“Brandy Harwood found religion late in life. Junior wants no part of his father’s churchy ways, as he calls them. Sullivan Enterprises will go on, I suspect. I can’t help wondering, though, what will happen to us?”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Jamey’s heart sank as Dorie came into the break room. He poured her a cup of coffee and handed it to her. This part would be the hardest—saying goodbye to people who were like family to him, and Dorie so much more than that.
“I didn’t think you’d be in today,” she said.
Her smile didn’t make this any easier. “The employees deserve the right to hear the full scoop from me. Branson Harwood will be here later this morning with additional paperwork. Afterward, we’ll make the announcement to all the stores.”
“So soon?”
“Harwood has been trying to buy the store for over a year. We’ve had a dozen or so drafts, Junior adding to the pot with each proposal. I’ve streamlined a few parameters to make sure the employees are protected until the sale is final.” He leaned against the wall, striking a confident pose to cover up his knocking knees. “You were right, you know.”
“About what?”
“I do have to try this. I’m not George Bailey, and Midville’s existence does not depend on my staying or leaving. The Harwoods can own all of Midville for all I care. My only regret is leaving you.”
Her eyes welled with tears and her lips trembled. She turned and dashed up the steps. He’d hurt her. The very thing he’d prayed he wouldn’t do.
***
Dorie stood in line with Sherrie, Elton, two cashiers, and the stock boy while Jamey put a “Closed” sign on the door. “I wanted to make this announcement to everyone at the same time. Sullivan Enterprises is being turned over to Harwood Industries effective today.”
Branson Harwood leered in Dorie’s direction, his mere gaze violating. An unknown power kept her from running out the back door and never coming back. She thought working for Jamey would bring a host of sunny days. Now storms of unknown magnitude loomed in the forecast. How could she possibly pledge allegiance to a sleaze like Harwood?
Jamey answered the few questions asked. “If there are no other concerns, consider the meeting adjourned. From this point on, you’ll address all your questions to Mr. Harwood.” Jamey and Branson put on their coats and left.
Though she had no tears left to shed, like Dorothy’s Tin Man, she knew she had a heart because she felt it breaking.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Dorie stretched, her fingers sore from typing. Hard to believe Jamey had been gone only a week when it seemed more like a hundred. She resumed her work, filling in the last line of the employee spreadsheet. Why bother? A part of her hoped he’d return like the prodigal. If he did, she wanted him to be proud of what she’d accomplished in his absence.
Or did her true motivation rest in a desire to be busy? Branson Harwood hadn’t shown his face since the day of the announcement. Elton and Sherrie adopted the philosophy business as usual until otherwise advised. Fresh flowers appeared on Dorie’s desk every day. She’d wished they’d come from Jamey but appreciated Sherrie’s faithfulness. A bright spot in what otherwise were dreary days.
Morning flowed with rhythmic routine, as Jamey predicted, each day similar but with sufficient boredom-beating variety. The cold December air no longer chilled her to the bone. With JJ ahead of rehabilitation schedule, her parents would be back from San Diego in time to see Dorie and Josh in a play together. Shouldn’t she find contentment in these things? Why did her heart roll like a bottle adrift?
The light blinked on the stairwell. Nice to know the sensors she’d installed were working.
Sherrie climbed the steps—a slow and methodical ascent. She no longer bustled about like a ship’s captain inspecting the perimeter of her domain. How sad to see her spirit so zapped. “Branson Harwood’s here. He wants to see you.”
“The phantom owner finally makes an appearance. Send him up.”
He approached bearing a coffee cup in each hand, a proverbial olive branch?
This was her first audience with his highness. His smile made Dorie’s hair stand on end. He didn’t say anything improper, but then he hadn’t said anything at all. He just stood there like a six-foot lizard.
Creepy.
Mom had always told her not be so quick to judge a person. Did that apply to the reptilian creature standing in front of her desk? He handed her a steaming Starbucks mocha latte, then pulled up a chair and sat. “I asked Sherrie what coffee you liked.”
