by Mary Brady
She turned over and punched her pillow until it curled up in a ball under her head and she could stare at the wall instead of the ceiling.
* * *
AT MORRISON AND MORRISON the next morning, Delainey surprised herself by feeling confident Brianna would be safe in the hands of Miss MacKenzie, who seemed to love the children she taught. She was not, though, pleased by the lack of progress being made at eliminating 2.8 positions. So far only three employees had offered to match Cammy’s offer: Matthew, to Delainey’s surprise, had offered to work 0.2 of his hours for free, Shirley and another assistant.
Delainey offered 0.2 of her hours and she was instituting a plan to reuse paper for scratch paper whenever such was adequate. She also planned to set the thermostats closer to what people had at home, though not quite as austere as she knew Carol kept her house. And she volunteered to plan a trimmed-back version of the lavish Christmas party Morrison and Morrison traditionally threw. She also made them all gasp by making a change to cheap pens except for the attorneys so that when the staff took them home by the gross, it would not cost the firm so much. Patty’s cheeks had gotten very red when she brought up the last one.
At eight fifty-five, by Delainey’s order, they were all in the conference room, all thirteen this time, waiting for Hunter. While she waited, she examined the portraits of Hunter’s great-great-grandfather and great-great-uncle. If she looked at the uncle for a resemblance to Brianna, could she see it? She wasn’t sure either way. Same as always.
Hunter showed up exactly at nine.
His gaze went first to Delainey, to whom he gave a friendly smile. He didn’t look at any of the rest of them. Instead he picked up the paper with the meager offerings. When he finished he looked at all of them.
“Whichever of you came up with the cost-cutting methods besides cutting hours, I’d like to commend you. That is the kind of thing that can keep people at work. First of all, who came up with the ideas?”
“Ms. Talbot,” Matthew offered, his tone polite and respectful, which Hunter noted with a nod.
“Who else?”
“None of us,” Matthew answered again, and this time looked contrite that he hadn’t thought of something.
“I could do this in private, but the effect will be the same. Ms. Talbot, you will not be cutting your hours. From what I’ve learned, your presence is one of the forces keeping this law firm alive. Eddie, you will drop to half-time for the next three months, and then you will be kept on if you make serious applications to at least three law schools.”
He went on to give back Cammy’s hours, as well as Matthew’s and those of the other assistant who had volunteered to cut his. He cut Patty, the second secretary, and Carol each by 0.3 and he cut the rest from the others who had not volunteered anything. He also guaranteed them the work expected would not be cut by the percentage of hours cut.
Patty spent two or so hours a day distracting anyone who would listen to her, and to be fair, there were two days a week when there were two secretaries in the office. At no time did the office require both of them at once. Carol spent at least four hours a week out of the office and on personal phone calls and hour-and-a-half lunches in an hour slot.
When the shock of his declaration wore off, people started grumbling and making their own demands.
Hunter stood up. “I want you all to know your positions are negotiable in either direction. Please stay here and discuss what each of you may do to make this work for you.” He stopped and turned to her. “Ms. Talbot, if you’d please come with me.”
His tone said it wasn’t a request. She got up and followed him, closing the door behind her against the noise of discontent in the room.
She followed him up the stairs wondering what he had in store for her. He wasn’t cutting her hours; would he need to take his pound of flesh in some other way?
He led her into his office, where he closed the door behind her.
“Hunter, I know we’ve all grown sloppy over the years.”
Hunter laughed, with only a hint of the musical bass sound she loved. “You have never been sloppy, ever. Many here have grown sloppy, but not you.”
“So why am I here, shut in your office?”
“Because I thought you didn’t deserve to sit there and listen to them complain and moan.”
“I don’t think they will come up with any solutions.”
“Then it will be on them. They have been given the opportunity to step up and earn back some of their cut time.”
“Fair enough.”
“How’s Brianna?”
“She’s contrite. She apologized to me a dozen times over the weekend and I didn’t say a word to her about what she’d done wrong, did you?”
“I didn’t have to. She’s a great kid. Had it figured out before I even said hello.”
She approached where he leaned on the corner of his desk. “Hunter, I don’t know how to thank you for how you handled her. All of this could have been much worse.”
He put his hands in the pockets of his pants, a gesture he rarely did. “Thanks, but I need to deflect your praise to Mia Parker and Daniel MacCarey. She helped me see what Brianna needed, and he helped me see what I didn’t need.”
“Thank you for listening to them. It must have been hard. I’m not sure what I would have done. After what that woman put you through, you must have worried if you’d ever get your life back.”
He didn’t say anything to that, as if he was trying to figure out if he still had a life left.
“Will you stay here, I mean, to help Shamus?”
“I won’t leave him in the lurch.”
“But will you stay?” She knew for sure what she was hoping for. She’d keep him here for as long as she could. No. She wanted what he wanted for himself.
He didn’t answer but turned away toward the window.
