The Boss Next Door (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Fox, Roz Denny

  Rags met them at the door with hearty barks. The dog walker had stopped by at lunch, so the poor dog had been confined all afternoon. “Take him out, Keith,” Garrett said. “But wipe his feet well before you bring him inside again. Cleaning muddy prints from the carpet isn’t my favorite chore.”

  “Okay. Can I check the answering machine first? It’s blinking.” It was a habit he’d gotten into after they’d advertised for the dog’s owner.

  “Go ahead.” Garrett stripped off his topcoat. Keith liked to listen to the sales pitches and donation requests that came in during the course of a day. Garrett was happy to leave the task to his son. “I’ll go make sure we have a couple of cans of stew.” He paused in the act of hanging up his coat as he heard his ex-wife’s voice filter into the room.

  “Keith, it turns out I can’t go to that concert tomorrow. Sorry, but the head of our branch called a department meeting. I’m so close to a promotion I don’t dare not attend. But you’re grown-up enough to understand. We’ll have two weeks together at Christmas. There goes my phone, I’ve got a client. Bye, honey.”

  Garrett didn’t need to see Keith’s face to feel his disappointment. It emanated from the slumped shoulders and the dejected way he hung his head. But what could Garrett say that wouldn’t reveal the anger he felt toward Carla at this moment? He passed a shaking hand over his own eyes. How many times did this make now that she’d let Keith down? Too many!

  “Dad?” Keith’s voice wobbled and his eyes shone overbright. “Can you go tomorrow? There’s room on the bus. My teacher said so right before she told us to bring our permission slips.”

  Garrett wanted to say yes more than he wanted to breathe, but today’s decree from Westerbrook scheduled budget meetings back-to-back tomorrow. “Son, I can’t. I’d like to, but it’s too short notice. If I’d known, I could have planned ahead and—”

  “That’s okay.” Keith cut him off, sank down on his knees and gathered his moppy dog in his arms. “When I walk Rags, I’ll go ask Sherry. I bet she’d like the concert. She loves music.”

  Garrett thought how furious Sherry was going to be in the morning when she got a load of what he’d done to the Hub. He actually looked forward to doing battle with her. Maybe now she’d give him some helpful suggestions. Any response, even a full-scale eruption, would be more satisfying than her recent passive-aggressive reactions.

  “I’d rather you didn’t call Sherry.”

  “Why?” There was a stubborn edge to the single word.

  “Because.” Garrett knew he sounded no less stubborn. “I said don’t, and that’s final.” The frustrated wave of his hand brought Keith’s attention to the renewed rattle of raindrops on the living-room windows. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they canceled the trip, Keith.”

  “They won’t. And everybody’ll have a mom there but me.”

  Garrett recalled the first time he’d had to attend a couples function alone, after Carla walked out. He knew the desperation Keith must be feeling. Garrett’s heart wrenched for his son. He considered asking Emily if she could spare time to go with Keith. Just as quickly he discarded the idea. Only yesterday Camp told him Emily was steeped in the final stages of their book. An editor had requested sample chapters before the wedding.

  Garrett closed his eyes and ran down the list of other women he knew. A pathetically short list. “Maybe Yvette’s free, Keith.” If Garrett sounded hesitant, it was because he was hesitant. Yvette Miller didn’t need much encouragement to hang around. Garrett hated to give her any. But neither did he like seeing Keith distraught.

  “I don’t like her.” Jumping up, Keith dumped Rags off his lap. “I don’t care what you say, I’m gonna ask Sherry.”

  “No, son, you are not.” Garrett caught Keith by the arm as he raced for the door. He held the boy firmly even though he tried to tear free. “If you persist in this nonsense, Keith, I will not sign your permission form. And if you choose not to ask Yvette, I’m afraid you’ll have to resign yourself to being on your own.”

  “That’s not fair.” Keith stomped his foot. Tears furrowed his cheeks. Rags, sensing something had upset his favorite human, began to whine.

  “Life isn’t fair, Keith. Now what’s it going to be?”

  In their short test of wills, Keith lost. Shrugging, he dug the form out of his jeans pocket. “I really, really wanna go to the concert,” he whispered.

