Falling for the Boss

by Jean Oram

  His mind flashed to the scene just before he’d left his office for the ER. James had seemed concerned, but relieved. What was that about? Was it a business partner wishing the best for a friend? Or was he concerned Connor would take a break, come back and figure out what he’d done?

  Connor glanced around the table for a phone before remembering he’d need a cell and have to go out in the storm if he wanted to contact James to double-check his gut reaction on firing Maya. Connor had noticed his BlackBerry at the bottom of his bag a few days ago, but the battery would definitely be dead by now. He searched Maya’s computer for Skype, feeling out of line for snooping through her applications, and began punching in James’s number. Then he paused. He should probably start the generator to ensure the battery used to power the place was charged so he didn’t drop out midcall.

  Rain was slanting sideways through the sky, and he’d need a raincoat to go out there or he’d be soaked in seconds. He lifted a stack of old Muskoka Lakes Association yearbooks off a steamer trunk by the door and peeked inside, hoping for an umbrella. Nothing but old letters and photographs, yellowed and damp smelling. He closed the trunk, rethinking his plan. This conversation was probably best held face-to-face in Toronto, because what if Maya was right? He’d want to see every tell in James’s body language.

  Rubbing the tight spot between his ribs, Connor ignored the strange feelings of betrayal, and slammed the laptop shut. James was reliable. Trustworthy. Maya was the one who had left him hanging. She’d found her way under his skin, and had begun to make her conspiracy theory against James feel valid, that was all.

  Cupping his chin, he paced the living room. He didn’t need this crap. He needed people who took care of things and let him get much-required rest. He had only a few more days of vacation and he still wasn’t feeling completely human.

  Connor drifted back to the table and poked through the papers beside Maya’s computer, stopping to read through the entrepreneur deal. He smiled, liking how detailed her notes were. She didn’t let her own enthusiasm keep her from seeing potential barriers and stumbling blocks. The woman had good instincts when she wasn’t barking up the wrong tree, and she would do okay without him and his job. She’d bounce back. How could a spitfire like her not bounce back even better after a tribulation like this?

  Cracking his knuckles, Connor wrote a quick reference for Maya, focusing on her willingness to work hard and take initiative. He saved it on her desktop, so she’d see it, and closed the computer.

  Then he went out in the storm, started the generator and typed a new phone number into Maya’s computer.

  Maya clutched her mother’s hand as Catherine dozed in her hospital bed. She appeared so frail and weak. How had she aged so suddenly? She was only in her fifties, but here in the ER, she seemed so close to―

  Don’t think about it.

  “You okay?” Hailey tugged a blanket up around Maya’s damp shoulders. It was pouring outside in what their mom would call a gully-washer, and while Maya had just managed to miss the deluge, she’d still gotten soaked through by driving the boat in the rain.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in Hollywood?”

  “I got in a few hours ago. I’m back for a few days before I go to New York. I can postpone, though.”

  “Is it that bad?” Maya’s attention was drawn back to their mother.

  “The doctor says she’s okay. A concussion and a few bruises is all, but they want to keep her overnight for observation. Until the effects of the concussion have passed, she’s at risk of another fall.” Her sister’s voice cracked and Maya leaned her head on Hailey’s hand, which still rested on her shoulder. “She’s just so…”

  “I know,” Maya said grimly. “It’s hard.”

  Hailey nodded, unable to speak.

  “You know we’ll call you if anything happens. You should still go to New York.”

  “It’s only work, Maya. This is…this feels like…”

  “Let us take care of Mom. We’ve been holding you back for too long.”

  “You guys haven’t been holding me back.”

  “Yeah? Then why didn’t you go to that arts college for photography after you graduated from high school? I know you were accepted.” Hailey’s head turned so fast, Maya feared her sister would get whiplash. “You stayed to help us. And while we appreciate it, it’s your time to follow your dreams. It’s our turn to stay close and take care of each other. You know we’ll keep you in the loop.” She gave her sister’s hand a squeeze. “It’s okay, Hailey.”

  “I’d never forgive myself if…” She swallowed hard.

  “Don’t think that way. She only fell down. It’s not like she had another stroke. And anyway, by the time you have to go she’ll be back to her old self.”

  Hailey nodded reluctantly. “I think Mellie Melon’s waiting to come in. She didn’t want to crowd you, since you were the last to arrive.”

  Maya nodded, trying to untangle her wet hair. Her curls were a crazy mess.

  Hailey left and a few moments later Melanie entered, taking the chair across the bed.

  “Thanks for calling,” Maya said.

  “I’m glad you checked your messages in time to beat the worst of the storm.”

  The sisters stared at their mother for a while, saying nothing.

  “How’s it going out there?” Melanie asked, pushing her glasses up her nose.

  Maya blinked back unexpected tears.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She heaved a sigh. “I got fired.”

  “Fired? I thought you quit the restaurant.”

  “No, I mean…”

  “Connor MacKenzie fired you?” Melanie lowered her voice as their mother stirred. “What did you do?”

