Through The Window

by Wendy Campbell

  She skirted around the men and headed down the hall. The smell of glue drifted out an open office door. In the last office on the left, she found a man in his early twenties sitting in a plastic lawn chair. Sun-streaked blonde hair topped a youthful tanned face. He wore jeans, cowboy boots, and a gray T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. In front of him sat a card table and an open laptop. This was the Snake Charmer? Nicholas Barnett looked like he should be modeling men’s underwear on a billboard, possibly holding a surfboard. Not sitting in his office. Charisma and sex appeal radiated from him like some men give off body odor. It looked like Cedar Valley was about to get a Snake Charmer with movie-star good looks.

  “Good morning.” She rapped on the wall and went in.

  Twinkling brown eyes met hers. “Looks like my lucky day.” He flashed a megawatt smile, and his gaze traveled to her toes and back up. The glint in his eye told her he was used to females falling for him. With the grace of a dancer, he got to his feet. “What can I do for you, darlin’?”

  Gorgeous men usually made her stutter—case in point her encounter with Jordan—but this one reminded her so much of Alex that she wanted to laugh at his cocky confidence. “I’m Melanie Quinn, your new Operations Manager.” She held out her hand.

  They shook, and his expression shifted from cocky to curious. “Nice to meet you, partner. Why don’t you sit down and tell me about yourself?”

  She wondered if the partner comment was charmer bullshit. Still, he didn’t look angry to have her instead of the older, experienced William Tishnell. She glanced at the single plastic chair. “I’ll find another chair.”

  A roar filled the air, sounding a lot like Alex’s old motorcycle.

  Nicholas cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Compressor. Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her out the front door.

  When they got to the parking lot, she extracted her hand. “Small town,” she said. “If anyone sees you holding my hand, they’ll have us married and pregnant by sundown.”

  “Don’t you just love creative minds?” He grinned.

  “This is Cedar Valley. People misconstrue simple displays of friendliness. It happens all the time.”

  “You think someone may come after me with a shotgun because I held your hand? Or are you talking about something different, like a harassment charge?” His innocent expression belied the mockery in his eyes. This guy knew exactly what his pretty-boy smile would let him get away with. The women of Cedar Valley would love him, which might override their hesitation about working with her.

  He gestured at the coffee shop down the street. “How about some coffee? My treat.”

  “Sure.” She felt a tug of disloyalty as they walked to the Valley’s only Starbucks, but Last Chance wasn’t open yet.

  “How long have you been in town?” he asked.

  “Since Wednesday.” The slight lifting of his eyebrows made her wonder how much he’d already heard, so she added, “On this trip. Before that, eighteen years.”

  “You know everyone here?”

  “No. I’ve been gone ten years. Just came back last week.”

  “Has Cedar Valley grown much in the last ten years?” he asked as he held the door.

  “It’s expanded around the fringes, but downtown is mostly the same. There are a few new buildings, including ours. Some stores have changed hands. Some expanded or split into two. That’s about it.”

  “Then it’s time for us to get to work.”

  Nicholas smiled at the barista, a man in his early twenties who sported a nose ring. Behind him, a teenager worked the drive-thru, and a woman made drinks. Mel didn’t recognize any of them.

  “Hey, dude.” Nicholas made a fist, knuckles pointed out. The barista’s fist met his, and they did some weird, high-five hand slapping.

  “How’s it going, man?” the barista asked, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Can’t complain. Got something on special?” Nicholas asked.

  The barista rattled off way too many words. Mel picked up soy, extra rich, and dressed like a doll.

  “What do you think?” Nicholas asked her.

  “I’ll have a mocha with non-fat.”

  “Great. Two specials, one with soy, one with non-fat.”

  While they waited for their drinks, Nicholas and the barista engaged in a lively conversation that Mel understood about half of. If she hadn’t known this man not only survived, but also conquered the Schuster Snake Pit, she would have bet he’d gotten lost on his way to the beach.