  “All right. I’m not doing this to be mean.” Garrett took the paper, pulled out his pen and scribbled his name. “Now, let’s eat. How about biscuits to go with our stew?”

  “I’m not hungry,” Keith mumbled. “May I be excused?”

  Garrett studied his son a lengthy moment. But he was reluctant to heap one humiliation on another. Pride was important. He inclined his head slightly, allowing Keith to save face. “If you work up an appetite walking Rags, there’ll be plenty to eat.”

  Keith nodded. After stuffing the permission slip in his book bag, he carried his reluctant pet into the stormy night.

  They didn’t stay out long. Garrett heard the door slam again as the smell of stew began to permeate the house. He sighed, listening to Keith’s footsteps march upstairs. Then he turned back to the eight-o’clock news. The Mississippi and the Missouri rivers were both rising. Garrett doubted the concert was going to be an issue tomorrow. Even though the bridge that crossed into the city was high above the river, the roads that led there ran through lowlands.

  Keith finished wiping Rags’s feet, opened his bedroom door and shoved the pup inside. He closed the door softly and tiptoed into his dad’s bedroom. Quietly he lifted the phone and dialed Sherry’s number, which he’d carefully committed to memory.

  She answered on the first ring. The weather had been so ghastly she’d come straight home after dropping Maria Black off at a shelter following their trying session with a counselor who didn’t see through Armando’s phony charm.

  “Keith? What a surprise. Is everything all right? You’re not stranded at day care, are you?” Sherry knew that Garrett might well have been tied up in a late budget session. She realized with a guilty pang that she hadn’t done anything to make his time at these meetings easier. And she was worried. They’d already cut funding once, yet the newspapers were filled with rumors of massive legislative cutbacks.

  “My mom called, Sherry. She can’t go to the concert in St. Louis with my class tomorrow. Will you go? As my friend?” His whispery voice held a trace of recent tears.

  Pain wrapped spiky fingers around Sherry’s heart, stealing her voice for a minute.

  “That’s okay,” he said in a bleak voice. “I didn’t figure you could. Dad can’t, either, ’cause it’s last minute. I thought maybe...” He dissolved in sniffles.

  “Wait.” It was impossible not to respond to the anguish in his voice. “I only teach one class tomorrow, and my students are pretty caught up. I still have two days of personal leave coming,” she muttered, thinking out loud as she paced the length of the phone cord. Frankly, the way Garrett had withdrawn so completely after the boat trip, she was shocked he’d let Keith ask her. Then she had a dark thought. Perhaps Garrett didn’t know.

  “Is your dad still at work, Keith?” Sherry more than half expected the boy to grudgingly admit that Garrett was.

  “He’s home. He picked me up at day care.” Keith gave a brief explanation of the sitter’s dilemma.

  Sherry’s heart began to thud loudly. Maybe Garrett had had a change of heart. If he approved of her going with Keith tomorrow, how could she refuse? “I’d be honored to go as your friend, tiger. When and where should I meet you? Are the moms carpooling?”

  In a happier, more hopeful tone, Keith laid out details.

  “A school bus? Two buses? Ah.” Sherry cringed inwardly thinking of the two-hour trip to St. Louis crammed on a bus of boisterous third-graders. However, by the time he’
d described the concert in an unmistakably excited voice, she hung up feeling some enthusiasm herself. She smiled softly, her heart lighter for bringing joy to Keith. Undoubtedly Garrett would be relieved, too. Really, if truth be known, Sherry was glad she didn’t have to drive, considering the weather predictions.

  She watched the local news as she prepared soup. But her thoughts kept wandering down the street to Garrett and Keith. Hard as it was, Garrett seemed to cope with Carla’s on-again, off-again involvement in Keith’s life.

  Sherry sat down at the kitchen table with her steaming bowl of vegetable soup, realizing she’d come home angered by divorce after the emotional meeting at the Center for Families in Transition. Divorce didn’t close the door on a couple’s problems. Hearing the terrible things Armando and Maria screamed at each other, Sherry found herself wondering if they’d ever been in love. In contrast, Garrett’s dealings with his ex-wife appeared quite reasonable. Perhaps the principles of the Hub were remiss. Only one-half of a separated couple was recognized when, in fact, where children were involved, the two halves of a couple remained emotionally connected for years.

