A Silver Lining

by T. R. McClure

  Linda grimaced. “A lot of good that does me now.”

  Frank gave her a shrewd look. “You must have some ideas you’ve put down somewhere, maybe in your notes.”

  Linda brain worked furiously, thinking back to planning sessions from weeks earlier. She jumped up. “Tell Bart not to continue until I return.”

  Frank’s eyes widened. “Me?”

  Linda left him openmouthed as she rushed down the hall. She landed in her desk chair and booted up her computer in one motion. She had been preparing a rough draft of the budget, thinking she had until January to do the final copy. The proposal was rough, very rough, but she hit Print and hoped for the best. She grabbed the copy and started out of her office when Fleur’s painting caught her eye. Bart liked artwork. She grabbed the picture with her free hand and rushed back down the hall.

  When she burst into the room, she saw that everyone else had returned.

  Bart tapped a gold pen on his notebook. “Nice of you to join us, Ms. Lafferty.”

  Chastened at her supervisor’s comment, she glanced at Mitch, whose eyes remained dark and suspicious. “My apologies, but I needed to retrieve a file from my computer.” She sat and took a deep breath. “Are we still on the budget discussion?”

  Brows pinched, Bart looked at his watch. “I thought we had covered that. Do you have something to add?”

  Linda straightened her shoulders and pulled the wrinkles out of the front of her suit jacket. “I do.”

  Bart nodded. “Go ahead, then.”

  Linda took a deep breath and placed her hands flat on the table. “Our goal is to find a place in the current budget to reduce costs.” She glanced up at Bart and waited. “Correct?”

  Bart gave her a brief nod, as he leaned back in his chair with crossed arms.

  Your body language doesn’t look open to suggestion, Boss. Linda’s mind raced as she searched for the best approach to persuade Bart to accept her proposal. She strolled around the room, pausing at each orchid specimen before moving on. “These orchids are lovely. The previous administrator,” she nodded at Bart, “so I’m told, created this room because he loved orchids.” She moved on to the next flower. “Unfortunately, Violet, who cares for these somewhat particular plants, is retiring next year.”

  She got the expected reaction from Bart when he dropped his arms and leaned forward on the table, eyes wide. “She is? She never said anything to me.”

  Score one for Linda. Fighting back the smug smile threatening to erupt, Linda shrugged. “She was waiting to see if her husband’s job was safe for another year. Luckily, it is.” She continued. “Violet mentioned it’s a shame the horticulture students aren’t more involved in the development and care of these plants.”

  Leaning back and crossing his arms, Bart shook his head. “I don’t want students roaming—”

  Linda raised one finger in the air. “Which leads me to another thought. “The lobby of this building is one large, glass-enclosed waste of space. The students don’t use it because there is a break room right next door.”

  Leaning forward, his dark eyes bright with excitement, Matt nodded. “I see where you’re going with this, Linda. Are you suggesting we move the orchids downstairs?” He grinned. “My students would have fun with this.”

  Linda’s gaze flitted from Matt to Bart in time to see a puzzled frown on his face. “Doing so would allow you, Bart, to design your own, more appropriate, more climate-friendly conference room.” She waved a hand toward the large windows. “I worked at a building in New York with windows like these. The heat loss was outrageous, so we found a contractor who covered over half of the glass with energy-efficient glazing.” She paused and hazarded a glance at her boss.

  The older man leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin in thought. “Go on.”

  She picked up the painting she had leaned against her chair. “I know you like art. You could decorate with paintings of campus scenes, or even of California vistas, if you prefer.”

  Bart stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I like the concept.” With a smile, he reached for the painting. “This for me?”

  Linda pressed the painting to her chest. “No. But I know where you can purchase some by the same artist.”

  Bart frowned at her rebuttal. “I like the idea so far, but I don’t see how moving the orchids downstairs affects the budget.”

  Linda lay the painting face-up in the middle of the table and shot Mitch a smile. “With Violet’s retirement, we save her salary. With the remodeling of this large space into a conference room and additional information technology space, we save significant construction costs on the addition out back. And…” she winked at Matt, “…we save our beautiful gardens.” She slid a piece of paper across the polished surface of the table. “I’ve typed up a preliminary cost analysis.”

  Bart stared at the painting in the middle of the table, his hands tented under his chin. His fingers tapped together as he thought. With a narrowed gaze, he stared at Mitch. “What about your freshman class? Do we need to keep it?”

  Before Mitch could answer, Linda slid another piece of paper toward her boss. “These figures show the popularity of his class with incoming freshmen. Apparently, upperclassmen recommend it to lower level students. Eliminating the class may have a negative impact on admissions.” Linda waited for her pronouncement to sink in.

  Bart’s brow wrinkled as he weighed her comments.

  The only sound in the room was the humidifier, which kicked on with a thump.

  Linda glanced up and caught Mitch studying her, a soft look on his face. She winked and got a smile in return.

