by Casey Dawes
“That’s our owner,” Anita informed her. “Single. Good-looking. Rich. Quite a catch.”
Were HR people supposed to say that?
No worry. Reese Moore was the last man she would try to catch . . . or anything else. Li had some ‘splainin’ to do.
Forget the icky times? Like that was ever going to happen with this job.
• • •
Of all of the offices in all of the world . . .
Even after a decade, Reese Moore would have known Findlay Callahan anywhere. Only it wasn’t Callahan any more, was it? She was married to someone near Seattle if the rumors were true. Even had a daughter.
He should have been well rid of her. He was back in Montana to establish himself, find someone and settle down. And here was his painful past standing there in a business suit.
Then what was she doing coming out of the HR office. His HR office?
He lengthened his stride.
“You,” he said.
“You.” Her voice was as melodious as he remembered, but there was a harder edge to it.
Didn’t matter. She needed to be out of his office. Out of his life.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Wayne Johnson just hired Miss Callahan to be a programmer in his department.” A worried expression flitted across the HR woman’s forehead, returned, and stayed there.
What was that woman’s name?
And did she say Callahan?
“Why wasn’t I notified?”
“Um . . . well . . . you said you didn’t want to be bothered about any hires lower than a department head.”
Great. His desire to concentrate on the big picture had just caused him the biggest problem in his short tenure at Gravitz Technologies.
“Is there a problem?” Findlay asked, her voice strained. “And why are you here? I thought you were in the government somewhere in France.”
“Paris,” he said. In spite of the glamor and excitement of the job, Montana was an ache that wouldn’t go away.
“Mr. Moore runs Gravitz Technologies while his father recuperates,” the helpful HR woman added.
“Oh.” The color of Findlay’s face drained. “Well, then. That changes things.” She took a wad of papers from her purse and held them out to the woman. “I’m . . . I’m . . . afraid I can’t accept the position.”
He should let her go. Let the past stay buried. If his father knew, he’d have a cow. Especially if . . .
The other shoe dropped. Wayne Johnson was in charge of the employee interface upgrade—his father’s pet project. He couldn’t have a Callahan working on that.
His father would think drawing and quartering him would be too kind.
But if she’d applied for a job here, she must be desperate. And, no matter what it cost him, he couldn’t cause any more pain to the Callahan family.
“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “Aren’t you qualified?”
“Yes.”
“Did Wayne approve her?” he asked the HR person. Anita. Little Bird. That’s who she was.
“Yes. She’s supposed to start Monday.”
“Well, then you can’t leave. We obviously need you. If you don’t show up for work on Monday, I’ll . . . I’ll sue you.”
“You can’t do that.” Findlay stretched to her full height—a foot shorter than he was.
He forced the laugh back down his throat. God, he’d loved her feistiness when they were teens. Now she was going to be a royal pain in his ass.
“Try me.” Hiding his smile, he turned away and headed back to his office. His discussion with HR would have to wait.
Reese’s phone rang, and he pulled it from his pants pocket.
“I want to see you after work,” his father’s voice barked through the phone speaker. “Before you go off running, or whatever else you do that keeps you from the dinner table.”
Great. This was turning into an A+ day.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Your best is not acceptable. Hit the mark, Reese. Be here. I’m hearing things. Things I am not pleased with. Gravitz Technologies is part of my company. I didn’t work all these years just to have you ruin it. I want to know what’s what, and I want to know today.”
Reese gritted his teeth. Didn’t Dad understand he was trying to help? The company needed new blood. Reese needed a new career direction.
Perfect fit.
“I’m not going to ruin your company, Dad. I want to modernize it.” Remembering the sheaf of papers in Findlay’s hand, he added, “Like the HR department. There’s no reason all of it can’t be online.”
“People need to sign things, Reese. They need to give their word. Even then it doesn’t account for much anymore. Be home by six. Your mother will serve supper at seven. An hour should be enough.” The line went dead.
He glanced at his watch. Just enough time to see Wayne Johnson to learn what he could before his father grilled him on “what’s what.”
“Hear you hired a new person for the department,” Reese said as he leaned over the cubical wall.
“Yeah. She seems sharp. Can’t understand why the firm in Redmond let her go.”
“She give you any clue?”
“They said something about a child and taking a leave of absence. I didn’t really care. Her references checked out.”
“You contacted them that quickly?”
“HR got the résumé a few weeks ago. They said Li Chen gave it to them.” Wayne leaned back in his chair. “Findlay’s last name seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it.” He tapped his pen on his chin. “No matter. Callahan’s a popular name around here.” He flipped the pen on the desk and went back to his screen.
Ah, yes. Li Chen. Findlay’s—what did they call them? BFF. A third wheel to everything they did. He knew she worked for the company, but her cubicle was far from his office, so he didn’t see much of her.
He’d hoped to keep it that way.
Wayne must have sensed him still standing there, because he stopped scanning the e-mail on his laptop and looked at Reese. “Why the interest?”
