“End program. Maintain connection. No,” Spencer said decisively. There was nothing in the past he wanted to see.
“That’s it? No? I put months into this.”
“Exactly. You wasted months, which is why you need to get your ass in gear now and finish up the Chichén Itzá simulation. We need it perfected and out to our customers, along with upgrades.”
“I created the album simulation on my own time.”
Spencer threw his hands up in the air. “Do you want us to fail? Is that why you’re dicking around?”
“‘Dicking around’?” Jordan let out an audible breath. “What’s with you? Seriously.”
Running his hand through his hair, Spencer asked, “Me? Who just put us behind schedule while he tweaked his Girls Gone Wild simulation? Fine, I’m an asshole because I want to meet deadline and not muddy my brand.”
“Our brand. Don’t talk to me like I work for you.” With a sound of disgust, Jordan glared at Spencer. “I cut you slack because your brother is marrying your ex-fiancée and I know it’s bugging you, but you weren’t even into her. And honestly, she dodged a bullet because you’re a real dickhead lately.”
Spencer’s head snapped back beneath the criticism from someone who had been like a brother to him for over a decade. A better brother than his biological ones had ever been. “This is business, Jordan. You can’t do whatever you want.”
Jordan raised his hand and pointed at him, moving fast enough that his hand temporarily blurred, a fact that made the perfectionist in Spencer wince. “That’s what’s wrong with you. You used to enjoy this. We both used to. Now it’s all about the contracts and connections. I don’t want to sit around kissing the asses of big business. I want to create things I’m excited about. I want to want to be here. I need to want to be here.”
“You can create whatever you want after you finish this project.”
“It’s like talking to a wall. Whatever is fucking bothering you, it’s changing you. You like to say you don’t need anyone; well, you’re about to find out if that’s true. Finish Chichén Itzá on your own. I’m outta here. End connection.”
Fuck.
Jordan and Spencer had always been different, but that had been their strength. In high school, Spencer had balanced his passion for programming with sports. He’d ruled on the football field while Jordan fully embraced the geek lifestyle. They’d each brought something different to the table.
Of course I’ve changed; it’s called growing up. Spencer slammed his hand against the blank wall of the simulator, then threw open the door and strode out of it.
His secretary looked up with a smile that faded as she noticed his mood. “Your sister is on line one. I was just about to tell her you were busy. Would you like me to put her through to your office?”
“Do I look like I want to talk to anyone right now?” Spencer growled.
A red flush swept over his secretary’s face, and she blinked several times before saying, “I’ll tell her you’re in a meeting . . . again.”
Thank you. Do I have to think for everyone? “Lisa . . .”
“Yes, Mr. Westerly?”
“Go home early today.” He was done with her as well.
Tears sprung to her eyes. “Please don’t fire me. I just got a new apartment.”
God, I really am a dick. “You’re not fired. Just go.”
“It’s barely three o’clock.”
He gave her a look that must have expressed how he was feeling because she quickly told his sister that he was in a meeting, turned off her computer, grabbed her purse, and bolted for the door. Alone at last, he went into his office, closed the door, and sat down on the leather couch, burying his face in his hands. This should be the best year of his life, but in stark contrast to how well WorkChat was doing, his personal life was spinning out of control.
He’d only felt like that once before, and Jordan’s mention of college brought that back to him as if it was only last week. In college, he’d fallen in love with a woman who claimed to feel the same—until she didn’t. Hailey Tiverton. She’d broken up with him because they favored different desserts. How fucked up was that?
For a moment, he was there again, sitting in his car with a bouquet of flowers in hand, an apology ready, having his heart torn out of his chest and thrown back in his face. Hailey had left school without explanation, but he hadn’t needed one when he’d seen her in the arms of another man. He’d wanted to rush over and demand to know how long she’d been cheating on him, but he held back.
He hadn’t wanted to know.
Some questions were better left unanswered.
He’d learned then, and was recently reminded of, one of life’s simple truths: people can only hurt you if you care, so it’s better not to.
I don’t need Jordan to finish Chichén Itzá.
I don’t need the shitfest of drama that is presently my family.
I’m better off on my own.
Chapter Two
A few hours later, Hailey and Skye walked to the main house to meet with Delinda Westerly. It was a warm evening, so Hailey had chosen cotton dresses for them both. Skye seemed to understand the importance of making a good impression. She’d brushed out her hair and had her new book tucked to her side.
“I’ll keep the meeting as brief as I can,” Hailey promised. “You have your book. We’ll leave the door open. If you read you won’t even miss me. She’s expecting me to stay for dinner, but I’ll tell her I can’t.”
Skye nodded without meeting her eyes. Hailey raised her hand to ring the doorbell, but the door opened suddenly.
“Come in,” Michael said, holding the door open wide. “Mrs. Westerly is in the solarium waiting for you.” They entered the house, and then he closed the door behind them. “She’s looking forward to meeting you, Miss Skye. She asked me to send both of you in.”
Skye’s eyes widened.
“Oh, I thought—” Hailey stopped herself and looked down at her niece. “That’s very nice of her, isn’t it, Skye?”
