by Liz Talley
“The truth usually works, Frank. I’m assuming neither Tess nor your sons know about your illness?”
“Joe knows. He’s the one who set me up with an oncologist, but he can’t tell anyone on account of a confidentiality clause. He’s upset I haven’t told everyone yet, but I wanted to do it—”
“On your terms,” Graham finished the statement for him.
“No, that’s not what I was going to say. I didn’t want to do it at Easter is all.”
“You’re facing a tough battle, Frank. Not here at Ullo—that’s why you hired me. I’m going to take care of things here.” Even as he spoke the words, he said a small prayer that it would be true. That he could rally the troops that had been lackluster at best, keep the accounts they had and give Frank some peace of mind. “But you’ve got to help yourself as you prepare to fight cancer. You need your team, and Maggie needs support and help. Tell your family and allow them to do what they need to do for you.”
For a second Frank bristled and Graham prepared to argue, but then it was as if the air leaked out of him. “How do I tell them? How do I destroy all they’ve known about me?”
“I’ve only known you for a short time, Frank, but I sense your biggest flaw is your desire to handle every aspect of not only your life, but your kids’. You don’t like to be weak, and I get that—it’s in our makeup as men. But fact is, you’re not merely man, but human. Which means you are vulnerable. Don’t allow pride to stand in your way of admitting you were wrong or of asking for help.”
Frank rolled Graham’s words around in his mind—Graham could see the battle within the man who stepped down yesterday at the CEO, officially handing the reins of the company to Graham with little fanfare. All the employees had seemed confused...unsettled at the news their leader stepped down so casually.
Finally, Frank nodded. “You’re a smart man.”
“Not always. It’s easier to see what someone else needs to do than to apply the same logic in one’s own life. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’ll make a ton more. It’s the human condition. We can’t control the world around us, and at times, we can’t control our own responses. I do a lot of backpedaling. In fact, I need to do some with your daughter myself.”
Frank searched Graham’s face for an answer to his admission, but Graham would give the man nothing more than the suggestion he’d also wronged Tess. Frank had matters to settle with Tess, and Graham had ones of his own. Both men had handled Tess badly.
Rising, Frank set his hands on his hips and squared himself like a puffer fish ready to fight. “I’ll handle my life. You handle this company. I trust the man you are, Graham. Don’t make me regret it.”
Graham nodded, hoping like hell he could do all Frank needed him to do. It would start with procuring the contract with the Krewe of Pan. Time to schmooze and dazzle. Time to show the world he’d left behind he wasn’t a one-trick pony. Applying his vast knowledge of materials and construction, Graham knew he could revolutionize Frank Ullo Float Builders. Graham was back doing what he’d loved, doing what he’d started before the wheels had fallen off at Upstart, before he and Monique became more enemies than lovers. The task before him was large, but not impossible. He needed time to win over his new employees. He needed time to heal Tess.
Problem was, time wasn’t exactly something he could control any more than Frank could.
* * *
ALMOST TWO WEEKS after signing a contract at Upstart, Tess had the first twinge of doubt. Oh, hell. Who was she kidding? She’d felt close to vomiting when she’d signed the Upstart contract and followed Monique to her new cubicle. Making the decision about joining arms with the competition hadn’t been easy, but the more Tess lay in bed, beneath the sheets she and Graham had tangled themselves in, thinking about her father and how he’d created a path for her that she’d followed like a stupid cow, never looking to the left or right, only ahead to what she thought her destiny, the more pissed she’d grown...at her father and herself. She’d never allowed herself to consider any other world but her father’s, and he’d never demanded much from her. To say Tess had been stretched and put through the paces was such an underwhelming statement it was almost a lie.
Going to work would piss off her father—and Graham—and that thought pleased Tess. Neither had valued her.
Of course, Gigi had been smart, insisting on a provisional three-month period to protect both Monique and Tess in case the job didn’t work out, but Tess was thrilled by the blank slate spread before her. Here was a chance to make her mark in a whole different way.
