Michael sat for a moment, stunned. It hadn’t occurred to him that Char might do such a thing as this. He had to know the names. Didn’t she understand how important this was?
“Why not?” he asked, more in a sort of perverse curiosity than anger at this point.
“I won’t be the one who turns them in,” she said flatly.
“Turns them in?” He stared at her, incredulous. “They’re not going to jail over this,” he said.
She glanced at him, then away. “No. But they very well might lose their jobs.”
He shook his head, not getting it. “Well, you know, people should be willing to stand behind what they do. And if you mess up, you should take the consequences.”
“I…I agree with that in theory.” She stopped, then finally looked him straight in the eye, and suddenly she was pleading with him. “But…oh, listen, Michael. Two of those women are hanging on to their jobs by their fingernails. They’ve skated the last two layoffs, but just barely. One of them has three children and no husband. The other has a sick mother to support. I’m not going to do anything to help jeopardize those jobs.” She searched his eyes for understanding. “If it was something that I thought had really hurt anyone, I’d report them in a heartbeat. But I don’t think this is a case of real harm. To anyone but…but you.”
His heart felt like a stone. “And I obviously don’t count with you at all.”
“That’s not true. You count very much.” She was flushing, but he was thoroughly annoyed with her and not receptive to that message right now. She could see that, and she could hardly blame him. There was hardly any point in going on and on about it. “And I’m sorry it has come to this. But this is where I stand.”
“I think you’re being ridiculous.”
He gazed at her coldly, and she rose to go.
“You have your opinion,” she said wearily, “I have mine.”
“Obviously.” But his anger faded as he thought of something else. “Wait. Don’t go yet. We still have that other matter to discuss.”
He hesitated, wondering if this was really the right time to bring this up. But it wasn’t often that he caught her alone without her children lately. Taking a deep breath, he pushed her obstinance over the calendar out of his mind and pulled his blood pressure back down to normal. “I had a specific reason I wanted to see you this afternoon. Something other than the calendar.”
She sat back down in the chair, looking skittish, tugging on the hem of her skirt to make sure it didn’t ride up too far. Watching her, he had to admit, it was hard to be angry when she looked so endearing.
“What is it?” she asked, looking rather anxiously into his eyes.
He folded his hands before him on the desk. This was not an easy subject to bring up, but he felt it had to be done. “I want to talk to you about Ricky.”
She looked bewildered. “Ricky? What about him?”
This was hard, much tougher than he’d thought it would be. The right words were eluding him. “Listen, I’ve been doing some research,” he began, putting his hand on the book he’d been reading.
Char glanced at the book, reading the title, The Withdrawn Child: Reasons and Remedies. She frowned, more puzzled than ever.
“And as a matter of fact, I’ve had some experience with this sort of thing. I think you need to get help.”
She stared at him, and he could see that she was beginning to understand what he was talking about. But she wasn’t reacting well. In her eyes was the growing realization that Michael thought there was something wrong with her son.
“Wait a minute,” she said defensively. “Just because Ricky doesn’t adore you the way Ronnie does doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with him.”
“It’s more than that, Char. I’ve watched him with other people at the house. It’s not just the way he responds to me.”
Her head went back and her eyes hardened. “I can’t believe this. You waltz into our lives, take one look and start diagnosing our little peculiarities. Where do you get off?”
He took a deep breath and tried to think of how he could deflect her anger. If she just got mad, he wouldn’t be able to get anywhere with this. “I know this is hard to hear, Char, but I think you’ve got a problem with Ricky and you need to get some help. Therapists can do…”
He didn’t get any further. Char was up and out of her chair and spitting fire.
“How dare you!” she cried, outrage quivering around her like an aura. “What do you know about my son? What right do you have to say anything about him?”
He rose, too. “Char, wait. Let me tell you why—”
“You can’t tell me a damn thing,” she said with even anger. “There is nothing wrong with my son. Don’t you think I’d know if there was something wrong? I’m his mother. And I’ll thank you to mind your own business.”
Michael groaned softly as she strode from the office and swore under his breath. He’d messed that up royally. Now what? All he wanted was to help Ricky. How could he convince Char of that?
He’d have to try to talk to her again. Somehow, he had to get through to her. He was actually surprised at how much he cared about this—but he did care. And it didn’t even have anything to do with how he felt about Char. His concern was all wrapped up in the welfare of one little boy who was in pain and needed help—and another boy who had dealt with a similar pain all alone.
