by Lyn Cote
A sudden and unreasoning twinge of jealousy pinched Jack. Maybe being with Gracie’s family had just highlighted that he had only his mom.
Outside, Jack paused beside Gracie. They stood near his car, stiff and unspeaking. Cars rushed up and down the street.
He knew he should get in his sedan and leave, but Gracie needed him. Gracie, who was always so organized and prepared for anything. He shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t give in and reach out to touch her.
“You take off the next few days, whatever you need.”
She hesitated, visibly considering his offer. “Thanks.” She took a deep breath. “You should talk to your dad,” she urged. “His job might be something ridiculously easy for you to do while Tom’s gone. And money’s money, Jack.”
That’s what his mom had said. He leaned against a tree and looked into her eyes. Gracie has gray eyes, nice ones. Had he noticed that before?
“Call him, Jack,” Gracie murmured.
“I don’t hear from him for years,” Jack fumed, “and now he calls my office and I meet him at the hospital Friday, and he stops over at my mom’s Saturday. This morning he calls my office again.”
“Maybe you’re reading too much into it. Maybe he just wants you to do a job for him because you’re the best at what he needs done.” Her voice was earnest.
He resisted the new and powerful attraction he’d felt for her all this unusual day. “With Tom on vacation and you on family leave—”
“Just call him back and set up a lunch date.” She took a step closer. “What’s so hard about that?”
“Having lunch with my dad tops my list of Things I Don’t Want to Do.” He folded his arms.
“How about if I went with you to that lunch? I can do that much.” She waved to someone across the street. “A neighbor could watch the twins.”
“No,” he objected. “I wouldn’t ask you to take time away from your family. The twins need you.”
He turned away slightly, but still gazed at Gracie, wishing there was something he could do to ease her worry. But there wasn’t anything more he could do for her or her nephews. And…why hadn’t he ever noticed that she had a small mole on one of her ears?
“Well, you could always ask him to meet us—all of us—at the Polska Café.” A shadow of a grin passed over Gracie’s face. “I’m sure it’s just his kind of restaurant.”
Jack looked down the street at the busy neighborhood café. His dad with his Rolex and Brooks Brothers suit at the Polska Café? He chuckled. “Why not?”
“Jack, no. I was only joking.”
“Then, the joke’s on him.” Jack chuckled and got into the car, ignoring Gracie’s further objections.
The next day, Tuesday around noon, Gracie entered the Polska Café. She glanced around to make sure neither Jack nor his dad had already arrived for their business lunch. The little café, not redecorated since it opened in 1947, hummed with voices, laughter and the clatter of dishes and flatware. Gracie winced inside at the contrast between her worried self and the happy, unconcerned mood in the café.
“Hey! Gracie, how are you?” Plump, aproned Mama Kalanovski, standing behind the counter, leaned over to Gracie. “Any word from Annie?”
“She and Troy are talking….”
Ma clucked her tongue sympathetically.
Every day, the fact of Annie’s leaving became harder to accept, not easier. And now, this business lunch. Gracie felt keyed up and dragged down at the same time.
“I need a table for three.”
“Okay.” Within moments, Mama had a table wiped and set. “Your dad and Troy coming?” Mama asked.
“No, my boss and his, uh…client.” Gracie sat down, facing the entrance.
“Your big boss from downtown?” Mama’s awed voice boomed over the jovial din. “The one Mike calls ‘The Brain’?”
Nearby customers turned to look at Gracie. Not meeting anyone’s eye, she nodded to Mama. If Jack and his dad don’t back out.
Just then, Jack strode in, looking out of place in his business casual. The summer sunshine pouring through the front window lit up the red in his chestnut hair.
A brief break in the surrounding chatter alerted Gracie that his entrance had been duly noted. She waved, ignoring the attention Jack’s entrance had drawn. Why did he have to look so good? I have to resign…soon. But Annie’s leaving Troy had greatly overshadowed Gracie’s dilemma over leaving Jack.
Gracie’s love for Jack still simmered inside her, overlaid with hopelessness. She tightened her self-control, making her face blandly welcome.
