by Dee Burks
“Anyone can sue anyone for any reason. Even if the case turns out to be bogus, it would still cost you an arm and a leg. People use the threat of lawsuits everyday as a kind of legal blackmail. It’s cheaper and easier to settle than to let a judge figure out who is right or wrong.”
Tyler sat back, the first warning signs of defeat settling in. “So, I’m screwed either way?”
“Not necessarily. The best thing we can do is anticipate their next move and be ready for it. Most lawyers recognize an opponent who won’t fight. They try to intimidate them and usually end up with a fat settlement. On the other hand, if we come back at them prepared and swinging, this guy may back off and rethink things.”
Lydia opened the office door. “Did he tell you Debbie is stuck in the walkin? We try to open it, but it’s closed tight.”
Tyler nodded and waved her away, trying not to show his annoyance, though his entire life hung on this phone conversation. Could he not get one frickin’ minute of peace? Lydia closed the door.
He blew out a breath, “What’s our first move?”
“You can bet they are going to ask for the business records for the last two years. You’ll need to be sure those are in order, and all the money and expenses are accounted for.”
Tyler’s gaze scanned the invoices scattered across his desk. What a disaster. He had no idea where to start, let alone how to get this mess lawyer-ready.
Jeff’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Ty? You still there?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s not a problem is it?”
“No. No problem. Just need to catch up on a few things.” A few thousand things.
“Do it quick. Does she have access to the building?”
“Not unless John gave her his key.”
“Just to be safe, I’d take all the records out of there as quick as you can. You don’t want her getting her hands on them until we’re ready. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Start there for now. I’ll make a list as I think of things and call you at home tonight.
“Make that my cell. She had me evicted from the condo.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Working on that.”
“Jesus, little brother, when it rains on you, it pours.”
“No kidding.”
“Don’t let it get to you.” Jeff’s confidence came through loud and clear. “We’ll work through this and figure something out.”
Tony popped the door open again. “The girl is nearly a Deb-sickle.” He lowered his voice to an awkward whisper. “I think she’s crying.”
He nodded. “I’m on my way.”
“What?” Jeff asked.
“Not you, just stuff I have to take care of here,” Tyler said. “Thanks, bro. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
The dial tone hummed in Tyler’s ear. He dropped the receiver and leaned his elbows on the paper-strewn desk. He rubbed his temples with both hands. Somehow in the space of eight hours, his life had become a mess. An absolute fucking mess.
Chapter 16
Serena sorted through hundreds of emails. She’d come in to the office early to try and catch up, but the response to “Lone Star Love Affair” had the entire staff working overtime. The good wishes and positive response overwhelmed them all, but reading heartfelt letters from fans left her empty. She’d created the imaginary couple and their experiences from hopes and dreams she’d had herself: about finding the perfect fit, the one you were meant to be with. It was a dream she’d given up long ago, but seeing it in print made her want to believe—that it was real, that it could happen, that Tyler could be the one.
The phone rang as Nolea stuck her head in. Serena motioned her to a chair and picked up the receiver. “Serena Finley.”
“Good morning, Miss Finley. This is Deborah Blackwell with American Woman magazine.”
The name didn’t ring a bell, but the publication did. American Woman was one of the top 10 magazines in the country and one she’d sent an application to more than a year ago. She hadn’t been surprised that they didn’t respond. They were the big leagues.
“I’m wondering if you might be interested in getting together sometime?”
“Getting together? For what?”
“An interview.”
Serena stared at Nolea. An interview? One of the top 10 magazines wanted to interview her? What for? It’s not like she was a leader in her field, or had any expertise in a specific area. The articles American Woman ran were serious and thought provoking. A far cry from the fluffy crap that Uncle Frank favored. “An interview for what?”
“A job.”
The air left Serena’s lungs. A job? “Are you sure?” She couldn’t believe it. Did they not know she worked at a little tiny paper in the middle of nowhere? Surely they had more qualified people to choose from.
The woman laughed. “Very sure. I have family in that area of Texas, and they have been sending me the Cranfield Reporter-Star for years. I’ve read some of your work, and you have a fresh voice. One we’re looking for in a new assistant editor. Are you interested in discussing it further?”
“Absolutely.” This was it. The call she’d dreamed about. The chance she’d worked for the last 15 years. She’d imagined herself starting in New York and working her way up the ladder to this kind of publication.
Now she had the chance to skip over the ladder completely. She jotted the date and time down, as her mind whirled. Clicking the receiver, Serena sat for a minute, stunned, still not believing what she’d heard.
“What?” Nolea quizzed. “Somebody die or something?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean I might.” Serena jumped up and grinned, doing a little happy dance around the office.
“Who was that?” Nolea laughed at her antics.
Serena shut the door and whispered, “American Woman magazine.”
“Oh my god!” Nolea leaned toward her.
“They want to interview me for a job as assistant editor.”
Nolea’s jaw dropped; then she jumped up joining Serena in her excitement. “No kidding? This is the big time.”
Serena grabbed Nolea’s hands. “You have to promise me not a word to anyone. It’s only an interview. Got it?”
