Not Strictly Business!: Prodigal Son / The Boss and Miss Baxter / The Baby Deal. Victoria Pade
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one way or the other and stick to it. If she was going to keep things business only, then she should not go to his office to chat. If she was interested in something else, then she should do that.
Complications, she thought. Questions and no answers. At least her life was never boring.
Jack returned from his working lunch meeting with the vice president of finance to find his stepmother waiting for him in his office.
Helen smiled when she saw him. “I was in the neighborhood,” she said.
Under normal circumstances, he would have been polite and done his best to get her gone as quickly as possible. Since his last conversation with Samantha, he was curious to find out what Helen wanted.
He motioned to the leather sofa in the corner. Helen crossed the room and took a seat. He followed and settled in a club chair, then tried to figure out what was different about her today.
She was still pretty, blond and only a few years older than him. Not exactly a bimbo, as Samantha had pointed out, but still very much a trophy wife.
While she wasn’t dressed in widow’s black—did anyone still do that today?—she’d replaced her normally bright clothes with a navy tailored pantsuit. She’d pulled her hair back and, except for simple earrings and her wedding band, she seemed to have abandoned the heavy jewelry she usually favored.
“How are you doing?” he asked. “Is everything all right at the house?”
She frowned slightly. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re alone in the house. I know it’s large and I wondered if you were coping all right.”
Eyebrows rose slowly. “You can’t possibly be concerned about me.”
He shrugged. “I’m asking.”
“Hmm. All right. I’m doing fine. Yes, the house is big and empty, but your father worked long hours, so I’m used to being there alone.”
Jack shifted in his seat and wished he’d never started the damn conversation in the first place. But he was already into it. “Are you, ah, sleeping?”
She sighed. “Not really. I still expect George to walk in and apologize for working late again. But he doesn’t.” She smiled. “Enough of my concerns. They’re not why I stopped by. I wanted to check on you. It’s been a difficult couple of weeks.”
“You’ve been reading the paper.”
“Several. There wasn’t a lot of mention in the national press, which is something, but we’re getting plenty of local coverage. I feel just horrible, Jack. I wish I could make this all better.”
So did he. “Did you know about the second set of books?”
He watched her as she spoke to see if she got uncomfortable, but her cool gaze never flickered.
“I didn’t. George didn’t talk about the business very much with me. I wanted him to. I was interested. But he just wasn’t one to do that. I do know that for the last year or so before he died that he was under a lot of stress. I had an idea there were problems with the company, but I had no idea they were this bad.”
He wanted to believe her. Right now he had enough bad news without thinking there was someone making trouble from the inside. Not that Helen worked for the company, but until the will was read, she controlled his father’s stock. Speaking of which …
“Do you know what’s in his will?” he asked bluntly.
“No. He never discussed that with me, either.”
“So what did you talk about?”
“Everyday things.” She crossed her legs. “Jack, I’m not the enemy here. I always thought things would be better if you, your father and your brothers could reconcile.”
“How magnanimous of you.”
She drew in a breath. “So you still don’t like me.”
“I don’t know you. Why is that?”
“I don’t know,” she said, surprising him. “I wanted to get to know you and Evan and Andrew. I invited you all over several times. You were the only one to come.”
Jack remembered the lone uncomfortable dinner he’d attended. His father had spent the entire time telling him that his decision to go into the law instead of joining Hanson Media Group was foolish at best. That no good would come of it. Jack recalled walking out sometime between the salad and main course.
“He wasn’t an easy man,” he said.
“I know, but for what it’s worth, I don’t think he meant to be so difficult. He tended to see things one way.”
“His.”
“He wanted you to be happy.”
Jack grimaced. “He wanted me to run his company, regardless of what I wanted.”
“Here you are,” she said softly.
“Lucky me.”
“I wish things were different,” she said. “I wish he weren’t dead. Not just for me, but for you. I wish you didn’t have to do this.”
“There isn’t anyone else,” he reminded her. “I’m stuck.”
“You’re the best choice. I’m sorry this is taking you away from what you love but the company is important, too. We all have to make sacrifices.”
“Not from where I’m sitting. So far it’s a sacrifice committee of one. I wish I knew what was in the will. Maybe he left everything to you and I can screw up enough that you’ll fire me.”
She shook her head. “Don’t hold your breath on that one. George was always interested in surprising people. I doubt he wrote a boring will.”
He believed that. “If he left the company to me, I’m selling.”
She stiffened. “Just like that? Your father gave his life to this company.”
“I know that better than anyone, except maybe you.”
“I loved him, which means I can forgive his flaws.”
The implication being Jack should do the same.
He wanted to ask her how that was possible. How could she give her heart to a man who made sure she always came in second. But he didn’t. There wasn’t any point. People who were supposed to love you left, one way or the other. Some disappeared into work or circumstances. Some walked away and some died. But at the end of the day, everyone was alone. He’d learned that a long time ago and he didn’t plan to forget it.
Chapter Seven
Samantha was reasonably confident that driving lessons were a bad idea all around. For one thing, Jack should be really mad at her. For another, the situation had the potential to turn into a disaster.
“Second thoughts?” he asked from the passenger seat of the old import parked in an empty parking lot.
“Oh, I’m way past them. I’m on to deep regret and remorse.”
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s easy. Think of all the crazy people you know who can drive.”
“Telling me I’m likely to encounter the insane isn’t a way to make me feel better,” she told him. “Really. Let’s talk about all the safe drivers instead.”
“There are a lot of them. You’ll be one of them. All you have to do is relax.”
Oh, sure. Because that was going to happen. She peered out the windshield and was dismayed to note there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. Not even a hint of rain or bad weather or impending anything that would give her a good excuse to call off the session.