After ten minutes, I picked up my phone to call Joel. Talking to lawyers was not my favorite thing to do on a Sunday night, but better to get it over with. "Joel, it's Nathan. I'll send you an email shortly, but I wanted to talk to you first. What's the consensus? Did the guy take the flash drive on purpose or not?"
"Nate, I'll tell you. I don't know. The prick could be lying, could be telling the truth. My recommendation? Fire his ass, just as an example. Maybe bring theft charges against him too. Bet no one else walks out with company property in that department ever again."
I grit my teeth. I liked to keep things casual with everyone who worked for me, but no one calls me "Nate" and I remembered why Joel pissed me off. He had a vicious streak in him that made my stomach sour.
"We'll do this instead. Let him go, make it a layoff, give him a year's severance pay."
Silence for a moment.
"Yeah, that's a great idea. He won't cause trouble if you do that. We don't need any negative publicity."
Joel was also an ass-kisser. I started to clarify, that wasn't my intention. The employee had a family to support. He was a good technician and I knew if we let him go, he'd find work in his field. Since we weren't one-hundred percent sure of his innocence or guilt, I wouldn't punish him unnecessarily. But I couldn't have a man working for me that I didn't trust.
The therapist my sister Karen insisted I see after Tanya died told me I had "trust issues." So maybe I did. When you have as much money as I do, people treat you differently. You don't know who to trust. Don't know who likes you for yourself, or who wants you for your money. Don't know if an employee made on honest mistake, or thinks he's entitled to a little more from the rich guy and wants to sell company information.
I decided not to waste my time explaining my reasoning to Joel. I said goodbye and hung up. My phone chirped, and I looked at a text from Karen. Wanting to make sure I'd be at home, her home in Sacramento, for the Thanksgiving holiday. Shit, was that coming up already? Yeah, it was. I checked my calendar, to make sure I had nothing scheduled on that day. A note popped up, from my assistant, Dwayne.
This is a holiday. Do not work. Spend time with your family, eat food, watch sports. Have fun.
I smiled. Dwayne kept an eye on me, helped me keep my shit together. Best assistant ever.
Karen and her husband, Paul, liked making a big thing about the holidays with their extended family. Being around them and their kids was kind of fun, and they liked having me join them. So I went. Restaurants closed, and being alone on Thanksgiving and Christmas, brutally depressing. I shot her back a quick reply.
I'll be there. Tell me what time and what to bring.
Come at noon so you can help Paul set up the Christmas tree. And bring a date. Are you dating anyone?
The usual question. And she'd get my usual answer.
Not dating anyone. How about food?
We've got plenty of food. Any of your friends are welcome to come, you know. You don't have to be engaged. Don't you have any special person who would enjoy a home-cooked meal? We always make so much.
I cursed whoever came up with talk-to-text. Karen used to keep our convos short, since she lacked the patience to type much on her phone. She could go on forever now.
Just me. Got to go. See you in a few weeks.
An image of Amber, sitting at the dinner table surrounded by my family, suddenly popped into my head. She wore a tight sweater with some sparkly holiday shit on it, and jeans that hugged her ass. Her hair was pinned on top of her head and she'd be a little sweaty, because Karen always kept the thermostat cranked up way too high. She was passing around her phone with pictures of her cat, laughing.
I rested my head on the steering wheel. What the hell was wrong with me? Maybe I should have picked one of the other women from the Chicago office to be my assistant. All three were excellent employees, one reason I chose that branch. If one left, the other two would keep up with the work. But I had my mind set on Amber from the start. She'd be perfect for the job, I knew. I wasn't going to fuck up this project.
I could keep control of my dick for a week, could act like she was just another employee.
No problem.
CHAPTER FOUR
So this was how the other half lived. I'd never stayed in an executive suite. Damn, I could get used to it! I bounced on the king size bed. So soft. I slept on a blow-up air bed at home, which worked fine. Sort of. I bought it because I didn't feel like dragging a frame and mattress up to my apartment. And because it was cheap. My move to the small place was supposed to be temporary, but it all depended on Michelle. If, no, when she got better, we'd get a house together again.
