“I’d rather not wait until the weekend,” he’d told her. “Can I meet you by campus and we’ll make it an early night?”
How was she supposed to resist that? Now, as he drew her against him, shielding her from the wind, she knew there was a lot about him to like.
The line moved quickly and they were soon seated at a small table.
“I love the wonton soup,” she said. “You can pick the dumpling type. I like them all.”
The restaurant specialized in soup dumplings and noodles and was always crowded. Considering how packed it was, the restaurant’s noise level wasn’t too bad.
They quickly made their selections. That out of the way, Malcolm asked Delaney about her classes.
“Our first test is coming up in calculus,” she said. “I’m terrified.”
“You got a degree in finance. Didn’t you have to take calculus?”
“Yes, but it was for business majors. Trust me, this one is way different. There are actual math people in my class. They’re so smart.”
“You’re smart.”
“Thank you but it’s different. They are scary smart.”
“You’ve made a big change in your life,” he said. “Still okay with it?”
She winced. “Ask me after dissection.”
He didn’t say anything, instead he just took her hand in his and rubbed her fingers.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I doubt that.”
“Maybe I should have thought more about the naturopath thing. It’s a huge change and being a doctor requires a level of passion I’m not totally sure I have. I’m exploring.”
“You’re trying an early second act.”
“Exactly.” Which sounded so cool and fun, but she was less sure that was how she would define things. “It’s so strange. All my friends from when I was growing up are on different paths. They’re married with kids. Sometimes I have trouble relating to them.”
“Sure. You and Tim never had the chance to get married.”
Mostly because she’d put off the wedding, she thought. And now it was too late. Not that she wanted to marry Tim anymore. She’d moved on—sort of. At least she hoped she had. She wasn’t sure about anything right now and it was definitely time to change the subject.
She sipped her tea. “How are things going with Callie? Is she settling in?”
His expression tightened and he leaned back in his chair. Uh-oh, she thought. She was not a body language expert, but even she could read those signs.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” she told him.
“Why would you say that?”
“You practically built a wall.”
He exhaled and leaned toward her again, then shook his head. “I have no idea what’s going on with her, but it’s not good. We’re fighting. I barely know her and we’re fighting. I don’t fight with people, although according to Callie, it’s not actually a fight, which means I have even less of an idea about what’s going on.”
“Want to start at the beginning?”
He hesitated. “Callie grew up in Oklahoma and moved to Houston. She never had much as a kid and there just weren’t a lot of advantages for her. She, ah, she’s having trouble adjusting to everything that’s happening.”
Delaney stared at him. “Malcolm, that shouldn’t be a surprise. Of course she’s in shock—who wouldn’t be? Does she have any other family, aside from you and Keira?”
“No. She never knew her dad and her mom died a few years ago.”
“Then she’s been on her own. She’s in a new city, with a brand-new family and no support system. She gets to be crabby.”
“You’re right. I need to remember that.” He hesitated. “She said I need to spend more time with Keira.”
Delaney might not have met Callie yet, but she suddenly liked her very much. “That’s a good idea. She needs you in her life.”
“I don’t know how to act around her or what to say.”
“Just ask her questions and listen to the answers. That’s all she needs. To know that you care.”
His steady gaze settled on her face. “I do care about her. She’s family.”
“Then that’s all she needs to know.” She put her hand on his arm. “I’m an only child, but I grew up on a street with a ton of kids. There was practically every family dynamic imaginable and what I learned was at the end of the day, each kid needs to know she’s important and loved. The rest of it takes care of itself.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“Maybe it can be.”
He grinned. “If you’re wrong, I’m going to say so.”
She laughed. “Go ahead. I’m not. You just wait. In a few months, you’ll look at your sisters and realize you can’t imagine life without them. More important, you wouldn’t want to.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am.”
He leaned close. “You’re very confident. I find that sexy.”
“Really? I need to remember that.”
“No, you don’t. It’s just a part of who you are.”
Their server appeared to take their order, bringing their suddenly fascinating conversation to a halt. Still, Delaney was determined to remember every word, or at least the part where he’d said she was sexy. Lately she’d been feeling more and more out of touch with who she really was, or maybe who she was becoming. Regardless, she’d been confused and lost. Hearing someone call her sexy was a nice distraction from all that. Having Malcolm say it was even better.
* * *
By Callie’s third day at work, she was starting to feel a little more relaxed. The huge warehouse hummed with activity as dozens of people worked in the various departments. The different divisions were clearly marked and she was getting lost a little less each day. Even more important, she’d met some really nice people and no longer felt like a complete outsider.
She’d started in baskets and would stay there for a couple of weeks before rotating to another section of the building. Her supervisor had told her the goal was to have her trained in several positions so if one area was short on help, she could fill in.
From what she could tell so far, the employees were pretty happy with their jobs. Everyone rotated to different positions every few weeks, keeping boredom at a minimum. The atmosphere was pleasant and conversation upbeat.