As Hailey expected, Skye stepped closer to her and took hold of her arm. Six months ago, Hailey would have turned around and left with Skye, but she had to trust in the progress they’d made. Ryan would have said it was high time that both of them hid less. She laid her hand over Skye’s and said, “I like her already.”
Skye tipped her head in question.
“She made you a beautiful bedroom, gave you a thoughtful gift, and now has included you in our meeting.” Hailey tapped her nose lightly. “There is no surer way into my heart than to be kind to you.”
Skye’s smile lit up her eyes.
In that moment, Hailey would have promised to work for Mrs. Westerly for free. She cleared her throat and said, “We shouldn’t keep her waiting, should we?”
Still holding on to her arm, Skye walked with her into the solarium.
Although Hailey had nothing to base it on, she’d imagined Delinda Westerly as a tall woman, when in fact she was the opposite. She stood as they entered, and the top of her white curls came up to Hailey’s shoulders. What she did have, though, was a strong presence. Hailey felt as if she were visiting the queen.
There was an uncomfortable moment as the older woman looked her two guests over. “So you’re Hailey Tiverton.”
It was an odd greeting from a woman who had yet to smile. “Yes.” Hailey fought the urge to tuck Skye behind her. Instead, she said, “And this is my niece, Skye. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done to make us feel welcome. Her room is amazing. She absolutely loves the book.”
Mrs. Westerly bent until she was eye to eye with Skye. “Do you really like it? You can tell me if you don’t.”
Skye tensed beside Hailey.
“She doesn’t—” Hailey started to say “speak,” then stopped when Mrs. Westerly straightened.
“Doesn’t what? Doesn’t like it?”
Dry-mouthed and fearing it had been a mistake to mention it at all, Hailey said, “She doesn’t talk.??
?
The older woman showed very little reaction to the announcement. She bent again and addressed Skye. “You look like an intelligent young woman. One day soon, tell your aunt she needs to stop speaking for you.”
Hailey gasped audibly and was about to tell the older woman . . . well, she wasn’t sure what she would have said because, before she chose her words, she noticed Skye was no longer clutching her arm. Her niece wasn’t afraid of Mrs. Westerly. Her all-too-frequently hunched shoulders were squared and her chin was high.
Not sure what to think, Hailey watched the two of them size each other up.
Mrs. Westerly straightened. “You’ll do. Both of you.” She raised her voice ever so slightly. “Michael, bring in the tea, would you?” She returned to the chair she had been seated in when they’d arrived. “Come. Come. I sit more often than stand nowadays, and I prefer if those around me do the same.”
Michael rolled in a tray of tea, finger sandwiches, and small pastries. He uncovered a small plate. “And for Miss Skye, cookies fresh from Miss Jeanie’s oven. Where should I place them?”
Skye took the seat next to Mrs. Westerly and put the book beside her. She smoothed her dress and turned her hands upward to accept the plate.
Michael handed them to her, and Mrs. Westerly looked at Skye as if waiting for her to thank Michael, but Skye held her silence and looked away.
Michael poured tea for all of them, then faded out of the room. Hailey opened and closed her mouth a few times, rethinking what she was about to say before uttering a word. She cursed herself for not fully explaining Skye’s situation before arriving. She’d hoped to get to know her employer before introducing the two. I always think there will be more time. When will I learn? Life has its own schedule. “You have a beautiful home.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Westerly said between sips of tea. “It used to be one of my favorite places, but now all the empty rooms make me sad.” She put her cup aside. “The job description focused on potential duties I may require, but this is mostly a companion position.”
The announcement took Hailey by surprise. “I see,” she said, although she had no idea what that would entail.
“Where does Skye attend school?” Mrs. Westerly asked.
“She’s homeschooled by a full-time teacher who thankfully has agreed to make the drive here.”
“One?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Westerly’s nose wrinkled. “I’ll need to meet this teacher of hers. Is he or she multilingual? Where did they graduate from?”
What is she doing? Hailey’s chest constricted. This is what I get for accepting the job in a rush. I should have come out to meet her in person first. I should have had this conversation before we moved in. I never considered that Mrs. Westerly would want to know so much about Skye.
When your back is to the wall and a solution presents itself, you don’t ask too many questions. You close your eyes and leap. “Please don’t worry yourself about things like that. Skye adores her teacher, and I’m pleased with how both of them are doing.”
Mrs. Westerly’s eyebrows rose. “Every child who has lived in this house has had only the finest educational opportunities. If you’re worried about the cost, I’ll assume it, of course. The foundation one lays down early determines the choices available later.”
Hailey turned to Skye. “Honey, could you take your book and your cookies out to the chair we saw in the hallway?” Slowly, reluctantly, Skye rose and picked up her book before making her way out of the room in a painfully slow fashion. She didn’t close the door, so Hailey lowered her voice and turned back toward her employer. “First, I am so grateful for the opportunity to work here.”
Mrs. Westerly folded her hands on her lap, but the move was neither docile nor compliant. “Yes. Yes. I’m sure you are. What is it, though, that has you gasping like a fish out of water?”