Char was in the kitchen early that evening, right after feeding her boys, when Michael walked in, looking for some ketchup for the cheeseburger he’d just picked up at a fast-food stand. He glanced her way, nodded and went about his business. She was waiting for water to boil for her tea and so she was stuck there, staring at his back. His attitude seemed to her a very large, silent reproach. She was sure he was wondering why she wouldn’t ever do anything he wanted her to do. And truthfully, she felt guilty about it.
She’d spent most of the time since she’d left his office worrying about the things he’d said. She knew he had a point. If she were honest with herself, she would have admitted long ago that Ricky was awfully introverted for a boy his age. But to admit that was to start down the road of doing something about it. And since she had a gut feeling that it had more to do with the lack of a man in his life than anything else, what exactly was she supposed to do?
Still, Michael had been trying to help—in his own rather clumsy way. She shouldn’t have reacted quite so harshly. He meant well. But that didn’t mean she was ready to talk her son over with this man who knew nothing about it.
On the other hand, she felt as though she owed him more of an explanation about the calendar issue. And maybe her refusal to intercede with her uncle, as well. She took a step toward him and touched his arm.
“Michael, I wish you’d let me explain. About the calendar thing.”
He glanced back, barely taking her in, then looking away again. “No need. I get it.”
“You get what?”
“I understand.” He put the top back on the ketchup bottle and turned toward the refrigerator to put it away. “I can see what your priorities are. And there’s no reason why I should be one of them.”
Her shoulders sagged and her stomach dropped. He hated her. She could tell. And maybe she deserved being hated. After all, she hadn’t done much to brighten his day lately. And he was her boss.
“I hate being in this position,” she told him fretfully. “I hate putting you in this position.”
He turned to look her full in the face, his eyes cool and wary. “Don’t worry about it. You’re not the only person in that building who knows who put out the calendar. We’ll get to the bottom of it without your help.”
She groaned. “Tell that to the board,” she said sardonically.
“What do you mean?” he said, frowning.
“They’ve called me in to appear tomorrow.”
He gazed at her for a moment, then shrugged. “Tell them you don’t want to talk. Call in sick. The whole thing will be settled by the time you come back.”
He was still angry with her, but he was calm, eating his cheeseburger as though he was actually enjoying it. Her water boiled, but she turned off the burner and left it to sit.
“You’re not worried?” she asked him, turning to face him again. “About your place in all this, I mean.”
He smiled and didn’t answer that. Which could mean he was confident, or that he’d resigned himself to humiliation. Who knew? She studied his chiseled face and realized she liked it an awful lot. More than she should.
“Michael,” she said slowly. “What is the most important thing to you?”
He looked surprised at the question, then stopped and actually gave it some thought. “I guess being a vice president,” he said at last. “It’s been my only goal for a good long time.” His hazel eyes met hers and he smiled rather sadly. “After all, what else have I got in my life? I don’t have a wife or two great kids to focus my time on. This is it for me.”
She bit her lip, distressed. That was one of the saddest things she’d ever heard.
But she quickly began thinking about her own situation. What was the most important thing to her? Her boys, of course. But once they were grown and gone? A little voice in her head asked the question. Then what?
She would take life as it came, raising her children the best way she knew how, sending them off, and then what would be would be. She could wait to find out about that one. All in good time.
“Michael,” she said, watching him eat his cheeseburger as he leaned against the counter. “Can I ask you one favor?”
He shrugged. “No one’s stopping you.”
She made a face at him, then got serious. “When the board finds out who the women were who put out the calendar, could you please use your influence to keep them from being fired? If you can.”
He was staring at her and she couldn’t read what he was thinking, but there was something going on in his eyes. Finally, he answered.
“If I have any standing left by the time this is all out in the open,” he said softly, “I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you.” She smiled her relief.
But before she could say anything else, the telephone rang. Hannah had gone shopping and she didn’t think there was anyone else around to answer it, so she did so herself. And for once, the call turned out to be for her. And of course, it was bad news. She listened to it, groaned, hung up and turned back to Michael.
“My house is trying to burn down,” she told him tragically, throwing out her arms.
“What?” he asked, startled.
“Well, not really.” She sighed. “But you know they are making a lot of renovations along with painting the interior. And there was an electrical fire in some of the new wiring in one of the walls, and there is some damage. It’s going to put off our moving back home. Darn!”
“Was any of your property damaged?” he asked, looking sincerely concerned.
She sighed. “I’m not sure. I really should run over and take a look. But Hannah isn’t here to watch the boys for me and…”
“I’ll watch them,” he offered, taking a last bite of his burger and gazing at her casually.
