by Reeni Austin
“He must have been confused about that.”
“What about the rest? He’s a total stranger, Mom! I hate to think what else you probably told him.”
“He’s a charming young man who’s taken an interest in you. You don’t need to be so melodramatic.”
“He hasn’t taken an interest. He just feels guilty because his girlfriend got me fired from Luna Lee the other night.”
“Well, he didn’t say anything to me about having a girlfriend. It’s hard to imagine why a man like him couldn’t have any woman he wants.”
“Exactly.” She let out a sad sigh.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Give the guy a chance.”
“Mom, it’s not like that. He felt guilty and wanted to do a good deed. Don’t make it out to be more than what it is.”
“Is this because of the weight you’ve gained? Because I’ve always heard Mexicans like their women a little bigger.”
“Mom!” Mortified, Cara glanced around the hallway as if someone could hear her mother’s crude statement. “It’s a lot of things. A rich guy like him with a single mom from Newark? It’s ridiculous.” As she finished her sentence, she heard Isaac crying. She rushed into the room to tend to him. “I gotta go, Mom.”
“Are they letting Isaac come home today?”
“Don’t know yet. Bye.”
As Cara soothed her aching son, she shoved the thought of Victor Barboza to the back of her mind. It was too silly to entertain for long.
* * *
Victor had one hand on the wheel as he weaved through traffic on his way back to the office. Usually, his office was his favorite place to be, but on this sunny day he fantasized about taking a well-deserved day off, driving outside the city. Maybe somewhere upstate. Someplace where the grass was green and the air smelled fresh.
And he wanted someone to share it with. His mind’s eye kept flashing back to Cara. Damn, she looked even more beautiful with her hair down. Thick blond hair, green eyes. The prettiest porcelain skin he’d ever laid eyes upon. He had to find a reason to see her again.
Cara was so different from the women he usually dated. She was hard-working and willing to sacrifice for her child. The polar opposite of stuck-up princesses like Alexis. No more of that for him. If their interrupted engagement had taught Victor anything, it was how much he didn’t want another woman like her.
Victor laughed at himself. He heard his brother Ramon’s voice inside his head. If any one of us is going to marry someone like Mama, it’s you.
It was nothing to be ashamed of. The Barboza brothers—Victor, Ramon, and Armando—wouldn’t be where they were today without their mother’s sacrifice. She worked three jobs so her sons could concentrate on school. Unlike some of their friends who were already working the farms outside of town by age eight.
It had been a long time since the image of any woman had stuck with him like Cara Green. And that included Alexis Whitt. Sure, Alexis was easy on the eyes and she could hold a decent conversation. But Cara had fight. She was willing to roll up her sleeves and do her best for her son.
What if Alexis somehow lost everything? And, God forbid she have a child. Alexis wouldn’t know how to take care of herself, let alone another person.
Cara deserved to be paid back for her labor. Patty said she hadn’t seen her daughter go on a single date since she moved in with her six months earlier.
I need to find a way to see her again, Victor thought. He could already tell from the fire in her eyes that she had pride. Just like Mama. She didn’t want a handout.
But she at least needed a better job.
He came to a stoplight and took out his phone, where he’d made a few notes. Then he called his assistant.
Gary’s tone was chipper as usual. “Yes, Mr. Barboza?”
“Hey. I know I’m late for a meeting but—”
“It’s okay. I rescheduled everything for tomorrow like you requested.”
“Good. I need you to do some research. Doyle Construction. Morristown. See if we have a connection to anyone there.” He smiled. “They have an employee I wanna steal.”
Chapter Three
“What a long day.” Marcy exhaled in relief as her foot hit the gas pedal. “Already feels like it should be Friday, not Tuesday.”
Cara closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the headrest. “Tell me about it. I got a glass of cheap wine waiting for me after I make sure Isaac’s okay.”
“Isn’t your mom taking care of him?”
“Yeah, but she needs to sleep. Last night we took turns waking up every couple of hours to make sure he took his medication.” Cara yawned.