The first few weeks hadn’t been easy. Outside of avoiding her family like the plague, Tess had spent much of the time navigating the torrents of Monique’s complex ego. Monique demanded she have the final say in each design and had changed a few of Tess’s visions. Tess had bitten her tongue over a few, choosing to bend rather than break.
But the biggest challenge came when she faced Cecily Webb, the head of design for Upstart. The fifty-year-old artist, who’d been with Monique since Graham had left the business, resented Tess and obviously wasn’t going to play fair, if her cold treatment was any evidence. Not to mention, the woman seemed to have hoodwinked the staff by giving counter directives on several float designs, making Tess look wishy-washy. Monique seemed to look on with amused tolerance, as if she thought it best for Tess to handle Cecily herself.
At Ullo Tess had had final say in design work...even when it came to her father. And she’d never had to deal with fellow employees who didn’t love her.
“Hey, new girl.” One of the papier-mâché guys who worked on a sculpture of a pig flying motioned her over.
“Yeah?” Tess asked, walking over to the man wearing overalls and a fedora—artists were wonderfully weird.
“You told Halle to make this part larger, but I think it distorts the face.”
Tess studied the sculpture critically. “I think the larger body will have more punch. The face will be forward but this prop is on the back of the float, so the effect is in the wings and body. Let’s do it that way.”
The man frowned and studied the shape in front of him for a few seconds. “Cecily trusts my judgment.”
“I trust the design. Nothing to do with you, Ben.”
“Whatever you want.”
Tess closed her eyes and sucked in a short breath. “I’m open to suggestions for the poster board props along the sides. What do you think?”
“Bacon?”
Okay, so Ben was a master of sarcasm. “Hmm...actually I like that idea. Let’s go with bacon.”
“Seriously?” He made a face, but after a few seconds he laughed. “It would be ironic.”
“And I love ironic. Let me check with the captain before we go to too much trouble, but I think the effect will be almost iconic. Good call.”
Ben smiled turning back to the large foam pigs torn down to basic concept.
Score one for the new girl.
She strolled over to where Upstart’s head sculptor showed Monique the start of the huge image of the governor that would be affixed to the float for the Krewe D’Tat’s royalty float. Never easy to win the trust of a group of artists. By definition, artists had their own ideas about what worked, and at a Mardi Gras float company they were often free to interpret many props in their own way, but Tess wanted this lead float for the satirical krewe to be spot on. She’d promised Mark Curtis it would have the proper “wow” factor the acerbic krewe demanded.
“Let’s build the nose bigger,” Monique said studying the work-in-progress. “It needs over-emphasis to give the right effect.”
“I agree,” Tess said with a nod, sweeping her hand over the entire sculpture. “Makes it more comical...like the guy on Mad Magazine.”
Monique tossed her a smile. “Exactly.”
Score two for the new girl.
Yesterday Monique had asked Tess to attend a meeting with the Krewe of Cleopatra and they had contracted five of the company’s thirty rental floats. Tess had worked on some designs for the company that would meet their theme of “Take it to the Dance Floor” but also be versatile for several other krewes that would be looking to rent. As of yesterday, Monique hadn’t altered the sketches.
Maybe Monique would trust Tess’s visions soon...rather than merely tugging her along for liquid lunches with krewe fat cats.
“Mommy!” the shriek came from their left.
Graham’s daughter. Tess had seen her once from afar and hadn’t engaged her yet, hoping she could forget every aspect about the man.
Tess watched as a rounded little body collided with Monique, causing her to stumble in the too-high-for-the-warehouse stilettos.
“Emily,” Monique admonished, trying to gain her footing. Louie, the head sculptor who’d been passing by, pressed a hand against the woman’s back and kept her from falling.
“A spider!” the child cried, burying her head against her mother’s thighs.
