Mr. Right Goes Wrong

by Pamela Morsi

  “Step into my office, please.”

  His words were crisp and cold. Despite the polite verbiage, it was not a request. It was an order.

  She followed him to the front corner office. He went in first and held the door for her. Once she was inside he closed it sharply behind her.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you, Mazy. And if I did, this would not be the place to say it. This is my place of business.”

  “I know that,” she told him, willing her voice not to tremble. “I’m here on a matter of business. May I sit down?”

  He glared at her for a long moment and then, without answering, walked behind his desk and seated himself.

  Mazy accepted that as a yes and took the chair across from him. She opened her briefcase and retrieved a three-page item stapled together. She set it upon the desk in front of him.

  “What’s this?” he asked without bothering to look at it.

  “My résumé.”

  “Your résumé?”

  “I’m back in town and I’m looking for a job,” she told him. “I have an associate degree in accounting from King’s College and another thirty-four hours at UNC Wilmington toward a bachelor’s. I have six years of increasing experience, moving from accounts receivable to bookkeeper to head of accounting at a small independent company.”

  She had the satisfaction of seeing his eyebrows go up.

  “I am very good at what I do,” Mazy continued. “I can be an asset to any organization that hires me. I’m here today to give you that opportunity.”

  Tad continued to look at her for a long moment and then chuckled. “Well, you’ve really developed some balls, Mazy. I’ll say that for you.”

  “Fourteen years is a long time,” she pointed out.

  He nodded. “It is,” he conceded. “But it’s not. Not long enough in Brandt Mountain. If your résumé is as good as you say, you’re sure to be able to find a job somewhere. But not working for me. It wouldn’t look right. I don’t even know why you would want it.”

  “I don’t,” Mazy answered. “But I’m not sure I have any other choice.”

  His brow furrowed at that.

  “There was some trouble at my last job,” she said evenly.

  “Trouble?”

  It was a euphemistic term.

  “The company was a family business, privately held. The CEO was the son-in-law of the founder, but wanted to leave his wife. He began stashing money off the books for his getaway. I discovered it and I covered for him.”

  Tad’s jaw dropped.

  “We were caught, of course. And I was compelled to testify against him in court. I pled guilty to conspiracy. I did four hundred hours of community service. And I owe fifteen thousand dollars in restitution.”

  “My God, Mazy! Talk about screwing up your life. What were you thinking?”

  She didn’t answer that. There was some nakedness that even she could not bear.

  “I’m trusting you with these facts,” she continued, “because, as my employer, it will not be in your best interest to spread the story around.”

  “Your employer?” Tad gave a humorless chuckle. “Mazy, I can’t possibly hire you. Even if it wasn’t awkward on a personal level, I’m a banker. We don’t hire felons.”

  “Technically, the charge was lowered to misdemeanor. I know that I’ll never be a CPA now, but I can work at what I know. I simply need to get another job on my résumé. One with no trouble and a good recommendation. I just need a few years to reestablish myself and I can move on from this. The problem, of course, is that no one wants to be the employer that took that chance.”

  “I’m sure they don’t. I certainly don’t.”

  “But you see, Tad, you’re going to have to.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I have to have a job. I wouldn’t be asking if I weren’t desperate. Desperate enough to utilize other measures to convince you to help me.”

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Tad told her. “I hope you’re not offering me sexual favors, ’cause trust me, babe, I can get all that I want without having the headache of hiring somebody for it.”

  Mazy felt redness streaking her neck. She wished she could punch the guy in the nose, but she couldn’t give herself the satisfaction. She needed him.

  “I am not offering to sleep with you,” she said. “Been there. Done that. I am offering you the opportunity, quietly and without any open embarrassment, to help me support your son.”

  Tad made a huff of disbelief and sat back in his oversize leather chair.

  “I should have known you’d get back to that old story,” he said. “Like I told you fourteen years ago, that kid could be anybody’s.”

  Mazy held on to her temper.

  “Tad, I’ve got three letters for you. D.N.A. I am not the slightest bit worried about having such a test done. But you know how things like that get around town. It could be really embarrassing for you and Genna.”

  “Oh, so you think you can threaten me into this? Well, too bad for you. Genna and I are divorced. She and the girls have moved to Boone and she doesn’t give a damn about what kind of gossip goes down in Brandt Mountain.”

  Mazy was surprised. Somehow she always imagined Tad as living happily-ever-after. Still, it meant nothing to her.

  “Well, then,” she said, giving him a very wide smile. “You must be very familiar with the concept of child support. I’m sure the state of North Carolina will be happy to grant me a stipend similar to the one you pay for your other children. That’s the way these things are done, you know. Then, of course, there is the issue of fourteen years of nonsupport. Judges don’t usually look kindly upon that. The whole deadbeat-dad thing. I’ll take mine in a lump sum, please. Perhaps you can sell your house to get the cash together.”

  Tad’s eyes were wide, his cheeks puffed out and his face so red it looked as if it might explode.

