“This place is much more comfortable for me than rattling around in that big house.”
Old guilt drove her mother’s conversation. Dana fought her bitterness.
Mother bent down to Michael. “Would you like a soda pop?” She tweaked his nose.
Michael grabbed at Dana and buried his face against her waist. Mom shrugged and strode to the kitchenette. “I've made us tea.”
“Are you sure our being here is such a good idea?” Dana seated Michael in a chair and sat next to him on the couch, holding his hand.
“Of course, dear.” She stood akimbo. “Why can't you be as patient with me as you are with Michael?”
“You're right.” Dana reached over and smoothed Michael's hair. “I can't wait until we get a house and he has a place to play. You look fabulous. Did you meet anyone special on the cruise?”
“Dana! You know better than that.”
“Just hoping.” Dana grinned.
“I ate too much.” She brought in her rose china and set it on the coffee table. “Put on a few unnecessary pounds too. I feel fat.” She poured the steaming tea and sat next to Dana.
“Can Michael drink his soda out of the can?”
“Yes, that's fine.” Dana handed Michael the Coke. He sipped it, set it on the end table next to him, then pulled himself back in his seat, curled his legs under him and settled down like a cat in repose.
Dana sucked in a deep breath. “I was wondering how you'd feel about moving in with us if I rent a house?”
With an astonished expression, her mother set down her cup and tilted her head. “Are you serious? Leave all this?” Her hand waved about.
A swell of disappointment settled in Dana's chest. Her mother's delightful tone on the phone earlier that day had been a fluke. Nothing had changed from any of their previous visits.
“I thought we could be a family again. I hate to see you living alone in a retirement center when we could be together.”
“Just what would I do if you married again and there wasn't a place available here? You know they have a waiting list.”
“I don't think you have to worry about me marrying again. It's unlikely.” Patrick's face flashed before her. She closed her eyes momentarily, and drew in a quick breath, trying to rid herself of his image.
Her mother glanced at Michael. “You should have listened to Joel. If you had, you'd still be married and Michael would be in capable hands. This must all be very hard on him too.”
Dana leapt from her seat. “Michael is in capable hands. Mine! Where he belongs.”
Her mother flinched. “I'm sorry. This is so hard on both of us.” She pulled Dana down next to her. “I am trying.”
“He's my whole world, Mom. He needs me now more than ever. If I desert him, he'll never have a chance.”
They were talking as if Michael wasn’t in the room.
Her mother squirmed in her seat. “Calm down. Let's just take one step at a time.”
Exasperated, Dana wiped a film of perspiration from her forehead with her fingers. “I should’ve known you'd want to stay here. I'm sorry I brought it up.”
“You mustn't worry about me. I like my independence. I travel, have very nice friends, and have no desire to live in a house again.”
Dana noted the hard lines at the corners of her mother's eyes and mouth. Her voice carried an old, familiar ring to it.
“I've never approved of your divorcing Joel,” her mother went on with killing casualness. “He's a good man. He was right about Michael. Sometimes, Dana, you're so bullheaded. Just like your father.”
Dana pressed her lips together in anger. “I guess we each have to live the way we want…I won't bring it up again.” Their communication remained abominable, but as difficult as this day turned out to be, Dana pushed ahead, kept trying. No matter what, she wanted her mother.
“Oh, Dana.” Margaret leaned forward, resting a hand on her daughter's knee. “We can be a family without living under the same roof. I have all the entertainment I could wish for, and they prepare wonderful meals in the dining room. This is perfect for me at this time of my life.” She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of food. It's time for lunch. Why don't we go downstairs?” She glanced at Michael.
Dana took note of the unspoken innuendos. “Why don't we pass on lunch today? We can visit here for a while. You and I can have lunch some other time.”
“Nonsense! I haven't seen you for months. I want you to see how lovely everything is here. You'll understand why I want to stay.” She went to Michael and took his hand. “Come on, Mikey. Let Gran-- Margaret take you to lunch.”
