Kade smiled at Holly’s fierce protectiveness. “In her defense, I believe she thinks it would be at least as much for my benefit as for his.”
“Well, you are into self-punishment.”
“You are my assistant, after all,” Kade teased her.
Chapter Eighteen
Jen’s day was crawling by like a slug through molasses. She’d sent a personalized email to numerous VCs, containing a teaser and overview of Creative Care that mentioned they were starting their fund-raising cycle, and she’d heard crickets. Each day she updated the metrics in her PowerPoint deck so the story she and Jeremy would tell prospective investors included the latest information, nearly all of which was good news. Signups were growing on both the senior and caregiver sides, positive user reviews were coming in daily, and Jen had gotten several more local hospitals into the referral program. So why wasn’t she getting meetings?
When she had initially raised her seed capital, Charles had been immediately interested and quick to invest. Instead of involving his lawyers and having them draft a formal term sheet listing the key elements of his offer, he’d sent Jen an email with several short bullet points, and they had a deal. This time around, it seemed she was contacting far more people yet garnering much less interest.
Jen was usually inundated with the volume of emails she received, but now when she wanted to see new unread messages, it seemed her inbox contained only items she’d already responded to or could ignore. She even caught herself clicking the Refresh button more than once, a pointless exercise since messages were delivered in real time. Her marketing intern stopped by her desk, and Jen was happy for the distraction.
“What’s up?” Jen asked.
“An ice cream guy out front says he needs to talk to you.”
“He’s barking up the wrong tree.”
“That’s what I told him, but he insists he’s not trying to sell us anything. He won’t leave.”
Being CEO sometimes felt to Jen like she was the only adult in a roomful of toddlers. Yet aware that her position demanded she not give in to her occasional desire to whine, she strode to the front entrance. A young blond man with a Van Dyke beard and spiky hair, sporting a backpack and, bizarrely, a pink balloon in the shape of a monkey, waited inside their suite door.
“Can I help you?”
“Jen Spencer?”
“Yes.”
“This is for you.” He handed her the balloon and consulted a folded paper in his hand. “From a…Kadreen Davenport.”
“Kadrienne?”
He snapped his fingers. “Right. Please lead your team downstairs and over to the empty parking lot behind the closed department store.”
“Why?”
He grinned. “You’ll see. It won’t take long, and she says to tell you to trust her.”
Jen eyed the man suspiciously. “My whole team?”
He nodded. “See you in the parking lot.” He hiked his backpack higher on his shoulder and left.
Jen was standing in her company’s reception area holding an animal balloon. From Kade. The whole thing was so unbelievable that she gathered her troops as requested, knowing whatever Kade had up her sleeve would be worth their time.
Once outside, Jen noticed the afternoon sun glinting off a rolling ice cream cart the young man stood by. As he pushed it forward, he waved for everyone to follow him, which they did, chitchatting and openly wondering why they had been called outdoors. Once they arrived at the lot of the shuttered “for lease” building, the young man went to work.
And that’s how Jen found herself finishing an ice cream bar and watching her team simultaneously eat frozen treats while assembling and flying old-fashioned airplane glider toys. Several of her software engineers had unfolded a large vinyl mat “target” the man had provided, competing against each other to land their flyers on it. Her marketing intern and head of product were taking turns making massive bubbles with large bubble wands. Although there was an animal balloon kit with instructions, everyone on her small team drifted to the airplanes and bubbles. The man informed Jen the ice cream and toys were paid for and her team’s sole responsibility was to take a short break to enjoy them.
Content to soak up the sun and the camaraderie of her team now that the short indulgence of the ice cream bar was over, Jen let her thoughts turn to Kade. This outing was incredibly thoughtful and exactly what her team needed. She’d never considered Kade particularly mindful of the wellbeing of staff and had often sensed substantial differences in their leadership styles. But Kade was batting a thousand in leading high-growth companies to lucrative outcomes, which meant she’d recruited, retained, and managed talent well. And the instructions Kade had given to the young man definitively included all Creative Care workers. Jen couldn’t be more pleased with the result.
She sat on the pavement, her back against the sun to provide a little shade, and texted Kade.
Your thoughtfulness is very much appreciated. The Creative Care team thanks you.
Knowing Kade, she probably had only certain segments during the workday in which she allotted herself time out for text messaging, so Jen didn’t expect to hear from her any time soon. But her phone buzzed almost immediately.
np.
Why was Jen surprised Kade knew texting shorthand for “no problem”? The woman had been at the forefront of technological advances for over a decade. As she waited for more of a response, she returned to her musings.
Kade was a dichotomy. Professionally, she was a shark, gliding through rough business waters with power and grace. Personally, she was more like a child learning how to swim, needing guidance and reassurance, afraid to let go of the pool’s edge. It was maddening, knowing how adept Kade was in certain aspects of her life and how untried and cautious in other areas. And as with a young swimmer, Jen couldn’t be upset or angry with her. Kade was the only one who could set her own pace.
Jen frowned. No additional response seemed forthcoming. Did Kade even know what Jen was thanking her for? Was Holly the one behind the afternoon break? Another text came through.
