The Boss Next Door (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Fox, Roz Denny

  “No. I must’ve been getting dressed. Maybe she already took the gift to Nolan’s house. A lot of people prefer to not mess with gifts at the reception.”

  “You been to a lot of weddings?”

  “Enough. There’s a lot of standing around. We’ll know a few people, and I’ll introduce you to my colleagues and their families so you won’t be totally bored.”

  “That’s okay. Me’n Mark are handing out groom’s cake at the reception. We got a special place to stand and everything.”

  “Oh.” Garrett had assumed they’d be together. He hadn’t given any thought to being alone. But alone he was from the minute they stepped inside the church. Keith had rushed off with Mark. And Garrett felt the isolation deep in his bones.

  He’d no more than glanced over the crowd when he noticed Sherry flitting from huddle to huddle, a vision in rust and gold satin. Garrett couldn’t take his eyes off her. He even found the sprig of white flowers nestled in her short, gold-tipped dark hair enchanting.

  A punch of jealousy ripped his joy away when Sherry rose on tiptoe and kissed two beefy guys who’d just arrived. His stomach didn’t settle until she turned to speak with a leathery-skinned woman walking between the men. The woman chewed a huge wad of gum.

  Garrett heard Camp greet the gum-chewer by name. Maizie. She and Sherry seemed to be the focus of a gaggle of strangers—well, strangers to Garrett in that they weren’t from the college community. Two elderly women converged on Sherry. The three shrieked and hugged. Doris and Vi, Sherry called them. A man with a booming voice and a swagger plowed into the center of the group. Someone near Garrett whispered that the loudmouth and his wife had flown in from Philadelphia specifically for the wedding. It finally fell into place for Garrett. These were people Nolan, Emily and Sherry had met on their summer trek.

  Garrett lost track of Sherry momentarily. The next time he spotted her, she and Megan were laughing with a stocky female who walked with a slight limp.

  “There’s Gina,” exclaimed Mark. “Everybody we met on the wagon train came to see Mom and Nolan get married. Even that witch Brittany.” He pointed to a young woman with shoulder-length blond hair. “Hey, Brit brought a boyfriend, and they both look normal. Cool, huh?”

  It was nice, but Garrett had no clue why Brittany shouldn’t look normal. Then she turned and Garrett realized he had seen her before—with Sherry at their first fateful meeting. The blonde had done nothing but scream even before Sherry hit him. To say he’d made a bad impression with his scruffy appearance was putting it mildly.

  Feeling disassociated from the mainstream of the party, Garrett made his way to the vestibule. Once there, Sherry’s dad steered him toward a woman handing out boutonnieres. He thought he might snag a word with Sherry when, as attendants, they witnessed the signing of the marriage certificate. But she barely acknowledged him. She, Emily and Megan took off immediately—to dress the bride, they said.

  Retreating, Garrett slapped the nervous groom on the back. “Nolan, old son, you look far too relaxed for a man about to meet his doom.”

  “I’m counting the hours until the honeymoon. All this folderol is for Emily.” Nolan waved a hand. “Her first wedding was a disaster. I want to wipe the memory of it from her mind. Most women dream of wearing veils and yards of white lace. I couldn’t care less about any of those trappings. But I’ll jump through all the hoops because I love her.”

  Garrett thought about his first wedding as he pocketed the ring. He and Carla had stood before a justice of the peace. Her wedding to Crawford had been a huge white-tie affair.

  As he trailed Nolan into the main sanctuary, Garrett remembered the dreamy glow on Sherry’s face when she talked of having a spring wedding. A perfect time for new beginnings, she’d said. Funny, he hadn’t pegged her as the type to get all misty-eyed about marriage. Showed how little he knew about women. How little he knew about Sherilyn Campbell. And now it was just as well, he lamented.

  The music signaled the start of the ceremony, and Garrett took his place beside the groom. The organist struck chords to announce the arrival of the maid of honor. Turning, Garrett watched Sherry drop rose petals along a creamy satin runner. He knew the moment the bride appeared, only because the crowd surged to their feet. However, he missed Emily’s entire walk. Garrett’s mind’s eye placed Sherry in that dress of white froth. And imagined her floating toward him—to accept his ring on her finger.