Michael slid from his seat, his head down, his free arm reaching out to Dana.
“Okay.” She released a deep sigh and took Michael's other hand.
Downstairs, double doors to the dining room swung open and the impatient crowd filed into the brightly lit room. White linen, a multitude of green plants and soft music colored the room.
Dana took plates for her and Michael. She scrutinized each item on the appetizing buffet. Michael clung to her skirt with a tight little fist, nodding when he approved of a particular item for his plate.
At the table near the window, she tucked a napkin behind the top button of his shirt and ran her fingers across his rosy cheek. He lifted his arm to hug her and accidentally knocked his milk to the floor, splashing Margaret's leg.
She sprang up, her face crimson. “Michael, how could you?” She gritted her teeth as if to stop herself from saying more.
“It was my fault.” Dana grabbed a cloth napkin, got down on her knees, and blotted the milk from the carpet. One of the waiters stopped by the table with a damp towel.
Michael cried. Dana bolted up and took his hand. “It's all right, honey. It was an accident.”
Leaning close to Dana, her mother said in a hushed, angry whisper, “My stocking is soaked. Let's go back to my apartment. I'll fix us something.”
Dana's eyes clouded with tears. She patted Michael's arm to calm him. “I think we'll just go home. It's too hard to have Michael here. I'll come alone next time.”
They took the elevator to the lobby in silence. Margaret ignored Michael but hugged Dana. “See you soon, darling.” She remained in the elevator.
“We'll have lunch another day.” In her heart, Dana knew she could wait a very long time. A part of her life severed when the elevator doors slid shut. In her car, the engine running, she covered her face with her hands and cried.
The next morning, despite Dana's depressed mood, she and Michael left for San Jose. On the long three and a half hour drive, she wondered what on earth had possessed her to think she could return to Ashton and with a wave of her hand erase the horrible relationship she and her mother had shared since her father died. She had negative feelings about her future at Templeton and her feelings for Patrick.
This trip to San Jose and her court appearance with Joel had to turn out better than everything else had during the past three months. No matter what they say, money can improve an otherwise crappy life.
John Meyer's secretary led Dana and Michael into his cavernous office. Leather-bound books lined three walls from floor to ceiling. Exquisite, traditional Shaker furniture, polished to a mirror finish, rounded out the rest of the room. On a corner table, an oversized brass bucket filled with eucalyptus clippings freshened the air.
“Mr. Meyer will be in shortly. May I get you coffee or tea?”
“No thanks. We'll be fine.”
The woman left, closing the carved oak door behind her.
Dana ambled over to the window. Japanese maples were turning red; the Bay Area was gorgeous in September. She took a seat beside Michael on the overstuffed maroon leather couch. She felt like a stranger in the town where she lived the last several years. As she thumbed through a magazine from the coffee table, Michael sat next to her with his hands folded in his lap, staring into the large, sad, black eyes of children and cats in the Keane prints hanging on the wall. She squeezed his knee an
d smiled down at him.
The door swung open. John Meyer strode in, a preoccupied expression on his face. He looked in his early fifties, tall, with sensitive blue eyes, contrasting with a strong jaw and high cheekbones, and no gray in his thick brown hair, a fatherly-looking man with enough aplomb Dana knew would easily sway any judge, even Milton Stone, a man's judge.
She felt a wave of relief. The mere sight of John Meyer quelled her anxiety. He’d help her put her life back in order. Once she got out from under Joel and her finances improved, her stress over problems at work would lessen. She might even find time to get out and meet people.
“Hello, Dana.”
His deep, rich voice filled her with a feeling of confidence. If John had handled her case from the beginning, she wouldn't be in this spot. Going back before Judge Stone wasn’t going to be easy. He overzealously scrutinized every shred of evidence.
Dana rose and took Michael's hand, helping him off the couch. “Hi, John.” She extended her hand. “It's nice to meet you in person.” She glanced down at Michael. “This is my son.”