  They got their drinks and took chairs by the fireplace.

  “Now tell me why you’re here,” Nicholas said. “What happened to Tishnell?” He gave her a megawatt grin. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “William quit due to family issues. I took his place.” She took a sip of her excellent mocha, complete with whipped cream, sprinkles, and a cherry. “You and the barista seem like old friends.”

  “Never seen him before.”

  “Then how did you know that crazy handshake?”

  “Trade secret.”

  The language of youth, she thought, feeling every one of her years. Nicholas’s similarity to Alex made her feel like his big sister.

  “How long have you worked for Schuster?” he asked.

  “Five years. You?”

  “Six months.”

  “And you’re a branch manager? I’m impressed.”

  He grinned. “You should be. Now tell me why I should be impressed to have you for a partner.”

  While she explained her background with Schuster, she highlighted the things she liked to do and ignored the rest.

  “So you’re a troubleshooter.” Nicholas leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee. “What would you do if the president of the company was sexually harassing a few young women?”

  “Is this a test?”

  “Curiosity.” His relaxed grin conflicted with the glint in his eye.

  “It depends on the level of severity. For suggestive comments, I’d talk with the president and provide sexual harassment training to all the managers so she or he wouldn’t be singled out. If the president issued ultimatums, say quid pro quo, that would involve informing the board of directors and hiring a lawyer.”

  “What kind of issues do you think we’ll come across?”

  The door opened. A couple of teenage girls came in, took one look at Nicholas and did a double take. The next thing Mel knew, they were standing next to him, flirting for all they were worth.

  “Thanks for stopping by,” Nicholas told them after a brief conversation. “I sure appreciate you taking the time to welcome me to your hometown.”

  “I’d just love to show you around,” the redhead drawled.

  “Another time.” He gave her a regretful smile. “I’m in the middle of a business meeting. Now you gals go order, and I’ll be seeing you ’round.”

  “Get ready for the swarm.” Mel said with a grin, as the leggy brunette took out a cell phone.

  “Swarm of what?” He looked mystified.

  “Females.” She tilted her head in the direction of the girls. “If I’m not mistaken, news of your arrival is spreading through Cedar Valley. There is a distinct possibility a crowd might form before we get out the door.”

  Nicholas grinned. “That might drum up business.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you that they might show up just to look at your pretty face?”

  His laugh, a contagious mellow sound, filled the room. “Not even a little.”

  “You are just like my little brother.”

  “That hurts. No man wants to be thought of as a brother,” he said, but laughter still shone in his eyes.

  “You’ll understand when you meet him.” Now Jordan, on the other hand, could never have the easy, boyish charm of Nicholas and Alex. Not with his dark, animal magnetism that made her mouth water.

  “I’m lookin’ forward to it,” Nicholas said.

  “Alex probably knows the handshake.”

 
“It’s just another way of talking. We all use what we have. Ready to go?” He glanced out the window. “Coast is clear. Let’s make our getaway.”

  As they walked into the morning sun, Mel thought about his comment. What did she have to use? Brains and common sense, both of which were warning her not to tell Nicholas about the files, but she couldn’t wait any longer.

  “Did you hear of a car accident last Wednesday?” she asked as they crossed the street.

  “Doesn’t ring a bell. Why?”

  “It was my car. Street racers ran me off the road. Two cars burned, including mine.” She waited, but he didn’t say anything. “I brought the files, everything we needed to get started. It was all destroyed.”

  “Whoa.” He stopped on the deserted sidewalk and gave her a long, direct look. “Does Steven know?”

  “I left him a message on Friday.”

  “You haven’t talked with him?” When she shook her head, he said, “Knowing Steven, you’ll be lucky if you only get fired. He’ll probably sue you for destroying company records.”

  Nicholas was right. Steven wasn’t an easy, or entirely fair, boss. “He won’t fire me.”

  “Hope you’re right.”

