Sidetracked

by Lola Karns

  The old men were her friends too, but CJ’s fell to her, not anyone else. She rolled her shoulders down and back as she stretched her spine long. She couldn’t risk absorbing Ryan’s energy “No. I emailed Walter about the meeting and asked him to be there, but it’s my business now, so I’ve got to do this myself, whatever the outcome. So where is this office?”

  Ryan set a laminated map on the counter and tapped a finger on one square. “Up the stairs, and down the hall. His admin sits right outside the door. I’ll let her know you’re coming.”

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know about the overtime as soon as I know.”

  With every step her anger grew. So much for tapping into a steely resolve. She barely acknowledged the individuals saying hello. She muttered cursory responses, but her mind ran through a litany of questions. Who is this guy to destroy Christmas and her grandfather’s legacy? Why so many empty desks? Who doesn’t love trains? Her pace picked up, as did her breathing.

  The closed door stood right where Ryan indicated it would. A woman in an orange suit jacket sat at a desk perpendicular to the door. She didn’t recognize her. This Fordham guy was firing her friends and townsfolk and bringing in outsiders. He was destroying the town’s economy and it seemed all but certain that he would take away their holiday joy.

  The secretary held a phone receiver to her ear. She slowed down, flashing the logo side of her portfolio toward the woman. “I’ve got an appointment.”

  She glanced at her watch. Right on time. She shoved open the wooden door.

  “James?”

  Chapter 10

  “Claire?!” He walked around the desk, eager to take her in his arms. This was better than waiting until later. The last few hours had been miserable. As soon as he got through this contract problem, he’d take her to lunch. “How did you—”

  Grace popped her head into the door, with uncharacteristically bad timing. “Sorry Mr. Fordham. She rushed past me. Your eleven thirty is here.”

  “Could you ask this CJ Evans to wait a few minutes?”

  “No... she...can’t.” Every word was an icy dagger.

  Claire dropped her bag, making a strange sucking noise as she did so. Her cheeks hollowed and lips snarled as she glared at him. His stomach churned.

  “Claire... Jane... Evans.” She extended her hand in a manner that would have been professional if it didn’t look ready to squeeze the life out of him.

  “That’s not the name on the contract. It’s—”

  “Where’s Walter McKenna?”

  “Not here.”

  “Fine.” A forced smile came to her face, so unlike the one she wore last night. This one didn’t reach her hate filled eyes. Actually, she looked more like a predator, baring teeth before chomping down. His body froze, except for his sweat glands. His muscles failed alongside his deodorant.

  “Clement Jacob Evans founded CJ’s Hobbies. My grandfather and business partner died in February, leaving everything to me, successor of CJ’s Hobbies.” She cleared her throat, glanced at her still extended hand, and then narrowed her eyes in his direction.

  He returned the courtesy, his body responding to the single-pump touch in a way that revived him. If he touched her much longer, he’d deliver a special salute, one entirely unfit for the workplace. Acutely aware of Grace’s presence, he turned toward her before he did something foolish.

  “Thank you, Grace.”

  She glanced nervously between the two of them, rather than leaving the room as he expected. He gave her a questioning look. Gingerly, she approached and whispered.

  “I’ll contact security as you asked.”

  Reality hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. Grace remembered what he was about to do and based on the growl he heard, Claire suspected it too. He needed time to regroup. He wanted to chug some Mylanta or disappear or swap jobs with Danny. None of those possibilities would happen. The best he could do was pretend to carefully consider his answer.

  “No. I don’t think that will be necessary.” Returning to a conversational level, he continued. “But before you leave, Grace, let’s make sure our guest is comfortable. Can we offer you anything, Claire? A cup of coffee, glass of water?”

  “No thank you. I prefer to keep my business meetings as brief as possible.” She looked at Grace, not him. Her voice lacked the warmth he longed to hear. But she had the right idea. This meeting was strictly business. He’d worked with family long enough to know how to keep personal business out of the workplace. Not that Claire was family, but she worked with a family business too, so she knew the drill. Although, he thought she worked at museums. His thoughts refused to congeal. She looked nice. He wondered if she’d mind going into the city for dinner.

  They watched Grace leave the room, otherwise standing still. Only after the door clicked, did she address him, fixing him with a mean stare.

  “So you’re not an engineer.”

  “I never said I was. You made that assumption—”

  “You didn’t correct me.”

  “You never said you ran a local business. You said you worked at a museum.”

  “I sometimes do.” After a pause she continued. “So Mr. Fordham, I must admit my surprise being called here today without my corporate liaison Walter McKenna also being present.”

  “No need to be so formal. Please have a seat.” He gestured to the low-backed easy chair closest to her. “Mr. McKenna recused himself from this meeting.”

  He walked to the other side of his desk, eyeing the drawer that might offer relief for the discomfort in his stomach. Claire’s presence knocked him off his normal game. In spite of her being a sensual, confident, and fully-grown woman, she played with trains. Walter’s hobby was pathetic, but at least the man had a real job and seemed competent at it. He’d ask her about her little hobby later. It would make interesting dinner conversation. He couldn’t completely separate his personal curiosity from the business side of this meeting.