“Aw, the poor little guy. You really didn’t need to come out and help me clean tonight. You should’ve just stayed home with him.”
Cara was too tired to cry. “I can’t. I need the money. Heck, I’m down a job now. I don’t know how I’m gonna pay my cell phone bill this month.”
Marcy shook her head and gave her friend’s knee a reassuring pat as she drove. “Let me know if I can help. I can give you an advance on the money I’ll owe you by the end of the month.”
“No, that’s okay.” Cara would have accepted but she knew Marcy had financial struggles of her own. “As long as the boss at my day job pays me on time, I should be fine.”
A nervous chuckle escaped Marcy’s throat. “Something isn’t right with that situation. I’ve never heard of a company paying late and getting away with it for so long.”
Cara sighed. “Trust me, I know. But I need that job. I can’t exactly afford to ask questions.”
“I heard one of the offices we clean might have an opening soon. I’ll keep my ears open for you.”
“Thanks.”
“So, what’s this about a tall, dark, Latin stud paying you a visit yesterday?”
Cara’s eyes flew open and she sat up straight. “What? Did Mom tell you about that?”
Marcy giggled. “Yeah, when I picked you up this evening. Said he dropped by the house driving a car so fancy she’d never heard of it before.”
“Oh geez. It was nothing.”
Marcy’s eyebrow lifted. “Oh really? She said he paid you and Isaac a visit at the hospital yesterday. When were you planning on telling me about this?”
“Darn it!” Cara groaned. “It’s nothing. He felt bad because his girlfriend got me fired.”
“Oh really?” Marcy was suddenly disappointed. “So he has a girlfriend?”
“Well, he says she’s not but they were sitting together.” Cara huffed. “It was one of those snobby fundraisers on the upper east side. I sure as heck won’t miss those.”
“So, she’s not his girlfriend?” There was a glimmer of hope in Marcy’s tone.
“I see where you’re going with this and I don’t have the energy for it right now.”
“Oh, come on, Cara. He went to your house and then tracked you down at the hospital. This is huge. I can’t believe you weren’t even gonna mention it.”
“I told you, there’s nothing to mention. He’s a rich guy who obviously has too much time on his hands and guilt issues of some sort.”
“So? What kind of guy drives from Manhattan to Newark because of a woman he’s just met? Sounds like a dream to me.”
“Like I said, he has too much time on his hands. He was probably bored from sitting around and counting his money all day.”
“Oh, you are so frustrating.” Marcy took her eyes from the road to gape at Cara for a moment. “He could’ve just had some money sent to you. Or had a gift sent to the hospital or whatever.” She could barely see Cara’s face in the dark, but she thought she noticed a smirk when she mentioned a gift. “What? Did he send you a gift? Bring you one in person?”
Cara growled and stared up at the ceiling. “He brought Isaac a gift.”
Marcy gasped. “What was it?”
“It was nothing.”
“Bullshit! What the heck did he bring Isaac at the hospital?”
“A care
package.” Cara’s voice grew quiet. “A very nice care package.”
“Aw.” Marcy pouted. “I wish I had a rich man to bring me a care package.” She chuckled. “I wonder if there’s another package he’d rather give you instead—”
Cara laughed. “Stop! I can’t let myself think that way about him.”
“What? Maybe you should call him and see what happens. You could use a good romp in the bedroom. How long’s it been now? Let me think…you moved back here six months ago…it had to be when you were living in Chicago…”
“Stop. Please.” Cara tried to stifle her groan. “It’s too depressing to think about. Besides, you should see the woman he was with. Perfect in every way.”
“Probably surgically enhanced.”
Cara shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. But what’s it matter? I mean, look at me? I’d have a better shot with George the forklift operator who comes to the office just to wink at me every chance he gets.”
Marcy slapped Cara’s leg. “None of that talk. If you want, we can start working out before or after work. That office building on Claremont has a gym they’d probably let us use.”
