The previous weekend, Karen managed to extract the news that her mother’s blood pressure was out of whack. Now, she forced a cheerful note into her voice. “How are you feeling this morning? Do you have more energy?”
“I’m fine. The doctor says it’ll take a few weeks to adjust to the new meds.” Lena normally waved off discussions about her age or health, not wanting to bother anyone.
“But that’s normal? Other than that, you’re okay?”
“Honey, I’m fine. How are you? How’s Steve?”
“He’s busy.” Karen could say that without lying. Surely her husband was busy with work. And his girlfriend. “What has Aunt Marie been up to?”
“She’s out in the vegetable garden. She does most of the work lately since I’ve been more tired. Says her job is to grow it, and my job is to eat it.”
“I’m glad she’s looking out for you.” When Karen’s father died, her mother was lonely, so she invited her widowed sister to move in. Ironic that, at this point in their lives, the elderly sisters were living together again as they had in childhood.
“Looks like we’re getting a bumper crop of zucchini.”
“Is there any other kind?” Karen asked. “The neighbors will start hiding from you.” As a kid, she grew beans, tomatoes, and other vegetables for her family table. To this day, the smell of fresh dill sent her back to that garden. She often thought about starting one here. The side yard was big enough, and received plenty of sun. But her days were too busy. The dream would have to wait until she retired.
“Father Engel had a dedication this morning for the new banquet hall. He said to thank you for your donation.”
“Glad to help,” said Karen.
“People still ask about you. I saw Denise, your friend from high school. Told her you’re a big shot for an insurance company.”
“Not like you’re bragging.”
“Well, I am. I’m proud of you,” said Mom. “And I’m glad you found something you love to do.”
“Me, too.” Karen once loved working for Global, but now she focused on the people. She hadn’t felt connected to corporate for a very long time, a fact she attributed to her number of years on the job. It was probably unrealistic to expect a person to work in the same place for decades and still carry a burning flame of enthusiasm.
“And I saw that boy, Curt.”
Karen snapped out of her reverie. “What’d he say? How is he doing?”
“He’s about to retire. And he was with a new gal, somebody who hasn’t been to church with him before. She was hanging on him like her life depended on it.”
“Hmm.” Karen declined to take the bait.
“She didn’t look very happy when he asked about you. Didn’t you have a crush on him at one time?”
More like all through high school. Even now, years later, she still wondered about him. Probably every first kiss was like that. “It was a long time ago, Mom.”
“Well, he’s still good looking. Has all his hair. I’m sure he’d enjoy seeing you. If you were to come out, I mean.”
Karen made a face, glad they weren’t on video phone. “I’m married, remember?”
“I didn’t mean go out with him. I think he remembers you fondly, as a friend. That’s all.” Her mother spoke to her sister and returned to the phone. “Aunt Marie asks what are you doing for the Fourth of July.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’d like to come visit, but I can’t get away.”
“We know that. I just wanted to know if you’re planning anything fun. Honey, you seem strung kind of tight. Is everything okay?”
“Really, it is. I’m happy. Life is good, but busy. That’s all.”
Silence on the other end.
“Mom, are you still there?”
“Anyway,” said her mother, “we’re going to Lorraine’s, like last year. You can see a whole bunch of fireworks from her field.”
“I remember. It’s a good show. I wish I—we—could be there with you.” She winced. Her mother had a sixth sense. Karen had told her nothing, not that there was anything to tell. Steve might come back. He had before.
“Can you come out for the holidays?” Mom asked. “Do you have any vacation saved up?”
“I have tons of it. How about Thanksgiving? I could stay the whole four days. Maybe I could get in touch with Denise and the gang.” Thinking of it, Karen felt the pull of her hometown. It would be good to see her friends and, more than anything, to give her mother a big, long hug. “I’m putting it on my calendar now.”
“Wonderful. How many years since you were last out here?”
“A while.” Karen closed her eyes.
“And tell that husband of yours we’re looking forward to seeing him, too.”
“I will, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you too, honey.”
When they hung up, Karen went straight to her computer and bought tickets. As she knew all too well, something else might arise, and she would be tempted to delay her visit. That could not happen this time. Her mother’s age made time together more precious than ever. Whether or not Steve went with her, whether she lied to her mother or told her the truth, nothing else mattered except going home in November.
LENA HUNG UP. SHE STILL used a landline, although a cellphone resided in the bottom of her purse. She sank into a chair at the kitchen table, feeling as ancient as the heavy old phone.
Marie came in from the back yard with a box of lettuce and zucchini. “Any news?”
“She’s not coming until Thanksgiving.”
“That’s months from now.”
“I know. Well, she’s doing the best she can.”
“Ach,” Marie muttered. “You ask me, it’s not good enough. I don’t understand that girl. Doesn’t she have any feelings?”
“Sure she does. She wants to come, but she has too much on her plate.”
“What else is new?” Marie turned on the faucets and rinsed the lettuce. “Is it the husband or the job?”