Jack reached her. “Gracie, something’s come up. Has Tom called you?”
“Tom?” Her face twisted in surprise. “No. Was he supposed to? What’s happened?”
Jack sat down across from her. “He called me this morning on my cell phone. He said a few words, then we were cut off.” Jack shrugged. “I tried to call him back but I couldn’t get him.”
“What did he want?” She recalled her own uneasiness about Tom the last time she’d seen him. So much had happened since that Friday evening. It felt like a thousand years ago.
Jack frowned. “What he said didn’t make a lot of sense—”
“Is that your father?” Gracie cut in. She nodded toward the front. Jack rose. Gracie noted the hardening of his jaw as he motioned to the man who hesitated just inside the entrance.
Lord, I’m here to help Jack, to run interference between the two of them. Help me. I’m not up to this today.
Cliff Lassater, wearing a crisp, lightweight tan business suit, stood out like an alien. Most diners were retirees and workmen from nearby factories. He glanced around critically as he moved to join their table. Those around him returned his obvious inspection with a variety of reactions—lifted eyebrows, grunts and some glares.
Gracie sighed inwardly. She would be interrogated in the friendliest way for the next few weeks: “Who was that with you at the Polska?”
“Hello.” Cliff greeted them. “You’re Gracie, right?”
Gracie nodded.
After glancing at the chair as though assessing its cleanliness, Cliff sat down beside Jack. “Do you eat here often?” He asked the question in a tone that also asked, Why would you eat in a place like this and why would you ask me to join you?
Gracie bristled at the condescension in his tone. “I know this isn’t what you’re used to—”
“We can do business here.” Jack leaned back in his chair. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” His tone was a challenge to his dad.
“Well, I’m glad we’re finally meeting.” Cliff glanced around, looking increasingly uncomfortable. “It’s a bit crowded here. I’d hoped for a more confidential meeting place—”
“I don’t think you have to worry—” Jack dismissed his father’s objection with a wave “—about anyone here being interested in whatever problem you’ve come to discuss.” He opened up his plastic-covered handwritten menu, closing the discussion.
Gracie smiled to soften Jack’s abruptness. “The Polska is noted for its Polish and Slovenian specialties. They make all their sausage, baked goods and breads—everything from scratch.”
Mama bustled over and distributed glasses of ice water. “Welcome to the Polska! Do you need more time, or do you know what you want?”
Cliff looked to Gracie instead of the menu. “Perhaps you could suggest something?”
“I’m going to have the spring salad and a poppy-seed roll,” Gracie said. “In this heat, I can’t eat much.” That would be as good an excuse as any for her lack of appetite.
Mama clucked her tongue. “Okay, the spring and a poppy-seed for you. That’s good, all right, but not enough for a bird.”
“Well, I’ll be a bird, too, then,” Cliff said, and smiled. “Same for me.”
Jack glanced at Mama. “I’ll have your Reuben sandwich and iced tea.”
“Very good.” Mama beamed at him. “We make our own sauerkraut and rye bread.” She bustled awa
y.
“Jack, how is your mother?” Cliff asked, sounding to Gracie more polite than concerned.
“She’s feeling better.” Jack wouldn’t look at his dad.
Gracie sensed the instant wall Jack had put up between him and his father. Did Cliff sense it, too?
“Why don’t we get started with business?” Gracie suggested.
“Hope Medical has an untarnished reputation—” Cliff began.
“Cut to the chase,” Jack interrupted in a brusque tone. “What is it that Hope Medical needs?”
Cliff grimaced and then cleared his throat. “Hope Medical Group is responsible for a few hospitals, clinical labs and several large practices in the metro area in a combined financial and medical organization.” Cliff folded his hands on the table and leaned on his elbows. “We save money on financial costs by joining together. Somehow, our billing system has been compromised—”
“A hacker?” Jack asked.
“We don’t know.” Cliff looked even more uneasy. “Our last two billings were rife with errors—overbilling, double-billing, incorrect charges, that kind of thing. A lot of zeros popping up where they didn’t belong.”