Here it comes. I’m getting sacked.
He hunched his shoulders forward an uncomfortable forty-five degrees. “I see the transition to point of sale is coming along well. Only two more stores to be converted. How are the employees handling the changeover?”
“Not badly. A few mistakes here and there. To be expected. All in all, the process has been smooth.”
His face read like a foreign roadmap, character lines too complex to decipher.
“That’s good. I’d like you to continue your efforts. I don’t plan to merge Sullivan Enterprises with Harwood Industries for at least a year, so I need to keep the accounting separate. Once the programs are up to speed, it’ll be easier to do parallel studies. I don’t like to rush into things.”
So he didn’t intend to hack Sullivan Enterprises like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
“You look relieved. Did you think I’d blow everything up?”
Yes. “I wondered where I’d fit into all this. You must have your own computer people.”
Branson leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the chair. “We have several. We own over thirty businesses.”
“Why keep me on?”
His lips parted into a full smile. “Jamey said you don’t mince words.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“You’re nice to look at.”
She scowled her disapproval.
Branson laughed, throwing his head back in demeaning amusement. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to sound forward. The truth is, as I mentioned before, I want to keep the businesses separate. Your familiarity with Sullivan’s upgraded point of sales program will be an asset.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“There will be one change, though.”
I knew it.
“When you report tomorrow, it’ll be to my headquarters. Your office will be next to mine.”
Did he really think he could move her around like office furniture?
“One other thing.”
She shook involuntarily. How many “other things” were coming?
“Jamey didn’t pay you enough. I’m raising your salary to seventy grand a year.”
She dropped a reluctant nod. Just because she felt compelled to work for him didn’t mean he’d bought her loyalty. She should be pleased. She’d had this job only three weeks and had been handed a huge raise as well as a private office. Why, then, did she feel like a traitor?
Oh well, even Benedict Arnold thought himself vindicated.
Chapter Thirty
Dorie jumped in place like an over-excited toddler as her parents jostled through the crowd and made their way to the baggage-claim section of Albany Airport.
Mom sniffled back her tears. “I’m glad to be home. We’ve been gone only a few weeks, but I missed you all so much.”
Daddy mussed the kids’ hair, not one to be demonstrative, his usual way of showing affection. Then he drew Dorie into a big hug.
“What brought that on?”
“Get used to it.”
Mom tweaked Daddy’s cheek. “He hugged JJ too when we left. He’s getting sentimental in his old age.”
Daddy’s grin stretched across his face. “Can’t a man be glad to see his daughter and grandchildren? Let’s get our luggage and head on home. Dorie has rehearsal tonight.”
Mom squeezed into the back with Josh and Emma while Daddy took the front passenger seat.
�
�You aren’t insisting to drive? You must be exhausted.”
“Speaking of cars, as soon as that play is over, we’re going car shopping.”
Shouldn’t the family vehicle be her responsibility? Then again, Daddy had sold cars his entire life. Even Gabe had gone to him for advice. “You can pick one out for me, but I insist on paying for it myself.”
Daddy reclined the passenger seat and closed his eyes. “That’s my girl.”
Mom apparently wasn’t as tired as Daddy. She chattered away about San Diego, JJ, Natasha, and their upcoming wedding. Dorie only half listened until Mom brought up Jamey’s move to New York City. “I talked to Gillian last night. I’m not surprised he’s finally made it to Broadway. He’s a talented actor.”
Just the subject Dorie would rather avoid.
New York City wasn’t that far away; perhaps she should have encouraged Jamey’s interest in her. He’d be in town to visit his parents. Midville was too small a place to avoid him entirely.
No. A romance with Jamey simply would not work. Not now. He didn’t need the distraction of a girlfriend with kids. What if Jamey wanted to get married? She loved him, but the whirlwind of an acting career would erode that love in no time. Her children needed stability. How could she uproot them again for more uncertainty?