“Both. She’s not happy. She pretends, but I can tell.” Lena gazed out the window, overwhelmed by memories. She was born in this house, literally. That’s how women did it back then. An ancient spruce tree, planted by her father in the last century, shaded the yard. When her parents died, Lena and Frank moved in. A few years later, he built the garage, a wood structure with double doors on the front. Karen had grown up here. The cement slab next to the porch held handprints from three generations.
Lena shook her head. So much life here over the years. So much death.
Her heart fluttered. She absently rubbed the left side of her chest. A mother suffered along with her child, no matter the age.
“I thought Father’s talk this morning was very good,” Marie said.
“Reminding yourself to appreciate the moment.” Lena responded with fake enthusiasm, a strategy the sisters employed to pull themselves out of a funk, a strategy more and more necessary as they dealt with the challenges of aging.
“Did you hear Lillian remind us about helping serve breakfast for the homeless on Wednesday?”
“Only about a hundred times.” Lena stood, grasping the back of the chair as a wave of light-headedness rolled over her.
Marie worked at the sink. “Did Karen say Steve would come?”
Lena went over and stood by her sister, their shoulders touching. “She thinks I don’t know.”
“Trying to protect you,” said Marie.
“Yes. Karen’s a good daughter.”
Marie dried off her hands. “Why don’t you go lie down for a while? I’ll fix us sandwiches and call you.”
Lena nodded. Her legs felt like lead as she padded down the hall to her bedroom.
Chapter 3
Reyna Castillo wanted more.
She cranked up the volume on her iPod, gathered her thick hair into a ponytail, and clicked the plus button on the treadmill. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hotel gym, the fog dissipated. Its cottony tufts turned pink and gold as it retreated to the horiz
on, revealing the sprawling reach of the glittering Pacific.
The treadmill picked up speed, and so did Reyna, not in the mood for landscapes.
Reyna worked at Global’s San Francisco office as the assistant to Lou Cullen. When she learned he would be sending a team south to audit Newport Beach, she asked to be included. He agreed. His goal as CEO was to root out waste and fat in the Newport operation.
Reyna agreed, but planned to take it further.
They’d arrived last Monday. After half a day of glad-handing, Lou disappeared with Wes, the Newport head of operations, for the first of many rounds of golf. Harold, theoretically the facilities guy, took off most of every day, returning with shopping bags from Fashion Island. The auditors, older men she thought of as the three amigos, spent the week poring over spreadsheets.
Reyna worked alone, doing her own audit. Unfortunately, after a week of looking, she’d found nothing. The waste, fraud, and abuse she’d hoped to uncover appeared nonexistent.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t searched diligently. Karen Grace had turned over the books to the auditing team, even allowing the employees to be interviewed. The tedium almost swamped Reyna, but the only waste was that of her time. Karen ran a lean, highly trained staff. No fat to cut.
Which meant Reyna would have to move to Plan B sooner than she had anticipated.
Lou hired her right out of business school to serve as his assistant. Reyna kept her eyes open and mouth shut, absorbing information. She expected to learn cutting-edge methodology in a real-life setting. Instead, the corporation stood still and gathered cobwebs.
In college, she had learned that a business, like a shark, needed to keep moving or die. Her colleagues at Global had forgotten this truth, if they ever knew it. They seemed happy to repeat the same motions every day while the industry moved forward without them. Now the company was losing money. When Reyna offered to come up with ideas for cost-cutting, Lou encouraged her. Unfortunately, the Newport office ran like a brand-new machine. Their systems were squeaky clean and effective, no credit to Wes, who had abdicated to Karen Grace, his second in command.
The treadmill beeped, accelerating. She leaned into a sprint, reveling in her ability. At twenty-nine, she occupied the sweet spot of life—healthy, well-educated, and highly trained. She hungered for success and possessed energy to burn. She ran hard, the heavy footfalls of six other hotel guests thundering along with her. All men. Every time she glanced up, she’d see one or two checking her out.
No big deal. Reyna was used to men admiring her body, and it didn’t please or bother her. It was just something that went with the territory, like fog and coastlines. Sometimes it was beautiful. Sometimes, it caused wrecks.
Her heart pounded with the exertion of the treadmill and the excitement of her quest. Only one obstacle remained in her path—Karen Grace.
Grace was smart, effective, and determined. The corporate heads admired her. Any time they needed the Newport office to effect a change, they called Karen, even though technically Wes Farthington was in charge. Whereas Wes was indolent, Karen was formidable and tough.
But she was old. Old-ish, anyway. She had to be at least fifty, meaning she was vulnerable. When you got to be that age, CEOs started looking around for less expensive talent. For what Karen earned, a company could hire two recent college graduates.
Reyna wasn’t ageist. She was practical. Karen could hang on, but the tide of change would eventually wash her away.
The digital display beeped, indicating she’d reached her mileage goal. She stopped the treadmill and went over to the supply desk, where she uncapped a bottle of water and drank. The television monitor showed an eight-year-old child winning a science award. Reyna smiled at the image. The kid reminded her of herself. She had loved school, a refuge from the mean streets of her youth.
Even as a child, Reyna fended off distractions and focused on her classwork. That focus helped her win hardship grants to college, and top grades at Cal State.
