Jodi admired her skills in the office and wished she could emulate Joyce’s style, but could only afford to wear the same perfume. “I told you you had nothing to worry about,” she said.
Jodi sat at her desk. “What are you two talking about?”
“That guy you had to fire,” Cara said.
“What about him?”
“Glad it wasn’t me,” Joyce said.
“How did he take it?” Cara asked.
“He was fine.”
They stared at her unconvinced.
“Really,” Jodi said with a bright smile. “It was nothing.”
“Larry’s lucky,” Cara said.
“And doesn’t he know it,” Joyce added. “You’ve saved his hide more times than I can count. You should be in that corner office instead of Natalie.”
“Not really.”
“Hey, without your dyslexia I’d be worried about my job,” Joyce said with a laugh. “If you put your mind to it, you could be running this company. You come up with all the ideas she takes credit for.”
“It’s okay, Natalie knows how to package and sell them to the president.”
“A couple of reports,” Cara said with a wave. “Big deal. You shouldn’t let your dyslexia stop you.”
Joyce stood. “I’m getting something from the store, want anything?”
The two women declined. Once she was gone, Jodi looked at Cara and said, “Did you put it on his desk?”
“Yes, just as you asked me to.”
Cara had helped Jodi put another plan together. She’d been burned enough to know she couldn’t trust Natalie.
One day she did want to be in the corner office. She wanted to be where the real change happened and not j
ust one of the foot soldiers, but she couldn’t do that without some help and that kept her options limited.
Nobody knew her secret and she’d keep it that way. She’d gotten farther than most and Larry had given her a chance. If not for him she would have still been a driver, he’d promoted her to the role she now had. A position she’d guard for the rest of her life, as long as she kept her secret safe.
Natalie came into the room holding a bottle of champagne. “Party time. We just closed another major contract with Ravenwood.”
Jodi felt her heart constrict. Ravenwood? Her Ravenwood?
“What do you mean?” Cara asked.
“Dad loved my idea so much he immediately put it into action.”
“That was Jodi’s idea and you know it.”
Natalie blinked. “Was it? I noticed a basic draft of a vague idea on my father’s desk, but it really wouldn’t have gone anywhere if I hadn’t fleshed it out.” She looked at Jodi. “Besides, you understand the hierarchy of things here. I hope you won’t forget that next time.”
Jodi gripped her hands into fists, her heart filled with anger. She was the reason Jodi had had to fire Dylan and this was the third idea Natalie had claimed as her own and there was nothing she could do.
Cara jumped to her feet. “You little—”
“I won’t,” Jodi cut in, not wanting her friend to get into trouble.
Natalie set the champagne bottle on Jodi’s desk. “You can enjoy this. It’s expensive. I’m leaving early.” She sashayed back to her office and closed the door.
“She’s always leaving early,” Cara said.
Jodi lifted the bottle and studied the label. “She’s lucky.”
“Are you okay?” Cara asked.
“Don’t ask me that now.” Jodi set the bottle back down. “If I could punch her I would.”
Joyce returned looking sad.
“What is it?” Cara asked.
“I just got a phone call. We’ve had a cancellation. Mrs. Kwan died.”
6
Death row.
Jodi tried not to think of it that way as she saw the cage door close behind Gus, a little basset hound. He’d been Mrs. Li Kwan’s closest companion for the last seven years of her life, but her family didn’t want him and he was an old dog. Jodi didn’t have the time to attend the passing of all the clients, but for long time ones like Mrs. Kwan, By Your Side tried to make sure that someone made an appearance. This time it was her turn. Mrs. Kwan’s daughter had been so distraught and overwhelmed by her mother’s passing that Jodi had offered to take the dog to the animal shelter.
However, leaving him there had been harder than she’d expected.
Jodi watched him being led to one of the cages, his sad little face briefly gazing back at her as he was being led away. If only she had more time. I hope someone sees how special you are. You deserve a second chance.
We all deserve a second chance, she thought and her mind briefly drifted to Dylan being fired and what he might have said more than a week ago, but she pushed it away. That chance had passed. She blinked back tears not wanting to think of Gus’s uncertain future and walked away.
All the lights were on. Jodi sighed with a heavy heart as she parked in front of the large five bedroom colonial she shared with her parents. It was the same house where her mother had once worked as a housekeeper and where they had lived for the past twenty years in the basement apartment as live-in help. Four years ago they’d inherited the property on the condition that they rent the upstairs level and other stipulations that Jodi let their lawyer handle.
She didn’t enjoy sharing the house with various strangers, the latest, a woman who barely spoke to her and liked to use as much electricity as was feasible. Thankfully, she was scheduled to leave by the end of the month. Jodi hoped that they could have peace for a least a few weeks before her lawyer, Annette Dobson, who vetted the different residents, told her of a new occupant. The house was located in a prime location only forty-five minutes from DC and Virginia so they always had someone ready to rent the main house.
Twice she’d thought of moving, but she needed to stay close to her parents. For various emotional and health issues, they refused to leave.