Her eyes widened. “You?”
He pretended to look over his shoulder. “Yeah, me. I don’t see anyone else here.”
She studied him suspiciously. “But you don’t like children.”
His dark look was appropriately exasperated. “Maybe I don’t like most children. But yours are okay.”
Intrigued, she stared at him. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Look, I’ll take them for a walk into town to get ice cream cones. How’s that? By the time we get back, you should be done and back yourself.”
It was a perfect plan. He did seem to have a knack for getting to the heart of an issue without too much flailing around. And for him to be so ready to help her when she’d turned down everything he’d asked of her lately…she was impressed with him.
“Thank you,” she said simply, her eyes shining.
He shrugged. “No problem.”
The board the next morning consisted of three grim-faced men and one woman, Mrs. Leghorn, who looked half asleep. Char and Michael sat facing them, waiting to be asked for their information while the members argued about another matter that seemed to have something to do with a lost golf ball holder. The longer they bickered, the more nervous Char got. She didn’t like being in this position. The longer this took, the worse she felt about it.
She glanced sideways at Michael. He looked completely at ease, even letting a chuckle slip out when one member of the board made a particularly silly accusation about people switching golf balls on him when he wasn’t looking. Michael didn’t seem worried or angry or bothered in any way. Which annoyed her, for some reason.
Finally the board was ready to deal with the issue of the calendar. Mr. Strand plopped one of them on the table and turned to the page with Michael’s picture. Holding it up for all to see, he turned and glared at Michael, but spoke to Char when he said, “I understand, Ms. Wolf, that you have information concerning the perpetrators of this monstrosity.”
She lifted her chin and met their gazes calmly. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said clearly. “I do not.”
He stared at her. “Then why are you here?” he asked crossly.
“Good question,” she responded, knowing she was skating on thin ice.
That started another squabble among the board members, one saying she shouldn’t have been called, another saying she knew more than she was admitting and should be forced to tell all.
In the midst of the argument, Michael cleared his throat and rose to his feet.
“I’d like to say something about this, if I may,” he said in a voice that stilled the others. “I understand your objections to finding my picture presented in rather poor taste in that calendar. But I didn’t appear by choice. I didn’t have any control over my picture appearing in it. It was definitely not something I sought.” He paused, looking each one of them in the face in turn to emphasize his point. “Still, I think you are making much too much of this. It’s just a silly joke. Now that you’ve stated your objections—and I’ve agreed with them, why don’t we drop the matter?”
“Young man,” Mr. Strand said, drawing himself up as though he wanted to make sure Michael knew he was important, “do you understand what sort of people we want in our organization? You represent us. You are being given our most elite assignments and are being considered for one of the top positions in this company. This sort of shenanigan is unacceptable. Especially for someone who fancies himself a future vice president.”
Michael employed his most charming smile. “I understand your objections and I endorse the sentiment. However, as I’ve stated, I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”
Mr. Strand stared belligerently and pointed to the calendar. “Give me the names of the women who did this.”
“It happened on my first day here.” Michael’s smile only broadened. “I don’t know their names and hardly remember their faces.”
“We can show you pictures. You’ll be able to identify them, I’m sure.”
“You could.” He was still smiling. “But I won’t.”
Shock reverberated through the room as though they’d all been electrified. “You won’t?”
“I won’t.”
Char gazed on in wonder. Somehow Michael seemed the most mature person in the room, despite the far greater ages of the members of the board.
“I understand your outrage over this. I felt the same way at first. But then a friend set me straight, got me to look at the big picture. And I realized something. I’m not about to get someone fired over such an insignificant incident.”
Char’s heart was beating so fast, she thought she would faint. He meant her! He’d actually listened and he’d changed his mind because of her. She’d never been so thrilled.
But Mr. Strand looked as though he were ready to explode. On sudden impulse, Char jumped up to stand beside Michael.
“May I make a suggestion?” she said. “I think you should embrace this calendar.”
“Oh, I do say,” said another member of the board in exasperation.
But Char stood her ground. “I know you think I’m crazy, but consider this. The calendar is cute and funny. I think you should have an official version printed up, maybe with a disclaimer on the first page assuring everyone that it is all in good fun and not to be taken seriously. And you should distribute copies to the community.”
They all gasped.
“Think about it,” Char continued quickly. “We are a development company and development companies are getting a lot of flak these days. This could be the key to getting some good will in the community. It would show that we have a sense of humor and aren’t the profit-grubbing old fogies people think we are.”