  “Why do you think it was something I did?”

  “You were fired.”

  “Fine. Connor’s advisor is putting through a deal with a lumberyard that doesn’t appear profitable for the company. Connor says it’s for tax reasons and diversifying his portfolio, but I can’t see how he’s going to come out ahead. Things seem shady, but I have no evidence of intentional wrongdoing.”

  “You brought this up with him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Of course you did. You have no sense of self-preservation. Why did I even ask?” Melanie leaned back, her lips pursed. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe Connor knows it is shady, and that’s why he fired you?”

  “What?” Maya sat back. “No.”

  “Why not? You said he’s on top of his game. Half of Bay Street’s success is probably shady. Why should he be different?”

  “He’s not involved.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He looked…surprised. Slightly doubtful.”

  “Maybe he’s a good actor. Or amazed that you figured it out.”

  “His advisor in charge of the project is shutting out anyone who questions it. I think he’s… It doesn’t matter.” She waved away her thoughts. “He trusts his advisor, not me.” Maya stretched, releasing their mother’s hand. “It’s for the best, anyway. I couldn’t work on a project I knew was going to bomb. I couldn’t stand sitting there, letting it fail. If he’s too stupid to see it, then he deserves it.”

  The problem was she didn’t believe her own words. She felt as though it was up to her to save Connor, protect him. He was severely burned out, and she could see just how bad it had been, now that he was starting to come alive again. He was returning to the man she’d admired and wanted to emulate.

  She didn’t doubt there was something about the deal that would result in good things for James. Nobody in the business world was that loyal forever, especially when their boss was being called the king of Toronto and you were just his hardworking, behind-the-scenes peon whose ego was being continuously bashed in.

  Maya rolled her shoulders, and remembering that she was sitting across from a lawyer, sat straighter. “Mel?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If I initiated a side proje
ct with Connor, am I still fired from that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Legally, do I still have a claim? I’m the lead and he’s the backer. We are to split the profits.” Maya batted at the air, dismissing her line of thought. “Never mind. That thing isn’t going to fly, anyway.” She let out a sigh. “Not unless you know someone who can get licensing for a medical device. Kind of in a time crunch.”

  “Have you tried expedited licensing?”

  “How do I do that?”

  “You can request it in certain situations. You might qualify.”

  “How do you know about this?”

  “I took a business law course when I thought I wanted to be a corporate lawyer.”

  “I could seriously hug you right now.”

  Melanie smiled. “I’ll send you the link.”

  “Do you think I should keep digging on the advisor thing?”

  “You were fired, Maya.”

  “I know, but…”

  “You know Officer Cranks?”

  It had been years since the man had played poker at their house with their late father, but he was hard to forget. Especially since he’d forgiven a few of Maya’s speeding tickets.

  “Wow, you play for keeps.”

  Melanie smirked. “I’m not talking about arresting anyone. His son, Jamie—you know, from the bar? He’s dating someone who knows about licensing, if you need more help.”

  “How do you know all this stuff?”

  “I talk to people,” her sister said with a frown. “How do you not know all this stuff?”

  Maya focused on their mother’s pale face. Right. That whole connect-with-people thing she kept failing at.

  She let out a sigh. She couldn’t seem to do anything right these days.

  13

  Maya walked up the wet path, cool sprinkles of leftover rain dropping from the leaves above. She paused to take in the cottage, basking in an early morning sunbeam. Waking up with a crick in her neck from sleeping beside her mother’s bedside, she’d realized she’d better at least come back to the cottage and haul Connor to the mainland.

  She continued up the path, on the lookout for fallen trees. So far it seemed as though the island had weathered the storm well, other than the odd tree hanging farther out over the water. The waves were still at work, eroding the shore little by little. Too bad the tax department wasn’t going to come out and remeasure their shoreline and thus adjust their applicable land taxes down a tad each time a storm shrunk their frontage.

  “Hello?” called a voice.

  Maya turned, to find a man on the dock―a man looking out of place in a suit. She frowned and hurried back down. She hadn’t heard a boat pull up. As she got closer, she recognized the man, and alongside the dock, the rowboat from the other day. It was tied in a way that if a large swell came along it would damage the boat as well as the dock. Inexperienced, stupid… She had a long list of unflattering adjectives to describe the driver.

  It was Aaron from Rubicore Developments.

  “Hello.” He hurried forward and shook her hand. “Aaron again from Rubicore Developments?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “I dropped off an offer with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was wondering if you had come to a conclusion?”

  Maya wondered if he meant to sound as though he was playing that kids’ game where you had to make every sentence a question or else you lost and had to suffer a knuckle rap from your siblings. She supposed he was feeling her out and attempting to be nonthreatening so he could get what he wanted. A typical man, in other words. “The offer is valid until mid-August, according to the papers.”

  “Yes, yes. It is. I was just checking to see if you had any questions or concerns.” He passed her a business card, seemingly having broken out of his game.

  “Why do you want our island?”

  “We’re developing across the water.”

  “What are you doing over there, anyway?”