“Got it.” Nolea gave Serena a big hug. “I’m so happy for you. This will give you the chance to put this cowtown in your rearview mirror for good. And what great timing! With Justin leaving for college, there won’t be anything or anyone to hold you back.”
Serena sat back in her chair and frowned. Nothing to hold her back? “It’s rotten timing. Why couldn’t this have happened two months ago? Before this whole “Lone Star Love Affair” thing started?”
“That’s a fantasy. As in fake.” Nolea gestured with her hands. “As in not real.”
Yeah, it was fake. That’s what she meant, but not what she hoped. It figures this would happen now, right when she’d let herself believe there was a glimmer of a chance with Tyler.
“What’s that look?” Nolea frowned.
“What look?”
“That undecided look. You are going to the interview aren’t you?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Good. I wouldn’t want you to let something or someone get in your way.” Nolea softened her tone. “You know I want the best for you. This thing with Tyler hasn’t really even happened yet. I don’t think he is what is making you hesitate. It’s the idea of a possibility of a relationship.”
“Like a long shot of a long shot?” Like this job offer?
Nolea shook her head. “I’m just saying step back and take at look at this for what it really is. Have you even had sex with him yet?”
“No. Absolutely not.” But she’d thought of him nonstop since that first kiss. And she definitely liked the idea of waking up in his arms.
“Wanting to doesn’t count.” Nolea peered at Serena reading her thoughts. “Besides, do you really want a life with a guy that started
out as a lie?”
“No. You’re right; that wouldn’t make sense.” And it almost sounded like she meant it, but Serena knew better. Deep down she wanted to be with Tyler, but not because he exhibited any qualities that she usually looked for in a guy. He had little education, no financial security, and couldn’t smooth talk his way out of a wet paper bag. But the way he treated her, looked at her, confided in her. Not like a woman he was trying to get into bed, but like a friend. A friend she’d never had, but wanted so badly. Now that was worth something.
“There will be other guys.”
Mary Lou swung the door wide and rushed into the office. “You have to see this. It’s on the news.”
The women all ran to the break room where a crowd gathered around a small television.
“Our calls to the Cranfield Reporter-Star were not returned, so this reporter must conclude that there is some basis of fact in the rumors that “Lone Star Love Affair” is a false ploy created to fool readers and dupe advertisers.” The woman’s dark eyes sparkled with barely concealed glee. “Back to you, Carl.”
Nolea frowned. “Don’t we know her?”
“You certainly do,” Mary Lou huffed. “She was that flirty intern we had here a few years ago, Jackie Landess. Thought she should be editor after three months. She’s still full of it.” Mary Lou flicked off the set and the crowd dispersed.
Nolea lowered her voice. “Word is, the manager at the TV station went ballistic when they got their sales figures this morning.” She glanced at Serena. “Looks like they’re on the warpath.”
Serena nodded as her chest tightened. Nolea knew what this meant, and so did she. There would be reporters crawling all over the story now, and if they smelled a skunk, “Lone Star Love Affair” was through.
Serena wasn’t about to let that happen. She wanted to leave this paper with a successful track record, not a big black mark against her name. She had to talk to Frank. Spinning on her heels, she headed straight for his office.
She gave a short rap on the door and then peered inside. The lights were off, but she could see Frank sitting at his desk, his silhouette enhanced by the light peeking under the blinds. “Uncle Frank? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Serena could tell by his voice that he wasn’t. Slipping into the office, she sat in a chair in front of his desk. “What’s wrong?” He couldn’t have heard about the broadcast yet, but something bothered him. Something big.
“It’s Macy. They found something.”
“What?”
“They think its cancer. Uterine. They’re doing a biopsy next week, but the doctor already warned us that this type is usually malignant.”
Malignant. A horrible word synonymous with death in Serena’s mind. But Macy virtually lived at the doctor’s office. Surely anything they found would be in the early stages. “What kind of treatment are they looking at?”
Frank shrugged. “The doctor won’t talk about treatment until we know for sure what we’re dealing with. But Macy looked it up on the Internet. It’s not good. Fast moving, difficult to treat. Less than twenty percent survive more than six months after diagnosis.”
His statement hung in the air between them as the clock on his desk ticked. Fear filled Serena’s heart only to be pushed aside by guilt. Macy had talked to Serena about her various imaginary medical problems so often, she’d never considered the possibility something might really be wrong.
“You know I never really took her illnesses seriously,” Frank echoed Serena’s thoughts. “She’s complained for years about this or that, and it always turned out to be nothing. I figured this was the same. And now. . .” He shook his head.
And now it could be over. Serena stared at the clock. Odd how things came into perspective when the stakes were life and death. She couldn’t imagine the hurt and guilt Frank felt. And what about Macy? A small vivacious woman, she had an energy that nothing tempered, but this might overwhelm her completely. Macy’s paranoia of contracting some dread disease had finally come true. How would she cope with that? How would any of them deal with that harsh reality?
Frank cleared his throat. “Your mother is coming into town.”