How’s the list coming?
Kade was referring to the list of venture capitalists in Creative Care’s industry that Jen and Jeremy were putting together, as she’d volunteered to provide introductions to VCs she knew. They’d come up with the list, but Jen hadn’t sent it to her, hesitant to keep relying on Kade’s help and confident she could find another investor like she had the first time around with Charles. But now Jen’s hope was fading, and Kade’s question immediately left her feeling deflated. She deflected.
Getting there.
More than a minute ticked by without a response, so Jen stood and pocketed her phone, assuming Kade had moved on to other things. As she considered corralling the team, her phone buzzed. Kade.
“Hi,” Jen said.
“Not for one minute do I believe you haven’t finished it. What’s up?”
Jen took a deep breath. She struggled with accepting help when she believed herself capable of handling a matter. “I don’t want to keep imposing on you.”
“Jen. I’m your ally and resource. Use me.”
Grateful they weren’t meeting face-to-face, Jen didn’t bother to stifle the heat in her cheeks at the adult video clip her mind suddenly played of how she could best use Kade: hazel eyes growing darker with need, breath catching, body arching, muscles clenching. Circumventing those thoughts, she reconsidered her own hesitancy to take Kade up on her offer.
Entrepreneurial spirit pumped through Kade’s blood, and she genuinely relished working with company leaders to improve and innovate. She was experienced and pleased to share her knowledge. So why was Jen dragging her feet?
Because the idea of being a substitutable executive in Kade’s stable of suits was demotivating. She wanted to be of unique interest to Kade. She wanted things between them to be personal, intensely so. She didn’t want to be just another CEO in Kade’s portfolio.
Yet as she looked around at the fierce compe
tition taking place over glider landings, something dawned on her.
Kade didn’t think of her solely as a colleague. The likelihood that this special outing was being replicated across all of Kade’s portfolio companies was as probable as Kade purposely playing mind games with her. Yes, Kade was interested in Creative Care’s success, but the notion that she might be specifically interested because of her feelings for Jen, even if Kade wasn’t conscious of them, kindled within Jen excitement for things to come that had nothing to do with work.
While she understood the rationale behind Kade’s fear of things developing between them, Jen didn’t require special handling. People who were important to each other occasionally hurt each other, but the joy of being together easily outweighed the inevitable rough patches.
They could go slow. Jen could be patient. She’d happily remain at Kade’s side, coaxing her, guiding her to dip her toe in the relationship waters, reassuring her while slowly increasing her exposure.
Jen didn’t know how to convince Kade to give them a shot, but Kade was worth the effort of trying.
“Kade?”
“Hmm?”
“What was the motivation behind my team’s treat today?”
The line remained quiet as Kade seemed to contemplate the question. “You.”
Jen considered her reply far longer than she normally would, surprised by the confession but not by the warmth infusing her. Kade had been thinking of her exactly as she’d hoped.
Before she could respond, Kade said, “You’ve been on my mind and I…I shouldn’t have…” Jen heard her sigh. “I’ve set ground rules and then undermined them, which is completely unfair to you. I’m sorry, Jen.”
Wait. That wasn’t the point of Jen’s question whatsoever. She wanted to return to the part about being on Kade’s mind. “Kade, that’s not why I—”
“But when it comes to work, I haven’t let you down, have I?”
Everything shifted with those words. The surge of pleasure from Kade’s admission vanished. Jen was the one who had let Kade down by not trusting her enough to tell her the truth about her absences, yet Kade was responding by heaping more blame on herself, the last thing she needed. And as much as Kade’s reluctance to give their relationship a try had frustrated Jen, Kade had been entirely forthcoming about what she could and couldn’t offer, and why. “You haven’t let me down in anything. Work or otherwise.”
“Then send me your wish list. You can include your template, but let’s start with folks you want to work with that I can introduce you to. Creative Care has a great story, solid numbers, and a strong team. What it doesn’t have is a lot of cash. So let’s move.”
Though it was an important task, it was also one of the few critical work-related messages Jen could ever remember not giving a damn about. Clearly regretting her gesture of support for Jen and her team, Kade was keeping the conversation on work, which was not at all what Jen wanted. “Kade, did you hear what I said? You haven’t let me down. Please acknowledge what I’m telling you.”
“I heard you. I’ve got to hop on another call. Send me the list.”
The call ended, taking with it Jen’s good mood. The shrieks and laughter of her team grated on her in a way they never had. All she wanted from them was to trot back inside and stay until they delivered results that would make Kade proud. She chuckled at the irony before calling everyone in.
Chapter Nineteen
Today was the day. Efficient as always, Holly had found and vetted a skilled-nursing facility for Gordon. For better or worse, it was located less than twenty-five minutes away. Bringing Kade’s financial resources to bear, Holly got him moved quickly.
Following their early morning spin class, Holly insisted on returning with Kade to her condo before she got ready to visit her father in his new location. Well, not get ready so much as dressed—Kade felt far from ready. Holly was uncharacteristically quiet as they worked through their well-honed routine to gather plates, glasses, drinks, napkins, utensils, and food from all corners of Kade’s kitchen and set them out for a predawn breakfast.