  Bart stood and waved a hand toward the papers on the conference table. “Good job, Ms. Lafferty. Write that up for me and I’ll submit your proposal to the board. Other items are on the agenda but we’ll postpone them until next week. I have a lunch date with my wife. Meeting adjourned.” He picked up his notebook and strode from the room, muttering, “I never did like the idea of concreting over the gardens.”

  Linda caught Matt’s eye when he patted Mitch on the shoulder as he left the room.

  Matt mimed wiping sweat from his brow and flinging it off his hand.

  Relief coursing through her body, she smiled in return.

  Frank winked at her as he too patted Mitch on the shoulder and left.

  Finally, they were the only two left in the room, still seated across from each other.

  The humidifier kicked off, and the resulting silence was deafening.

  Mitch pushed back his chair and stood, avoiding her gaze.

  For a moment, Linda felt a stab of fear in her breast she had done too little, too late. “Mitch, I love you,” she blurted out.

  Mitch leaned a hand on the back of his chair and stared at her, his lips tight. “I didn’t trust you. The first time something comes up and I didn’t trust you.”

  Linda stood and walked around the table. “I understand.” She came to a stop three feet away. “Trusting someone is hard.”

  The corners of Mitch’s lips curved up. “Maybe something to do with old dogs and new tricks.”

  Determined not to waste another minute, Linda closed the distance between them. Reaching for his hand, she turned up his palm and pried open his fingers. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew an object, placing it in the center of his palm. “No worries.”

  Mitch smiled, rubbing Judd’s worry stone between his fingers. “I guess we can share this.”

  Her heart full of emotion, Linda took his face in her hands. Why had she fought this so hard? Mitch was a good man who loved his work and cared about his students. What took her so long?

  The good man wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his body. “I never would have guessed in a million years I’d feel this way about…anybody.”

  Linda stroked his face. “Tell me about it.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, relishing his embrace.

  “I knew this would happen.”

  Linda and Mitch l
ooked toward the door. Barthomew McDowell leaned against the door frame. “I saw it coming.”

  Heat edged up Linda’s neck and onto her cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

  “The day Mitch stole your French fry, I said ‘those two are going to get together.’”

  “But you were leaving the room at the time.”

  Bart tapped his head. “I’ve got eyes in the back of my head, kids. That’s why I’m the boss.” He winked and left.

  Linda stared up into Mitch’s hazel eyes. “We could’ve saved ourselves all kinds of anguish if we’d talked to the boss, I suppose. What do you think?”

  Mitch nodded. “True, but we would’ve missed all the fun.” He pulled her closer and kissed her, a kiss full of promise.

  Epilogue

  Puffing a ten dollar cigar, Mitch sprawled in a deck chair and stared into the darkness of the surrounding pines. Light from the kitchen ended at his sock-clad feet. Except for an occasional rustle in the trees, the night was quiet and the air nippy. He pulled the cigar from his mouth and leaned back his head.

  Rounding his lips, he blew three perfect smoke rings. I still got it. Pleased with his achievement, he stubbed out the cigar in a jar lid and dropped the stogie in his shirt pocket for later. The hand-rolled cigar had traveled a long way and was too valuable to waste. He stood, stretched, and walked through the light to the patio doors leading into the kitchen.

  As his gaze lit on the collection of rust-colored chrysanthemums decorating his deck, he grinned. When he opened the door, the noise from the living room hit him with force. He crossed the kitchen, stood in the archway, and studied the trio relaxing on his new leather furniture.

  Watching a football game, Austin and Sydney sprawled on the plush, dark brown couch. With a shout, Austin shoved a fist in the air, eliciting a protest from Sydney in the process.

  Linda curled in a recliner reading a book. Front paws jerking, Jonesy snored at her feet.

  “We’ve waited an hour.” Mitch paused, waiting for a response. When none came, he continued. “I’m having pumpkin pie whether you guys are ready or not.”

  Her hair delightfully mussed, Linda closed her book and stretched. “Did you put coffee on?”

  Unable to resist, Mitch walked over, leaned down, and kissed her. “I certainly did. I even picked up your special blend at the coffee shop yesterday.” He ran a hand through her soft hair.

  “Aren’t you the thoughtful one?” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “You must want something.”

  Still leaning over her, Mitch wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. With a glance at the two teenagers, he lowered his voice. “I do…eventually.”

  “Hey, get a room, you two.” Austin sprung off the couch and pulled Sydney toward the kitchen. “Let’s check out the pumpkin pie.”

  They gathered around the island in the kitchen, working together getting plates, forks, cutting the pie, and serving whipped cream. Twenty minutes later, all that remained of the pie was a dirty baking dish and a piece of crust. When they were settled back in the living room, Linda asked, “What time are you two leaving tomorrow?”

  Austin looked at Sydney and back at his mother. “Actually, we’re leaving tonight.”