  “Look,” Mazy said more kindly. “I’m not here to punish you. It’s all water under the bridge to me. My only interest is in the future. I need a way to support my son. I’m only going to be able to do that with a chance to start over. How much more convenient and inexpensive would it be for you to put me on the payroll instead of the hassle of court dates and child support payments? I’m not asking to be made vice president. All I need is an entry-level job, something to pay the bills and clean up my reputation.”

  Tad sat there looking at her. She was sure that if he were going to refuse, he would have done so immediately. The time ticked by. She refused to turn back the clock to that time so long ago when she loved him. She was determined to stay in the here and now. Tru’s future was dependent upon that.

  Finally he sighed. “Will you sign an agreement never to pursue me for child support?”

  She nodded. “As long as I get to sign up on the payroll.”

  “I’ll come up with something, then. Show up here tomorrow morning.”

  4

  The celebratory mood over dinner at her mother’s house was deliberate and slightly deceptive. Beth Ann had looked horrified at the news that Mazy was going to work for Tad. But she’d said nothing. Instead, she made a casserole and presented it with as much fanfare as could be managed with canned tuna and noodles.

  At least Tru should be pleased, Mazy thought. But he was quiet and almost distracted over dinner. When his grandmother plied him with questions such as “How was school?” and “Did you make any friends?” his responses were polite, if noncommittal. But while she and her mother nervously picked at the meal, he managed to eat everything left on the table so Mazy knew that at least he wasn’t ill.

  After dinner he went to his room, and Mazy shooed her mother to her seat in front of t
he TV while she cleaned up. The encounter with Tad had taken a lot out of her. Dr. Reese, the psychologist she’d seen for her mandated court counseling, would have been proud of her for standing up to him. She was rather proud, herself.

  But she was also exhausted by it and slightly deflated.

  Once the last pan was dried and put away, the counters scrubbed down and the floor swept, Mazy lingered alone in the kitchen. She thought about her son. Her mom. Her life. She wished she had somebody to talk to. She needed a friend.

  As if by force of habit, her gaze turned to the window. There were lights on in the house next door. Did Eli still live there? They’d been buddies since childhood. They’d had that little fling before she left home. And then he’d been her rebound guy after another brush-off a few years later. But they could still be friends, couldn’t they?

  She’d found friendship to be a lot more durable than sex. And a lot harder to come by. A woman would be crazy to waste it.

  She walked into the living room. And waited for a commercial to pose her question. “Termy Latham? I suppose he still lives next door with his parents.”

  Beth Ann looked up. “I don’t know why you’d suppose that,” she said. “That young man is quite a catch. Steady, trustworthy, hardworking—a lot of women find that very attractive.”

  “Yes, Beth Ann, we’re all aware of your high regard for the boy next door,” Mazy responded, tongue-in-cheek. “So he’s living elsewhere with some lucky woman?”

  “No, no,” her mother answered. “He lives next door, but not with Jonah and Ida. He has his own apartment in the basement.”

  “Oh, wow,” Mazy said. “So he’s really come up in the world. Living in his parents’ basement.”

  Her words were facetious, but they puffed her mother into defensive mode. Mazy waved away her indignation with a smile. “He’s my best friend. I’m going over to say hi.”

  Night was already falling as she stepped outside. The brisk bite of autumn in the air was joined by a faint scent of wood smoke. It conjured up a warmth of nostalgia that was unexpected. The shrink had asked Mazy about her hometown. She remembered telling her that she hated the place, declaring that nothing good had ever happened to her there. But in a moment of honest self-reflection, she knew that wasn’t so. There had been a lot of positive things in her life here. It was only when she’d let men get the best of her that things in Brandt Mountain had gone downhill.

  The well-worn path between the back of the two houses was no longer in evidence, but Mazy could still see it in memory and followed it as if it was still tamped down by the constant back and forth of two busy children.

  The workshop was locked and dark. As she came around the corner of the house, it was her intention to knock on the basement door. That proved to be unnecessary. Eli stepped out onto the little back porch, still shrugging into his jacket. His expression pensive, his gaze on the steps in front of him, he did not immediately notice her. Mazy had one long moment to observe him, unguarded. She was surprised at what she saw. He was a tall, well-built, attractive man. He had that look that always caught her attention. A man who exuded confidence and power was always so desirable. If she had not known him, she would have wanted to be introduced. She would have given him a flirty glance. Urged him to buy her a drink. She would have listened with apt interest to every word he said. Laughed at all his jokes. And made sure that he got a good look at her legs.

  But she did know him. He was her Eli. And in that moment, he caught sight of her and his mouth curved into a familiar, welcoming smile. Here was the person who was supportive and safe and always on her side. She had to resist the temptation to run into his arms.

  “Look at you,” she said. “Still so cute, but all grown up.”

  His smile faltered, but only for an instant. “Hi, Mazy. Gosh, you look great. It’s been a long time.”

  “It has. Too long,” she said, feeling that truth. She hurried up the steps and gave him a sisterly smooch on the cheek. “How are you?”