Trying to pull Holly out of her doldrums, Kade asked, “Were you able to find any of those balsa-wood, toy stunt planes to send over to Creative Care?” She’d requested that Holly try to track down some of the old toys she and Cassie had played with as kids to send to the team.
Holly nodded. “Yep. Exactly as I remembered from my childhood. You gave me my first one, you know.”
Kade didn’t recall the gift. “Did I?”
“You and Cassie were babysitting me while we played in your yard. You gave me one. Mine flew farthest and landed in an oil pan where your dad was working on a car. It made a mess, and he started yelling and cursing. You took the blame and were banished indoors, and he sent Cassie and me home. I cried the whole way for getting you in trouble.”
“I don’t remember,” Kade said. The times her father yelled at her were so numerous, she wasn’t surprised this particular incident had slipped her mind.
“I was terrified of him,” Holly said. “So were a lot of kids. But Cassie never was. That day she took me up to her room and gave me one of her planes to put together while she talked about your dad. To her, he was like a dog who barked at things that didn’t exist. She said he didn’t scare her because she didn’t have to live in his head and see the world as the bad place he thought it was. She felt sorry for him. She said our job was to remind you of the far better sounds out there, of the many wonderful things to pay attention to, and that whatever world your dad saw out there wasn’t what we knew.”
“She never told me.” Kade warmed at the thought of her childhood friend acting as a kind of guardian angel. “I always marveled at her ability to ignore him. She was never rude or impolite, but she also never backed down.”
Conversation lapsed again as they started in on their fruit bowls and steel-cut oatmeal, the only sounds coming from silverware tapping softly against porcelain.
After wiping her mouth with her napkin, Kade said, “I’m anxious enough, you know. Having my loquacious friend go radio silent on me is killing all the nice endorphins I just released into my body.”
Holly poured herself another cup of coffee and returned the carafe to the warmer. She backed against the counter and crossed her arms. “Why won’t you let me go with you?”
Kade rose, slid an arm around Holly’s waist, and rested her chin on her shoulder. “Because at some point I have to face him on my own. He can’t hurt me unless I let him.”
Holly pushed her back and held her by her shoulders. “True. But do you actually believe it, or are you telling me what I want to hear?”
Holly was her stalwart supporter, and Kade was indescribably grateful she’d somehow stumbled into the welcoming arms of the Keller family those many years ago, though after what she’d put them through, she’d never understood their devotion. Kade took Holly’s hands in hers and focused on them, afraid Holly would see right through her doubts should she meet her eyes. Although she wasn’t sure how she’d deal with her father directly, she wanted to protect Holly from him. Based on the severity of his stroke, it was doubtful he’d be able to direct any churlishness at anyone any time soon, but she wanted to shield Holly from him nonetheless. All the Keller children had been at the receiving end of more than a few of Gordon’s tirades, and Kade saw no reason to extend his influence to the present day.
“I want to believe it.” Kade also wanted to believe Jen was right, that she somehow held the power to prevent her father from further inflicting emotional harm on her and those she cared about. They returned to the table and retook their seats. “Keep in mind I can leave any time.”
“This isn’t TV, Kade. Promise me you don’t have your heart set on him saying something forgiving or heartwarming or even remotely human.”
Kade stabbed a piece of melon. “You mean a camera crew won’t be there to capture the joyful reunion, complete with maudlin voice-over?”
“Why are you doing this?”
<
br /> “Because I’m a masochist?” At Holly’s glare, Kade set her fork down. “Sorry. Not funny. I know you’re worried about me. I promise that I think we have very little chance to reconcile. Here’s the thing. If I do this and it turns out to be a mistake, at least I’ll have made it based on being compassionate. I don’t think that could ever be the wrong choice.” Kade understood the breadth of Jen’s influence in that moment, because she did not doubt her own words.
Holly pushed some berries around with her fork.
“Do you?” Kade asked.
“Damn it. No. But if you’re going to do this, you’re going in armed.” Holly scooted her chair back and left the kitchen. She returned with the bag she’d dropped in the entryway and laid a gift-wrapped item on the table, leaving one in the bag. It was rectangular in shape and about a foot long. “Open it,” Holly directed her, moving away their place settings.
Suspicion crept into Kade’s consciousness since Holly was a bit of a practical joker, but Holly’s demeanor was more solemn than usual, so she proceeded as requested.
Kade ripped the decorated paper and unearthed a brown box. After removing the cover, she pushed away the zigzag paper shavings that cushioned whatever was inside. It was made of delicately carved wood, cylindrical in shape, similar to but heavier than the cardboard inside a paper-towel roll. The base of one end was wider than the rest of the body, and at the opposite end was a dime-size hole. A kaleidoscope? She peered through the hole toward the light fixture above the table. As she rotated the base, gorgeous, colorful images, shapes that melded into others before disappearing and reappearing, greeted her.
“It’s stunning,” Kade said as she held it in her lap. She knew better than to remind Holly it wasn’t her birthday. She wondered why Holly had bestowed such a gift.
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