  “What?” Linda’s bare feet dropped to the floor and she propped both hands on the arms of the chair. “Tonight? What about all the Thanksgiving holiday traffic, driving at night—”

  Mitch touched her arm and caught her eye. He gave her a head tilt with one eyebrow lift and mouthed, “Let go.”

  Linda pressed her lips together and leaned back in the chair. Taking a deep breath, she continued in a softer voice. “Is your father expecting you tonight?”

  Austin nodded. “He is. He’s hosting some late night dinner thing at a restaurant, and he wants us to meet some people.”

  Linda’s fingers tapped the leather. “Why does he want you to meet somebody? He’s not trying to get you to act, is he?”

  “No, Mom, relax.” Austin laughed. “Sydney and I were thinking of getting an internship at Disneyland next summer. Dad knows some people.”

  “You want to work at Disneyland?” An image of the picture in Mitch’s office came to mind, the one with the young woman standing next to Minnie Mouse. “Are you Goofy or Mickey?”

  Austin shook his head at his mother. “Neither, I want to intern in their engineering research and development department, and Sydney is checking into their promotion department.”

  Releasing her breath in a long sigh, Linda leaned back in her chair.

  “Besides, we don’t want to cramp your style.” Austin shared a wicked grin with Sydney.

  Turning her gaze toward Mitch, Linda frowned. “I guess we’ll be all alone for the holidays.”

  “Actually, I had a thought.” Mitch stood and reached for Linda. When she laid her head back on the chair, he grabbed her hand and helped lift her from the chair before pulling her into the kitchen.

  “What are you doing? I was comfortable in your new recliner.”

  Mitch wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Uh oh.”

  Mitch laughed. “I’ve learned a few things in the six months we’ve known each other.”

  Linda grinned. “I thought you PhD’s knew everything.”

  Mitch shrugged. “Yeah, so did I, but this old dog has learned some new tricks.”

  “Name one.”

  “One is…watching you with Austin made me realize how hard it is for parents to watch their kids make mistakes. I used to think my father wanted to control my life but, in hindsight and knowing what I know about eighteen-year-olds…he just wanted the best for me. I was wrong. I want to make it up. I’d like us to go see him—together.”

  Linda’s face lit up. “That’s wonderful, Mitch. I would love to go with you. What was the other thing you learned?”

  Austin shouted “Touchdown, touchdown, woo hoo!”

  Mitch smiled at the kids’ shouting. Who would’ve thought? “If you like, we’ll drive the rest of the way to New Jersey, and spend Christmas with your mother. Maybe we’ll stop in Pennsylvania and get Anna some of those marshmallow candy bars she’s so crazy about.”

  “Why, you old softie, you.” Linda punched him playfully in his belly. “My mom would love company, Mitch. And I like the idea of spending Christmas at home. Are you sure you want to drive across country?”

  Mitch nodded, already calculating the number of motel stays needed for a cross-country trip. He wondered if Linda realized he wasn’t really sacrificing anything. “Another thing I learned. I’m more like my father than I realized. He threw himself into his work but, so did I. Just a different kind of work. I want balance in my life. I want work, and friends, and family.”

  “You already do.”

  “I definitely have work and I definitely have friends. What I don’t have—yet—is family.” He tilted his head toward the living room, where Sydney’s voice rose above Austin’s as they argued about a play. “I want that. I want noisy kids in the living room, a dog in the yard, and you in my house.”

  Linda clasped her hands around his neck, leaned back, and gave him a measured look. “Mitch, those kids won’t be there for long. You’ll have Empty Nest Syndrome without having had a filled nest. Trust me, the experience is not fun.”

  “They’ll be in and out, trust me. In the meantime, we can have the best of both worlds.”

  “Both worlds being…”

  “We’ll be on our honeymoon and I expect to distract you enough you won’t be thinking about your empty nest.”

  “Honeymoon, eh? I don’t recall a proposal.”

  “I figured it was understood.”

  “Kind of like it was understood you could take French fries off my plate without asking?”

  “Are we back to that?” He wrapped her in a warm embrace and kissed the side of her neck. She shivered in his arms and he chuckled. “Empty nest won’t be so bad…” Mitch felt the dog nudging between their legs. “…and we
do have a dog now. Maybe we should find Jonesy a girlfriend.”

  Linda’s mouth dropped open and her blue eyes widened as she sputtered, “A girlfriend! That’s the last—”

  Mitch cut off any further protestations when he covered her mouth with his. He had plenty of time to argue about getting another dog but not nearly enough time to show the woman in his arms how much he loved her. He had wasted enough time.

  A word about the author...

  After twenty-five years in human resources, eighteen of which were spent working in a state prison, T.R. McClure struck out on a new career. This is her third romance novel in the Flower Basket series.

  Other titles by this author:

  Flying Home

  Never Too Late

  Thank you for purchasing

  this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.