“It might have been a software glitch.” Jack sounded unconcerned. He crossed his arms.
Gracie tried to look interested in Hope’s problems, but Jack worried her more. Why had she suggested meeting at the Polska?
“Whatever it is—” Cliff’s tone stiffened “—we’ve assured the insurance companies and clients that we’ll fix the problem ASAP. I know LIT primarily creates medical information systems, but you’ve done updating and problem-solving before.”
“Is that why you chose LIT?” Jack finally looked his dad in the eye.
Yes, Jack would want to know that. Gracie sipped her iced tea, praying God would pour oil over these troubled waters.
“Another Board member looked into possible companies to contact.” Obviously not trusting the Polska’s dishwasher, Cliff used a paper napkin to polish his tableware. “Anyway, he knew I had a son in information technology and called me to see if Lassater Information Tech was yours. He suggested we contact you.”
Jack’s lips thinned to a straight line. “So that’s why you called?”
Gracie knew Cliff couldn’t have said anything that would anger Jack more than this. According to Sandy, Jack hadn’t even let Cliff pay for his son’s college expenses.
“I didn’t use my influence, if that’s what you mean, Jack.” Cliff’s tone hardened. “Your reputation is excellent and the Board hoped that if you, with our family association, did the work, we could keep this under wraps. We don’t want to lose credibility with our customers, make more out of this than we should. If customers begin to doubt a system, we could have people disputing charges. It would be a real mess.”
“I see.”
Gracie tried to read Jack’s tone. Was he softening toward the idea of working for his dad or not?
“I’d like to have your answer today or by Friday at the latest. Our billing cycle waits for no man. And what if Medicare or Medicaid accounts are compromised this time? There could be fines, all kinds of legal fallout. And I don’t even want to think about compromising of medical records. Who knows how far this will go if we don’t stop it now?”
Jack frowned.
Gracie knew he didn’t like to be pressured by clients. That was one of Tom’s jobs—to keep the clients from irritating Jack. But this was an urgent situation and they needed the work.
“I think you’ve come to the right firm.” Gracie spoke up in Tom’s absence.
“We’ll do it,” Jack muttered.
Gracie swallowed an exclamation of surprise. Having Jack take the job had been what she’d wanted, but she’d expected to have to coax him. What had caused this turnaround?
At the front of the café, her sister Annie entered and glanced around.
Heads turned to look at her. News traveled fast in this neighborhood.
Gracie’s pulse pounded in her temples.
Annie stalked toward her.
Gracie should be happy to see her sister, but Annie’s stormy expression didn’t reassure her.
Chapter Four
Later that evening in Sandy’s driveway, Gracie opened the door of her dad’s pickup and got out. Her mind whirred with vivid words and expressions from her intense confrontation with Annie in front of the Polska this afternoon.
“Come on, boys.” Biting her lower lip, she motioned the twins to climb down from their seats at the rear of the extended cab.
“Is this where Mr. Lassater lives?” Austin asked, his eyes wide. He scrambled down onto the running board and then jumped with both feet to the sun-warmed asphalt.
His obvious excitement about seeing Jack again brought a lump to Gracie’s throat. “You two, be on your best behavior,” Gracie warned.
Why wouldn’t Annie listen to me, Lord? How can she just step away from her sons?
Annie’s accusation—“Why did you talk to Troy’s mother about me?”—so unfair, still burned in Gracie’s memory.
“We will!” Andy promised, jumping down to join his brother.
Gracie’s dad caught up with them at the front of the blue truck. “Maybe we should have called first.” He ran a hand around his waistband, tucking in his already tucked-in, freshly ironed shirt.
Gracie heard voices from the backyard. “No, they’re here. Sandy! Jack!” she called from the driveway. “It’s me, Gracie…and company!”
With heavy heart, she led her “men” around the corner of the house to Sandy’s small patio.
Jack and his mother sat on lawn chairs at a round table. The cooling evening breeze riffled the rain-stained fringe on the faded umbrella and the leaves on the nearby maple trees.