She didn’t intend to slip backwards. Money, power, security—she craved those things. Not just for herself, but for her family. Her mother, who in her fifties worked as a hotel maid, and her three younger sisters, still living at home. Every day when Reyna commuted from the converted garage she rented, an hour north of San Francisco, she counted her blessings. The luxury of the corporate office was a far cry from Fresno’s public housing where she grew up.
Plan B would work. It had to.
She capped the bottle. Newport represented a logical target. The office existed solely because one of the founders, who lived in southern California, had insisted on it. However, he was now deceased, and Reyna saw no reason to keep the branch open. Closing it would result in huge savings.
She climbed aboard an elliptical machine, her arms and legs moving like a cross-country skier. Closing the office would be no simple thing. It needed to be done strategically, incrementally. The first big move would be the relentless cutting of staff. Work could be shifted north to the corporate office, under her supervision, of course. After a while, San Francisco would do all the work of the southern branch, rendering Newport obsolete.
She had sketched it out in her mind, and her plan was brilliant. So brilliant, she longed to share the details with Lou, but she couldn’t risk it. A person didn’t reach professional pinnacles without a certain Machiavellian streak, and she wouldn’t put it past him to steal her idea. When she quoted a dollar amount that she could save him, he promised her VP and the corner office if she delivered. The office next to his, overlooking the Golden Gate.
Lou had tried to figure out her plans, but Reyna knew there was no reward for good intentions, only execution. So she joked and changed the subject, keeping the conversation light. Keeping Lou in the dark until she could make the big kill.
And Karen—it was important the older woman not sense what was happening. For the past year, Reyna had tested the waters. She had tried to defeat Karen, interfering with budget requests and tightening up operational procedures. Nevertheless, the woman persevered, just as bullheaded as Reyna herself.
Later that day, the team would debrief at a cocktail party hosted by Karen at her home. Reyna, curious about the personal life of the HR boss, wondered what her house looked like, and if her marriage was really on the rocks as Wes had hinted. Smart of Karen to invite them into her territory, where her confidence would be at peak. To counter that advantage, Reyna would wear her black dress, the von Furstenberg sleeveless that made her feel like a kick ass Wall Street wonder.
She turned up the speed on the elliptical. Sixty seconds later, her quads began to burn. Reyna knew you had to break down the muscles to rebuild them stronger. No reward without pain.
The clock on the far wall read half past seven. Lou wanted to have breakfast with her, but he’d had a lot to drink last night, so she’d probably get a pass on that. She would order room service, eat in privacy, and think her thoughts without having to do the political dance. Lou was an interesting guy, low-key but formidable. On the outside he came across as courteous and personable, but his warm exterior concealed a calculating brain. If he lost interest in you as a corporate asset, you might as well find another job. She had seen it happen to her coworkers. It wouldn’t happen to her.
Reyna possessed a killer combination of brains and beauty. She had cultivated Lou’s curiosity, delivering exceptional work while not hiding her curvaceous body. She maintained this high wire act for several years. So far it was working. Lou stayed in her corner, nobody succeeded in sabotaging her, and her virtue remained intact.
She frowned at the complexity of it. Men only had to go to work and play the game. Women had to work, play the game, and not play the game—without pissing off the men to the point they’d run you off the court. It was exhausting. She looked forward to the day when she wielded enough clout to be free of the bullshit. Once her plan materialized, she would deal with Lou and all the other top-tier executives as equals. She would keep them in line without fear of
retaliation.
Karen and the Newport office would be a necessary sacrifice on the path to Reyna’s freedom.
She switched off the elliptical, wiped it down, and checked her phone. Two texts from Lou. The first invited her to his room for breakfast.
She shook her head in amazement.
The second text arrived a few minutes later, after she failed to respond. He wanted her to join him at the hotel restaurant.
The first offer she could decline, but the second?
One day soon, she would be able to tell him she was busy. Until then, she was stuck.
Reyna texted him back.
Chapter 4
Karen stood at her door, welcoming the San Francisco delegation to her home. Lou Cullen, arriving first, gave her a peck on the cheek. She responded in kind.
His assistant, Reyna Castillo, followed. Her handshake was warm and confident, and her smile could be disarming if a person had less at stake. Karen knew to keep her guard up.
After Castillo, Harold Dunlap hurried up the walkway. He reminded Karen of a marshmallow with legs. A beseeching grin stretched his face. “Thank you for having us! What a gorgeous home!” He bustled past, followed by Wes, Karen’s boss.
“Hey, lady.” Wes extended his arms for a hug, but she saw it coming and sidestepped him without a word.
A trio of nondescript older gentlemen brought up the rear, mumbling a collective greeting.
Last to arrive was Peggy, the ancient doyenne of Financial Services. She trudged up the driveway in sensible shoes and a polyester pantsuit, handing Karen a plate of brownies.
She lifted up a corner of the plastic wrap and sniffed. “Are they medicinal?”
“You wish.” Peggy grasped Karen’s arm as she walked up the steps. “They all here?”
“Working their way out to the patio. Jean’s getting them drinks.” She patted Peggy’s hand. “I really appreciate your coming.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. This is like a front row seat at the Colosseum.” Peggy smiled, the lipstick running into the cracks around her mouth.
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