  “Spiffing up the place.”

  “That I can see.” There were permit signs posted all over the place and every stitch of heritage was being striped away as if a pile of termites had been dumped on a woodpile.

  “Do the Fredericksons still own the blue cottage? I thought I saw them on the dock the other day.”

  “The holdouts?” Aaron cleared his throat, pressing a fist over his mouth. “The Fredericksons, yes. Yes, still there.”

  “Hmm. What do they think of all the construction you’re doing?”

  “Did you have any questions about the offer?”

  “Your offer is a bit of a lowball. I doubt my partners will go for it. This island has been in the family for over a century.”

  Aaron’s jaw tightened and he stared up at the green building behind her. “I see.”

  “Maybe if you added a few tens of thousands, we might get a little more serious about discussing the offer.”

  “Your structure needs quite a lot of work.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  “It’s quite old. It looks original.”

  “How do you know we haven’t kept it like new?”

  He swallowed and stole a glance at the leaning boathouse. It was rather obvious they hadn’t, but his assumptions were starting to annoy her. A man like Aaron wanted their cottage only to destroy it.

  “I think it’s a fair offer,” he said.

  “Well then, we’ll be sure to let you know whether we agree by the deadline.” Maya turned to walk up the path.

  “You could make a counteroffer.”

  She gave a shrug as though considering it. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  The man straightened his suit jacket and stepped into his rowboat, windmilling his arms to regain his balance when the boat jerked and rocked on its tether.

  Maya rolled her eyes and continued up the path, hoping he’d fall in.

  Connor strolled down the old Milan cobblestone street, miles from the Teatro Alla Scala where he would enjoy Don Chisciotte that evening. Everything from the locals’ laid-back manner to the fountains reminded him how much he missed Muskoka and his daily swim. The smiles of the women made him think of Maya, particularly when their gazes strayed down his physique in blatant appreciation.

  And yet he was in Italy. Alone.

  If he was honest with himself, he’d admit he hadn’t come here to finally see an opera, but to try and outrun the voices in his head that were arguing Maya’s case. She’d brought up a lot of seemingly good points against James, and Connor was finding many reasons why she should still have a job despite everything.

  He wandered past a café that smelled heavenly. Coffee? Pastries?

  Connor glanced down at his gut. Maya had helped fill him out a bit. He felt good, stronger. He’d enjoyed being able to walk all afternoon despite the jet lag. But would adding a stimulant and sugar set him back, or was he being too hard on himself? How often did he get to enjoy a real espresso in a little Italian café? Coming here was one of the promises to himself that he’d never honored, and the aromas were seriously tempting his senses.

  Should he do it?

  He sat on a stone bench and watched children splashing in an ancient fountain while he waited for the urge to break his new habits to pass. Did any of his resolutions matter if he wasn’t going to get the girl?

  He’d changed while in Muskoka, though, and still hadn’t quite figured out what it meant. All he knew was that the old Connor would have listened, checked into Maya’s issue, resolved it and carried on even stronger than before.

  Maybe he needed purpose. Something that would perk him up, like Maya’s side project had done to her. It had boosted her drive in a way that was as sexy as all get-out. He remembered that feeling of having a new project that was so exciting and thrilling you couldn’t help but smile. He’d had that years ago, but had lost it somewhere.

  Maybe that was what he was missing. Not balance, but purpose. Back when he’d started his business, his g
oal had been to earn enough money to float a small country. He’d done it. He’d climbed to the top and shouted “I’m the king of the castle.”

  In hindsight, he could see that that was when he’d begun to falter. There had been nowhere else to go from the top but down. Without another purpose, he’d blindly flailed on, struggling to maintain his position. The only thing that had been driving him forward was a fear of failure, and of a dirty rascal knocking him off his mountain.

  Connor rubbed his arms, shivering. The day had grown cold and the old-fashioned streetlights were coming on, twinkling off the worn cobblestones. The children who’d been playing in the fountain were gone, leaving the square silent and empty. He turned up the street, stumbling on the stones as he made his way back to his quiet, lonely room.

  Making a change in his life felt harder and riskier than it had when he’d had nothing. Now, he had everything to lose, but was slowly realizing that none of it had been worth a thing to begin with.

  Where was Connor? Had he left the island? There was stuff strewn about his room, but it appeared as though his bag might be gone. Did he drown while swimming around the island? Had something happened to him in the storm? Or was he gone?

  Maya climbed the slippery, lichen-covered rocks behind the cottage to call Em.

  “Maya? What happened?”

  “Do you know where Connor is?”

  “He’s off to Italy—or rather, there already. He said he fired you?”

  “He went to Italy?” Relief and anger scorched Maya’s gut. “Well, I guess that saves me from having the lake dredged.”

  “He didn’t tell you he was leaving?”

  “Why should he? He fired me.” The bitterness in her own voice almost brought her to tears. She’d always been one to let bad stuff roll off her back, making her stronger for the next time. But this…this was hitting her hard. “Did he say anything about a refund?”