“I knew her a long time ago.” A lifetime.
“Oh.” His eyes widened slightly. “Oh. That Callahan.” A frown furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, man. I should have remembered.”
Yes, he should have. He’d been here long enough.
Reese hesitated for a second. “No problem. If everything checks out, I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Either Findlay would work out, or he’d find an excuse to fire her. Either way, he’d encourage her to stay out of his way.
And pray she didn’t screw up his father’s pet project.
Chapter 2
As soon as Reese disappeared into the maze of cubicles, Findlay ditched the HR lady and headed out of the building to her car.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me Reese worked here?” she hissed over the phone to Li. “That was an important detail to mention.”
“You needed a job.” Her friend’s voice was patient. “I knew if I mentioned him, you wouldn’t apply.”
“I can’t work here!” Her voice was almost a shriek. “He’ll find the first excuse to fire me, just like Brian did my father. If he can’t find one, he’ll create one and make me look like a criminal, like Daddy. Then I’ll lose Kelly Anne. ”
“C’mon, Findlay. You’re getting carried away. Reese isn’t like his dad. Besides, it’s been a decade since all that happened. You’ve been married and divorced. Aren’t you over that by now?”
“I’ll never be over the Moores railroading my father. Why isn’t Brian in charge? And I thought the company was named Missoula Metal?”
“He had a heart attack. Gravitz Technologies is a subsidiary of Missoula Metal. Brian bought it a year ago to handle the tech side of things. Rumor is he was tired of paying high prices for California tech firm processing.”
Brian Moore had always been a cheapskate. No man deserved illness more.
“Look,” Li said, “If you want to look a
round, great. But you know what jobs are like in Missoula—feast or famine. Right now, it’s famine. Besides, Reese runs a good company—solid benefits, flexible hours. I hardly ever see him. What happens when Kelly Anne goes to school? Aren’t you going to want to be with her some of the time? They let me work from home now and then. I’m sure they’ll do the same for you.”
Without a job, she’d lose Kelly Anne to her ex. With this particular one, she was going to lose her mind.
“Give it a try,” Li urged. “You can get settled and then start looking around. Maybe there’ll be a new start-up hiring by then. They’re sprouting like weeds. Unfortunately, it takes them a while to figure out they need help.”
What would happen if Brian Moore found out she was working for him? He’d make it so she never found another job in Missoula. She should go now, before he found out.
“Still there?” Li asked.
“Yeah.”
“Stick it out. See what happens. Not everything in your life goes wrong.”
Her laugh held a tinge of bitterness. “I guess I don’t have a choice right now. Mom lives from one Social Security payment to the next. I can’t sponge off of her anyway—I’m a grown woman. I’ll stick it out. Like you said, I’m lucky to get a job so quickly.” She’d behaved badly to a friend who was trying to look out for her. “I’m sorry I lost it. Things have been a little stressful. Thank you for all you did.”
“No problem. Let’s have lunch tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She hung up the phone and said a little prayer to a god she didn’t really trust that everything would turn out okay—just like a fairy tale.
In the decade since Findlay had left Missoula, the traffic had gotten steadily worse. Of course, it didn’t compare to Seattle, but rush hour was becoming more real. The bottlenecks were everywhere, especially now that construction season was here. It took her twice as long as she’d anticipated to get home.
The house was silent when she walked in.
“Kelly Anne?” Her chest squeezed tightly.
What if Chris had come to kidnap her? What if she’d fallen in unfamiliar surroundings? Or been run over by a car?
She should never have left her. She checked the kitchen.
“Findlay, stop.” Her mother entered the room, a basket of fresh laundry under her arm. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Kelly Anne is taking a nap. She got overloaded this afternoon. Poor thing. Her life is turned upside down, and she’s having trouble handling it.”
True. Findlay’s breath slowed down.
Her daughter’s nonverbal learning disability showed up in many ways, but the two most common were getting lost and getting overwhelmed. She should have expected this. Maybe if she hadn’t been so intent on getting a job, she would have prepared her mother better to take care of Kelly Anne.
But if she couldn’t prove she could provide support, Chris would win.
“Stop beating yourself up, too.” Her mother placed a cup of tea, her solution to everything, on the table. “Put down your things and tell me how it went.”
Findlay dropped her oversized handbag into one kitchen chair and sat in the other. The first sip sent tendrils of relaxation through her veins. If only it would last.
“I got the job.”
“That’s good, but why do you sound so depressed? Isn’t it what you wanted?”
“The company is owned by the Moores.”
“Oh.” Her mother sat in the opposite kitchen chair.
The light dimmed as a cloud passed between them and the sun.
Or was it her father’s ghost?
How could she work for the man who destroyed their lives?
Sorry, Daddy.
A moan from a far bedroom brought her back to the present.
Findlay pushed back her chair, rushed to the bedroom, scooped up her daughter, and hugged her closely. Oh, sweet Jesus, keep her daughter safe.
“Mommy, you’re squishing me.”
A thready laugh escaped her.
