Humidity hung in the air as heavy as their silence. She didn’t know what Grant was thinking at the moment. She was determined to remain smiling and to work at being lighthearted.
Flowers always lifted her mood, and Grant’s property had amazing gardens. Various shades of green, lush and vibrant, covered the vast property. Whether planned or not, flowers grew out of rocky formations in wild assortments of vivid colors. With the backdrop of the vivid green carpet, the landscape had a British garden feel, full of magic and beauty.
They left the graveled footpath and walked up the steps leading to the door. When they hit the last step, the door opened.
“You’re late.” A tall older woman who bore a resemblance to Grant peered down at them.
“Uh-oh, how late am I?” Grant tapped the face of his watch.
“One minute, twenty seconds.”
“Tamara, this is my mother, Martina Benson.”
“Hi.” Tamara weighed the consequences of fleeing the scene.
“Come in.” His mother closed the oversized front door. Tamara’s nerves were now getting the better of her. She’d worked hard to stay calm, but Grant wasn’t helping with his own obvious anxiety.
With a slight pressure on her elbow, Grant guided her through the house. This walk felt like a death march into the unknown. It certainly didn’t help that Grant didn’t seem to know what to expect, either.
She looked up at his profile.
Maybe he did know. She couldn’t possibly be the only woman who had been brought before his mother. Was this how a new princess in England felt being led to Queen Elizabeth? She hadn’t practiced a curtsy since her high school ballet production.
“Now that we are all here.” His mother was now all smiles.
Tamara almost felt the need to bob at the knee in a curtsy. Instead, she shifted from foot to foot and gave his mother a quick handshake. “Good evening, ma’am.”
The shrewd woman assessed her with a frank gaze that scoured her from top to bottom. Although Grant did have a gaze that could rip someone to shreds, he always maintained an approachable demeanor, unlike his mother.
“Have a seat, Tamara, over here,” his mother said.
Tamara wasn’t going to refuse the softly spoken request. If she did, however, it would have been difficult since the older woman had her wrist in a viselike grip.
“Grant, you sit over there.”
“Why are there extra place settings?” he asked.
“I invited a few friends.” His mother turned to her. “Would you like a soft drink?”
“Water is fine.” Tamara stood behind her chair, waiting for the order to be seated. A small trickle of sweat rolled down her back. It was going to be a long night.
Meanwhile, Grant was suddenly a picture of relaxed elegance, and she wished that he wouldn’t be so at ease. Why should she be the only one suffering?
The doorbell sounded. A blend of voices, male and female, rolled into the dining room. Tamara made out Mrs. Benson’s voice greeting the new guests with a thousand percent more enthusiasm than she’d used to greet her.
Tamara faced Grant at the opposite side of the table. His attention was at the door. His forehead was deeply furrowed.
There was a lull in the conversation in the outer room, and the most distinctive female voice reached her.
Tamara’s eyes popped open. She held on to the back of her chair. What kind of blindside was this?
“Tamara, darling, isn’t this a wonderful surprise?” said her mother as she strolled into the dining room.
“Not really, Mom.” She hugged her mother.
“Oh, stop it. You’re so bad.” Her mom hugged her again. Unlike Mrs. Benson, her mom was a bundle of warm energy that reached out and enveloped a person.
“When Grant told me about you, and that was only because he slipped up, I realized that I knew your mother.” Mrs. Benson’s icy attitude seemed to have warmed up a few degrees.
“We play tennis at the club once a week,” her mother said with a light, charming laugh.
Oh, joy! This definitely put a new kink in the night. Her mother didn’t need to be involved in her personal life. But it was too late. Nothing could pry her mother off this trail.
“Grant, you are quite handsome,” her mother said.
Realization hit Tamara.
This was a setup.
From the look on Grant’s face, he had also come to the same realization.
“Sit. Sit. Your dad is the one who’s whipping up tonight’s dinner.”
“What?” Grant’s mouth actually dropped open.
Tamara obeyed the directive to sit just to give herself something to do. Otherwise, she’d remain gaping at her mother.
On cue, an older man came through the door with a silver platter in his hands.
“Dad.”
Tamara had thought he was the family’s chef, but the revelation that the patriarch had entered the room captured her full attention.
His father proudly set down the dish. “Hello, folks. This is a new recipe from my stash.”
“All of a sudden your father has turned into the Renaissance man.” Mrs. Benson rolled her eyes. “He won’t let anyone help him. He shouldn’t be carrying that tray.”
Despite her comments, Grant’s mother watched her husband’s progress around the table, and her face couldn’t hide the pride that she had for him and his new hobby. Tamara wondered how long they’d been married. The push and pull of their personalities and the quiet love between them spoke to a long life together. Their long marriage reminded her of her parents’ thirtieth anniversary party years ago and how madly in love they had been. Tamara was grateful that they had had the chance to celebrate such a milestone before her father had died.