“Young lady,” Mr. Strand cried. “If this company didn’t make a profit, you wouldn’t have a job.”
“I know that. And believe me, I love my job. I’m just talking public relations here.”
The squabbling started up again. Mrs. Leghorn actually seemed to think Char had a good idea. Mr. Strand didn’t agree. Michael looked down at Char and grinned. She smiled back and he took her hand. Seemingly forgotten by the bickering board, they walked out together.
“Do you think we’ll both get fired?” she asked him as they made their way along the hall.
“What the hell?” he responded, squeezing her hand. “I can’t think of anyone I would rather be fired with.”
Her heart sang and she began to wonder if she would ever know a man she liked better than this one.
“Michael?” she said, looking up at him. “You wanted to talk to me about Ricky yesterday and I cut you off.” She swallowed hard and looked up at him bravely. “It’s hard to talk about those you love that way. But I think I’m ready now. If you still want to talk.”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “Not here,” he said gruffly. “Can you get away for lunch?”
She nodded. “Meet you at noon,” she said, and her heart began to race just thinking about it.
Le Café had private booths, which were just what they needed. Michael escorted Char to the most remote one he could find, nodding to the host who showed it to him and helping her into her side before sliding into his. They ordered and chatted quietly while waiting for the food to arrive. Once the waiter had finished with them, Michael took a deep breath, looked deep into her eyes and said, “Okay. Here goes.”
Her heart was thumping for some reason. She could tell by his manner that he was going to tell her something he considered important, and that it was going to be difficult for him to do it. Was it about Ricky? Or himself? She wasn’t sure and that set her on edge.
“I don’t know much about kids. I haven’t been around them since I was a kid myself. I’d pretty much convinced myself that I didn’t want to be around them. But then I got to know your two and I realized…well, there’s an exception to every rule, I guess.”
He was saying he liked her boys. As a mother, that was surely a way to warm her heart. She smiled at him.
He didn’t smile back. “Your boys are both great, but I have to tell you, Char, as a friend…that I see something in Ricky that reminds me of myself as a kid. And I feel I have to alert you to…well, the fact that there may be a problem there.”
Her smile faded. She knew it would be easy to take offense again, but that wouldn’t get her anywhere. So she steeled herself and nodded and waited for him to go on.
“I had some bad experiences as a child,” he told her, his eyes darkening. “My parents divorced and some other things happened. By the time I was ten or so, I was a very unhappy kid.”
He moved uncomfortably. “You know, when you get wounded, your natural defenses form a scab over it, to let it heal. Well, sometimes I think you do that with your emotions, too. And when something hurts you as a kid, you don’t know how to deal with it. So you cover it up and hope it will heal. And sometimes it does, and sometimes it doesn’t. I pretty much put a mask over what was bothering me and hid it from the world. And when I look at Ricky, I think I can see him doing the same thing.”
He watched her eyes as he talked. She didn’t want to hear this, and he couldn’t blame her. No mother wanted to. But she was an adult. She should be able to handle it. Ricky was just a kid. He was the one who had to be protected. And he didn’t really know what else he could say to convince her. How could he make her understand that he heard Ricky’s cry for help the same way a dog can sense a whistle no one else can hear? He gazed at her, wondering what he could say to show her. And then she surprised him by reaching out and covering his hand with her own and looking deep into his eyes.
“What happened, Michael?” she said, her own eyes soft with sympathy. “When you were a child. What was it that hurt you so?”
And suddenly he found himself telling her—telling her things he’d never told anyone else. About how, once his parents divorced, he’d found that his father set up a schedule for visitation with his two younger boys, but not for him. Confused and terribly hurt, it took him years before he could fully understand his mother’s explanation. For the first time, he learned that the man he’d considered his father was not his biological parent. He’d been almost three when his mother had married the man and then had two children with him. In the bitterness and acrimony of the divorce, the man was using Michael’s parentage as a way to injure his mother, not seeming to care how he broke the heart of a young boy in the process. Every time Michael had to watch his little brothers prepare for an outing with their father and know that he wasn’t invited, the knife dug more deeply into his heart.
He stopped talking when he saw the tears welling in her eyes.
“Hey.” He gave her a crooked grin. “Don’t cry about it. It hurt me, of course, but it also toughened me. Made me grow up. And then things didn’t hurt me so much anymore.”
“Really?” she said, her voice choked. “Or did you just learn not to let anyone see your pain?”
Don’t ever let them see you cry. He stared at her. How did she know? Could she read his mind? Don’t ever let them see you cry. That was the phrase he’d repeated over and over as a kid. Learn it, live it. That was the way it was.
