Dana turned to Gil. His head was down. He rolled his thumbs over one another, the way he always did after being put on the defensive.
He laid a hand on Dana’s shoulder. “What would it take to settle PNA's contract?”
Givens leaned toward Dana and Gil. “I was under the impression you were one of the best in your field. Let's hear what you've got.”
Dana spoke in a deliberate tone. “I'd give them access. Organized access.”
Every board member straightened.
“It won't cost a thing. More work for security and me if PNA abuses the agreement. Patrick Mitchell might forget a closed shop.” She followed a hunch, counting on Patrick to bite.
Givens settled back in his seat. “What makes you think so?”
“He knows our position on a closed shop. Union access is second best. He can get to employees more easily, yet he'll still be under our control.”
“We need to talk about this.” Givens tallied the other board members for their reaction.
A few shrugged; a few shook their heads; a few nodded.
“That's all we need for the moment. We can discuss this further by ourselves.”
Gil rose. “Thank you. That'll be all. I'll see you before you leave for mediation this afternoon.”
Depressed, she left the boardroom, feeling the pangs of inadequacy she’d felt when she and Joel spilt up and she was out on her own for the first time in her life. Her job was the one solid thing she had. If she didn’t get a contract, that, too, would be in jeopardy. To get through the day, she had to put a cap on the fear of losing her job. Ten minutes at a time.
She went straight to her office without saying anything to anyone. She shut the door, went into her private restroom, and plunked herself down on the toilet seat. She stared into the enamel sink, wishing she could wash her troubles down the drain. Then one cold, lucid thought engulfed her: survival.
Dana took three deep breaths, returned to her desk and picked up the picture of Michael embracing a beach ball bigger than he was at the time. She rubbed the glass over his cheek with her index finger. “Michael, I’ll always be here for you.” The thought of him going off with Joel left her feeling as though she were suffocating. Michael wasn’t ready to be separated from her. Joel didn’t know Michael's needs. She dropped her forehead into her palms and fought back the tears.
Ann knocked. “May I come in?”
Dana looked up. “Yes. I could use a friend right now.”
“You look wiped out. The board that hard on you?” Dana didn’t respond.
“Uh-oh. That bad?”
“That bad! On top of that, my ex wants Michael for the weekend.”
“God. You're not going to do it, are you?”
“I don't think so. I have to call my attorney.”
“I thought Joel had trouble relating to Michael.”
“That's an understatement. He's mercurial around his son. Joel's trying to get at me. He wants me to drop my case. He knows I'm defenseless when it comes to Michael.”
Ann reached across the desk and took Dana's hands in hers. “If there's anything I can do, let me know. I really feel for you. Call me at home, even if you just want to talk. Day or night.”
“I might do that.” Dana rose and sat on the edge of her desk. A new warmer Ann reached out to her in a comforting way Dana needed.
“I thought when I moved back to Ashton I'd be inundated with old friends. I even thought my mother and I would patch things up and develop a real relationship. Was I ever wrong? “
Ann's eyebrows arched. “Sometimes they say you can't go back. Maybe this was one of those times.” She got up and stood next to Dana. “So why don't you start over right here. Forget all those could've beens. Start making some wanna-bes. I wanna be first in line.”
“You were distant with me when I first came here.”
“For sure.” Ann laughed. “Heard too many horror stories about working for a woman, but you've been the best boss I've ever had. Hell, you've even convinced me that I should have your job when you get bumped up or decide to leave.”
“You learn fast, my friend. You're ready, now. The way things are going, you may get your chance.”
“You want to talk about it?”
Maria called out from her desk. “Hargrove wants you, Dana.”
She glanced at her watch. “Damn. I wanted to call my attorney. Unless it’s an emergency, tell him that I have to make a couple of important calls and then I’ll be down.”
She ended her meeting with Ann. “Would you mind shutting the door on your way out?”
Ann smiled. “Thank you for believing in me.” She gave Dana the thumbs-up signal as she left.
She dialed her attorney’s private line. “John, thank God you’re in.”
“You sound stressed. Are you all right?” His voice caressed her like a warm embrace in the chilly air.
Joel's request for the weekend with Michael tumbled out of her mouth like a ball bouncing down a flight of stairs. “Will I have to comply?”
“No, you won't. You might want to think about it before you make the decision, though. You have full custody, so Joel might convince the judge you stopped him from trying to make a go of it with his son. That could work against you.”
The line crackled.
“I had a feeling you were going to say something like that. I'm being an overprotective ninny.”
“We could hope it doesn't work out, and then you'd never have to worry about it again. Joel is one cat that isn’t changing his spots.”
She paused. “Let me think about it. I'll let you know what I decide. You think I should?”
“I didn't say that. I said it might work against you if you don't. Then again, it may not. You have to decide. Anything we do to be fair to him weakens his case. If you're afraid he might do physical harm to Michael, don't do it.”
“Joelhasashortfuse,butIdon'tthinkhe'dhurtMichael physically.”
“Think about it. Call me when you decide.”
She hung up and leaned back in her chair, more confused than ever.
The buzzer sounded. “Patrick Mitchell is on line one,” Maria announced.