  Garrett tried to focus on the unity candle that sat on a table atop the dais. At the rehearsal, kept brief so everyone could celebrate Thanksgiving in their own homes, Garrett had learned that Nolan and Emily would light the unity candle with tapers placed on either side of it. The candle’s inner glow signified the undying flame of love. As the minister opened his Bible and began, “Dearly Beloved...” Garrett shifted so he could keep his gaze on Sherilyn.

  Emily’s voice rose clearly and distinctly for all to hear as she promised to love, honor and cherish Nolan until death.

  Garrett rallied long enough to press the rings into Nolan’s profusely sweating hand. Ah—so the cool professor wasn’t so cool, after all. Which was further evidenced as he twice tangled up his promise to Emily. But Nolan redeemed himself. His voice dropped, he took Emily’s face between his shaking hands and recited a poem that spoke eloquently of his everlasting love for her.

  Sherry had tears streaking silently down her cheeks. And Megan, who’d lit the candelabrum, scrubbed at hers. Garrett blinked rapidly, his eyes still on Sherilyn. Love might have eluded him; however, every word Nolan spoke applied to the feelings that squeezed unmercifully at Garrett’s heart.

  Anyone could see how the best man and the maid of honor pined for one another, Nolan thought to himself. So did Emily. And Sherry’s parents. Mark, Megan and even Keith noticed it. Not Sherry. She didn’t once glance toward Garrett. And he was a man in denial.

  Yvette Miller missed the looks, or chose to ignore them. At the huge reception where people laughed, ate and toasted the happy couple, she was never far from Garrett’s side. Her friends made a big to-do when Yvette caught the bouquet Emily threw straight at Sherry.

  Most of the byplay escaped Garrett. He held his breath, waiting to see what Sherilyn would do when she caught the bride’s bouquet. He wanted her to have it. He remembered how she’d fondled the fated rose he’d brought her... It seemed so long ago.

  Then Yvette picked the posies right out of midair. Garrett blinked. He felt sad and upset for Sherry. It was at that moment he realized how deeply he loved her. Now, when a relationship between them assured her removal from the department that was so important to her. Now, when it could interfere with his retaining custody of Keith.

  During the cutting of the cake, Garrett decided it’d be best for everyone concerned to completely sever ties with Sherry. So he smiled at Yvette when she flirted, even though his heart wasn’t in it.

  “My car’s in the shop, Garrett. I rode in with a friend who couldn’t stay for the reception.” Yvette stepped in front of Garrett, cutting off his view of Sherilyn.

  “You need a lift home?” he asked politely.

  Yvette tapped his chest with the white bouquet. “You offering to take me for a ride, big guy?”

  Garrett regretted his offer at once, but saw no way to extract himself. “Yes,” he mumbled, his eyes drawn to Keith and Mark who ran pell-mell toward him.

  “Dad.” Keith bounced up and down. “Mark and Megan are gonna stay all night with Sherry. Nolan’s mom and dad have lotsa company, and Nolan and Emily are going on a honeymoon for the weekend. Sherry’s gonna pop popcorn and show videos. I’m invited! Can we go now and get my sleeping bag?”

  Garrett sensed Yvette’s sudden interest in his proposed childless state. She was really pretty obvious. He might have consciously decided to forget Sherry; that didn’t mean he was interested in a night of meaningless sex.

 
“No, Keith.” Garrett didn’t try to qualify his refusal. He just knew he wanted Keith as a buffer.

  Yvette snuggled close. “What would it hurt, Garrett?”

  “A ride home doesn’t entitle you to interfere in decisions regarding my son.”

  Something flickered in Yvette’s green eyes, but she kept hold of Garrett’s arm.

  “I wanna go with Sherry,” Keith whined. “Why can’t I? She said to bring Rags.”

  Never once in all of Keith’s young life had Garrett ever fallen back on the lame excuse, “Because I said so.” He did now, adding, “Lower your voice, Keith. Stop making a scene in front of my friends and colleagues.”

  Not only didn’t Keith lower his voice, he threw a doozy of a fit.