“A spider?” Monique asked, prying the little girl off her. “All this over a little spider? Emily, Momma is working, honey.”
The little girl kept her eyes shut and refused to let go of her mother’s leg. In fact, she re-strengthened her grip and held on for dear life. “It was really big and mean-looking. It had hair on its legs like a tarantula. I’m not going back in there.”
“Emily, let go. I’m going to fall,” Monique said, pushing against the little girl’s shoulder.
“It’s probably just a wood spider,” Tess said, rather unhelpfully.
Emily’s eyes opened and they were the exact bright blue of her father’s. Damn.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Tess managed a smile, wishing the child didn’t look so much like her father. “I’m Tess. I’m new here.”
Loosening her hold, Emily tilted her head like an inquisitive puppy. “I like your watch.”
“Thanks,” Tess said, looking down at the Cookie Monster watch Gigi had bought her as a joke. Turns out, it was the watch she chose most often over the Rolex her father had given her last Christmas. “I’m a big fan of cookies.”
“Me, too.” The little girl smiled, finally unwinding from her mother’s leg, seemingly forgetting about the child-eating spider in the next room.
Monique ignored them both, choosing to tap on her phone.
Graham’s daughter wore her light brown hair in a ponytail with streaming green ribbons. Her cotton dress was wrinkled and she looked as if she’d been eating cheese puffs because her lips were ringed in orange. Her cheeks were adorably chubby as was her middle. She looked nothing like her sophisticated mother, and for a moment, Tess felt absolutely sorry for the poor baby, as if she could see Monique disliked this about her own daughter. Wasn’t fair of Tess to allow this immediate thought to pop up, but there it was all the same.
“Mom, can I have some Girl Scout cookies? I can share with Tess.”
Meanwhile Monique had turned to Louie. “Make those adjustments and I’ll take a look before the mâché goes on.”
“Mom?” Emily intoned in that whiny voice invoked by almost every child on the planet.
“Whatever you want, Emily. Just don’t ruin your lunch. Your father will be angry.” Monique moved toward another painting bay, the click of her heels accompanying her dismissal of her child.
Emily’s expression dissolved into bitter disappointment. Tess felt her own heart flinch in response.
“Know what? I’m about to take a break and go to Magglio’s for a slushie. You want to come with me?” Tess asked, having no such intention but feeling like she needed to do something more than stand there watching Emily hunger for a crumb of her mother’s affection.
Emily’s blue eyes lit. “Yes, please.” Then she yelled across the wide aisle, “Mom, can I go?”
Monique tossed her inky hair over her shoulder and looked at Tess. “You’re already taking a break?”
“Actually I’ve been working on sketches for Eddie all morning and I need something more than coffee. Saturdays were made for strawberry slushes, don’t you think?”
“Yay.” Emily clapped.
“Sure,” Monique said before turning back to another painter to inquire about a shade of brown that didn’t match on one part of a prop.
Tess motioned Emily toward the exit. The little girl skipped ahead, pushing the exit bar, struggling against the heavy steel door. Tess shoved it open, allowing sunshine to tumble inside the dusty building.
Outside, the world was in weekend mode...or maybe it merely felt that way. Tess usually didn’t come in to work on the weekend, but Monique had demanded she drop by and show her the preliminary sketches for Edward Mendez’s krewe. The woman salivated over the chance to earn some of the krewes’ business. So Tess had tugged on old jeans and a too tight T-shirt because she hadn’t had time to do laundry and hustled down to Upstart to show Monique her sketches.
Needless to say, Tess had spent the last two hours making the adjustments Monique wanted. Tess had liked them the way they were and her father never would have nickel-and-dimed her lines or colors, but she now accepted she wasn’t in charge.
Monique was...and her controlling nature was very evident.