John reached down to shake Michael's hand. Michael didn’t respond. He stared down at his feet, clutching Dana's hand. John knew about Michael's autism and didn’t react. He led them over to the conference table in front of the window.
Her stomach churned--half in anticipation, half in dread. Struggling for survival, opposing a man she’d loved and trusted for a third of her life, made her feel as though she were running against the current. The thought of Joel's reaction when he learned of the evidence she possessed shook her confidence.
“We're going to win this.” John's tone sounded strong and reassuring.
She sat Michael next to her and handed him a small alabaster egg from her purse.
“I think we should meet with Joel and his attorney here before Friday to see if we can settle out of court.”
Her back arched. The cold, hard reality of seeing her ex-husband face to face sent a rocket of fear soaring through her. She gave into the tension that had been building up all morning.
“I wasn't prepared to see him outside of court.” She leapt to her feet, leaving Michael startled.
“I won’t be in a room alone with that man. He has a short fuse. He was never good with Michael. I'm still afraid you can't keep him from screwing me over again.”
“It's all right.” John went to her and placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “This'll be easier than court. I think we have enough so he'll want to settle it right here. You won't have to see him alone. When he leaves, I'll even take you to your hotel. He won't know where you're staying. When it's over, you can return to Ashton. Your past will be in the past. Since he wants nothing to do with Michael, you can cut the ties permanently. He’s never been physically violent, has he?”
“No. He’s just hotheaded. Verbally abusive. Not bad enough to file for a restraining order.”
Michael watched her. How much of this did he understand? She made a conscious effort never to put Joel down in front of him.
John picked up on her concern. “Would you like Michael to sit out front with my secretary?”
“No. He'll be all right here.”
She faced John Meyer. “A courtroom is big. I visualized Joel way over on the other side. Like it was during our divorce. I didn't even have to talk--”
John took her hand in his. “I know how tough this is, but it'll end the way it should've the first time around.” His brows arched, and his lips broke into an encouraging smile. “Tomorrow?” He lifted her chin. “You can do this.”
Being out of debt and having money to care for her son outweighed her fear of dealing with Joel. John assured her they were now going to shatter Joel's dream just as he had shattered hers and Michael's. How sad for all of them. This didn’t have to be happening.
“Now you look ready to win.”
“I may look ready to win, but wait until you meet Joel. He's tough.”
“We have a lot to go over.” He gestured for her to sit. “Would you like some coffee or tea?”
“Tea, please. Some water for Michael, too, if it isn't too much trouble.”
“Not at all.” He went to his desk, buzzed his secretary, requested drinks and his calls held until their meeting ended.
“Are your plans still the same as when we discussed them on the phone?” She felt confident. Keeping herself in check wasn’t only necessary for her, but for Michael too.
Before he returned to his seat, the secretary had delivered the tea and water and then left.
“We're going for the works. I think Joel should sell the house, pay off the debts, and split what's left with you. His child support should be tripled, and if he doesn't pay, we'll report him to Family Support Services.”
“Giving up that house will kill him. He loves that place. He has a small factory in the basement.” The thought of Joel’s reaction if he had to pack up and move from his empire sent a new set of alarm bells ringing. He would claim poverty, and say that he'd mortgaged the house to the hilt.
“You gave up your home. It’s just as much yours as it is his. If he can't take care of his debts, he shouldn't live there.”
John thumbed through the stack of papers she faxed him earlier. “If these suggest his earnings, he can afford to let you off the hook.”
“You think we have enough to get him?”
“We'll give him this evidence if he settles.” John stabbed at the file with his finger. “He can do whatever he wants with it. We go to court if he won't agree to our terms and your evidence proving his real income will become public. Then he can deal with the IRS and whoever else wants a piece of him.”
She shuddered, reached for the file under John's hand, and scanned the summary sheet on top. Why should she give a damn about what happened to Joel, his business or his precious house?