On the surface, her job was pretty simple—fill baskets with items, seal the whole thing with cellophane and send it on down the line. In truth, it was just a little more complicated than it sounded.
At Alberto’s Alfresco, there were two kinds of gift baskets—standard and custom. There were about forty different standard baskets ranging from meat and cheese to breakfast in bed to summer picnic. Standard baskets had clear instructions explaining how much to fill, where each item was placed and at what angle. Diagrams and pictures at each station kept all the baskets uniform.
The custom baskets required a higher skill level. Customers could order everything à la carte. Depending on the size and quantity of the items, the basket size varied, as did the product placement.
Robots collected all the individual items and placed them on trays. The trays moved along a conveyor belt to the basket assembly area where actual humans put the baskets together. Every item was scanned before being placed into the basket, ensuring tight inventory control.
Today Callie was working on standard sampler baskets. They came in three sizes and contained items like vinegar, olive oil, gourmet salts, sauces, dry soup mixes and kits, nuts, and handmade truffles. Frankie, her mentor for the first week, had shown her how to put the baskets together, then had watched Callie put together one of each of the three sizes before approving her to work on her own.
Callie quickly caught on to the rhythm of the work and found she enjoyed the sense
of accomplishment when she completed a basket. The only difficulty was the lever on the machine that cut the cellophane that went around the basket. The handle was at a ridiculous angle that made it difficult to push and about tore out her shoulder.
Other than that, her station had plenty of room and all the supplies she needed. She would guess this part of the warehouse had been updated recently—everything looked new. She liked the built-in controls of scanning every item before she put it in a basket and the hum of the machines. Many of her coworkers wore earbuds connected to digital music players, but for now Callie was content to listen to the sounds of the factory. Probably because she had so much on her mind.
Yesterday, on her lunch break, she had taken a bus into downtown and had met with the family lawyer. The very nice man had gone over everything Malcolm had, explaining it in a little more detail. Callie hadn’t wanted to talk about the house or the business. There was no way she could deal with either right now. So the lawyer had gone over the trust fund, confirmed the bank accounts and credit cards, and had encouraged Callie to call with any questions.
After work today Callie was heading to the bank to sign whatever she had to sign to activate her checking account. The amount sitting in there stunned her and she wasn’t totally sure that someone wouldn’t take it all away, but until then, she was going to do her best to believe it was real. Malcolm had texted her with the information on the driving school. She’d already started studying to get her permit. Once she was ready to take the test, she would schedule an appointment to do so. After she passed, she would start her lessons.
Everything was happening so fast, she thought. She still didn’t understand why being Jerry’s daughter and Grandfather Alberto’s granddaughter mattered so much—regardless of blood, she was still a stranger. But no one else seemed to think like that. In their minds, she was family.
She filled another basket and cut the cellophane that would cover it. She would be moved to custom baskets in a few days and was looking forward to that. Not only the change in work, but seeing what people ordered and familiarizing herself with the different products. One thing she’d noticed was that all the various food items were geared toward adults. Except for the hot chocolate in the drink mix department, she hadn’t seen anything that was aimed at children.
“Hey, girl, it’s time for lunch.”
Callie smiled as Frankie leaned against her station. “Already? The morning went by fast.”
Frankie grinned. “Uh-huh. You’re new and impressionable. Eventually it will slow down. Trust me.”
Frankie was a tall, slim woman in her thirties. She had dark hair that she wore in tight curls that came nearly to her shoulders. Like everyone else’s, her hair was captured in a tight-fitting net. Callie left her net in place, but shrugged out of her pale blue smock that covered her to midthigh. She placed it over her chair and went with Frankie to the exit.
From what Callie had learned, two of the company’s warehouses were next to each other. A covered walkway connected them, allowing them to share office space and a cafeteria. Lunch was a perk of employment. All she had to do was scan in with her ID card and she could pretty much eat anything she wanted.
She followed Frankie through the line. There were plenty of healthy choices—salad, grilled chicken and fish—along with more traditional burgers, fries and pizza. Callie took a small salad and a big slice of pizza. At the end of the line, she grabbed an apple. One of the things she was enjoying about her stay in Seattle was all the fresh fruit. When she’d been on her own, she’d found it really expensive unless it was at the height of the season and it went on sale. She’d had pineapple the day before. In April!
She joined Frankie at a table with several other women. They were all very welcoming, asking her how she liked her job and where she was from. Callie didn’t want to have to remember too many lies, so she stayed as close to the truth as she could. She said she was from Texas and that she’d moved to Seattle to be close to family. Then she’d changed the subject.
“Salad and pizza,” Beverly, a large woman in her fifties, said, eyeing Callie’s tray. “That’s balance. When I’m skinny, that’s how I’m going to eat.”
“If you could eat like that, you’d already be skinny,” another woman said good-naturedly.