After years on the run with Devon’s military career, she’d finally found a place to call home.
Daddy opened one eye. “How’s the new boss?”
Another topic she wanted to avoid. “Okay.”
“Junior Harwood might be a piece of work, but he’s a shrewd businessman. I’ll give him that.”
“How do you know the Harwoods?”
“Your father plays golf with half of Midville and fishes with the majority of everyone else,” Mom said. “He should run for mayor. He knows enough people.”
Daddy either ignored Mom’s spur or tucked away her suggestion for future reference. “Young Branson is an Alexander the Great, looking to conquer everything in his path. Sullivan Enterprises doesn’t make enough profit to warrant what Harwood’s willing to pay. He wants it because of what it stands for.”
“Daddy, what are you getting at?”
“Sullivan Enterprises is the only other family-run multiple operation in Midville and the only business that stands in the way of Harwood’s monopoly. Single stores are not a threat to a man like him. Sullivan is growing. Branson doesn’t like that.”
Dorie sighed with sudden comprehension.
“Sullivan Enterprises has never been about money. James Sullivan thought of his store as a mission. He extended local credit and created jobs, taking on huge financial risks. And Sullivan’s pays their help better than any of the other stores around here, including Harwood Industries. Another sore spot for Junior. His employees formed a union in order to get better wages.”
If Branson didn’t believe in high salaries, why had he raised hers? “I don’t understand why Mr. Sullivan agreed to let Jamey sell.”
“Because he’s a father. Only a hard man would stand in the way of his child’s happiness.”
The conversation thinned as Daddy’s snores blended with yawns from the other camp. In the silence, Daddy’s words edged Dorie’s private thoughts. Did she want a future with Harwood Industries? How could she possibly work for a Caesar in an Armani suit? Did God want her there, in the midst of greed? Or did He expect her to be courageous enough to quit?
***
That night the cast sailed through rehearsal with only a few bloopers, mostly from Zeke’s inept portrayal of Jamey’s Clarence. They adjourned late and Dorie hurried her children home. Once they were in bed, she sank into the recliner with a cup of hot chocolate and opened her Bible.
Daddy’s comments about Harwood Industries reminded her of Queen Esther. Dorie thumbed through the story and prayed for reassurance. The sale of Sullivan Enterprises paled in comparison to a genocidal plot, yet a corporate blob like Harwood Industries might adversely impact Midville’s entire economy. And she had no power to change that.
Neither had Esther… .
Could God have planted Dorie within the harem of controversy for such a time as this?
She’d have to trust God to reveal her role in the Harwood drama. And, in time, her heart would mend. With or without Jamey, she’d find new meaning in Midville, her adopted home.
Chapter Thirty-one
Midville Community Bank, one of several Harwood-owned buildings along Main Street, sprawled across half a village block, the façade newly refurbished with pulverized stone. Once inside, she marveled at the walls and furnishings as glittery as the Ritz.
A white-haired woman seated in the farthest stall glanced in Dorie’s direction. “May I help you?”
“I’m Dorie Fitzgerald. Mr. Harwood instructed me to report to work here today.”
The woman slapped a pile of papers onto the shelf directly in front of her. “I’ll be with you in a moment.” Her stare never left while she dialed the phone. The woman’s head bobbed a few times before she emerged from her stall. “Follow me.”
Like a secret agent, she escorted Dorie to Branson’s personal Oval Office.
When the elevator opened, Branson rose from his leather chair and motioned toward a matching couch. “Have a seat.”
He remained standing. “Jamey told me he allowed you a lot of flexibility with your hours since you have small children. Will you continue to use the after-school program now that your mother’s home?”
How did he know so much about her personal life? “Mr. Harwood, I don’t see why I need to discuss my private business as long as I report on time and don’t leave early without permission.”
“I admire your frankness. Feel free to call me Branson.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll stick with Mr. Harwood.”
