His Second Chance

  “Shhh! I mean, lower your voice. You know how Papa gets when he can’t hear the T.V.”

  Emma narrowed her eyes. “He can’t hear us all the way in here.” She glanced back at the screen, still holding onto the mouse with a purposeful grip. “You are looking for a job, aren’t you? Why?”

  Lucy held out her hand, frowning. “Hand me the mouse, and I’ll answer your question.” Emma relented with a sigh. “Okay. I’m just browsing. I’m thinking it might be time for a change of scenery. You know, somewhere where little kids ain’t coming in all hours of the day and puking on the office carpet.”

  “Eew. Okay. I get it.” Emma turned to leave.

  “Baby?”

  An exaggerated roll of the eyes. Emma hated being called “baby.” “What?”

  “Please let me tell Papa if I decide to make the switch. He don’t need to be worrying about nothin’, ‘kay?”

  A slight lift of the shoulders was Emma’s only reply.

  Lucy let out her breath as the door clicked shut. Too close. Good thing she could think fast. But if Mario were to suddenly appear, he probably wouldn’t believe her as readily as Emma had.

  She went back to scanning the computer screen, scrolling down and clicking links, trying to ignore the pricking of her conscience, warning her of the danger of keeping secrets from her husband. But I will tell him, just not right now. It wasn’t as though she were planning to gamble all their money away, or carry on a cyber relationship with another man.

  Finally, she saw it. The ad. WANTED: Receptionist for 47-year-old national company in local office. Experience required. Apply in person at…

  Lucy snatched at the notepad and pen she had arranged on the desk for this purpose, and wrote down the address. She would dress up especially nice tomorrow and take her lunch break to go to the place and apply. With any luck, she would be asking Mr. Wade for a little time off one of these afternoons for a job interview, and be secure in a new job before Mario could say, “Cheap food.”

  Chapter Ten

  Cynthia ignored the paper she’d found under the windshield wiper until Saturday. One reason was that she empathized strongly with Melissa’s feelings, because she was afraid of forgetting Justin if she became involved with another man. Another reason was that between working at the daycare and receiving two new website projects, she’d spent the past few days fighting off guilt about the stir she’d created at Franklin.

  Wednesday evening, Lucy had called her to tell her about the consequences of her and the teacher’s working together to let Cynthia use Erin’s classroom. Cynthia had nearly burst into tears, from a combination of shame at herself, worry over Lucy, and anger at Mr. Wade. She could have, she knew now, rented the conference room at the local branch library, or arranged to meet the parents in a local restaurant. But in her desperation to take action against the unhealthy school food, she didn’t want to take any time to think things through.

  Now, two people were suffering because of her impulsiveness. It didn’t help her to know that neither Lucy nor Erin held her culpable. She was culpable, and she was determined not to make such a mistake again. So, the past few days had been stressful, to say the least. She’d never had a root canal, but thought that experience might have felt like a walk on a warm, quiet beach in comparison.

  But even with her head full of everything else, it found plenty of room and time to dwell on the two brief encounters she’d had with Preston Brenner. She’d prayed for the thoughts to stop, but if anything they only became stronger and more frequent. So, with Melissa playing at a friend’s house, Cynthia decided to take a break and call Preston. She was almost finished with the first website, anyway, and needed to take her eyes off the computer for a little while.

  “How did you know it was my car?” was the first thing she said after he answered and she’d told him who was calling. She laughed as he explained, thinking about how things might have turned out for him had he put his name and phone number on the wrong car.

  They went on to chat for several minutes, mostly about her, she realized later, because he asked her endless questions about both her job and her business as soon as he found out how she made her living. The more they chatted, the more comfortable she felt, even though she knew where the conversation was going.

  Suddenly, he muttered a mild curse, said, “I have to go, sorry. I’ll call you back,” and hung up.

  **********

  Disgusted, Preston ended the call with Cynthia and hit the green button. “Preston here.”

  “The first inspector just showed up.”