She lifted her gaze from the plate to find Grant staring at her. He didn’t shift his gaze at being caught. His unabashed scrutiny unnerved her.
“Tamara, when did you meet Grant? Because imagine my surprise when Martina sprung the news that her son and my daughter were dating.”
“We didn’t start out dating.” Tamara hated being called to the carpet in such a public manner.
“She blew into my world with a business proposition,” Grant clarified.
“Trust my daughter to approach things in a business-only style.” Her mother turned her attention to Mrs. Benson. “Sorry, Martina.”
“Leave these young people to themselves,” Mr. Benson interjected. “They certainly don’t need any of us to throw in our two cents.”
Tamara resisted the urge to stand and give Mr. Benson a high five.
“Grant, why didn’t you ever bring her around to meet me?” Martina looked at Tamara and awarded her with a smile. “I can tell that she has worked to make her parents proud. And she’s so mannerly that I’m envious I didn’t raise a son who would have the manners to introduce his girlfriend to his family.” She turned a stern look at him.
“Well...I—”
“Martina, I’m not going to let my daughter off the hook, either. She didn’t trust me to say that she’d met a decent guy. I don’t know what has gotten into these young people. They forget how they were raised as soon as they leave the house.”
“Ladies, ladies, if you keep up your interrogation, you won’t enjoy my food,” Mr. Benson said. “If this recipe works, I’m submitting it to the contest.”
“Your father fancies himself a chef in the making. The grand prize in this contest he wants to enter is a six-month cooking show. Can you imagine that?”
“I plan to win. If I do, your mother can be my kitchen helper.”
Tamara couldn’t contain the chuckle that erupted from her. Mrs. Benson cut her eyes at her, then tilted up her nose like the queen she seemed to want to be.
Somehow the tone of the evening fi
nally relaxed. They were all chatting, sharing stories among themselves and telling jokes. Eventually the conversation petered out. Between Grant and her, they had answered so many questions. Too soon the evening ended, and Tamara walked her mother to her car.
“When are you coming for Sunday dinner?” Tamara’s mother asked. “And you should come to church with me.”
“Good night, Mom. I’ll try.”
“Heard that before. And I still want to know more about your young man. Not that glossed-over nonsense you fed them. You’re treating me as if I’m the stranger.”
“Not now, Mom. I just don’t know if I want to pursue anything.”
Her mother nodded. Her gaze drifted over Tamara’s shoulder. She motioned with a push of her chin. “Your young man is waiting for you.”
“He’s not my young man.”
“Maybe you should tell him that. I still can recognize that love-struck look on a man’s face.” Her mother got in her car, waved to her and drove away.
Tamara turned and walked to where Grant stood with legs apart, hands shoved in pockets, studying her. The night could be over or just beginning. No matter what he wore, no matter under what light he stood, Grant was gorgeous. The man had been blessed with good genes.
“Thanks for introducing me to your mother.”
“Likewise,” he replied.
“Wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be.”
“I’m glad my parents met you.”
“Your mom scares me, but your dad is a sweetheart.”
Grant laughed and then pulled her against his chest. They stood holding each other, swaying without any music.
Tamara sighed. What to do next? Her past told her to back away and run. Her present told her to stay put, hold on. The future scared her the most. She couldn’t see beyond the horizon.
Chapter 12
Grant suffered through the film production, which lasted an additional three long days. In order to get over the interruption into his daily life, he had to remind himself that there were many benefits. With one notable exception: Tamara was keeping him at a football-stadium-sized distance.
It was one week after the ambush at his parents’ home, and she seemed frozen. Even his calls weren’t being returned. Maybe he should be glad that she’d backed off. If he continued down this path, he’d lose his mind. He had to stay away from his vice and regain balance.
At least turning his attention to the latest work in progress kept him busy. The production of the angels and demons game continued to unfold as planned. A few more tweaks and they could move ahead to the next phase. The simultaneous launch of a new game-design software particularly excited him. The software would allow the game to be played on additional platforms. Only a small number of staff knew about this rollout.
“The DBSK creators—Jax and Danny—are here, along with Norton and Hadfield,” his assistant informed him.
“Show them in.”
“Good to see all of you,” he greeted the team as they walked in.
“I hope you liked the latest mock-up,” Deetz Norton spoke first.
Grant nodded. “The third spec for the angels looked so real.” He laughed. “Well, as real as we think angels look.”
“Ever seen an angel?” Deetz asked.
Grant didn’t respond. His religious views and thoughts were his own. He wondered where this conversation was going.
“Nah,” Hadfield piped up.
“Not me,” Jax replied.
“I have,” Deetz volunteered. “And no, it wasn’t a winged man. Just that I was in a tight spot in my life, faced with a life-and-death situation, and a man appeared to help me. Then when I turned to thank him, he wasn’t there. And I would have known if he’d walked away.”
