A shop window across the street had Going Out of Business painted across the glass. The sign above the awning indicated it had been a florist. Even with the poor economy and reduced discretionary income, a florist should have been able to make it through the Christmas season. In another window on her side, she saw a For Rent sign. A lone, headless mannequin stood inside, one arm lifted like it was waving goodbye. One empty retail space she could dismiss, but two? That didn’t fit with her expectations.
Three years ago, she’d been brought in as the voice of the marketing team that convinced the town of Morton that Hugo’s ValuCenter would be a partner to the community, a harbinger of new economic growth. She’d seen their multi-phase plan for sustainable community development, had been the one to sell city leaders on the concept. So why was everything closed?
The next couple of spaces were occupied by a law office and an accountant. But the space after that had a discreet For Sale sign and the name of a local real estate company. Cold fingers walked down her spine as Norah looked into every window on the entire three block stretch.
Based on the community development plan, downtown Morton should’ve been a bustling retail corridor, full of local vendors and craftspeople. Exactly what it had been, at the heart, when she and Miranda had discovered the place years ago, but bigger. And yet more than seventy percent of the retail space sat empty. It was such a far cry from the bustling, quirky town she remembered, she half wondered if she’d come to the wrong place.
“What the hell happened here?”
One business still had active clientele at this hour. Crossing the street, Norah stepped inside the Five O’Clock Shadow. The bar was dim and quiet. A few people looked up when she came in, then went back to their drinks. Their low murmurs of conversation barely competed with the classic rock playing over the speakers. She noted a handful of suits and some business casual attire, suggesting that this was probably a hang out for the office workers and city government employees who worked further down the street.
Loosening her scarf, Norah crossed to the bar, where a mustached man was drying glasses.
“What can I getcha?”
She slid onto a stool. “Directions, I hope. I’m from out of town, and it’s been a few years since I came through here. I was hoping you could tell me where Have Your Cake moved to.”
“Didn’t move. Closed along with just about everything else down here.”
She’d been afraid of that. “What happened?”
“Same as happened lots of other places. We got a Hugo’s ValuCenter.”
Norah swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I’d heard that they were in to being partners with the community.”
The bartender snorted. “They’re like any other politicians. Telling people exactly what they want to hear to get in, then going back on their word. Within six months of opening for business, they added an in-house florist, a bakery, a butcher, on top of all the other products they already carried. They undercut local prices, all in the name of value.” The word rolled off his tongue like something foul. “Local businesses couldn’t compete. Those of us still standing are the ones who aren’t in direct competition. Everybody else…poof.”
Numb, Norah thanked the bartender for his time and headed back to her car. Her stomach roiled.
Hugo’s had done exactly what she’d promised the town they wouldn’t do. She’d seen the proposal, seen the plans to integrate, not overtake the community. Was there a statute of limitations clause she’d missed? Had they performed some kind of bait and switch with the final contracts? Had her partner failed to do proper due diligence on the company? She had, in effect, lied to the townspeople. Used all her skill in persuasion to talk them into something that had decimated the character of the town.
How did this happen? Where did I screw up?
She didn’t know. But as soon as she got to the office in the morning, she was going to find out.
Chapter 2
Standing shoulder to shoulder with her intern, Norah surveyed the mountains of folders spread across the conference table.
Cecily took a bracing breath. “This calls for ordering in. Do we want Chinese, Indian, or Greek?”
“None of the above. You are going home like the good little, not-excessively-overworked intern you’re supposed to be.”
“But I can help.”
Aw, she’s like your mini-me, Norah’s conscience cooed. The earnest, good-hearted workaholic. Encourage that so y’all can have no life together.
“It’s not about can, it’s about should. And you should have a life after work. Now go ahead and scoot or you’re going to miss your TaeBo class.”
“You did not just tell me to scoot. You’ve been talking to your Mississippi friend again.”
Norah just arched a brow.
“Fine, fine. But I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow. I’ve got some concepts kicking around in my head for the Rembrandt job.”
“I look forward to hearing them. To. Mor. Row.”
“Yes, boss.”
As Cecily walked out, Norah’s personal assistant walked in.
“Don’t even start with me, Christoff.”
“Not even back a day and you’re covered up. We aren’t that behind from the holiday.”
As he moved toward her desk, Norah automatically closed the files she’d pulled herself earlier in the day. No reason to alert anyone else to her inquiries until she decided what to do about them.
“I’m just trying to get ahead a bit so I can take New Year’s off.”
He collapsed gracefully into one of the visitor’s chairs and crossed his Ferragamo boots. “Honey, we both know you’re going to bring your fabulous dress and get ready here, before you and Mr. Tall, Dark, and GQ show up fashionably late for whatever It Party is the place to be.”
“Just because it’s what we did last year…”
Christoff shut her up with a Look. He tapped the side of his nose. “I am wise to your ways, milady. You shouldn’t be hitting the ground running this hard until after the first of the year.”