  Preston furrowed his eyebrows. “You working today?” Normally, Kelly only worked Monday through Friday, and his part-time assistant, James, oversaw the operations on Saturday.

  “Nope. But James called, all freakin’ out. Says they started out this morning with a bad batch of soup, which they’ve set aside to dispose of, but the inspector is insisting on taking a sample.”

  Hot anger rolled through Preston’s belly. “He’s not supposed to touch anything marked for disposal.”

  “I’m on my way there now. But if Delico’s smooth-talking V.P. showed up out of the blue, he might do better than I could to convince this inspector.”

  Preston laughed. “Thanks for the promotion.” He only wished he were V.P. over the entire corporation. “I’m on my way.”

  Great. All he needed was for an inexperienced inspector to overstep his bounds and then write up a report that could easily be misconstrued to make it look like Delico was purposely tainting their products. And the way things were going, he might never have a chance to find out for sure whether Cynthia had any part in the Delico-related rumors. While they had settled down during the past few days, they were still out there. And as long as they were still out there, they would continue to threaten the bottom line of his company. And possibly his job.

  He grabbed his coat, wallet, and keys and left his apartment, relieved when Karen was nowhere in sight as he rushed down the hall and then took the elevator to the parking garage. Within the half hour, he had diffused the situation, putting on his most charming manner while secretly fuming inside. His job wasn’t easy, and he cherished his days off. Being called in for an incident that should never have happened was as irritating as a wasp sting to the groin.

  Kelly knew it, and apologized profusely once the inspector had continued on his rounds around the plant, leaving the manager and vice president alone. “But since you’re here, I got some news that’ll hopefully make your day a little brighter.”

  Preston thought the only thing that could brighten his day was if he could get back on the phone with Cynthia and set a dinner date with her, but said nothing. Only nodded his head, hoping that the garrulous man would simply state the one piece of news and let Preston return home.

  “I hired a new receptionist. Mexican lady, I think. Ramirez…no, what was it now?” He stroked his chin, looking at the ceiling. Then he cut his eyes back to Preston and snapped his fingers. “Perez! Yeah, that’s it. Lucinda, though she told me if I ever call her that she won’t answer. Says she’s only ever gone by Lucy, and if anybody decides to ‘Ms. Perez’ her she’ll be turning around, lookin’ for her mother-in-law.”

  Preston frowned. “That was pretty fast, wasn’t it?”

  “An answer from heaven, I b’lieve, sir. She was the fourth person to apply, and when I saw her application I had to interview her. She’s got plenty of experience, very personable, and her reference only had great things to say about her work.”

  Preston should have admonished him for not interviewing more people, for not allowing more time for more applications to come in. But the position was likely only going to be temporary, and Preston had bigger things to worry about right now. “I hope she works out for you, Kelly.”

  “Oh, I’ve no doubt, no doubt.” Kelly pumped his hand warmly in parting, and Preston heaved a sigh of relief as he exited the main building.

  If only the inspector would be so positive about wh
at he found at the plant today.

  **********

  “I got the sample you asked for.”

  “Bring it by seven o’clock sharp Monday morning.” Barry maneuvered his car into the grocery store parking lot as he spoke on his cell phone. “I don’t want anyone to see you coming or going.”

  “They ended up bringing the V.P. in, and I let him think he talked me into leaving the stuff alone.” The other voice, low and gravelly, chuckled. “But I wasn’t about to leave that much money on the table.”

  Barry, shifting his car into park, cringed at the mention of money. He was going to be losing a good chunk of it come Monday, but he wasn’t sure he had much choice. Not if he was going to keep his own hide safe.

  Then the meaning of the man’s words hit him in the stomach. “The…the vice president?”

  “Yeah. Some young hotshot. Brandon, was his name? Or Bindon?”

  Barry’s heart sunk into his toes. “Brenner.”

  “That’s him. Okay, see you Monday.”

  Barry slowly closed the phone, uttering a curse. If Preston Brenner had been there, he could make a connection. And if he did, the inspector might snitch. After all, he was clearly a man with low morals. A man who could be easily bought.