  “Great.”

  She couldn’t resist wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly to her. She had missed him. It was nine years since she’d last seen him. Nine years since they had spoken. Why had she not bothered to keep up with him, to let him know where she was or who she was with? It wasn’t lack of interest exactly. It was complicated. She had made their friendship complicated.

  They stood together, looking at each other, basking in the familiarity and taking in the changes.

  “I like your hair that color,” he told her.

  “Thanks, I decided to go natural,” she answered.

  “Natural suits you.”

  “So, Beth Ann says you’re living in the basement now.”

  Eli nodded. “I was here checking on my dad.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “You know he had a stroke?”

  Mazy nodded. “Yeah, I’m so sorry, Termy. That’s so tough for such an active guy.”

  “It is,” he agreed. “Life is like that. Nothing stays the same.”

  “Well, at least you haven’t changed,” she said.

  Eli’s brow furrowed, but he managed a smile. “I’ve changed a lot.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  She said the words with laughter in her voice. He had changed, she could see that, but it felt good to tease him.

  “I was barely legal last time you saw me,” he said. “I’m thirty now. You can’t expect me to be that guy you left.”

  The phrase that guy you left momentarily tugged at Mazy. She didn’t remember exactly how it was between them when she’d broken it off. She hoped she’d been polite, at least. But she might not have been. Eli had always worn his heart on his sleeve. And he’d had a crush on her basically his whole life. Their affair probably meant more to him than it had to her.

  But then she’d run into Marty Ellis. She was single-mindedly obtuse when she was in love. It was one of the many things about herself that she hoped to change. But back then she’d fallen totally, was in love desperately and behaving crazily. It had barely lasted two months. But it had gotten her to Charlotte. And put Eli back on the market.

  “I didn’t expect to come back and find you still single,” Mazy said. “What the heck is wrong with the women in this town?”

  Eli managed a wry smile and shrugged. “I guess I haven’t met the right one,” he said.

  “You let me know if you need a reference,” she teased. “I speak from experience. Most guys are heartbreakers. But you, you’re a heart mender.”

  Mazy had been grateful for that. Eli had been the perfect rebound guy. Sympathetic. Easygoing. Always understanding. He had made her feel good about herself. And he’d made her feel great in the sack. But they had never let that get in the way of the real genuine feelings that they had for each other. She’d needed a friend and she knew him to be a great one.

  How lucky was that?

  Mazy seated herself on the second step and smiled up at him as she patted the space beside her. “Sit down, Termy. I don’t like having to strain my neck looking up at you.”

  His expression was a little strange. She couldn’t quite read it. And instead of seating himself, he stepped down to the bottom of the steps and leaned against the railing. She could look straight at him, but somehow it wasn’t the same.

  Their conversation was casual.

  He asked politely about Beth Ann and her drive up from Wilmington.

  She reciprocated with questions about his dad and Ida.

  He talked about owning the wood shop on his own.

  She talked about Tru and being a mom.

  “It’s been so much fun watching him grow up,” she told him. “In some ways it’s like revisiting our own childhood. Of course, Tru has always been such a good boy, so it’s probably more like your chil
dhood than mine.”

  She laughed.

  Eli didn’t seem to find it as funny as she did.

  “So how long are you going to be in town?” he asked her. “Are you between moves or are you back?”

  Mazy hesitated. She had come over here to talk. Eli had always been a friend and it would feel wonderful to blurt out the whole sordid story. But in close proximity it was impossible not to notice how attractively masculine Eli was. She’d always thought he was nice-looking. He had wonderful, penetrating brown eyes. Nice body. Nice smile. But he’d been schoolboy sweet rather than hot. Now he was different. His movements were easy, graceful. He seemed bigger and more solid. She hadn’t remembered the square jawline and the afternoon shadow. Listening to him talk, she found herself watching the movement of his lips.

  There was something about those changes, that attraction, that caused her to hold back. He had always been her best friend, but tonight he appeared to be very much a man. And she was trying to learn not to be so eager to trust herself with the opposite gender.

  “I think I’m here for a while,” she said. “It’s like I’m the bad penny that continually shows up.”

  “I wouldn’t describe you as the bad penny,” he said.

  She smiled at him. “That’s because you are kinder than the rest of us.”

  Eli’s brow furrowed at the compliment. “No, I’m not any kinder than anyone else.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’re the sweetest guy ever. And you know me—I’ve sampled plenty of guys.”

  He didn’t laugh at her self-disparagement.

  “I just accepted a job this morning,” she said, awkwardly trying to change the subject. “So I’m sort of celebrating being gainfully employed.”

  “Oh, Mazy, that’s great,” he said. “Where are you going to work?”

  “At the bank.”

  “The bank?”

  “Farmers and Tradesmen.”

  “Tad Driscoll’s bank?”

  People were going to wonder about that. People were going to gossip about that. Mazy knew it. Mazy expected it. She’d practiced a pat explanation, which she rolled out for Eli.