Norah sighed. “I have my reasons. Now go ahead and get out of here. I mean it. Out of the office.”
He crossed his arms. “I don’t like abandoning you while you’re drowning.”
“I am not drowning. Go home and watch your DVR backlog of Project Runway. All this will still be here tomorrow.”
“Only if you promise you’re not going to work half the night. I’m calling up here in an hour to make sure you’ve left.”
“Fair enough. I promise.”
He made an I’m watching you gesture with his fingers. “I’ll know if you just don’t pick up.”
He probably would. Norah had long since stopped wondering how Christoff knew the things he knew. She plastered on an indulgent smile and made shooing motions until he walked out of her office.
As soon as the door shut, Norah wilted, letting go of the Everything’s Okay facade she’d been using all day. Everything was most definitely not okay. Rising, she crossed to the window of her office, staring out at the twinkling lights of the Chicago skyline. She’d worked her ass off for Helios Creative to earn that view, done good work. Exceptional work. She was tenacious and she was thorough. The harder the sell, the more determined she became, rallying to the challenge like a heavyweight going into a title fight. Her honeyed eloquence had produced the highest success rate of anyone in the firm, save her boss, and she’d rocketed through the ranks to Vice President of Sales, getting dubbed The Closer. Together, she and Pierce Vargas were an absolute marketing dream team. Everybody said so.
But what was the price? How many lives had she destroyed in her pursuit of success?
The door behind her opened, but she didn’t turn.
“Finally took the lock off, huh? I was starting to wonder if you were avoiding me.”
“I had a lot of work to do.” She watched Pierce cross the room in the reflection, dispassionately noting the artfully mussed hair, the tailored suit trousers tha
t still held a crease even at this late hour. He always looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine ad. So did she. It was part and parcel of the job. Perfect. Polished. Professional. As he slid his arms around her waist, they looked every bit the power couple.
Pierce dipped his head to press a kiss to her neck. “Welcome home, babe.”
Norah stiffened and stepped away, wishing viciously for a tumbler of scotch she could drain before hurling the glass at his head.
Not a stupid man, Pierce stayed put, angling his head to study her. “Something wrong?”
“How long have we been partners?”
“In bed or out?” He flashed a glib smile. “Did I miss an anniversary or something?” When she didn’t soften, he sobered. “We’ve been working together for a little over three years. Why?”
“I stopped in Morton on my trip back yesterday.”
“Where?”
“Morton, Indiana. Hugo’s ValuCenter hired us to convince the town to let them build there. Y’all brought me in to do the pitch on behalf of the clients.”
“Okay. That was one of the first jobs we partnered on. So?”
“So the infrastructure of local businesses has been gutted. The downtown is all but dead because they completely violated their promise of non-competition in multiple areas. The promise I made the townspeople in good faith when I did the pitch.”
Pierce’s expression softened and he crossed to her. “Is that what’s got you upset? Sure it sucks for them, but you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s business, and if the town didn’t get a non-compete clause ironclad in the legal stuff, that’s on them. It happens. It still has nothing to do with you. You did your job. We both did.”
She spun away when he tried to pull her into his arms. “That’s the problem.”
“I don’t follow.”
Trembling with rage, Norah reached for the file on her desk, tossing it toward him. The contents spilled across the surface, onto the floor. Headlines jumped out in glaring black and white, damning Hugo’s business practices, outing their impact on other small towns in other parts of the country. A stack of bad publicity that proved the company had never meant a word of the promises she’d made on their behalf. Publicity she hadn’t seen when they brought her in at the last minute to do the pitch on behalf of Hugo’s.
“You knew. You were the one who did due diligence on this job. You knew before I ever made the presentation, and you didn’t tell me.”
Pierce eased a hip back on the credenza and crossed his arms. “You’re right. I didn’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t do the job if you were aware of the company’s…shall we say, checkered past.”
“Of course I wouldn’t have done it. It’s an ethics violation, Pierce! We—or, at least, you—were aware that this company could seriously damage that community, and you said nothing.”
He shrugged. “It was a huge account, and the firm couldn’t afford to lose it over your moral compass. So I gave you an edited version of the company’s plans. It worked. The client was happy. And you were well on your way to this corner office. End of story.”
“You manipulated me.”
“Norah, you’re really blowing this out of proportion—”
“Am I? Am I really? How often did you do this? How many times have you fed me a revised version of the truth and sent me in to lie to people?” She knew her voice was rising and struggled to find some control.
“Hey now, what is going on in here?” Philip Vargas, founder and CEO of Helios stepped through the door. “I can hear you from down the hall.”
Norah turned to face her boss. “Philip, I am sorry to inform you that your son has committed a serious ethics violation. At least once, perhaps more, in the name of profit. And he dragged me in as an unwitting accomplice.”
Philip gave an exaggerated sigh. “This is why we didn’t tell you. You’re our best closer. We couldn’t have your over-developed conscience getting in the way.”
She gaped at him. “We? You knew?”