  Like yourself.

  Barry shook the thought away. His situation was different. Very different. If only it was as cut-and-dry as the deal he’d made with the inspector.

  With trembling fingers, he removed the key from the ignition and pulled open the door. He sure hoped Brenner wouldn’t make things any harder than he already had.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What’s wrong, Mom?” Melissa stood at Cynthia’s bedroom door, fright written all over her face.

  Cynthia laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She had just let out a loud shriek, but Melissa apparently had not been able to tell what kind of emotion had caused the noise. “Look.” She turned so that Melissa could see the back of the dress she had just tried on. “This thing finally fits me again!”

  It was her favorite, solid rose with black trim, in a silky fabric that stopped two inches above her knees. It wasn’t frilly, but fit her curves well. Justin had always called it her “sexy” dress.

  Melissa took a couple of steps into the room, frowning. “I’ve never seen that dress before. Have I?”

  Cynthia turned back to face her daughter, grinning. “I haven’t been able to wear it since I got pregnant with you. But now, look.” She waved her arms around, bent forward and from side to side. “It doesn’t even feel tight when I do that. No dieting or anything. Just from getting the junk out of our diet. Sweetie, are you all right?”

  Melissa’s face had gone a little pale, and her eyes darkened as they swept Cynthia with suspicion. “Why are you trying on nice dresses?”

  Ah. She thought Cynthia was getting ready for a date. Which she would be one of these nights soon, but Melissa wasn’t going to know until she needed to know. “Lucy is coming over for supper tonight, remember?”

  Melissa’s features relaxed slightly. “But you never dress up when you have other friends over.”

  “No, not usually.” She reached behind her to unzip the dress, but couldn’t quite grab the zipper. “But I wanted to put on a clean blouse, and when I saw this I got curious. My pants have been feeling a little looser, so I wondered. Thank you,” she added as Melissa stepped back into the room and unzipped the dress for her. She put her hands on Melissa’s shoulders and lowered her voice. “Now, are we good?”

  Melissa nodded, not smiling, but the darkness had slid out of her eyes.

  Lucy arrived a few minutes later to help prepare the meal. Cynthia wanted more ideas on how to fix simple healthy meals, as well as to talk to her about what she was learning in the books she’d been reading. The book Wheat Belly was blowing her mind, such that she’d already made the hard decision to keep all bread and other flour products out of the house.

  She and Melissa had never been big on bread, anyway, but how would she replace things like muffins and cookies? She knew there were a lot of gluten-free baked goods available, but they were just as much processed food as the wheat flour goods.

  Then there was the whole veganism versus meat-eating debate. Talk about confusing.

  “We don’t think God’s mad at us for killing animals for food,” Lucy remarked as she grated a carrot into a bowl of shredded lettuce, “at least not animals that are raised humanely. So we eat meat. Not a lot. Maybe three or four times a week. But if you got a problem with killing animals for food, you should be able to get the nutrition your body needs without meat.”

  Cynthia stood at the stove, lifting the lid of the saucepan to check the broccoli. Lucy told her that it was perfect when it was softening but still bright green. As soon as the color began to dull it had been overcooked, making it almost worthless to eat. “What about people who eat raw meat?”

  “Gross. Really?” This from Melissa, who had just come into the kitchen and plopped down on a chair.

  “Finished with your homework?”

  “Yes. Who eats raw meat?”

  “Extremists.” Lucy went to the sink to rinse off the grater. “I mean, I know it has its health benefits, but if you’re careful to cook your meat low and slow you get a better flavor and texture without denaturing the protein.”

  At that moment, the phone rang from somewhere in the living room. Cynthia left Lucy to explain the word “denature” to Melissa, located the phone, and picked it up. Warmth flowed through her body, especially her face, when she saw who was calling.

  “Hi, Preston.”

  “Hi. I’m sorry about earlier. Work emergency.”