  “I really wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Me neither.” Hostility rolled off her in waves. She needed to take a deep breath. This was almost as bad as when his mom found out Dad was remarrying. Even that swimsuit model he’d dated, Danya, had shown less anger when he’d told her he point blank he didn’t want to marry her, not even to help her get a green card. Still, once the shock wore off, he expected Claire would come around. She needed a few minutes to absorb the surprise. He knew he did.

  His gaze darted to the drawer again, but a Mylanta cocktail would be weak. Never be vulnerable. Play to win. His father’s words echoed in his mind. He glanced at the folder in front of him. Work came first, but she might need to be put at ease with a bit of small talk. He forced the left side of his mouth to lift up as he looked her in the eye.

  “So how did Claire Jane Evans come to be in charge of Adena’s holiday train display?”

  Her expression softened, reminding him of that first night on his porch when she spoke of catching fireflies.

  “My grandfather came up with idea over sixty years ago. Adena needed to rehabilitate its image after an industrial accident. Since then, it’s grown into a beloved tradition, expanding every year and increasing donations to local hospitals and STEM learning. Until now.”

  Her gaze hardened and her eyes narrowed so much, he could no longer see their green. James leaned into his seatback, pressing his shoulder blades against his spine as he did so. The chair swiveled from the force. A deep inhale and exhale not only settled his stomach but renewed his focus. She’d get over it. She was in shock. Once she recovered from the surprise, she would recognize this as a clear-cut business decision. After all, she was a business owner herself. No doubt she made tough decisions. He tented his fingers and drummed the pads against each other in sequential rhythm.

  “That’s how the holiday display came to be, but not what I asked. How did you become involved?”

  “I assisted my grandfather about as long as I can remember. He brought me in as equal partner as soon as I came of a
ge, long before my career took off.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’m a miniaturist.”

  The answer meant nothing to him, but she didn’t seem in the mood to elaborate. Her ramrod straight body posture projected a mix of fear and confidence. He hated being the cause of such anxiety for her. Maybe they could share a Mylanta toast?

  “Do you enjoy your work?”

  Her eye roll let him know exactly what she thought of the question. “Do you?”

  He pursed his lips. Not at the moment. He offered a tight smile as she saved him from answering.

  “This is extremely awkward, Mr. Fordham. Normally, my grandfather comes in—I join him when I’m in town which hasn’t been all that often. We meet with several of the officers and Walter. We show off my designs, we discuss staffing, H.R. sets us up with badges, we get keys and we’re off. Today, however, I’ve heard all kinds of crazy unsettling rumors and that’s before running into...” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “Before getting the surprise of my life that the man whose bed I shared last night isn’t who I thought he was and now he’s going to tell me my services are no longer needed.”

  His gut clenched. His fingers gripped the edge of upper right drawer. She was angry and she was right. But even if he had known who she was, would he have been able to resist?

  “I’m as shocked as you, probably more so. You assumed—”

  “You didn’t correct me.”

  “No, I did not. But you never told me your last name until five minutes ago.”

  “You didn’t tell me yours.”

  “True. Maybe we would have shared those details over breakfast if you’d stuck around. I still don’t know where you live. The contracts all say Clem Evans and his successors. How was I supposed to guess you owned CJ’s Hobbies?”

  “Touché. So this is about the contract?”

  “Yes.”

  She appeared crestfallen. He didn’t want to take away her livelihood, but the decision was final.

  “Let’s get this over with. I’m sure you had a whole spiel planned.” She huffed and fell back against her chair.

  “Back to business then. As you know, Adena Energy recently sold to a private firm, Fordham, Fordham and Schmidt. I represent their interests in making Adena profitable once again.”

  “Through slash and burn business methods.”

  “Through careful assessment of redundancies, overinflated budgets and projects secondary to the company’s stated mission, which is to provide energy to the community. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news since this impacts you on a personal and professional level, but the holiday train display is a tremendous misdirection of the company’s resources in terms of electrical use, manpower, and liability.”

  “All that impressive jargon means is you are breaking Adena’s contract with me.”

  Heart heavy, he met her gaze, those beautiful eyes flashing a mix of anger and sorrow. “Yes.”

  SHE LEANED BACK, TRYING to suppress her desire to reach across the desk and throttle him. How dare he! He was an outsider. A city boy of the worst possible kind. A narrow-minded, greedy, selfish, rat-bastard who didn’t deserve sunsets. He didn’t understand a thing about Belkin, community, or common decency. At this rate, she’d be stuck with a lot of free time on her schedule and she no longer wanted to spend time with the man who made it possible.

  She’d wasted a perfectly good morning creating figures capturing his eyes so he could be part of world she recreated in miniature. She’d even put on a skirt and heels. The jerk wouldn’t appreciate the effort, not after the way his questioning tone mocked her. He understood the all-mighty dollar. She had one chance and only one chance to reach him before she walked out of this office and out of his life forever.