Now that he wasn’t in front of the others, the boss demeanor had faded. He looked tired still today, and as he looked out the window, his shoulders were stiff with resolve.
She wanted desperately to step up behind him and hug him, put her head on his strong back between his shoulders, to show him how much she appreciated what he had done for Brianna. To thank him for what he was doing for Shamus, even what he was doing for the recalcitrant bunch downstairs, but he was being distant, friendly but detached.
She was curious if he’d got so used to not having a good night’s sleep that he didn’t sleep last night even though Chief Montcalm had captured Callista.
Hunter stood up straighter, looking at something out the window. “Shamus is here and Connie is with him.”
She went to stand beside him. “He’s not supposed to be here. He was taking Connie out for the day. They were going to Portland to the art museum.”
“Maybe they’re getting a late start.”
She looked up at Hunter and when he turned toward her, she thought she saw pain there, more pain than when Callista White was still free.
“Hunter?”
He smiled pleasantly, completely masking the feelings she had seen so clearly. “I’m going to see why they’re here. Maybe they need something.”
He practically sprinted away, leaving her confused about what was going on. She headed back downstairs to make sure the wild ones were not eating each other and to quiet them down so they wouldn’t bother Shamus.
She hadn’t been in the conference room five minutes when the door opened and Shamus and Connie stepped into the room. Hunter was not with them.
Matthew leaped up and held out a chair for Connie. Delainey was glad to see the change in his attitude.
“Hello, everyone.” Shamus smiled benevolently at the roomful of people. “I’m going to tell you what I think you all have been thinking these past couple weeks and you tell me how close I am to the mark.”
&n
bsp; Shamus’s words held all their attention. “You have all suffered a great culture shock since Mr. Morrison arrived.”
Heads nodded around the table.
“I would suspect he hasn’t said much as to how it came about that he came here.”
The staff looked at one another. “He’s ruining things, Shamus,” Patty said.
Shamus smiled and shook his head. “I’m afraid he’s not the one who ruined things. I ruined things.”
“No, Shamus,” Patty said. “You’ve always been nice, made working here pleasant.”
“I’m afraid that has been my problem. I always wanted things to be pleasant, as you say, Patty, but by doing so I’ve neglected the business end.”
“But we have loads of clients,” Eddie threw out.
“Loads of clients and too large a percentage don’t pay anything,” Delainey clarified, and Shamus confirmed with a shake of his head.
“There are too many unproductive hours,” Shamus continued. “I could never find it in me to fix that. More of the time spent on cases needs to be billed. The time not spent on cases needs to be trimmed to necessities.”
“Is it really that bad?” Shirley asked.
Delainey felt sorry for the cute young redheaded woman. Of all the people here, Shirley was probably the only one who could be considered an innocent. She truly did not know what was going on and she did try to fill her hours with working, most likely out of respect for her grandfather.
Patty stood up. She looked uncertain and took a deep breath. “Before Mr. Morrison came, things were great.”
Several people agreed.
Shamus put both palms flat on the table and Connie reached out and put her hand over one of his. The two of them looked at each other and Connie, with a brave look, nodded.
“Hunter Morrison is covering for me,” Shamus said in a voice that quavered a bit, showing his age. Connie squeezed his hand.
There were several confused looks. Cammy nodded as if she already knew. Delainey was going to have to find out more about that young woman one of these days.
No one said anything for several more seconds until Shamus began. “About two years ago, I recognized we were going to run this practice completely into the ground if we didn’t do something drastic. Harriet and I put our heads together and, well, nothing we did had much of an impact. I guess neither of us was brave enough to do what needed to be done.”
He looked around. Patty’s face was scrunched up in disbelief, as were Eddie’s and several other people’s. Delainey knew fear of change and of losing what they had was the major motivator behind almost everyone’s behavior. These people were usually an easygoing bunch.
“Hunter has been doing what I was not brave enough to do. How easy do you suppose it is to walk into a roomful of people and tell them everything they believed about their jobs was no longer true, maybe never was true?”
“But he’s a fancy Chicago attorney. He’s got to be costing this firm a lot of money,” Eddie said.
“He isn’t costing this firm a cent.” Shamus’s words were clearly and bluntly stated. No one else spoke and Shamus started again. “Eight months ago I found I needed more personal time and I started looking for someone to take my place, someone who could help the firm get back on terra firma. There were no easy solutions out there and Connie suggested I call Hunter. She has kept up with the Morrison family and knew Hunter was an attorney. I called him. He told me he didn’t believe he was the right person for the job because of the things that had been happening in his life. By now I’m sure all of you have heard some version of that and it did not matter. I asked him to come anyway. He agreed to come on a temporary basis.”
“Why didn’t you tell us there were problems?” Carol asked.