Everyone laughed. Conversation flowed easily. Callie mostly listened. She was interested in getting to know them without saying too much about herself. One of them looked at Frankie.
“How’s Levi doing?”
Frankie’s brown eyes filled with tears. “He’s holding his own. These are the hard weeks.” She turned to Callie and offered a shaky smile. “My son is eight and he has bone cancer. He’s in the middle of a round of chemo. It’s hard on him.” One shoulder rose and lowered. “We’re lucky—he’s not in the hospital this time, so I can work. I’m out of vacation time and sick leave, and we sure need the money.”
Callie’s stomach dropped. “I’m so sorry. That must be so hard for you.”
“It’s harder for Levi, but he’s a good boy and never complains.”
“The angels will watch over him,” Beverly said. “You’re in all our prayers.”
“Thank you. Now let’s talk about something more interesting.”
“I don’t know about interesting so much as fine,” Beverly said, her voice low. “But the boss men are in the house.”
The women all looked at each other. Frankie nudged Callie. “You said you’re single, right? Maybe you’ll catch one of their eyes. I’m happily married and even I can see they’re handsome men.”
“Rich, too.” Beverly winked. “I find a large bank account is nearly as appealing to me as a nice ass.”
“Who are the—” Callie stopped herself a little too late as an uncomfortable thought occurred to her. It was very possible one of the boss men was her brother. Honestly, she’d never thought of Malcolm as anything but someone she wasn’t sure she liked. He was so confident and smooth and in control. For some reason, that totally got on her nerves. Maybe it was a sibling thing and if so, it was weird. But good-looking?
She supposed it was possible someone would find him handsome. If she thought about him dispassionately she guessed she could see it. Maybe.
“Malcolm and Santiago,” Frankie said, interrupting her musing. “Malcolm Carlesso, grandson of Alberto Carlesso, founder of the company. He runs the whole place. From what I hear, he’s fair. Not that he mingles with the likes of us.” She chuckled. “Then there’s Santiago Trejo.”
“Santiago,” Beverly breathed. “I need to get me some of that.”
“You’re old enough to be his mother.”
“I’m experienced. There’s a difference.”
“Old is old, Beverly. Face it. You’re too much woman for him.”
Beverly sighed. “That I am.” She turned to Callie. “Santiago is our CFO. And honey, he can CFO me anytime he wants.”
“Stop it,” Franke laughed. “You’ll scare Callie.”
“I don’t scare that easily,” Callie murmured. “So, ah, Malcolm and Santiago work together?”
“They do.” Frankie nodded. “They’re friends, too. They met in college, I think.”
“Santiago used to play pro football,” one of the women offered.
“He did not.” Beverly waved her fork. “That’s part of the appeal. He walked away from a deal.”
“How is that appealing?” another woman asked.
“It just is. He used his brain to get ahead.” Beverly glared at her. “Don’t you say anything bad about my man.”
“Your man?” Frankie chuckled. “That’ll be the day.” She stood. “Come on, Callie, let’s get you back to your station. This afternoon, you’re working on big baskets.”
“Lucky me,” Callie said with a laugh.
She carried her tray toward the trash. Frankie stopped to talk with another group of women
at a different table. As Callie waited by the exit, she felt a weird tingling on the back of her neck. Not a chill exactly, but odd prickling for sure. She turned and saw a man watching her.
No, she thought faintly. Not a man. Some kind of god.
He was tall—maybe six three—with dark hair and incredibly broad shoulders. His face was movie-star handsome, his features chiseled. He had on a suit she would bet was custom-tailored and shoes that probably cost more than she’d made the previous year. His skin was several shades darker than hers. Hispanic, she thought and wondered if this was Beverly’s fantasy man.
His dark gaze settled on her face. Callie realized she’d been staring and quickly turned away. But before she could duck out of the cafeteria, he approached.
“Hello. I’m Santiago.”
His voice was low and deep with just a hint of chocolate. Which was an incredibly dumb thing to think, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Ah, Callie.”
“You’re new.”
She nodded. He was a lot taller than she was. His hands were huge, which she tried not to notice. She felt out of place, awkward and more than a little nervous. His stare was intense, as if he could see inside of her. As if—
Dammit! Santiago wasn’t staring at her because he thought she was attractive. The man worked with Malcolm—they were friends. Santiago was staring at her because he knew who she was. He knew about her prison record.
Humiliation washed through her. Was he going to say something and ruin everything? She had no idea and all she could think was she had to get away from him.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she murmured. “I have to get back to work.”
“Wait,” he called, but she ignored him and hurried away.
Once she was out of sight, she began to run. For a second she thought about bolting—taking the cash in her checking account and disappearing. The only thing that kept her from acting on that was her promise to Malcolm and the realization that in the whole wide world, she had absolutely nowhere to go.
When We Found Home Page 14