“No way. I’m too tired from working all day then cleaning offices with you every night. No time.”
“Well, suit yourself. I think you should give the hot rich man a go. Your mom said he gave you his card and told you to,” she slowed her words, “call anytime.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Marcy made her voice deliberately sensual. “Yes, anytime. About anything you need. Hello, Mr. Manhattan Heartthrob? Think you could spare an evening to give my friend here some personal attention? It’s been so long—”
“Stop!” Cara’s head shook. “Why does your mind always go there? He was a nice guy. A gentleman.” She paused to sigh. “And he could have any woman he wants. I’m sure he keeps a whole slew of girls around to fill those needs. Rich guy with a sports car. Yeah.” She snorted. “He has to drive all the way to Newark to get laid. That’s believable.”
“Maybe he doesn’t need to come to Newark. Maybe he just wanted to. Maybe you made an impression.”
“Please, don’t.” Cara closed her mouth to keep the words, “I don’t want to get my hopes up,” from coming out.
“Okay. Well, no matter what, you need to start making time for yourself. You do so much for everyone else. We all just wanna see you happy.”
“I am happy.”
“You’d be happier if you’d let handsome men be nice to you instead of running them off. He gave you his card. You should give him a call.”
“Between Isaac and work, when do I have time for that? I’m worn out in every way.”
“Hmm. You don’t sound too happy to me.”
“Okay, whatever. Maybe I don’t have time for happy. Can we drop it now?”
* * *
“What the heck?” Cara stared in disbelief at the chains around the door at Doyle Construction. She pulled on the handle, trying to get inside. The heavy chain rattled, but the door was locked tight. “What in the world is this?” She squinted to look through the glass door. “Mr. Doyle? You in there? You all right?”
With her heels digging against the sidewalk, she tried again to pull the door open. Again, the chains rattled.
She reached inside her purse for her phone just as two men in suits walked around the corner, meeting her at the front door.
“You work here?” One of the men asked.
“Uh…” She stammered.
“It’s okay. Don’t be nervous. You’re not in trouble. Do you work here?”
She looked him in the eye. “Yes.”
The other guy snorted. “You don’t anymore. This is an IRS seizure.”
Cara gasped. “What do you mean, I don’t work here anymore?”
“Your boss owes the IRS a hefty sum in payroll taxes, ma’am.”
“Oh my God.” She looked down at the chains. “So I can’t go back in there? At all?”
“Nope. If you got some personal stuff in your desk in there we can probably talk about it but, for all intents and purposes, this business is shut down.” He smirked. “Did you ever wonder why he paid you in cash?”
“Um…yeah. Was that not allowed?” she asked.
The guys shared a look then turned to her. One answered, “It’s not ideal. He thought he was getting away with paying you under the table. Did he issue check stubs that showed your withholding?”
Cara nodded. “Yes. Once a month or so he’d give us all a statement. I thought it was legit. Am I in trouble?”
“No. Doyle’s in trouble.”
Her eyes welled up. “But he was supposed to pay me tomorrow. What am I gonna do?”
“He’ll undergo a full-scale audit and we’ll figure out what he owes us and what he owes his employees.” He frowned. “I hate to tell you, ma’am, but the audit’ll take a while and even then, you may never see that money. I’m sorry. It’s always the employees who get hurt the most in these situations.”
“Okay,” Cara said. If the IRS agents told her anything else, she was too numb with anger and worry to hear it. She simply walked to her car and drove out of the parking lot, unsure what she was going to do next.
When she got home, she yelled, “I’m back!” to her mom in the kitchen, then went right upstairs to Isaac’s room where he lay in bed. His tired eyes perked up when he saw her.
“Mommy!” His voice was scratchy. He reached out for her with both arms. “Mommy Mommy Mommy!”
Her heart melted at the sight of his smile. She dropped her purse to the floor and sat down on the bed beside him for a quick hug. “You croak like a frog when you talk.” She pulled away, smiling and ruffling his shaggy blond hair with her fingers. “You’re Mommy’s little croaky frog.”