“As you wish.” Branson folded his arms behind his back like Devon’s CO at Fort Bragg. “We’re going to make you an employee of Hardwood Industries. My assistant will give you an employee handbook that explains expectations and employee benefits.” He pointed toward a heavy wooden door. “Let’s take a look at your office.”
Spacious. The matching pink-striped couch and chair lined the interior wall. Dorie couldn’t be certain the brand of furniture in either office, but it all looked expensive. An ornate desk, smaller than Branson’s but equally impressive, took up one wall. A worktable and hutch sat in the far corner. Shelves with potted greenery enhanced the speckled white walls.
“This will do nicely.” What else could she say? Truthfully, she preferred the cramped office at Bargains Galore with Sherrie’s daily offering of fresh flowers.
His intercom buzzed and a young female voice came over the speaker. “Mrs. Harwood is on line two.”
“Excuse me, Dorie.” He returned to his office, leaving the adjoining door open. “Really, Margaret. How inconvenient. You know I can’t pick up Alexander from Karate class. I have a meeting and won’t be home until late tonight.”
Dorie closed the door. A few minutes later, Branson knocked once and reopened the door. “Sorry for the interruption. My wife thinks I’m a taxi driver.”
He ridged his slick hair with his fingers. “Did you think to bring a copy of the files from Bargains Galore?”
“No. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to expect.”
“That’s understandable. Go on back to your old office and download your files to a flash drive. Figure out what you want to bring with you, although you’ll find your new office sufficiently equipped. And you can arrange to have the computer here hooked up to the point of sale system. Once that’s done, you’re free to go home.”
Branson Harwood certainly had turned out to be nothing like she expected. Curt, efficient, and generous—at least to her. Should she add him to the list of Midville citizens she had misjudged?
***
The familiarity of her old office calmed Dorie’s nerves. While the files downloaded onto the flash drive, Sherrie brought in two cups of coffee.
Dorie e
mbraced her. “I’m going to miss you.”
“You’ll see me at your opening performance. I hear Zeke’s doing a great job as Clarence. I also heard he sounds a lot like Jamey.”
“Any word from our former boss?”
Sherrie shook her head and pulled up a stool. She took a sip and leaned in like Aunt Bee at a church quilting party. “What’s it like working for Branson Harwood? I ran into his office manager at the store last night. She said Mr. Harwood’s not so bad once you get to know him. She also said not to believe the rumors.”
“What rumors?”
“The gossip about town is that he’s having an affair with Constance Bennington.”
“The D.A.’s wife?”
Sherrie nodded.
Dorie winced as nausea gripped her. What if Branson hired her for less than honorable reasons?
Sherrie took another sip. “It’s no secret that I dislike the man, but I guess I should give him the benefit of the doubt. This is a great town, Dorie. Unfortunately, every town has its share of folks who’ll spread gossip like pig slop.”
Hopefully, the rumors were nothing more than that. Rumors. “I don’t understand it. My office looks like the Taj Mahal compared to what I’m worth. I’ve got all of three weeks experience—actually more like a few days if you count the time off. He treats me as if I’m a vice-president of the company.”
“I hate to burst your bubble, Dorie. Mr. Harwood isn’t being nice to you because he expects favors in return. Mr. Sullivan arranged everything.”
“Arranged what?”
“Mr. Sullivan made certain all the employees received a fair deal. He considers us family. In your case, he went the extra mile. I overheard him talking to Mr. Harwood on the phone. Mr. Sullivan said he wouldn’t sign a purchase agreement unless Mr. Harwood hired you, gave you a raise, and put you in the best available office space.”
“Why would Jamey do that?”
Sherrie leaned forward. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Mr. Sullivan is in love with you. I think it’s too bad you don’t feel the same way.”
It Really IS a Wonderful Life: The Snowflake Falls but Hearts in Love Keep a Home Warm All Year Long Page 16