  Sherry laid down her spoon. Excitement began to sing in her blood as she turned over the possibilities in her mind. Whole-life counseling should include men, as well as women. Too bad she had to wait until next week to present this brainstorm to Garrett. What would a few extra days matter? Tomorrow belonged to Keith. He saw her as someone he could count on. She would not shortchange him for the sake of her job or anything else.

  Sherry snapped off the television and went to phone Angel. Technically personal days were supposed to be requested in advance and required the signature of the immediate supervisor. Since Garrett was Sherry’s immediate supervisor and since he knew the trip with Keith necessitated her taking time off work, he obviously planned to approve her paperwork after the fact.

  “Angel,” she said, speaking to the department secretary’s home answering machine, “I won’t be in tomorrow. Please cancel my nine-o’clock class. Tell them to read two chapters ahead and prepare for Monday’s quiz. Oh, and don’t worry about me. It’s not an emergency. Have Garrett sign my leave request and send it on to personnel. His ex copped out on Keith again at the eleventh hour. I’m filling in for her on the third-grader trip to a Christmas concert in St. Louis. Call me if you get home soon. Otherwise, see you bright and early Monday.”

  Garrett invaded Sherry’s dreams that night. At first she lay awake listening to the steady drumming of rain on the roof, trying her level best to be practical and not to read anything personal into his allowing her back in Keith’s life. But as the rain slackened, images of Garrett—how it would feel to curl up next to him every night—whisked her off on a tangent. His kisses had been tender. Giving. He had felt what she’d felt. She’d seen it in his eyes when Nolan recited that poem at the wedding. So why had he backed off? Fear, maybe? Because he’d had one failed marriage?

  One clear thought transcended all others. Keith’s phone call tonight represented a major capitulation for Garrett. Keith was the most important person in Garrett’s life. That call spelled a definite softening in his feelings for her. Otherwise Garrett wouldn’t have let Keith ask her to be his pro-tem parent.

  Things would work out between them. This was a start.

  Snuggling under her comforter, Sherry yawned and gave fleeting thought to getting up and calling him. Wind gusted outside and whistled around the corner of her bedroom window. She burrowed deeper and decided to phone him while she cooked breakfast.

  Sherry woke up with a start and registered the fact that even though her bedside clock said 5:00 a.m., it was much later. Too much light filtered into her room. She turned on the lamp and lunged for her watch. “Oh, no! It’s after nine!” The power must have been knocked out sometime during the night. And Keith said the buses were to leave his school at ten.

  Flying to the window, Sherry was relieved to see that the rain had let up, even though low black clouds shrouded bare-limbed trees and wind buffeted the evergreen bushes. She let the curtain drop and ran to her closet; she chose boots, black tights and a wool skirt that hung to midcalf. And layers on top. A T-shirt topped by a cardigan that had a collar to fold out over the neck of her raincoat. For good measure, she slung a wool scarf around her neck.

  Once dressed, she hurried into the kitchen to fix instant oatmeal. As she poured steaming water over the oats, she tried calling Garrett’s house. No answer. Well, she could only hope he’d made Keith dress sensibly. On afterthought she dialed his direct line at the office. After the fifth ring she gave up. Obviously he knew her well enough to trust her to be there for Keith.

  The buses were loading when Sherry drove through the school gates. She saw Keith pacing the walkway looking anxious. He didn’t see her, and it took her several minutes to find an empty parking space.

  “Hi, sport. Sorry I’m late,” she apologized as she ran up to him all out of breath.

  “Sherry, you came. I knew you would. I knew it.” The boy propelled himself into her arms, nearly knocking her off the curb.

  Regaining her balance, she hugged him, laughed and ruffled his hair.

  A serene-faced woman disconnected herself from a group of rowdy students. “Professor Campbell. I’m Keith’s principal. I’m so glad you could make this outing. We’ve had a number of parents cancel. Keith has mentioned you many times. Frankly, I wasn’t sure his father would follow my advice to wean Keith from you slowly.”