A large dresser and flat-screen television filled the bedroom portion of the suite. A couch, coffee and end table, and dining table with chairs occupied the next section. In the kitchen area there was full-size refrigerator, a sink, microwave and even a two-burner stove, and plenty of counter space and cabinets. Good. I didn't want to eat out every meal. Being able to prepare food in my room would be perfect. I dug out my planner and made a note to ask Chris to take me to the grocery store soon.
Checking over Nathan's itinerary, tomorrow would be busy until five o'clock. After that, he'd put TBA. Hmmm. To be announced? I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not, so I didn't make a joke about that. I got the impression, Nathan worked pretty much nonstop. Determined to keep up with him, I vowed not to get sucked into playing around while here. Florida was vacation-land, especially the Keys, but I was here to work. To earn that bonus, and maybe more.
But I would enjoy the awesome view. Shoving the curtains open, I sighed out loud. Just enough light remained for me to see out over the Bay, a huge expanse of water, stretching endlessly. What would it be like to look at this every day? Pure heaven, that's what. And the weather? Darn near perfect. Cool and breezy right now, but from the forecast, we were in for sunny, warm days.
After I found the room service menu and placed my order, unpacking went quick. The uniform shirts, pants and shorts traveled well. There was an iron in the closet but if there was one domestic chore I hated, ironing topped the list. Michelle used to love to iron our dad's work shirts. I remember her singing at the top of her lungs as she'd stand there and press those shirts expertly. Dad would kiss her and tell her what a great wife she'd make one day.
Speaking of Michelle, I had to call her before I fell asleep. Her phone rang, and I left a message, like I always did. Sometimes she picked up if she was near the phone. She never made a special effort to get to it.
Hey there, I'm in Key Largo. It's beautiful! You would love it here. I watched a sunset that looked like something from a painting. Maybe we can come here together sometime. Okay, call me if you need anything. Vicky will be on her usual schedule, except you'll also see her Wednesday and next Sunday too. Bye.
Talking with Michelle, I had to maintain that fine line between keeping it upbeat and simple, but not treating her like she was stupid. She didn't have any brain damage, the doctors said, though sometimes I knew I fell into the habit of acting as though she did. I tried to push her as much as possible, to make her activate her mind, and want to get out of the pit of depression where she lived. But if I pushed too much, she became agitated. Which was why we didn't live with each other.
We tried it after her attack. We moved into an apartment because she wanted to totally leave that house. But my presence seemed to get her wound up after we were together too long. I think I reminded her of the attack. I don't know. My naturally perky attitude might have got on her nerves, too.
She saw one therapist, in the hospital, then once she got home, refused to go anywhere. So, I hired Vicky, and I visited twice a week, keeping the visits short. Mom had her hands full with her new husband and his family, and she got down from Wisconsin to visit three or four times a year.
Blerg. The holiday season was coming up. I used to love holidays, starting with Halloween all the way to the end of the year. I'd decorate, make cookies, and hang lights,
the works. Last year, I had to almost beg Michelle into letting me set up and decorate a little tree in her apartment, and I was too busy to do much of anything in mine. For Thanksgiving, I over-roasted a small turkey, burnt boxed stuffing, and under-cooked frozen green beans at her apartment, then we watched a holiday movie on cable.
We did a repeat on Christmas. Mom came down and stayed for a week, in between the holidays. She and I managed to get along during that time. I kept busy, mostly, and let her have time with my sister.
Michelle didn't seem to care, one way or the other, about our efforts. I wondered what we'd do this year. Probably the same as last year. My stomach flip-flopped as I thought of eating another crappy meal and faking the festive. How many more times would I have to do that?