Jodi walked into the main house, although she and her parents had a private entrance to the basement, to make sure everything was okay. She did that occasionally to keep an eye on things. Once inside she was glad she had when she heard the faucet running in the kitchen, music playing in another room and something sizzling somewhere, the smell acrid. She found the tenant in front of the TV.
“I smell something burning,” she said.
The woman swore then dashed into the kitchen just as the smoke alarm sounded. Jodi made her way to the basement level where she lived. She looked forward to a long soak in the bathtub, but knew she had to visit with her parents first. She found them in the living area. Her mother sat in front of the TV wrapped in her favorite floral patterned housecoat, her hair pulled back in a bun with a deep purple scrunchie that matched the lipstick she’d chosen, which she felt complimented her dark skin. Her father sat next to her reading, his glasses low on his broad nose, a tissue sticking out of the front pocket of his red chambray shirt.
“I’m home,” Jodi said, glad that the smell of smoke hadn’t reached the basement. Instead the place smelled like her father’s favorite banana custard.
“What’s that sound?” her father asked, staring up at the ceiling.
“She set off the smoke alarm.”
“Again?” he said with a frown.
Her mother held out her hand. “Did you get me what I wanted?”
Jodi placed the carton of cigarettes in her hand. “I wasn’t able to get you your regular brand because they were out.”
Her mother tossed it on the ground. “But you know I don’t want any other brand.”
Jodi picked the carton off the ground and placed it beside her. “Mom, you are cutting down anyway.”
“But it doesn’t taste the same.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I waited all day.”
“Mom.”
“If you were Shelley, she would get them for me.”
“Mom, please.”
She wiped her tears. “All day I was looking forward to it. I didn’t ask for anything else. I asked for only one thing and you couldn’t even get it for me.”
“Were you able to get the Lore Hardo Bread?” her father asked.
“I’m sorry,” Jodi said, “but when I went by the shop they told me that it’s discontinued.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “What? My favorite bread too?”
“They’ve got another brand—”
“Don’t tell me about another brand. I don’t want another brand. I want what I want.” She got up and started to pace, shaking her arms and clenching her hands. “What am I going to do? What am I going to do?”
Jodi reached for her. “Mom—”
She snatched her arm away. “No, no, this isn’t fair. Why can’t you do anything right?”
Her father stood and took her hand. “My darling. Calm down.”
“I’m so unhappy,” she said sounding miserable. “I waited all day. All day.”
He pulled her close and hugged her. He knew how to soothe her in a way Jodi never could no matter how she tried. Within a few moments he got her mother to sit down and apologize then she asked, “How’s your sister?”
“Fine,” Jodi said.
“It would be nice if she came around every once in a while.”
“I know.”
“Invite her over for dinner.”
I have. She won’t come. “I will,” Jodi said in the practiced manner she’d used many times before.
“Have you eaten?” her father asked.
“Yes,” she lied. She didn’t want him to worry about her. “I’ll go now.”
She decided to call her sister while she filled the bathtub for a long soak.
“They’re asking after you,” Jodi said once her sister answered.<
br />
“So?”
She added some bubbles to the water, filling the air with the scent of strawberry. “They miss you.”
“I don’t miss them,” Shelley said in a flat voice. “I send them money and pictures, that’s all they need.”
“They raised us.”
“No, you raised me not them.”
“Shelley.”
“What did Mom do this time? You always ask me to come over when you feel guilty about something.”
Jodi inwardly cringed remembering her mother’s disappointment with the cigarettes. She hated being predictable. “It was just a thought.”
She heard a child’s voice in the background. “I have to go,” her sister said then hung up before Jodi could say goodbye.
Jodi sighed and placed the phone aside and turned off the water. She couldn’t blame her sister for keeping her distance. Shelley wanted to have a normal life. One with a father who wasn’t sickly; one with a mother who was sensible and mature.
Their parents’ union had been an odd match. Their father had been thirty years older than their mother when they fell in love. He’d been socially awkward most of his life and their mother was simple and kind and eager for affection. Their relationship worked for them, but not when it came to rearing children.
She’d learned early that her mother didn’t handle change or stress well and when their father, a former engineer, became ill—first with a stroke, then two falls—all the caretaking fell to her. Her mother managed to keep her various jobs—waitress, retail clerk and eventually as a live-in housekeeper—but that was all. The rest of the family household responsibilities—the cooking, cleaning, caretaking and earning extra money—fell on Jodi’s capable shoulders. She missed many school days, but her teachers pushed her through—some out of pity, others from apathy.
In the ninth grade, one teacher let her know how most felt about her after she’d received another failing grade. “I get paid whether you remain stupid or not.” Jodi dropped out of school and started working fulltime by taking babysitting jobs and she lied about her age and managed to get low wage jobs no one else wanted. When she was of legal age, she worked in a few fast food places until she was able to convince the owner of the house where her mother was the housekeeper to also let her work there.