Something she’d run into when it came to the sketches for Oedipus. Tess had worked personally with krewe captain Miles Barrow for years, but Monique and Cecily had already completed designs for the floats. Tess all but insisted she be given the chance to design something for the krewe’s silver anniversary, a kernel of an idea she’d been playing around with for months. Tess hoped a superior design might dazzle Monique enough to give her the account. Monique relented, telling Tess she could work on the Oedipus design on her own time, but she would decide which designs were subbed to Miles based on cost, ease and design.
“I like Coca-Cola slushes,” Emily said, jarring Tess from her contemplation. The child looked up at Tess as they waited to cross the intersection. “You like strawberry best?”
“I’m a strawberry-mixed-with-Coca-Cola girl. I like peach, too.”
“Yuck,” Emily wrinkled her nose, sticking out her hand so Tess could lead her across the street.
“Well, I like it.” Tess laughed, looking down at Graham’s daughter. Emily wasn’t a beautiful child, but Tess had a sneaking suspicion she’d grow into quite a looker. She had long legs, thick wavy hair and a sparkle of good humor in her eyes...and Graham had gifted her with the most beautiful eyes.
Minutes later after snitching a brownie made by Alva Magglio herself—a treat since Alva had contracted rheumatoid arthritis and shifted the baking over to her daughter-in-law who didn’t have the touch—Tess and Emily made their way back to Upstart’s den. Sitting outside in his shiny silver car was the man Tess had tried like the devil to forget...and failed, of course.
“Daddy!” Emily screamed, trying to run across the street without looking.
Tess grabbed her, yanking her back and causing Emily to drop her slushie. “Emily, you can’t cross without looking.”
“My slushie,” the little girl groaned looking down at the mess on the edge of the street.
“I’ll get you another, but it’s more important you don’t end up as roadkill.”
“What’s roadkill?”
Graham jogged over, scooped up the busted cup and narrowed his eyes at Emily. “Young lady, you are not to cross the street without an adult. You nearly got hit by that truck.”
Lip edging out, Emily dropped her head. “Sorry.”
Graham tossed the crushed cup in the garbage can outside Magglio’s. He wore a pair of khaki shorts, a plain T-shirt and running shoes. Tess had never seen anything sexier on a man. Well, except his suit. Graham had looked hot in his buttoned up suit and po
wer tie. And, well, he was smokin’ without clothes. So maybe he looked sexy-level eight on a ten-point scale, but it was enough to do funny things to Tess’s resolve to hate him.
Okay, not hate him. Maybe just an eight on her dislike scale. Or a seven.
“Hey,” he said to Tess, his smile wary. “Why are you with Em?”
“Well, we were having a slushie.” Tess held up her own cup.
“Mine got smushed. Can I have another?” Emily asked.
Graham reached down, scooping Emily up into a hug. “Gotta have my sugar first.” Dropping a kiss on Emily’s nose, he jerked his head back toward the corner store.
“Yay,” Emily said, dropping her own kiss on Graham’s nose.
Tess’s heart expanded at the pure beauty of a daddy and his girl. And then when she thought about her own father, it split open. Tess had always been daddy’s girl. What was she now that they had no words for each other? It had been almost three weeks since she’d quit Ullo, and a layer of ice had built between them. Still, she could see no way to go back to where she’d been.
“You know, I think I’ll have one, too.” Graham set Emily down.
“Well, I should get back,” Tess said.
“No,” Emily said, tugging on Tess’s shirttail. “Stay with us. Daddy’s nice. I promise. And we’re going to the park today. I can swing myself.”
“Really?” Tess offered her hand up for a high five.
Slapping her hand against Tess’s, Emily spun toward the door of the store, pressing her nose against the glass. Alva must have waved her in because she pushed through, nodding her head and laughing.
Tess and Graham were left alone on the corner.
“Gotta say I was surprised to hear you went to work for Monique. Came out of left field,” Graham said, toeing a cigarette butt.
“Why? I needed a job and I know this business.”
Graham’s gaze rose to hers. “I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah,” he said, not offering anything more on the subject.