I blew out a breath. One more call to make, to Detective Chuck Taylor. He'd had the bad luck to be in charge of the case, when my sister was attacked. I knew he was tired of me and must be sick of giving me the same bad news. Poor Chuck. But like an OCD habit, I called at least once a week.
"Detective Taylor. Can I help you?"
You'd think he'd recognize my number and ignore my calls, or have them blocked. "Hello Chuck. It's Amber. Any news?"
That sad sigh. "No, I'm afraid not."
No matter how many times I heard it, his words still made my heart ache. "Okay, well, contact me if anything comes up."
He would. There was absolutely no reason for me to bug the poor man. Except I wanted to believe the police were still looking for the guy who broke into my sister's home, hit her on the head, then only took a statue. He didn't steal any jewelry, no electronics, nothing else. Just an ugly, worthless knick-knack that our dad, Sean, had given her years ago. So why did he break in? Why take an item of so little value?
If we found him and solved that mystery, I truly believed Michelle would get better. Every time I saw her, she asked me the same question I asked Chuck Taylor. Any news? When I told her no, the small light in her eyes dimmed. I was afraid that soon, it would go out altogether. Any extra money I had, and the reason I worked myself into exhaustion, was to hire a private detective. The police could only do so much and I suspected Chuck actually stopped working the case long ago and didn't have the heart to tell me.
So, I'd take care of it myself. I'd decided this months ago. I'd save my money, find a PI. Once the cops caught the burglar and put him away, Michelle would feel safe. Then, I knew I could talk her into leaving the house and seeing a therapist. She'd get better, and I'd get my little sister back.
A knock on the door broke into my thoughts. Dinner. I'd eat, read a few chapters, and turn in early so I'd be energetic for tomorrow. A new day, a new challenge. I loved taking on fresh projects. I couldn't wait!
Monday
At eight o'clock Monday morning I stood outside the conference room where Nathan and I would be working. He said there was an office for the manager here at the hotel, but it wasn't much bigger than a closet, only useful to store records and talk to employees in private. One area he wanted to work on during his time at Bay Paradise Resort. This small conference room would be the main spot I used during my stay.
I'd got up early, too excited to sleep, and looked around the hotel briefly, but I got the impression, Nathan wanted to take me on a tour himself. I stopped and glanced inside the conference room. He'd opened the blinds on the glass windows and was already seated at the table, studying his laptop screen, frowning. In one hand he held a pen and twirled it between his fingers. One of those ultra-pricey ones, no doubt.
Stepping back so he couldn't see me, I tugged at my shirt. The clothes fit me well, as Sharon promised, but I was still self-conscious. The text Nathan had sent me earlier suggested I wear shorts as we'd be outside a good part of the morning. I really didn't like letting this much skin show and it wasn't that hot, but I think he wanted the employees to see the new uniforms. I'd bought a perfect pair of light brown tennis shoes with green trim, to match the colors, and cute crew socks with palm trees. I felt sort of like a large cheerleader. For a sumo wrestling team, maybe.
Taking a deep breath, I put on my professional smile and opened the door. "Good morning."
Nathan looked up, and the frown disappeared. He smiled easily and there was that odd look again, that one he'd given me when we first met in the Chicago office. Kind of surprise, mixed with something I couldn't identify.
"Good to see you, Amber. Come in."
I sat down across from him. "I didn't bring my laptop this morning. From your schedule, it looks like you want to tour the grounds and the interior."
"That's correct. I want us to visit each department, and you give me your first overall impression, of the employees and the environment."
I pulled a notebook out of my bag. I'd bought a special pad, with an ocean scene, sun and sparkles, to get me in the mood for this job. Not exactly corporate style, but the flair of fun gave me confidence. "I take notes the old-fashioned way, writing them down. Then I can type them up and send them to you, if you'd like."
"That sounds perfect. Have you eaten breakfast yet?"
"I did. I ordered room service. For dinner last night, too. I hope you don't mind. It's more convenient and I would rather use my time here working than waiting for food at a restaurant."
"No problem at all. Your meals at the hotel will be paid for by the company. What did you think of room service?"