  Sherry glanced up and into dark assessing eyes. “You and Garrett discussed me?” The words “wean Keith from you slowly” spattered goose bumps up her spine.

  “In a manner of speaking.” The principal’s gaze slid away to the two yellow buses. “No matter. You’re a lifesaver. Our rules say a minimum of one adult per ten students on a field trip. Counting you, we barely made the quota on our second bus.”

  Sherry’s stomach gave a little lurch. Thirty eight- and nine-year-olds were a lot for three adults to oversee.

  The principal noticed Sherry’s quick glance at the dark sky and reached over to pat her hand. “I’ve called the weather bureau at least six times already. They assure me that with the velocity of the wind in another hour, the next front will be Indiana’s problem, not ours.”

  The oatmeal lumped in Sherry’s stomach flattened a bit. She smiled down into Keith’s eyes and slid an arm around his jean-jacketed shoulders. “So what are we waiting for, tiger? Let’s get this show on the road.”

  His ear-to-ear grin was all the validation and reward Sherry needed for braving several hours on a bus with a load of noisy kids. Because they’d boarded late, the two of them worked their way to the back. Sherry’s heart swelled every time Keith paused to introduce her to friends, his hand firmly ensconced in hers.

  * * *

  GARRETT HAD STAYED UP half the night suffering guilt over the hatchet job he’d done on Sherry’s program. He’d let his anger at Carla spill over into his work—something he hadn’t done in years. About midnight, he’d admitted he’d been angry at Sherry, too. Angry, mixed-up—and in love with her. It wasn’t her fault things had moved so fast. They needed to talk. Needed to desperately. His heart cracked and crumbled at his feet every time he passed her on campus and she deliberately crossed the street to avoid him.

  He would have taken the first step toward communicating this morning. She’d told him that a lack of communication was at the root of most relationship problems. But he had to get to the campus before she did. In the middle of the night, he’d decided to go down fighting for every service Sherry’s department offered. Luckily he had a master key that fit all the offices. He’d retrieve the copy he’d shoved under her door and she’d never be the wiser. He figured she hadn’t stopped by her office last night; if she’d found the budget, she would’ve been pounding on his door regardless of the hour.

  Garrett felt like a man given a pardon.
This evening, he’d start mending fences. It might be good to see if Nan Campbell would watch Keith while he took Sherry to dinner, then plied her with soft music and good food. That was about the best medicine he could think of to begin healing ills. A good way to say I’m sorry.

  He pulled back a sleeve and glanced at his watch as he parked. Late though he was after dropping Keith at school, he hoped he’d beaten Sherry to the campus. He also hoped they’d cancel the trip to the concert. He’d explained to Keith at great length this morning that they were going to get some things straight with Carla. That was another decision he’d made in the middle of the night—if the lawyers couldn’t hammer out an agreement that was fair to Keith in the custody issue between him and Carla, he’d go before a judge and plead his case.

  Immediately after he’d collected the budget mistake from Sherry’s office floor, he planned to call Carla and let her know he wasn’t having any more of her jerking Keith around like a puppet on a string. Maybe they’d make progress if he couched it in terms she understood—such as telling her that if Keith was a client, she’d never cancel an appointment at the last minute. He wasn’t trying to keep her from seeing their son, but Keith deserved better than she’d given so far.

  It started to spit rain before Garrett had reached the outside steps. He frowned at the low-riding clouds. Keith’s principal had been on the phone with the weather bureau when he’d gone into the school this morning. She’d said they predicted the storm would blow over Missouri. So much for predictions, he thought sourly as he took the steps two at a time to avoid the rain that now pelted faster.

  He shook droplets off his winter wool jacket, wishing now that he’d insisted Keith at least take his raincoat. Although, when would they be out in the weather? Only to walk from the bus to the concert hall and back to the bus again. Kids didn’t melt, he reminded himself.

  “Good,” he grunted with satisfaction. He was first in. There were no lights on in the department yet. Garrett flipped on the lights as he made his way down the hall. He dropped his briefcase on his desk. It contained a newly revised version of the budget that he’d pored over until four in the morning. His portion of the cut was a mere twelve thousand dollars. He wasn’t going to let the seven other deans force him to accept more.