“To be perfectly honest, I didn’t have the heart. Harriet and I have allowed all the usual barriers between attorneys and office staff to fall. We even gave equal employee status to interns and students,” he said without apology as he gestured toward Eddie and Matthew. “We, as you all know, are very casual here, perhaps too casual. I thought of all of you as friends when I should have been a boss and a mentor. I should have been thinking of all of you as employees to whom I had an obligation. If I had, I could have done the hard stuff when it was necessary and you would have taken it in stride. For that I am heartily sorry.”
“So what’s different now?” asked Patty, still fighting for her old life.
“Me,” said Connie.
Shamus turned toward his wife. “Are you sure, dear?”
Connie curled her lips in toward her teeth for a moment before she spoke. “I am undergoing chemotherapy.” Several gasps went up around the room. “It’s difficult and Shamus is my rock. I’m sorry to take him away from you, but I need him.”
“Every measure Hunter has taken,” Shamus began again, “has been aimed solidly at helping Morrison and Morrison regain its footing. He insisted he do all this without telling you why because he didn’t want to bring my poor business skills or Connie’s illness into the light if it was not necessary. If he were not here, I would still have to leave and Harriet would probably need to find employment elsewhere, as would the rest of you.”
People looked at one another. Carol dropped her head to the table and there were tears in Shirley’s eyes and Patty’s.
“I would like for this practice to flourish. I would like, for all of our sakes, to not just keep the doors open but to have the practice thrive.”
“Delainey, if you would be so kind as to ask Hunter to come in here.”
Delainey leaped up and raced out of the conference room before she started bawling all over herself. Hunter, damn you for being who I always thought you were, she thought.
She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands, and when she started for the stairs, she spotted him out beyond the office’s main open reception area standing between the set of double doors at the front entrance. He stared out at a world splintered by the beveled leaded-glass panes of the windows. He had his arms crossed over his chest and turned when she opened the inner door behind him.
Her heart did the old cliché and fell to her toes. Though he studied her long and hard as she stood there wringing her hands, he was closed down, shuttered tight, impervious to her skill at reading him. And it broke her heart.
She wanted to hold him, tell him the world was all right now, but his aloofness told her this was not the time.
“Shamus is asking for you,” she said when she had mustered the courage to speak, lest she start crying in front of him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHRISTINA GUFFAWED AND pointed at Delainey and Brianna. The two of them had just finished rolling green paint on one bedroom wall between giggles and slops. “You have paint in your hair.”
“Brianna has paint in her hair?” Delainey asked.
“No, you have paint in your hair.”
“Not possible.” She grinned at her sister. “I would never be so careless as to get paint in my hair.”
“Then I think you should consider changing hairdressers, because she dyed some of your hair green.”
“Where is your paint, Mommy? Let me see.”
Delainey ducked down and her daughter examined her hair with both hands, which Delainey was sure applied more paint.
“Yucky, Mommy. Can I put paint in mine?”
“Nope. No way. Nuh-uh.”
They were all painting the downstairs maid’s quarters in Dora. Christina had decided to fix up Dora enough to live in so she could give Cora over totally to the restoration crew. Paint, appliances and getting the fireplace working in the front parlor of Dora became the first focus for the three intrepid amateur remodelers.
Delainey continued. “No, you little pattypan squash, you cannot get paint in your hair.”
“I’m not
a pattypan...um...”
“Squash,” Aunt Christina said to help out.
“Mommy, I’m not a squash.”
“You might be if you put paint in your hair.”
Brianna stuck one hip out and planted a fist on it. “Mother, sometimes you just do not make any sense.”
Delainey looked at her sister and the two of them burst out laughing.
“Not funny, Mother.”
They laughed harder. Delainey put her paint roller down and hugged her daughter, applying a tiny dot of paint to the tip of Brianna’s nose with her index finger. “You are the most adorable and most delightful person I know.”
“More adorable than Hunter?” Brianna asked as she leaned back to study her mother with serious dark eyes. Those eyes...
A horrible sinking feeling left Delainey feeling gutted. What if Hunter was this child’s father? How utterly despicable would that make her for not telling him there was a chance Brianna was their daughter? She should have informed him before Brianna was even born, not so she could keep him at her side but because it would have been the right thing to do. Delainey wanted to kick herself for digging up that particular pain all over again. She smiled at her daughter.
“You are more adorable than anyone else in the whole world, Jumping Bean.”
Delainey stood and put her hands on Brianna’s waist. Brianna jumped while Delainey lifted her high into the air.
“I’m a Jumping Bean,” Brianna cried.
Delainey lowered her daughter until she wrapped her legs around her mother’s waist and her arms around her neck.
They twirled until Delainey had to stop because she was dizzy. She was sure her daughter could have gone on and on.
“But don’t you think he’s adorable, too?” Brianna whispered in her ear.
No denying it. “Very adorable.”
“Then why don’t you marry him?”
Delainey plunked down on the floor with Brianna still clinging to her and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Hunter and I—” She was going to say they were just friends, but that wasn’t exactly true.