Fourteen
Patrick had no more than finished his shower when the phone jangled him back to reality. Who the hell could be calling at that time of the morning?
“Patrick, this is Andrea.” Andrea Lerner, a critical care nurse Patrick used to see, hadn’t called him at home since their breakup.
“What's up?” Her call aroused his curiosity. She could be testing the water to see if he might want to pick up where they left off.
“You have a war on your hands.”
He laughed. “A war? What are you talking about?”
“Teal's been up on the floors talking to employees all night.”
“What?” He was stunned.
“How?”
“She’s been here for the past three nights. Nobody's stopped her. She’s been meeting with the employees in the break rooms, down in the cafeteria and at three this morning. She had doughnuts, sweet rolls, and fresh fruit sent up to all floors. You'd think the Good Witch of the East had just dropped down from Oz, red slippers and all.”
Patrick's mind reeled. What was going on? Where was Dana? “Have you heard anything specific?”
“Only secondhand. I couldn't get away from my unit, but there's a lot of buzzing around here about changing unions. From the little I've heard, you'd think Teal DeLuca was running for President of the United States with all her campaign promises. Seems the folks who aren't members like what she's saying, and a few of our members think she's got something better to offer than what they have.”
“Dammit!” Patrick slapped his bare thigh. “I'll be right down.” He didn’t need a raid right before going into mediation. “Thanks, Andrea.” He put the phone back, pulled on his clothes, and grabbed a mug of coffee to drink on the way. Now what? Dana sure as hell halted his off-limit visits, why not Teal’s? He hadn’t figured Dana for a person who put friends above her job.
Fifteen minutes later, he thundered into the cafeteria. Teal sat at the corner table in all her glory, surrounded by eight nurses, laughing and chatting as if they were old friends. Andrea Lerner sat among them. Hmm, ally or friend? He had his doubts about a woman scorned.
Teal looked up
and waved at Patrick as if she owned the place, not a shadow of guilt or concern on her face. Then she turned her attention back to her audience, as if Patrick was an old acquaintance waving as he passed.
The personnel office didn’t open until 8:30, so he couldn’t go up and check in with Dana. How could she let Teal get away with this unless their old friendship had paid off for Teal? He went through the tray line for his breakfast. The contract had expired, putting his career on the line. The less serious issues, being so vital to PNA, caused many of the employees to become disgruntled. How could he eat with a stomach full of knots? He wasn't leaving until he talked to Dana, who always arrived ready for work by 8:00, sometimes earlier.
While he forced himself to eat, he couldn’t take his eyes off Teal and Andrea. Teal glanced his way every now and then, winked or smiled, then returned her attention to his members. Andrea avoided his gaze. Every so often when a few nurses left loaded down with Teal's handouts, others would take their places. Andrea was staying for the duration. The nurses were too resentful for Patrick's liking. His job in New York would be history if Teal pulled off a successful raid. He'd be stuck here for the next five years, he’d miss his daughter growing up, and his dream of fulfilling his dad's last wish would be squelched.
The pancakes seemed to swell in his throat and turn to lead in his stomach. Dana playing dirty wasn’t her style, but Teal would never have come in here without permission. She wanted to do this for the past two years but had been delayed by Leon Benson. So he’d been wrong about a woman negotiator making his life easier.
Unable to stand it any longer, he decided to see if Dana might have come in early. If she hadn't, Ann would be in. He left his unfinished breakfast and raced up the stairs, thinking he did all this himself. He couldn’t very well dash into Dana's office and demand Teal be removed from the premises, unless they caught her on the floors first.
Teal was smart trying to win over the night shift. They were the most vulnerable and eager to be a part of the mainstream. They called themselves the stepchildren nobody paid any attention to. Few administrators came in at night to meet with them, and most of the educational programs were held during the day. If they wanted the continuing education program, then they should have come in during the day and not been home asleep.
Conflicts of the Heart Page 14