Hailey took a calming breath. “Skye has had an extremely difficult year. She’s okay, but it’s a delicate situation.”
“And you’d prefer I not involve myself in your family’s business.”
Shit, I’m going to get fired, but she needs boundaries. “Yes.”
With a wave of her hand, Mrs. Westerly said, “I’ll never understand people. All I want is the best for her. How could you not?”
The question cut through Hailey. Her face warmed as her temper rose. She stood, hands clenched at her sides. “With all due respect, you don’t know her or me. Skye is my responsibility, and her welfare comes first . . . always. Even if that means not remaining here.”
“Sit down,” Mrs. Westerly said in a harsh tone.
Hailey remained standing. Part of her wanted to storm out of the house, but there was nowhere to storm to. Shit.
With a sigh, Mrs. Westerly said, “Please.”
Hailey sat tentatively.
“I’ve offended you, haven’t I?”
Seriously? If I answer honestly I can probably kiss this job goodbye. Which might be for the best. “I—you—”
“Are you afraid of me? What is robbing you of your ability to articulate what you think? I had higher hopes for you.”
“As did I for you,” Hailey said under her breath.
“What did you say, dear? Speak in a clear, crisp voice if you want to be taken seriously.”
Sitting up straighter, Hailey said, “I had hoped you would be someone I could enjoy working for.”
“And you’ve already decided that I can’t be?”
“It’s definitely harder to imagine.”
After a short, dramatic pause, she added, “My eldest grandson said I need to soften my approach, or I’ll die alone.”
Hailey coughed nervously. “I’m sure he was joking.”
“He was not.”
They sat in tense silence for a few long moments.
Mrs. Westerly looked Hailey over from head to foot, then said, “I don’t want you to resign any more than you want to look for a new job.”
Breathe. This could work out. Crazier things have happened. “For me, it will all come down to if this is a healthy environment for Skye.”
“Your dedication to your niece is admirable.” Mrs. Westerly leaned forward. “Help me understand why you won’t accept my assistance with Skye’s education.”
Feeling she had little left to lose, she decided to lay the truth on the table. “In the past year, Skye lost her parents, the home she grew up in, her friends, and now my apartment as well. I appreciate your offer, but I couldn’t afford to continue with any option you’d choose if this job doesn’t work out.” Hailey looked down and then raised her eyes to Mrs. Westerly’s. “Skye needs consistency, and I’m trying to give that to her. I won’t be the reason she loses anything else.”
Mrs. Westerly nodded. “I like you, and I don’t like many people.”
Do I still have the job? Oh my God, I think I do. “Thank you.”
“I only have one more question.”
I hope it’s not about how fast I type. I may have exaggerated about that. “Yes?”
“What is your version of why you and my grandson Spencer broke up in college?”
Hailey’s jaw went slack in shock. Mrs. Westerly was Spencer’s grandmother? No. No. No.
Mrs. Westerly added, “And do enunciate, because my hearing isn’t what it used to be.”
Spencer dropped his computer bag on the counter as he entered his apartment. It was nearly two in the morning, and although he was exhausted, his mind was still racing. He grabbed a six-pack of beer from the fridge, placed it near the couch, then opened one as he stepped out of his shoes.
Long day, but that was nothing unusual.
He sat down and took a gulp as he went over the end of the night in his head. He’d finished the Chichén Itzá simulation and proved that the project didn’t require two lead programmers. Without Jordan, both Spencer and WorkChat would survive. What Spencer hadn’t expected was how little satisfaction that knowledge brought him.
He closed his eyes and remembe
red the call with Brett earlier that night. “What do you need, Brett?”
“Just checking in. I heard you were courting Incom. I’ve dealt with them in the past. If there is anything I can do—”
“I closed on the deal this morning.”
“Under the terms you wanted?”
“I wouldn’t have accepted anything less.”
“Good. That’s good. How is everything else?”
“The same.” It was obvious that Brett had something he wanted to say, so Spencer prodded, “And you?”
“Great. Alisha and I were hoping we could lure you out to dinner with us this week.”
That wasn’t going to happen. “This week? I’m slammed.”
“How about next week?”
“The new contract is going to keep me busy for a while.”
“We’ll drop by your office.”
“Please don’t. As I said, I’m slammed—”
“We have news we want to share. Something we’d rather say in person.”
Fuck. “Alisha’s pregnant.”
Brett was quiet for a moment, then he said, “Yes. We didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else.”
Spencer had stood and paced his office. As messed up as the situation was, he knew how much family meant to both Brett and Alisha. “Mom must be over the moon.”
“We haven’t told her yet. We wanted to make sure you heard it from us first.”
“Although I appreciate the gesture, it’s unnecessary. We’ve been over this. I’m fine with you marrying Alisha. Our engagement wasn’t real, and you two seem happy enough together. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
“How about congratulations?”
“Congratulations,” he said tiredly. He’d known Alisha for most of his life, and she’d always been a good friend. No one else would have gone along with the crazy idea of marrying him to help him get his inheritance early. She deserved this happiness.