“I think that regular people can act like angels. They come into your life to help and then move on,” Roy offered.
Grant didn’t need any heavy conversation right now. He’d much rather discuss the project and leave personal testimonies to remain just that, personal.
“Back to the software program that I referred to in the email.” Grant redirected their attention. “I met with a graphic illustrator whose work is fantastic and isn’t like anything that I’ve seen.” He pulled up the software on his laptop and projected the image on a drop-down screen.
The 3-D images of models for angels and demons flashed onto the screen. Details of the anatomy were unbelievably realistic to capture the roles, tasks and special powers of the characters. Along with the illustration, the color palette added strength to the samples with a bold, heavy outline and vivid shading to make the image pop. They would need to get voice actors with the perfect timbre. But this demo was a must-have.
“Anything that good must cost a bundle,” Roy said.
“Expensive, but I’m willing to absorb the cost. There’s no way that this won’t be a hit,” Grant said, confident all the way to his soul in the software program.
“Plus we have the target group for testing,” Deetz noted.
“Yep,” Roy replied. “I have that already lined up with the interns. I think we should provide teasers to stir the interest and build up for the launch.”
Grant shook his head. “I want this group to have the game without any preempt.”
“Then maybe at the marketing level,” Deetz pushed.
“That will be another project. And we’ll go big or go home with the marketing.” Grant didn’t need this team to stop its focus on fine-tuning the game.
Hadfield pulled out his file to provide his update.
Grant waved him on to begin the detailed report. He admired the leadership skills that Hadfield exhibited. His talent definitely warranted not only nurturing but also the freedom to develop. There was no way that he would let Hadfield get nabbed by another company. He solicited the best or those with potential, and he expected and wanted his staff to stay with the company. The two game designers, Jax and Danny, were also impressive. At the end of this project, he was prepared to offer them full-time employment. Their partnership and ideas could set a new course for Benson Technologies.
* * *
Grant remained behind his desk long after the team had left. His imagination still whirred along as if on its own power surge. At some point, he had to stop and let the first edition go to production. As soon as the first edition hit, the new upgrade would already be in the final stages for its launch.
He stretched his limbs. For several hours, he hadn’t moved. Time for him to head home. Alone.
Fatigue hit him with a nagging headache. By the time he got home, he wanted only his bed. Food wasn’t even an option. After a quick shower, he fell diagonally across the bed, still thinking about the new computer game. He’d have to change the name, but he’d let the marketing team deal with that headache.
Exhaustion smothered him like a warm, heavy blanket. Had he ever seen an angel? He yawned and turned on his side, ready to drift to sleep. Of course he saw an angel. No one could convince him otherwise. His life might have veered so far from the path he took that he might have been in an orange jumpsuit with numbers printed on his chest for his ID. He’d been handed his second chance, and he didn’t plan to waste any part of it.
* * *
Tamara ended her Monday-morning staff meeting. One day-care helper had called in sick. Mitzy had arrived late. Becky was still in Florida. The mood in the meeting matched the staff’s lethargy. Maybe they were all overworked. But theirs wasn’t the kind of business that could close its doors for a quick minute.
She missed Becky’s ready input. Tamara picked up the phone and dialed.
“What’s the word, Becky?” Tamara didn’t like that she was having to track down her friend.
“Things got hectic here. Sorry for not giving you an update.”
Tamara waited
for the dreaded words—I’m leaving—that she expected to hear from her friend.
“I’ll be back to work by Monday. My mom is much better.”
“Yes! And G-Dragon?”
“He’s heading off on tour. I only got to see him once. The rest of the time was spent online catching up and talking about ourselves. Not quite the same. And I don’t want to be another fan girl hanging out backstage.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Tamara said. “I’ll have a great welcome-home party when you get back.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” They shared a laugh. “So fill me in on the documentary.”
“I’m actually looking at an edited piece right now. We made a couple of versions, just in case he didn’t care for one thing or the other.”
“Sounds like you’ve worked hard on this.”
“I wish that I could take the credit. But the crew did a fantastic job. I’m also thinking of a new program for the academy—we could invite some well-known folks to hold master’s-level classes on various subjects, but of course, geared toward our guys.” Tamara tossed out the idea to vet with Becky.
“Another major project—sounds exciting.”
“Yeah, but we have to make sure it will have great results, too. The big thing will be to get really good people.”
“I’d love to run with the master’s class project,” Becky offered.
“And I’d love to turn this over to you.” Tamara picked up on Becky’s desire to be back in the office working around people she knew.
Tamara finished up the call. She was thrilled to hear from Becky and to learn that she and G-Dragon had decided to go their separate ways. Love wouldn’t elude Becky for long. She only hoped that her friend didn’t settle for another frisky singer-celebrity who only wanted to get in her pants.
Her cell phone rang, and she saw it was from Grant’s office. This was a change. He’d been calling her in the evening. Now he was calling her in the morning, too.
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