Patrick couldn’t have received the notification yet, and she didn’t want to spring it on him over the phone. “Can we get together before mediation?”
“Sure. Why don't we meet in the Sutter Grill for coffee? Say about two o'clock.”
“I have another call. I’ll see you at two.”
Dana called Joel and agreed to let Michael stay in Palo Alto with him. They’d meet halfway.
Eighteen
On her way to Gil’s office, her mind whirled thinking about carting Michael off to a set rendezvous with Joel. It seemed so espionagey, like in those old spy movies, crossing some forbidden border and turning her son over to the enemy. Her vulnerability to Joel infuriated her, how he could still twist the knife in her whenever he chose.
In Gil's office, she picked imaginary lint from her skirt while she waited for him to get off the phone. The air conditioner hummed in the background. Gardenias from Gil's flower garden floated in a large crystal bowl on his desk, filling the room with a fragrance that bordered on overpowering.
He hung up and folded his hands in front of him. “Tough morning. I didn't mean to put you on the spot with the board. I had no choice. Never thought they'd go off the deep end over Local two eighty-one the way they did. I'm glad you didn't have anything to do with Teal's raid. They don't want two eighty-one in here at all. I read them all wrong. What a big mistake. I should have listened to you.”
She went numb remembering Teal's threats. If she came to Gil, he’d lose complete faith in Dana. What if Teal told him about her relationship with Patrick? In her mind, it was as if she were swimming against a whirlpool, its vortex pulling her ever farther down.
Why had she not confided in Gil, her friend and mentor? He, more than anyone she knew, would understand her problems. It was guilt, pure and simple. She broke her vow and fell for
Patrick, who offered her no future.
“Thanks for supporting me in the meeting.” She carried on as if nothing were out of the ordinary. She disliked lying, but for some reason she found telling the truth dangerous to her and Michael’s future. “You could have let me take the fall with those guys.”
“We're not out of the woods yet. They’re hopping mad. They want you to stall the mediator for the rest of the week.”
“A week? Gil, that's impossible. Patrick'll call a strike.”
“Hold him until we get your formal plan. Next Monday, we'll go in with an offer. The mediator we chose is a pussycat. I know you can handle him for a week.”
“Why don't we just make the offer now and get it over with? That would cinch PNA's hold in here.”
“They're working with accounting on a possible raise, with your access plan.” He stood up, loosened his tie, and jammed his hands in his back pockets. Perspiration rings circled under the sleeves of his shirt, a strip of gray hair draped his forehead. Not his usual impeccable self.
“If we fail…” He glanced at the flowers on his desk. “I feel like I'm losing it. I'm so close to the end of my career.”
Dana wanted to go to him, hold him, and make his fears go away. Teal could have an election and nothing might come of it.
In spite of Dana's fears, the possibility of the board approving an increase lifted her spirits. She hadn’t counted on additional leverage. Now she had to keep Teal at bay until she sold Patrick on the offer.
“Go get ‘em, Dana. This'll be your toughest week, holding off the mediator. If the pressure gets to you, give them a few of those freebies. When this is over, we'll both be in the clear.”
“We begin in an hour and a half.” She rose. “Wish me luck.”
Gil walked around his desk and walked her to the door. “You'll do it. I have faith in you.”
Apprehension and a noticeable flutter in her chest clouded her thinking as she made her way across the parking lot of the Ramada Inn. The weather had cooled since morning; a breeze ruffled her hair.
Could she contain herself around Patrick and not divulge any information about her chance of settling the contract? Too bad that they couldn’t work a deal before mediation. It seemed such a straightforward thing to do, but unethical, particularly since she felt the way she did about him.
Putting on an air of confidence, she entered the tranquil green and white Sutter Street Bar and Grill. She had no trouble finding Patrick sitting in a corner booth with an iced tea, arms folded on the table, staring off into space. She strolled over.
“Before you say anything--” she took the seat across from him—“I didn't help Teal get signatures for the election.”
“You were reading my thoughts. I got your memo. Rotten luck for me.” His frown turned to a smile. “I’m glad you weren’t responsible. Thanks, Dana. I was hoping that was the case. Want anything?”
“I'll have one of those.” She nodded at his glass.
He raised his hand and signaled the waitress to bring another tea. “Are we going to make any movement to get this contract settled today?”
Dana glanced down. “Not today.”
“Every moment counts. If I can get a contract, you know my chances in the election will be a lot better.”
“I know. I need time. The board is tough and I can't read them.”
* * *
Patrick couldn’t read her either. She sat in her chic burgundy suit, her hair windblown, an absolute knockout, wearing enough lavender to send his pulse racing. If she knew anything positive or otherwise, she wasn’t saying a word. The heart-rending tenderness that filled her dark liquid eyes added to his confused state of mind. What the hell was he going to do about this woman? Every time he set eyes on her, his heart went out to her, and his loins swelled. An urge to protect her and help her with Michael almost overshadowed his own goals. He couldn’t let anyone or anything interfere with his plans. He’d made a promise and, by God, he would keep it.
“So why the sadness in your eyes?” The concern in his voice came out stronger than he intended. “Something other than work bothering you?”
“You a mind reader too?”