  They were a block from the office building when Nicholas said, “This morning I had breakfast at a local café. When I told the waitress with the unpronounceable name that I worked for Schuster, she told me to keep my office door locked.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Interesting, don’t you think?”

  “Local joke.” She managed a saucy grin. “So how many offices have you opened?”

  “Including this one?”

  “Yes.”

  “One.”

  “Why now?”

  “Opportunity.”

  Mel bit back the rest of her questions because a young woman stood outside the office building. Her hands were clasped, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot, like she wanted to bolt.

  “Good morning,” Mel said, holding out a hand. “I’m Melanie Quinn. Can I help you?”

  “Cassandra Calloway,” she said, taking the offered hand. Her tattered navy blue suit was too big for her slender frame. Strands of dark hair worked free from her tight bun. Gray plastic-framed glasses overpowered the little gold hoops in her ears, but her eyes glowed with intelligence and compassion.

  Melanie liked her immediately. “Calloway?” she asked. “Any relation to Jeremiah?”

  “He’s my brother. Do you know him?”

  “We went to school together.”

  “That’s right.” Cassandra’s eyes widened. “Did you really—”

  “What brings you to Schuster?” Mel interrupted, ignoring Nicholas’s inquisitive look.

  Cassandra cleared her throat. “I want to inquire about employment.”

  “You’ve come to the right place. The crew is still working inside. Why don’t we go to the park so we don’t have to shout?”

  A half hour later, Mel found Nicholas hunkered over his laptop, which now sat on a piece of plywood supported by sawhorses in the middle of the lobby.

  “They’re working on the offices,” he said. “Did you hire her?”

  “Not yet. She needs to take typing and accounting tests. If she passes, we’ll put her on our temp list for office support. If she doesn’t, she’d make an excellent receptionist. Once she comes out of her shell, she’s a people person.”

  “It’s a start.” He held out a cell phone. “Steven wants you to call. I’d say it’s been nice working with you, but two hours hardly count.”

  Steven’s lecture went on and on. If he planned to fire her, he wouldn’t waste his breath, so Mel took it as a good sign. At the end of the conversation, she received a verbal warning, but she didn’t get fired. Possibly because she told him she’d recreated every important paper, and offered to email him copies. Steven was a big-picture kind of boss. He deplored details, which she’d learned to use to her advantage. After a final warning from Stephen to keep things on track and not screw up, she disconnected and gave Nicholas back his phone.

  “Looks like you’re stuck with me.” She grinned.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jordan hefted the first aid kit and followed Middleton to the only apartment complex in Cedar Valley. Number 21 was on the second floor, so they headed up the stairs. As they came out of the stairwell, a man closed the door of apartment 23. He was older, with the beginnings of a beer-belly, salt and pepper hair, and a faint smile. As he passed on his way to the stairs, a shiver ran over Jordan’s skin. He turned, but the man had disappeared.

  Middleton knocked. Loud moaning was the only response.

  “Fire department,” Middleton called. “Responding to a 911 call.” When they heard more moans, he said, “We’re coming in.”

  Jordan braced himself as Middleton reached for the door. Memories of gangs, drugs, and weapons ran through his mind, and he had to remind himself that he wasn’t in California anymore. City firefighters might have to wear bulletproof vests in case they arrived at a gang fight before the cops, but this was Cedar Valley.

  Middleton pushed open the unlocked door and went inside. Jordan followed. A woman with long black hair lay on the floor, moaning and clutching her very pregnant stomach. Jordan dropped to the floor by her side and started his assessment. On the other side of the room, the TV was on low, and a cartoon character sang about a map.

  “Dispatch,” Middleton said into his radio, “This is Engine 2 requesting medics. We’re at the scene with a pregnant woman, late twenties, and apparent abdominal pain. Assessment in progress.”

  “Engine 2,” the dispatcher said a few seconds later. “Medics en route.”