“Mike! Gracie! What a nice surprise!” Sandy greeted the group as they came around the corner of her house. “Mike, who do you have with you?”
Jack stood up. “Mike?”
Gracie caught the confused expression Jack turned toward his mother, and paused for a moment. Hadn’t Sandy told him? “Jack, this is my dad, Mike Petrov. And you already know Austin and Andy.”
“Mr. Lassater! Hi!” The twins dropped her hands and charged Jack, wrapping their arms around his knees.
A palm on Austin’s head, Jack shook hands with Mike and looked to Gracie, a question on his face. “I didn’t expect to see you again today.”
Gracie tried to smile, but his words only brought back the embarrassing scene. When Annie had shown up, Gracie had been forced to leave Jack alone with Cliff. She was sure they’d seen and overheard as much as everyone else at the Polska. Her sister had had no right to say what she did to Gracie. Annie had made it sound as if Gracie was siding with Troy against her. I didn’t cause this problem, Lord.
And how had her unexpected departure affected the business deal with Hope?
“Please sit down,” Sandy invited, motioning toward the remaining chairs.
Jack pulled out a chair for Gracie and then sat back down. Without hesitation, the boys clambered up on Jack, each settling on a knee. Jack ruffled their hair and grinned.
Handing Sandy a printed sheet, Mike dragged over a chair to sit right beside Sandy and her crutches. “I just wanted to bring over your building permit.”
“Building permit?” Jack echoed, consternation in his tone.
“You got it already?” Beaming brightly like the molten-gold sun sinking below the treetops, Sandy accepted it. She acted as if she hadn’t heard Jack.
“Yeah.” Mike moved closer to Sandy, leaning over her shoulder to view the document now in her hand. “I’ll post it on a tree in your front yard and I’ll get started as soon as I wind up the final details on a couple of other jobs.”
Sandy gazed at the form, a broad smile on her face.
Ignoring a silent appeal from Jack, Gracie leaned over and tied Andy’s loose shoelace. Jack, I’m not explaining this. It’s Sandy’s job.
“Mom—” Jack started.
“I
sn’t this great, Jack?” Sandy turned to her son. “Mike gave me the best bid and even drew up the plans for me himself.”
“I… You never said anything…. I didn’t know you’d gone this far with your plans.” Jack looked displeased.
Gracie glanced at Sandy, who was turning pink.
“You’re a busy man. And I can handle this.” Sandy tapped Mike’s arm, the one holding the building permit. “Now, who are these two ragamuffins?”
Gracie kept her attention on her dad. He had an odd grin on his face. She’d thought it was funny that he wanted to drop over here tonight.
“They’re my grandsons—” Mike began.
“We’re Austin and Andy!” Austin announced. “We came to see Mr. Lassater.”
Though Jack didn’t look happy, he jiggled his knees, bouncing the boys and making them giggle.
“Mr. Lassater bought us candy bars,” Andy confided.
“How nice.” Sandy looked over to him. “Jack, that reminds me. Would you go in and get some refreshments for our guests?”
“No, Sandy—” Mike started to object.
“It’s no problem, Mike,” Sandy said, touching his arm again. “Jack will do it while I get acquainted with your grandsons. It’s such a lovely evening and I’ve been cooped up here since Friday night with these crutches, though Jack has been keeping me company.”
“Sure. I’ll go get some iced tea,” Jack said in a disgruntled voice that he didn’t try to mask. He urged the twins down from his lap and stood up.
“Come here, boys.” Mike held out his arms and the twins scrambled onto his lap.
Jack tried not to frown. The twins rushing to him had been as unexpected as it was satisfying. But how had this building permit happened without his knowing? And why did Gracie’s dad have to sit so close to his mother? What was up with his mom?
Jack led Gracie into the kitchen. He stood at the counter pouring milk into plastic cups for the twins and then adding ice cubes to tall glasses and pouring tea. A fragrance that whispered “Gracie” was all around him.
“Are you wearing a new perfume or something?”
“No. In fact, I don’t wear any perfume.”
“Then, what do I smell?”