“Sorry, darling.”
“Where were you? Why is your face wet? Were you crying?”
The fear in her daughter’s voice grounded her.
“I’m happy to see you,” Findlay said. “You ready to see Grandma?”
“I saw her a lot today. I wanna see you.”
“How about both of us? I’ll be home with you the rest of the night.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.” The brief smile on her daughter’s face turned into twisted concern. “What about tomorrow?”
“Yep. I’ll be here tomorrow, too.”
“Goody!” Kelly Anne squirmed into her lap.
She’d figure out how to say her presence wasn’t permanent tomorrow.
• • •
Reese’s father was sipping his normal scotch, television news rumbling, when Reese walked into the den.
“Idiots.” Brian Moore gestured to the babbling anchorman. “Get yourself a drink.”
“I thought you were supposed to be off alcohol.”
“Damn doctors don’t know any better than the idiots in Washington. If they don’t do something soon about that overseas mess, we’re going to find ourselves blown to smithereens. Why don’t we have competent people in our embassies?”
Because some of us had to return home to take over for cantankerous parents recovering from heart attacks.
Not that he’d been able to effect much change at the embassy as a low-level flunky. His boss had told him to be patient, but he saw others who’d spent their high school summers interning for the right people get ahead of him—people younger than he was.
People who hadn’t spent their free time working at a metal factory in Nowhere, Montana.
Now fate had dictated a temporary change of course.
He’d decided to make it into an opportunity—a second chance to establish himself. It was time to find someone to settle down with and give his mother some grandchildren.
The only obstacle was proving himself to the man in front of him.
Once his father finished his daily rant on doctors, media, Washington, and Helena, he turned to how poorly he thought Reese was running Gravitz Technologies.
“I should never have bought that company. First, it gave me a heart attack, and now you can’t get the most important project I need done completed. I should sell it. Stick to the core company no matter what those bandits in California were charging me for payroll and all the other crap. I know how to tune metal so it sings—none of this technology shit. Besides, it was technology that caused . . . well . . . never mind.”
Was his father talking about the whole mess with the Callahans? Was it something that still bothered him?
Nah.
“Gravitz is fine, Dad. The project will be done on time.” As long as Findlay didn’t wreck it. She could be plotting revenge. He’d have to keep an eye on his ex-girlfriend.
Reese walked to the far window and stared across the valley to the Bitterroot River, the June sun still high in the sky. The view was splendid, but he missed living in the University District. The maple-lined streets and old-fashioned houses appealed to him more than his father’s new glass and steel abode.
Jogging with Findlay down the river walk a few times a week, whether in winter’s icy grip or fall’s bright yellow aspens, walking together to their sprawling high school, and sharing kisses in hidden spots around campus had been the routines in his life. He smiled for a brief moment before turning away from memories that had only been an illusion.
His father’s attention was back on the television, his expression its usual disapproval of everyone and everything around him.
The man had it all—family, money, and a beautiful home. Why was he still so bitter?
Would Reese be the same? He was certainly starting down the same path—not happy with anything.
“I don’t want you changing things.” His dad gave him a sharp look. “I want to understand what’s going on—know what the
priorities are. Don’t change them without talking to me first. I know what’s important. Like that new Java interface for employees. Java used to mean a damn cup of coffee. Now it’s a computer language. Government requirement. Damn government. Don’t make their deadline, we have to pay out a big fine. It’s going to come out of your pocket if you screw up.” He glared at Reese.
“I’ll get it done, Dad.”
“And why couldn’t you hang on to that programmer kid? He was one of the best—didn’t require a whole lot of money, either. He was key to this whole project.”
How the hell did his father know about that? It was a low-level position. Why should he care? And if he knew about that, it was only a matter of time before he found out about Findlay, who was now apparently the key ingredient to Reese’s success or failure.
“Who told you about that?”
“Sam keeps me informed,” the older man said.
“Novak?”
His father nodded.
Crap. Sam Novak was Wayne Johnson’s boss. He probably knew already.
Then why hadn’t he told Brian Moore that Findlay Callahan was back in town?
• • •
On Monday, Findlay pulled into an empty parking place at Gravitz Technologies, gathered what little self-confidence she had left, and walked to the front door.
An hour later, she had a badge and an employee handbook she’d never read.
Now she could get down to the real job. Her goal? Do good work and keep her head down for the next six months so she could prove competency to the judge. Her best Christmas present was going to be a final settlement to the tug-of-war with her ex.
Wayne Johnson briefed her on her upcoming work before introducing her to the other members of the department. They ranged from her team lead, an awkward, spindly, six-foot thirty-something with glasses, to a petite blonde with excellent fashion sense.
The assignment Wayne gave her required minimal effort—the same type of job she would have given one of her new department employees at her old firm. Although it only took a few hours to knock out the Java code, she reviewed it carefully three times.
Making mistakes was not an option.
“Will this work?” she asked her team lead a few hours later.
The intent young man scanned the code on the common server and nodded. “Good job.”