  “What do you do, anyway?” They hadn’t gotten around to that before Preston had had to cut off their earlier call. Cynthia walked toward the bedroom as she spoke to make sure Melissa wouldn’t overhear.

  Preston fell silent for so long that Cynthia was afraid they’d been disconnected. “Are you still there?”

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. It’s just that – well, I want to make a deal with you. I’ll tell you what my profession is if you’ll go out with me this coming Friday night.”

  Cynthia shifted her eyes in the direction of the kitchen. A big part of her wanted to say yes, but another part wanted to honor Melissa’s wishes. She questioned whether giving into her own loneliness might not make things worse for them in the long run.

  She must have paused for too long, because Preston spoke again, in a soft and disappointed voice. “It’s all right. I understand if – “

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  **********

  “No. No, you can’t! I won’t let you!”

  Preston stepped back from the front door of the white house in alarm. The loud, child-like voice mingled with Cynthia’s as both faded into the distance.

  Preston put a death grip on the small bouquet of flowers he had bought for the occasion. What was the girl’s problem? Well, maybe Melissa’s flash of temper was a good sign. Maybe she wasn’t used to her mother going out on dates.

  Still, the shrill sound completely unnerved him. When he’d met her the other day, she’d seemed old enough to be over separation anxiety, old enough to not mind her mother going out once in a while.

  Then again, what did he know about kids? He only hoped that the girl would get over whatever her problem was. If she was going to make it hard for him to see Cynthia, he would just go on his merry way and find someone else. There was always someone else.

  After Preston had spent a couple more minutes of shivering in the cold, the door opened a few inches. Cynthia stood before him in a beautiful pink dress, face creased with worry. “I’m so sorry, Preston. I’m not going to be able to go tonight.” She glanced at the flowers, and her face fell. “And you even bothered to get me flowers.”

  That gave Preston an idea. “No, I did not get you flowers.” He cleared his throat, leaned clos
er to the door, and increased his volume. “These flowers are for the pretty little lady. Melissa. And if they don’t get into some water pretty soon, they’re going to wilt and start looking very sad.”

  Cynthia’s eyes widened, then she smiled as understanding dawned on her face. She turned her head toward the inside of the house. “Sweetie, look. Preston brought some flowers just for you.”

  He winked, and she smiled more broadly, ushering him into the house. “It’s too cold to stand out here and wait in suspense,” she whispered, her lips mere inches from his ear.

  He liked the feeling of her warm breath on his skin, and fought the temptation to reach out and caress her cheek. He followed her inside, finding himself in a tastefully yet simply decorated house. But he didn’t have a lot of time to take in his surroundings, because Melissa appeared a few seconds later, dragging her feet with hesitant steps. When she looked up at him, her eyes were red and her cheeks glistened with tears. Her expression was one of blank resignation, lacking any of the fury or fight he’d heard in her voice a few minutes ago.

  He took a step toward her, squatted down to her level, and held out the flowers. “These are for you.”

  Melissa glanced at Cynthia, then back at him. “Really?” Her voice was small and shaky.

  “Really.”

  She studied him for a long moment, then took the bouquet. He swallowed back a sigh of relief, then swiveled backwards to sit on the bench that was right next to him. He patted the space just to his left. “Mind if we talk for a minute, Melissa?”

  She looked away shyly. “I – I should put these in water first.” She walked quickly away before either he or Cynthia had a chance to say anything.

  Cynthia looked at him with one eyebrow quirked. “What’s this about?”

  Preston smiled. “I want to make this a win-win situation.” He would have said more about it, except that he didn’t know exactly what he was going to say to the child. “You look stunning in that dress, by the way.”

  Cynthia blushed. “Thanks.”

  Melissa returned a minute later, her step more confident, her eyes brighter, yet flashing a challenge as she met Preston’s gaze. She sat next to him on the bench, as far away as she could so that she was precariously perched on the edge, and crossed her arms. “So, talk.”

  “What do you think about me taking your mother out to dinner tonight?”