  Garrett added to the scene by half dragging the wailing child out of the reception. It was an awkward retreat, particularly as Yvette clung stubbornly to Garrett’s left arm and he was left-handed. All eyes in the room registered the struggle he had opening the door. He muttered under his breath.

  From the sidelines, Sherry listened to Keith’s hiccuping sobs. Everyone who remained in the hall heard the boy sob her name and heard Garrett tell him to hush. If any of their colleagues still believed rumors linking her and the new dean, he’d effectively squelched them. Squelched them, and at the same time delivered her a slap in the face. At least, that was how it felt within a heart that still yearned for him. It hurt so badly Sherry actually thought about quitting her job and moving far, far away.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE LONG THANKSGIVING weekend and the disaster at the wedding reception were minor blips in Garrett’s mind as he struggled with the monumental task facing the budget committee on their return to campus. The order—cut another hundred thousand dollars from the academic budget before the state legislature convened in January.

  For once Garrett didn’t mind that Keith was still sulking. It meant the house was quiet at night except for the click of his calculator. He went home exhausted by the battering he took from other committee members during tense meetings. Again they wanted to slice the Hub completely. Its cost didn’t justify the narrow population it served, they said. Garrett didn’t know why he stayed awake at night trying to devise ways to save the program. When he’d asked for legitimate areas to cut, instead, Sherry hadn’t turned in one concrete suggestion. Didn’t she realize something had to give?

  Between his discouragement at the incessant rain pounding the daylights out of Missouri and Sherilyn’s stubborn unwillingness to give him data to work with, Garrett was left brooding over his figures for the third day in a row. He was exhausted; no one knew how tempted he was to chuck everything and just give up. He didn’t expect Sherry to beg for her program, but he needed her expertise. Her fire. She avoided him on all levels. The tic below one eye reminded Garrett that he was partly to blame. He should never have crossed the invisible line from professional to personal. Never with a woman below him in his chain of command. Remembering her passionate face as she worked with those hardened students, he massaged the ache in the back of his neck, shuffled the stack of departmental budgets and began punching in numbers again. He’d already met with three program chairs. They’d hacked unneeded extras. Garrett wanted Sherry to come forward on her own. On day ten, he sent her a memo demanding they meet the following afternoon.

  Next morning when he received an email from Carla spelling out the whole of Keith’s school vacation for her custodial visit, Garrett was so bleary-eyed he had to check the dates on the calendar twice. He could hardly believe her request. As anger warred with loneliness and anxiety, he stared at the wall behind his computer screen for a full ten minutes and contemplated how far he’d get if he took Keith and ran.

  Carla was wrenching Keith away from him, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. She didn’t need to go to court again. The old decree, put together when he’d bent over backward to be fair, gave her alternate holidays and all summer vacations.

  Thunder shook the corner window in Garrett’s office. Lightning separated the sky, and he felt as if it had torn through his heart. The phone rang three times before he picked it up with a shaking hand.

  “Dean Lock? This is Angel. Dr. Campbell forgot she’d agreed to accompany one of our students to her appointment at the Center for Families in Transition this afternoon. Maria Black’s husband blew into town unexpectedly. He’s making waves. Demanding to see Maria’s little girl. Dr. Campbell said if you can stall the committee today, she’ll dig out anything you need and bring it tomorrow. You understand, I’m sure. Armando Black is a total jerk.”

  Garrett drummed his fingers on his desktop. “Is that part of Dr. Campbell’s job? Involving herself in a student’s divorce?”

  Angel’s voice took on a bitter edge. “Speaking from experience, I say thank goodness someone like her is willing to go beyond her job. Otherwise, unless a person has a lot of money, no one advocates for kids and ex-wives.”

  She struck a nerve in Garrett that was too raw. He felt like one of the walking wounded just now. “Oh, I’m sure Maria’s lawyer cut her a sweet deal. Tell Dr. Campbell that if she wants to save the Hub, she’ll make this meeting with me today. I’ll wait.” He heard the department secretary scoop in a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry, Dean. She left already. With the weather and all, I guess she didn’t want to chance making Maria late. That’d be points for Armando.”