Arlene Ganz was coming here? More bad news. Serena stiffened. The tension between them had only worsened during the years since Serena had been sent away to have Justin. She’d come to think of the woman as “Arlene” rather than “Mother.” It was easier to imagine a stranger had chosen to send her away out of shame, rather than her own flesh and blood.
“Like Macy said, you two need to talk about things and come to some kind of understanding. You never know when it will be too late.” Frank’s chair squeaked as he turned around to her.
Heat crawled up Serena’s face, and she forced the memories aside, searching for a way to change the subject. “Channel 7 ran a piece at noon that “Lone Star Love Affair” is a sham.”
Frank leaned back. “I knew they were rooting around for something on us. You worry too much. Channel 7 has been sliding for some time. It’s desperation on their part, that’s all. They might even get a backlash from people who love the articles. If you acknowledge the attack, you give it life. Ignore it, and it dies a quiet death. In the meantime, it’s more free publicity for us. Can’t beat that with a stick.”
“I hope you’re right.” They sat in silence for a few minutes. Both consumed by their own worries.
“I figure I’ll be away from work quite a bit,” Frank said. “I’ll need to hand things here off to someone.”
“For how long?”
He shrugged. “Maybe weeks, maybe months. I don’t know.”
“Oh, of course.” Serena nodded. The other editors would gladly pick up the slack and do whatever they could to help Frank, as would she.
“I know you’re ready. You have been for some time. And if things go well with you as interim editor-in-chief, and Macy gets through this, I may look at retiring soon.”
Editor-in-chief? Serena stifled a groan. When she started at the paper, she was only 22, and being editor-in-chief had been her goal. To learn all she could and follow Frank in the business, taking over after he retired.
But now? Things had changed; she had changed. She finally had the chance to go to New York. To get a shot at a national magazine and have a real career that she earned, instead of a job that was given to her by family. Not that she wasn’t grateful, but it wasn’t the same.
“What do you say?” Frank waited on an answer. “Can I count on you?”
Everything in her being wanted to scream “no.” She’d seen the possibility of achieving her dream, only to have it threatened less than an hour later. How could life be that cruel? To her? To Macy?
Macy had taken Serena in 18 years ago and had given her the chance to become more than a statistic. The future for many single teenage moms was a life of welfare and food stamps. If not for Frank and Macy, she’d have never had the encouragement to go to college or even the confidence to raise her son alone. She owed them. She owed them both.
Serena took a deep breath. “Sure, Uncle Frank. You know you can count on me.”
Chapter 17
Tyler arrived at Serena’s a little past five in the afternoon. He’d rescued the TV and most of his clothes, as well as the recliner, which now perched upside down strapped to the roll bar of the Jeep. By the time he’d gotten to the condo, the rest of his belongings had already been hauled off. Several members of his staff had generously volunteered to work double shifts, so he could try to get his life back in order. Not that he had any chance of that. He’d settle for mildly chaotic and a roof over his head at this point. Any roof.
Knocking gingerly on the door, Tyler half hoped that no one was home. Then he could take his stuff and go, and Serena would never know how precarious his life had become.
Justin swung the door wide and grinned. “Hey, Ty.” He dried his hands on the dishtowel he carried and shook Tyler’s hand. “You need help with that?” Justin pointed to the upended r
ecliner.
“No, it’s fine.”
The boy raised a skeptical eyebrow.
Tyler shrugged. “Kind of having a bad day.”
Justin smiled and nodded. “Must be going around. C’mon in.” He led the way to the kitchen and resumed stirring a skillet full of meat and beans. The aroma drew Tyler across the room. “What’re you cooking?”
“Chili.”
“Smells good.” Tyler spotted his garbage bags and box in a corner. Had Justin brought them in? Hopefully the boy hadn’t told Serena. Tyler tried to keep the talk from turning to him. “Your mom teach you to cook?”
“Are you kidding?” Justin scoffed. “It’s not really her thing.”
“So, where’d you learn?”
Justin tilted his head. “I don’t know. I just kind of tried stuff until it tasted good. Want some?”
“Sure. Where’s your mom?”
Justin jerked his head toward the back door. “On the deck, but I’d leave her alone if I were you.”
Tyler gave a nod of resignation and hoped she wasn’t too mad. He couldn’t imagine coming home to find a guy’s junk and his dog dumped in the backyard. He needed to do some explaining. Fast.
“She had a bad day at work. Said she wanted to be alone.”
“Why? What happened?” A tingle of concern and apprehension ran up his neck. Figures he would pick the worst time to unload his problems on her. Had something happened with the articles? Or with her uncle?
Justin dished up two bowls of the chili and set them on the table. “Don’t know, but she’s real upset.”
Pulling up a chair, Tyler sat opposite the boy. “Real upset? As in crying?”
“No. Mom never cries.” He shook his head. “Never.”
That was a foreign concept to Tyler. He’d never been around a woman that didn’t have a built in sprinkler system she turned on and off at will.
But then, he’d never been around anyone like Serena. Actually, he’d seen her cry the other night on the deck.
He glanced at Justin. Maybe she didn’t cry in front of her kid. That sounded like her. He’d already seen that tough front she put up for everyone.