  “Captain,” Jordan said. “Do you know Spanish? I can’t understand what she’s saying.”

  “No.” Middleton squatted down on the other side of the woman to take her heart rate.

  The woman cradled her belly. It could be contractions or instinctive protection of her unborn baby. While Jordan had been nearby for two births, he’d never personally been involved, and he didn’t want to start now. He wished the medics would hurry up. While he checked the woman’s vitals, Middleton called dispatch and asked for a translator.

  A flicker of hair caught his eye, and Jordan looked up to see a small face peering over the back of the couch. It was a girl, about four years old. He smiled and motioned her over. She only blinked, and her huge brown eyes made her look like a little owl.

  The woman let out a string of words. The girl ducked, and then eased around the couch, one slow step at a time. A hint of purple stained her lips, and she smelled like grapes.

  “Hi, there,” Jordan said, making his tone light and friendly. “Is this your Mom?”

  The girl nodded.

  “Can you ask her a question for me?”

  The girl nodded again.

  “Ask her where she hurts.”

  The girl spoke in rapid Spanish.

  “Her tummy,” the girl said and pointed to her own abdomen.

  “The medics are here,” Middleton said, and the girl bolted.

  With relief, Jordan let the medics take over and went in search of the little girl. He found her hiding under the quilt on her mother’s bed.

  “Hey there,” he whispered, and the form under the blanket quivered. “My name’s Jordan. I’m here to help your mommy. Do you want to come see her?”

  The blanket wiggled and her head poked out. Solemn eyes stared at him. “Is Mama going to die?”

  It took Jordan a second to recover from what felt like a blow, and he forced a smile. “No, she’s not going to die. I think she’s going to have a baby. She’d feel better if you were with her, if you held her hand.”

  The girl said nothing.

  “I bet you’re going to be a great big sister. Let’s go help your mom, okay?”

  After a long moment of silence, the girl crept out of the bed and went to her mother’s side. Garcia, one of the medics, said something in Spanish and the girl giggled.

  Jordan helped loa
d the woman into the ambulance, and he gave the girl a boost inside since family members were meeting them at the hospital. Garcia buckled her into a booster seat. When he turned back to the mother, the girl smiled and waved at Jordan like he was her new best friend. A piece of Jordan’s heart, the piece he thought forever frozen, started to melt.

  ****

  Melanie spent the week helping Sara at Last Chance and recreating the Schuster files. By the time Friday rolled around, she was exhausted, frazzled, and ready for a break.

  “Sorry,” Mel said to a middle-aged woman she’d never met. They stood just inside the Schuster lobby at closing time. “Mr. Barnett won’t be available until Monday. Would you like me to check his schedule?”

  “I only need a minute or two.”

  When Mel shook her head, the woman said, “Fine. I’ll stop by next week.” She left in a huff and Mel closed the door.

  Nicholas came out of his office. “Thanks. I should have been on the road an hour ago.”

  “It’s your own fault. If you’re going to insist on keeping this open door policy before we open, I’m hiring Cassandra to run interference.”

  She made a face, and Nicholas laughed. He’d already landed two contracts; both for small businesses owned by women. Not surprising, since half of the female population in a ten-mile radius had stopped by to check him out during the last week. He was invariably polite, professional, and charming, which was why Mel had taken the back office and let him take the one near the lobby. Only his desperation to get a head start on his weekend persuaded her to take the last visitor.

  “You can’t deny it’s good for business.” Nicholas slung the strap of a computer case over his shoulder.

  “And your ego.” She laughed at his wry expression. “See you Monday.”

  He left, and she sank into a chair. She’d made good headway on the files, and the copies of the permits and building plans arrived that morning.

  She closed the office, and her brother pulled up in a sporty Mustang convertible.

  “Whose car is that?”

  “Mine.” He grinned. “I fixed that leak under your sink and another one in the bathroom. What’s with all the babes hanging out here? I didn’t think you were open yet.”