“Of course, I knew. I know everything that goes on in my company. I know what assets I have and how best to use them.”
Use. The word rang in her head. She was an asset. Never before had that word made her feel cheap.
Philip continued, “You happen to have an element of southern charm to go along with that keen mind. Clients eat it up. You do your job and you do it damned well. We just keep you informed about what you need to know to get the job done without you having hysterics over things like truth, justice, and the American way.” The derision in his tone felt like acid.
With a dawning horror, Norah realized that neither Philip, nor Pierce, nor the company she’d devoted her life to for the last six years were who she thought they were. She was the only one in the room with an ounce of integrity. She squared her shoulders. “I won’t be party to that kind of manipulation again.”
Philip shrugged in a gesture so redolent of Pierce only minutes before, Norah felt her head spin. “Fine. You’re fired.”
Norah’s mouth dropped open.
“For every award you’ve won in this company’s name, there are dozens of hungry young neophytes dying for your job. You’re replaceable. And if you bother spreading this little story, you can be sure I’ll blackball you. You won’t ever work in this business again. Think about that while you’re standing in line for unemployment.”
She looked to Pierce, but he said nothing, looking disgusted by her behavior. A year and a half wasted on a man who couldn’t be bothered to defend her. “We’re through.”
“Oh, I think that’s been made abundantly clear.”
Philip stepped out and called for the security guard. “Please escort Miss Burke from the building and take her keys once she’s gathered her things. C’mon, son. I’ll buy you a drink.”
Norah was still staring at the door minutes after they walked out. Daryl, the security guard, stood awkwardly beside her desk as she piled her personal effects into a box. Riding on temper and righteous outrage as he escorted her to the elevator like some kind of criminal, Norah was grateful no one was left working late to bear witness to her humiliation.
Daryl didn’t quite meet her eyes as the elevator doors opened at the parking garage. “I’m sorry about this ma’am, but it’s company policy.”
“Not your fault.”
Fury carried her through traffic. Indignation had her deliberately taking the stairs up to her fourth floor apartment so she could burn off some of the excess energy. Not until she locked the door to her apartment and dumped the box on the kitchen table did anything else filter past that initial reaction shock and outrage.
Shaking, Norah sank into a chair and buried her head in her hands.
“What have I done?”
~*~
Cam really should’ve been working on year-end reports. It would save him time come tax season. Unfortunately, he much preferred mucking around in the dirt to the spreadsheets that tracked the income and expenses of his business. But since it was the dead of winter, that mostly meant mucking around in virtual dirt, except when he was in his greenhouses. Cam clicked his mouse and dragged to adjust the fence line on the park he wanted to build on Abe’s land out at Hope Springs. He’d been fiddling with this design for the better part of four years, mostly for fun, but with a thread of pipe dream in the back of his mind. It had begun as a distraction for his mom while she was in chemo, and he’d made idiotic deals with God that if she made it through, he’d find a way to make it a reality.
Sandra had not only survived, she’d gotten re-elected mayor—a post she’d left for only a six-month hiatus during the worst of her treatments. Cam had taken that as a sign from the Universe that it was time to move forward with the park. His first year as a Councilman had quickly put an end to that idea. But he couldn’t seem to let it go in the wake of Abe’s announcement.
A murmur of voices preceded the unceremonious opening of his office door by his
nursery manager, Violet. “See there, told you he wasn’t really workin’.”
Cam rose as his mother stepped inside.
“Hey baby. Sorry to interrupt.”
He managed, just barely, to stop himself from asking if everything was okay. She was tired of the worry, tired of the solicitude, and just wanted life to get back to normal. “You’re not interrupting a thing.” He slid his arms carefully around her, thinking she still felt too fragile in his embrace.
“I’ll just leave you two to it. Cam, I’m flipping the sign.”
He let his mother go. “See you tomorrow, Vi.”
Sandra peered, unabashed, at his monitor. “The park at the springs? What’s got you looking at this again?”
“Did you know Abe’s looking at selling his land out there?”
His mother eased into the chair on the other side of the desk. “No, I hadn’t heard that.”
Cam told her what he’d heard at the Mudcat the other night. “Any idea who the potential buyer might be?”
“Not a one. Do you think he’s serious?”
“Seems like. I told him to hold off on making any final decisions.”
Sandra looked at the screen then back at him. “You want the city to buy it.”
“That’s not news.” Before she could say it, he said it himself. “I know the city can’t afford it. But he can't sell that land, Mom. It can't change. It's too important to the history of the town. The springs are its heart."
Sandra gave him a look of affectionate forbearance. "The heart of this town is its people."
"And we're losing them left and right.” How many families had picked up and left in the last six months? “Everything's changing and I don't know how to stop it."
She rose and came around the desk to frame his face in her hands. "Oh my baby, you've never dealt well with change. That’s probably my fault. I did everything I could to keep things the same for you after your dad left.”
“You aren’t to blame for anything that happened after that.” God knew she’d done the best she could, and that was a damned sight better than plenty of people had with two parents.