He knew his childhood had messed him up in some ways, but he also knew he’d survived and he was doing okay, all in all. As a grown man, he could intellectualize the situation and know that his father had acted in illogical anger and used him to manipulate his mother. But still, the feeling had been planted deep inside him that there was something wrong with not being blood-related to a parent. Somehow that had made him not as good, not as worthy. And that had been the background of most of the problems in his marriage.
If he’d married a woman like Char…
But that was nuts. Grace had been a wonderful wife. He was the one who’d ruined that relationship, not Grace. If he’d been married to Char, it would have been the same old thing. The looks of disappointment would have been on Char’s face. He winced, thinking of it.
“I don’t want to wait until Ricky grows up to see if it comes out okay,” she was saying. “Believe me, Michael. I’m going to watch him carefully. And love him a lot.”
He took a deep breath and let it out. “With a mother like you,” he said warmly, “I think Ricky is going to be okay. And I probably shouldn’t have said anything. But…”
“No.” She put up a hand to stop him. “No, I’m glad you did. Sometimes I’m tempted to go along and ignore problems because they seem too scary to face. You made me stop and take note. That is a good thing.”
“I just wanted to make sure you are aware…that you pay attention to make sure he doesn’t get too close to the edge.”
She nodded.
“And, Char, think about finding a good child therapist. It couldn’t hurt.”
She took his hand again, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Michael, thank you. I know it wasn’t easy to tell me all that stuff about your childhood. Thank you for making the effort and letting me into your life that way. I appreciate it.”
Now he was getting embarrassed. “It’s worth it if it helps you do something for Ricky.”
Their gazes met and held. Something sparked between them, flaring like embers in a wildfire, and she dropped her hand quickly and put on a friendly smile as though it could protect her.
“There’s something else you could do for me,” she said lightly, playing with her salad fork.
“What’s that?” he asked her.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s Halloween.” The office was plastered with decorations and she’d noticed that Lena was wearing a gypsy costume. There really wasn’t any way he could have missed it.
“And that means?”
“Trick-or-treating. Tonight.” She gave him an eager smile. “Want to help?”
He groaned. “I think I’ll pass.”
She arched an eyebrow and got tough about it. “I think not. You owe me.”
“I owe you?” She was teasing, but he bit, anyway. “Why?”
“Didn’t you know? Ronnie is going as you. I think that deserves some sort of recognition.” She laughed at the look on his face. “Seriously, he’s wearing a white shirt and dark slacks and a little tie. And I had to look all over, but I found him a little briefcase that he’s going to carry.”
He shook his head, wonder pouring through him. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“Not at all.” She smiled. “Ronnie is nuts about you, you know. You’re his idol. So you be nice to my kid.”
He was very nice to both her kids. They went out a little early, while it was still just barely light. Ronnie looked like a junior executive and Ricky was a wild little tiger. They were both excited, carrying their bags and walking up to the doors of the neighbors while Char and Michael stood back, watching.
“Trick or treat!” they called in unison.
And everyone opened their doors and laughed and told them how cute they looked and gave them candy or popcorn or a few coins.
“Look, Mama! Look! More candy,” Ronnie would cry as he raced back to hug her around the knees and then ran on to the next house. Before long, she was carrying the little briefcase, as his hands were too busy with his ever-more-heavy sack of loot.
“I’m going to have to hide most of this candy after they go to sleep tonight,” she told Michael conspiratorially. “And dole it out a little at a time.”
“If there’s any left after they pig out when we get home,” he said cheerfully. “Odds are good you’ll be down to the dregs.” He grinned at her. “I remember Halloween. One of my favorite holidays.”
He watched her laugh and he wanted to kiss her so badly, it stung inside. And suddenly he realized that he loved being here. He loved being with her and watching her kids. He almost felt as though he were a part of something. Almost.
Ronnie was, as usual, funny and fun to be with. And he’d even caught Ricky looking at him a few times. He looked away again very quickly when he realized he’d been spotted. But it was a beginning. And Michael was hopeful.
But most of all there was Char. She was so alive, so aware. And so damn sexy. He knew he should stay away from her. He knew they should never have gotten this close.
“Oh, well,” he muttered to himself, watching her and enjoying the way the twilight colors played in her hair. “Too late now.”
Too late. Too late to harden his heart to her appeal. Too late to keep himself from caring about her boys and what happened to them. Too late to keep from wishing there was some way he could have them all in his life for more than a temporary interlude.