He laughed. “I’m not a cwoaky fwog.”
“Yes you are.” She leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Did you have your popsicle after I left this morning?”
“Yes. And some gwape Jeh-wo.”
“Good.”
“Can we go to the pawk now?”
“No, baby. You need to get some rest.”
“But aw I do is west.” His eyes got big. “I need to see Joey. He was s’posed to bwing me a wace caw.”
“Joey and the race car can wait, sweetie. I know you feel a lot better but you’ll get sick again if you go outside to play too soon.”
His little lips formed a frown. “No I won’t.”
“Yes you will. You don’t wanna go back to the hospital, do you?”
“No.”
“Okay then. You stay here in bed. If you feel good later, maybe we can walk outside for a minute. But we need to make sure you get better so you can go back to the park and see your friends again.”
“Gwammah said my tonsahs a gwow back if I weave bed for too wong.”
Cara didn’t know how to answer. She despised the idea of lying to her son, and she didn’t know Patty had concocted this idea. But she also didn’t like the idea of him not getting enough rest after surgery. “Well, if you thought your tonsils would grow back, why’d you wanna go to the park?”
“I want a wace caw.” He grinned.
Patty appeared at the door. “What are you doing home so soon? What happened? Why didn’t you call?”
“Shh.” Cara’s eyes widened at her mom. She turned back to Isaac. “I’m gonna go get you some more to drink. We’ll talk about that race car later.” Cara stood and turned on the small television to Isaac’s favorite cartoon channel, then left the room.
“So?” Patty asked, her hand on her hip. She followed her daughter downstairs. “What happened?”
Cara raced down to the kitchen, trying to put this talk off as long as possible. Like she could change the past if she didn’t talk about it. “I lost my job.”
“What?” Patty brought her hand to her chest. “You got fired?”
“Not exactly.” Cara opened the refrigerator and took out a small bottle of apple juice. When she plunked it down on the kitchen table, tears ran dow
n her face. “They shut the company down.”
“Who shut the company down?”
“The IRS.” She sniffled. “Doyle owed taxes.” Her cry changed to a high-pitched wail. “I’ll probably never get the money they owe me.”
Patty put her arms around her daughter and let her cry against her shoulder.
Cara continued through her tears. “What am I gonna do? I’ve applied for jobs everywhere. There’s nothing.”
“We’ll see if you can get some unemployment.” She rubbed her back. “And you can stay here and help me fill some cake orders.”
Cara groaned at that thought. Her mom worked at a bakery before she retired. She now lived on a fixed income and baked for the few cake orders she received. Cara, however, hated to cook. She felt she just wasn’t born with that gene, and her mom’s skills had never rubbed off on her. “If you get a lot of orders I’ll help, I guess.”
“Don’t worry, dear. We’ll be okay. You make enough from Marcy’s cleaning service to pay for groceries for you and Isaac. We’ll scrape by.”
Cara pulled away from her, wiping her face with her hands. “I don’t want to just ‘scrape by,’ Mom. I was trying to save money so I could relocate when I finally get another job offer.”
“I know that, but life doesn’t always go the way we want.”
Cara scoffed. “You don’t have to tell me that. I learn that lesson, daily.”
Patty rubbed Cara’s shoulder. “You know, I think you’re missing the obvious here.”
“What’s that?”
Patty sighed wistfully. “A certain rich Mexican gentleman who gave you his business card—”
“Oh, Mom.” She shook her head. “Will you stop talking about that? I know you told Marcy all about it, too. Look, he’s probably moved on to some other charity case by now. Just because he’s rich, it doesn’t mean he’s sane.” She picked up the juice bottle and started toward the stairs. “Trust me, he’s gotta be crazy to come all the way out here like he did. Remember that movie we saw about that girl who fell in love with that oil tycoon and he was psycho and killed her whole family?”