  Digging through the messenger bag, she let the papers absorb some of the anger burbling inside her. Too many people and businesses in town survived on the money brought in during this display. Beverley, the O’Meara’s, the police department. This year, they all depended on her. She pulled a manila folder from the bag.

  She smiled her prettiest, forced smile as she sat back up. She was so glad Grandfather had accepted her suggestion during the last contract negotiation. She’d learned the sting of poor negotiations several years ago when a six-figure salary slipped through her hands because she failed to enumerate all possible contingencies.

  “As per the contract details, Mr. Fordham, you do understand that Adena owes CJ’s Hobbies compensation whether the display takes place or not. I’ll have to look up the exact number, but I believe it’s around ninety thousand. That seems rather wasteful for services not rendered.”

  “Admittedly, we would prefer to forgo that expense, but Fordham will honor contracts previously entered into.”

  “Cancelling is not honoring.”

  “The payout is.”

  She wanted to smack the calm smugness off his face. Maybe he could be part of the holiday scene, sitting in jail, under arrest for stealing Christmas and being mean. She refused to break down in front of him. She picked up her bags, squeezing her fingers around the handles as if preparing for a bare-knuckle brawl. She took two steps toward him. The jerk didn’t have the decency to cower.

  “The contract also specifies CJ Hobbies also retains ownership of all models created, even those stored on site. Rent. Free.”

  “I was not aware of that clause. I’ll request the building manager to arrange for pick-up of your property as soon as possible. You understand Adena cannot continue to provide rent-free storage.” His flat, almost bored tone pushed at her last remaining bit of self-control.

  “And another thing, Mr. Business-man-contract-money-lover. I only invest my time on high return items. You are not one.”

  “I’m an item?”

  “We could have been. Not now.”

  “But this is business, not personal. I though you understood the separation. Last night you were all ‘no business talk.’”

  “Because business is personal to me and not everyone appreciates my chosen path. I thought you might be worthy of that privilege, but you’re clearly not.”

  “So, you’re not coming over later?”

  His phone lay on his desk. He’d called her from it earlier. He didn’t deserve her number. She might have to burn his house down to get rid of the paper evidence of her folly, but she could delete her damn number. She grabbed the phone. James didn’t try to stop her. In her peripheral vision, his brows furrowed. He had one of those giant phones and it was password protected. A rumble formed in her throat. This was impossible.

  She stomped toward the door. “I’ll expect the check by the end of next week, otherwise, I’ll contact my lawyers.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Don’t call me unless it’s business.”

  She threw the phone in the trash and flung the office door open. A sea of faces greeted her.

  Ryan and another security guard pressed their lips into thin lines. Ryan extended a hand to take her bag. Walter broke free and made a gesture with his hands as if inviting her for a hug. So many familiar faces. She had no idea what they might have overheard, but given the number of people who reddened and looked at the floor when she met their gazes, her foolish dalliance wasn’t a secret.

  Shuffling from inside the office alerted her to movement. A head turn confirmed James was walking toward the door, probably to lambast security for not escorting her out quickly enough. All these faces. If her reputation was going to be shot, at least she had one arrow still in the quiver. A grin spread across her face as she stepped away from the office door and handed Ryan one bag and Walter another.

  “One more thing, Mr. Fordham, that stupid Kanji tattoo that you think means success? It really means thong. I know. I painted it many times as part of a million-dollar project for a Japanese lingerie magnate.”

  Chapter 11

  Laughter welcomed Claire’s ears long before she reached Jo’s front doorbell. After a few seconds, her friend swung open the
door.

  “Monster battle!” The deep voice didn’t come from her friend, which was good. She didn’t need to add possible demon possession to her worry list.

  “Kevin’s therapist is here.”

  “I’m going to get you!”

  “Not if I get you with my monster claws first!” That was Kevin.

  “They sound like they’re having way too much fun.”

  “They’re making a ruckus. You look upset. Let’s sit on the watermelon where it’s calmer.”

  To the right of the door, the porch swing hung lower than a standard swing, making it easier for Kevin to climb aboard and test his vestibular system. The current combination of paint, cushions and fabric turned the swing into a slice of watermelon. Claire dug her fingers into the black fake fur seeds.

  “Kevin does that all the time. I’ve replaced his favorite seed twice already.”

  “I can see why. The dark color absorbs the warmth, making it seem alive like a cat.”

  “Or a Guinea pig. Remember Winnie?”

  “She was such a snuggler. I really appreciated having her for a few days after Mom and Grandma died.”

  “Until my sister called the police to report a missing Guinea pig. What a mess. Dylan thinks Kevin might benefit from a companion animal, but I’m not sure I’m ready for the emotional investment of a pet.”

  “Meanwhile, I’m emotionally ready, but travel too much. What if I get the Guinea pig and Kevin babysits when I’m out of town?”

  Jo shot her a side-eye smirk, which, as it had since elementary school, made Claire laugh and then made Jo laugh. She brushed her hand across her face before poking Claire in the arm. “Enough about animals. You’re upset. What’s wrong.”

  “The idiot in charge cancelled the holiday trains.”

  “What? He can’t—”