  He picked up a ruler and snapped it in half. “When do you expect her back?”

  “Tomorrow morning,” Angel said in a small voice.

  “Fine. Leave a message on her home answering machine. Never mind, I’ll do what I have to do with the Hub, and I’m sure Dr. Campbell will figure it out.” He slid a finger over the disconnect button rather than ruin Angel’s hearing by slamming down the receiver as he was tempted to do.

  In a black mood that matched the clouds rolling across campus, Garrett selected a felt pen and slashed through Sherry’s pet counseling program. According to several members on the budget committee, all Dr. Campbell did in those counseling sessions was teach divorced women how to give men the shaft. Even the indigent had court-appointed lawyers. Too many shysters. Here was a line item—the Hub passed out literature telling women how to get free legal assistance. Free shysters. Without a twinge of remorse, Garrett x’d through the entire amount. And so he progressed, service by service. The retyped budget for the Hub that came up on his computer spreadsheet looked markedly different from Sherilyn’s original. He printed it, ran a copy and shoved it under her office door right before he dashed out into the rain and splashed through the puddles to his truck. There weren’t a lot of cars left in the staff lot. He hadn’t been home on time one night in two weeks.

  Sitting through traffic light after traffic light, watching his windshield wipers struggle to combat the steady downpour, did nothing to improve Garrett’s mood. And because his babysitter had needed this week off to be with her daughter who’d had emergency surgery, Garrett still had to drive to Keith’s temporary day care in water nearly up to his hubcaps.

  Once he finally reached the facility, he realized he wasn’t the only late parent. But he was the only father. From the lack of wedding rings on the harried-looking women hustling by, Garrett deduced that at this center there were roughly ten times more single moms than dads. Near the door, Garrett saw the umbrella of the mother who’d just passed him with two children turn inside out. He rushed out to lend her a hand.

  “Thanks, but I can handle this myself,” she said, raking him with bitter eyes. And indeed, she ripped the umbrella he’d taken from her out of his hand and proceeded to bundle her two little ones and their diaper bags into the car, leaving Garrett standing in the rain. “If I waited around for a man’s help,” she muttered, climbing into the driver’s seat, “I’d either drown or grow mold.”

  Garrett winced as she slammed her door. He t
urned up his coat collar, hunched his shoulders against the rain and covered the distance to the building again, where he saw Keith peering anxiously outside.

  “Where’ve you been, Dad?” The boy shrugged into his slicker. “I hate it when I have to wait with all the babies. C’mon. I wanna go home.” It took Keith two tries to shut the passenger door of the pickup. “Brr,” he said. “Can we have stew for supper?”

  Surprised by his son’s sudden talkativeness, Garrett agreed. “How about if I build a fire in the fireplace and we eat off TV trays for a change?”

  “Don’t you have to work tonight?”

  Garrett shook his head—although he’d begun to have a twinge or two of guilt at how he’d slashed Sherry’s budget to ribbons. On the other hand, Keith seemed guardedly happy over the prospect of their eating together. What was done was done. “Do you have homework, son?”

  “Nope. We practiced for our holiday program all day. Oh—don’t forget to sign my permission slip to take the bus to St. Louis tomorrow, or else I can’t go.”

  Garrett felt the truck’s rear wheels hydroplane in a puddle. He slowed to correct his course, saving his frown until they’d stopped at the next intersection. “I forgot—the St. Louis Children’s Music concert. Keith, surely the school officials won’t let you go in this weather.”

  “Uh-huh, my teacher said.”

  “Did you remind your mother? Is she definitely meeting you?”

  “Yep. Just her and not Crawford. It’s gonna be so cool. We get to see Frosty the Snowman and everything. He’s not real, but that’s okay. I wish I didn’t hafta visit Mom and Crawford over Christmas break. Crawford’s kids and grandkids are gonna be there.” The young voice quavered, and he scooted closer to Garrett.

  A stab of loneliness interfered with Garrett’s ability to breathe. He ruffled his son’s rain-damp hair, not trusting himself to speak. He swallowed a painful lump and then another, but discovered they severely limited his end of the conversation for the remainder of the drive home.