“Yup. I guess my mind should mind its own business.”
Dana smiled. The waitress brought her drink and left. “I'm taking Michael to visit his father this weekend.” Her eyes darkened with emotion.
“Why?”
“A ploy to win.” She wrung her hands together on the table. Her lower lip quivered.
Her pain, and how much she'd suffered over this new turn of events, was evident.
“Now he may be in trouble, he's using Michael. I know that's all it is, but I can't keep Michael from seeing his father.”
“Have you called your attorney?”
“He said I'd be wise to consider it.”
“If there's anything I can do, please let me help.” His large hand covered both of hers. “Since you're just going to jack around with the mediator, you want to cut our session short?”
“Do you mind?”
“Let's go until six. I'll call it off.” He slapped his forehead with his palm. “I can't believe I'm doing this. I feel like a traitor to myself.” He rolled his eyes. “I knew this was going to happen if we got involved. It's hard being objective.”
“It's not too late to back away. You will soon anyway.”
With both hands, he held hers. “It's not that easy anymore.”
“All you have to do is walk away. Don't look back. Think of me as the enemy.” She paused and smiled. “Like you used to, the way you trained yourself to do.”
Patrick could feel a blush rising up his cheeks. “How is Michael going to get to Palo Alto?”
“We're meeting Joel halfway, at the Casa de Fruta, Friday evening.”
“By yourself?”
“Yes.”
“That'saterribledrive.Roundtripyou’retalkingovertwo hundred miles.”
“It's not a bad drive since they improved the highway.”
“How would you feel about my driving you and Michael over?”
“I wonder how Joel would feel seeing me with another man.”
* * *
Friday evening on the highway to Casa de Fruta, the tires on Patrick's Fiat droned like a swarm of angry hornets. Dana had buckled Michael up in the backseat.
“Michael,” Patrick asked, “why did the elephant paint his toenails red?”
Dana turned and watched Michael place a finger on his lips, thinking hard. Unable to figure it out, he just shrugged and tilted his head.
“So he could hide in the cherry tree.”
Michael's large black eyes widened. “Elephants can't cwimb twees.”
“Okay, my jokes stink. How about counting station wagons? Whoever sees one first yells, wagon. The one who sees the most gets a candy bar.”
Dana watched with amusement the way Patrick and Michael played all the way.
When mediation had ended at three that afternoon, no movement had been made, leaving the session hopelessly deadlocked and a possible strike looming ahead. The employees were restless and ready to act. As usual, her superiors weren’t listening to her warnings. For the moment, she had no control over the whole mess. She did what they told her to do.
She chuckled to herself, remembering when Patrick tried to convince her that it’d be all right for him to drive them over to meet him. In a joking way he said, “If it'll make you feel any better, I'll hide in the fruit stand until Joel leaves.” After a hardy laugh, she decided to let him drive them and hide in the fruit stand if he wished.
She spotted the Casa de Fruta on their descent through Pacheco Pass. A rush of anticipation and dread whirled inside her. She sought to erect a wall of defense against Joel. His reaction to seeing her with another man jolted her. Would he use it against Michael?Patrick reached over and touched her arm.
“You going to be all right?”
“It shows?”
“Yup.”
Joel might no
t react. After all, she wasn't a nun. Perhaps she’d built up all the anxiety for nothing. Joel had no right to make determinations about her life or to judge her, but in reality, he controlled her now more than ever. “Still plan to hide in the fruit stand?”
The mere thought of Patrick hiding in the fruit stand gave them cause to laugh. Michael joined in, not understanding why but enjoying the fun. He nodded and broke into a happy smile. She leaned over, reached back behind Patrick’s seat, and tweaked a rosy cheek. She ran her fingers through his curly dark hair.
Patrick signaled, turned right down the ramp, and then made a hard left into the parking lot.
Casa de Fruta had a carnival-like atmosphere. A merry-go-round, a petting zoo, one of the largest fresh fruit and vegetable stands in the area, a wine cellar, and a restaurant lay nestled in the last green valley between the coast and the dry San Joaquin valley.
He pulled into a vacant spot under an elm tree in front of the restrooms, got out and leaned in the window. “I'll stroll around the fruit stand. When the coast is clear, I'll come back.” He ruffled Michael's hair. “Have a good one, son.” He strolled away.
Dana got out of the car and pulled Michael's suitcase from the trunk.
“Hello, Dana,” Joel called out from across the parking lot.
His terse voice sent a chill down her spine. She spun around. He leaned against a steel guard post at the corner of the fruit stand. He had a defiant look on his face, and with his arms locked across his chest as if he owned the world, he had this undeniable attitude of‘screw you and everyone in it’. She couldn’t understand what she had ever seen in him. When they were young and full of hope and dreams, he had been a devoted husband. They worked hard together to succeed. Now that she thought about it, when the doctors diagnosed Michael, Joel started his downward spiral.
When she leaned down to pick up Michael's suitcase, Michael grabbed for her hand. She braced herself mentally, rose, took a breath, and started moving toward Joel. It was like taking her son across that border to the enemy camp. Her knees buckled, her heart plunged.
Conflicts of the Heart Page 19