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 that 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.
“Be that as it may, the fact is that life is change. You either adapt and survive or you stagnate and die. I know you love Wishful exactly as it is, and you want to preserve it. That’s admirable and is part of what endears you to many of your constituents. But if we're going to make it in today's world, we may have to do some things for our town that we won't necessarily like. We need jobs to keep the people. Without them, we have no town."
Something in her tone put him on edge. “Is there something you’re not telling me? Some new development?”
Sandra lifted her hands for peace. “I don’t know anything yet. Vick’s making noises about having some potentially interesting news by the next City Council meeting.”
Cam scowled. City Planner Victor Burgess was as close as he had to a nemesis. Cam felt like he spent more than half his time and energy as a City Councilman trying to block whatever cock-eyed scheme Burgess came up with, in order to keep Wishful from turning into yet another soulless, cookie cutter suburbia. “God forbid the man actually spend some time thinking about what’s truly good for this community.”
“Now son, that’s not fair. Vick does think he’s doing what’s best for Wishful. It just happens you two don’t see eye to eye on what that actually is.”
“And we never will.”
“Campbell, our town is in trouble. Whatever it is he’s got up his sleeve, I want you to give it a fair chance. Promise to at least hear him out.”
Cam managed not to grind his teeth. “Yes, ma’am.”
He understood that Wishful needed help. It needed jobs and an influx of serious cash into the economy. But he couldn’t help hoping that there was some other way than courting the big industries that would come in and change the entire tone of the town.
“That’s enough about that. No reason to borrow trouble before we absolutely have to. Are you about done here?”
“I ought to be working on year end reports but, as Violet pointed out, I’m not. You wanna go grab some dinner? We can be completely decadent and hit up Tosca. Ask for extra cheese on everything and tiramisu for dessert.” Cam laid a hand over hers. “You deserve to splurge. You’re still not back to fighting weight.”
Sandra turned her palm up and squeezed his fingers. “It’s been eighteen months, baby. I’m fine.”
Eighteen months, two weeks, three days since the chemotherapy was pronounced a success. Cam wondered if he’d ever stop counting the days. Probably not, if only to give thanks for each additional one.
“Anyway, I can’t. I’m going over to help Molly put together a welcome home party for Liam.” She tugged her hand away and picked up her purse.
“Welcome home?”
“He’s leaving the service and coming home to Wishful.”
The eldest of four, Liam Montgomery and his two brothers had been in the Marines almost as long as Cam could remember. “Wow. I know she’s thrilled. Anything I can do to help?” Please say no. All he really wanted at this point was to get on home. But if they needed anything, he’d suck it up and deal.
“Not right now, but I’ll let you know. The party’s at Speakeasy day after tomorrow.”
Translation: Your presence is expected.
Cam held in a sigh. Yet another social engagement he couldn’t dodge. At this rate he was earning some serious cave time. He rose to escort her out to her car. “I’ll be sure to make some time to stop by and welcome him home.”
Sandra rose to her toes to kiss his cheek. “Go home and enjoy your quiet, darlin’. I know you’re always worn out by all the social of the holidays, and Miranda’s going to expect you at her New Year’s Eve party.”
He groaned. “Why do I need to be there? The world is going to be there.”
She patted his cheek. “Because you are not spending another year at home alone with your dog. You need to be out with other young people having a good time. And you will go because she’s family and it will make her happy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sometimes family obligations were a real bitch.