I held up my notebook. "I've got it all right here. Do you want me to tell you now?"
His smile widened. "No, I'll wait. As always, your efficiency amazes me. Ready for a tour?"
"Ready!"
Bay Paradise Resort was amazing. The hotel sat on a good-size piece of land, with a patch of undeveloped space to the side of the main driveway.
"I want to keep most of this natural." Nathan gestured as we wandered into a tree-shaded area. "It's not really a resort, the way it is now. I plan to add on a spa and turn this spot into a meditation garden. Put up privacy walls, more plants, and fountains. Then, I can market this property as a retreat center. What do you think?"
I'd been watching a ginormous iguana, strolling around like he owned the place. "I think that's a great idea. It's so beautiful here. Who wouldn't want to come for a retreat?"
Me, me I would! One day, when I could enjoy a real vacation.
What did Nathan's home look like? Did he have a meditation garden? Probably. The outside of his house would be landscaped to perfection, and the interior would match his personality. High ceilings for maximum space, and huge windows to let in the sun. Polished floors for a sleek, elegant feel. He'd have a huge living room, no, a library, with shelves full of books. And a fireplace. In front of that fireplace would be a soft rug, where two people could lay naked and…
"Amber?"
"What?"
"Did you hear me? I asked you if you'd ever seen a koi pond."
"Oh, sorry, I was distracted by the uh, by the iguana. He's so cool. Yes, I've seen a koi pond."
Nathan smiled. "Iggy the Iguana is one bad-ass lizard. Ready to move on?"
Ready to get that daydream out of my head. We walked down to Tiki Largo, the outdoor bar where I'd been last night. I marveled again at the view of the bay. Calm, glass-like water stretched to the horizon, and the sun sparkled an invitation to jump in. A few people sat on the deck, coffee mugs in front of them. One man pushed out on a kayak and paddled away almost soundlessly. More kayaks and paddleboards sat on a small, sandy area. They were free for guests to use, Nathan told me. A nice perk the hotel offered. We toured the rest of the grounds and I made a few notes.
The landscaping was beautiful and well-maintained. A coat of paint would help the exterior of the buildings, but they didn't appear to need much more work. Parking seemed haphazard, but part of the lot was sand and gravel and not marked well. Improvements could be made there. The small pool was filled with salt water and the deck contained ten lounge chairs. A few of those looked worn and ready to be replaced.
Nathan showed me around insi
de the main building which contained the offices, Water's Edge Café, and the on-premises laundry facility. Coming up with a water management plan was a priority, Nathan said, along with improving efficiency in all their equipment. Not only to save money, but to conserve energy.
Nice. I watched him as he talked and showed off Bay Paradise Resort. He wanted it to succeed because he liked the property, a lot. It wasn't just another business to him, to make money on paper. He felt the specialness of this place, like I was beginning to.
Our last stop of the morning was the accounting office. The door was closed and through the glass window I saw a middle-aged woman talking on the phone, waving one hand around. Her forehead creased in a frown and I picked up a few words she spoke in a loud tone. Nathan knocked on the door, then opened it and we stepped inside. Her eyes widened, then she held up her forefinger, signaling us to wait.
Nathan tapped his foot. He was not a man you put on hold. Fortunately, the woman wrapped up her call quickly.
"I got to go. We will talk about this tonight." She hung up the phone and turned to us, a smile now on her face, though worry still lingered in her eyes. "You must be Nathan Cameron, the new owner. And you're Amber Ward, yes?"
Points for knowing who we were.
"Yes, and you're Julia, the head bookkeeper correct?"
"Yes, correct." She stood and shook both our hands.
"Julia, I'm going have an external auditor come in soon and go over the books. I'll give you his number and I'd like you to make an appointment with him."
Her face fell. "Why? Is there a problem?"
"No, no problem. I want to see what we can do to improve efficiency. An independent financial audit is a standard procedure and shouldn't take much time."
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