Spying On The Boss. Janet Lee Nye
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“That’s nothing you need to know to do your job. Just do it.”
Marcus had barked out the order, but his eyes had slid away from Wyatt’s and lingered on the shoppers passing the window. His hands clenched into fists on the table. The man was angry. Anger was usually personal.
“You said she couldn’t run a legitimate business. How do you know that?”
Marcus looked back at Wyatt and the silverware clanged on the table as he slammed his fist down. “There is something going on. She’s nothing. A minimum-wage trailer-park maid. Thinks she’s something now.” He leaned forward and pointed his index finger at Wyatt. “I won that ridiculous City Paper award five years in a row. She took it from me. Now I’m losing customers. Find me something. Anything.”
And there it was. She was hurting him financially and now she’d publicly beaten him. The City Paper’s Best of Charleston Award may have been the catalyst for Marcus seeking revenge, but money was always the motivation for men like him. He shrugged. “I don’t think there’s anything going on, but if you want to continue the investigation, it’s your money.”
“Damn right, it’s my money. You find something. Anything. Be a shame if I had to tell Henry you let me down.”
Wyatt pressed his lips together. His first impulse was to get up and walk out. But there was Julietta to consider now. He couldn’t do anything to risk the stability he was trying to give her. If his relationship with Henry was damaged, he’d lose his biggest source of income.
He shrugged as he squeezed lime over his fish taco. “It’s your money.”
“And you’ll have a report for me next week.”
Marcus wiped his mouth and threw the napkin on his plate. He reached into his wallet and left a twenty on the table before lumbering away.
Asshole. Wyatt tried to finish his lunch, but the food tasted like sawdust and his stomach burned with frustrated anger. He shoved the plate away and smiled at the waitress to let her know he was ready.
He should probably try to dig a little deeper into the story of the woman who made the false allegation. Most likely a waste of time. He’d heard the passion and the fierce protectiveness in Sadie’s voice when she’d told him the story this morning. She wasn’t lying. She wasn’t stupid, either. There was more going on here than Marcus was telling him. His phone buzzed in his shirt pocket. The display read Springfield Elementary and everything else was forgotten in a wave of concern. Julietta.
“Mr. Anderson? This is Mrs. Rigby, the principal at Springfield.”
“Yes, ma’am. Is Julietta all right?”
“She’s having a bit of a rough time today. Would you be able to come to the school?”
“On my way.”
A bit of a rough time today. Poor kid had had a rough time the past six months. Her mother, Maddie, his baby sister, had been filling in for another flight nurse when the helicopter she was in went down in the Smoky Mountains. There had been no survivors. Julietta had been dropped off for school and had never seen her mother alive again.
He found her sitting in a chair in the school office, clutching her book bag to her chest. She sat perfectly still. No fidgeting, no swinging of the legs or tapping of feet. None of the constant motion you would expect from an eight-year-old. She didn’t smile at him, only turned those big, dark eyes in his direction. He squatted beside her and ruffled the black hair falling in a messy sheet down her back.
“Hey, Jujube. What’s up?”
She lowered her head to the book bag but her eyes, so full of a sadness he’d give anything to know how to relieve, never left his. “I want to go.”
She didn’t say she wanted to go home. In her mind, home was still in Asheville. Home was as dead and gone as her mother. He brushed back a lock of hair from her face.
“Okay, we’ll go. Let me talk to Mrs. Rigby first.”
“I’m sorry to have called you,” Mrs. Rigby said as he sat across from her. “Usually, if we give her a little quiet time in the library or here, she can regroup and go on with her day.”
“No, call me whenever you think it’s necessary. She’s my primary concern. Do you have any idea what may have upset her?”
“I think it was a geography lesson. Her teacher was talking about plains and mountains.”
Wyatt took in a deep breath. Mountains. Asheville. Home. Her mother. The child psychologist said it was normal. Anything could trigger a memory reminding her of the loss and all he could do was be supportive.
He’d spent hours on the phone with Maddie’s best friends trying to learn their rituals and habits and the things they celebrated so he could be prepared. That’s how he’d known Julietta got a new stuffed bunny rabbit for Easter every year, not candy. He’d worried it had been a mistake to try to replicate a gift from her mother when Julietta had stared silently at the bunny. After what had seemed like forever, she’d stroked the soft, plush fabric and given her uncle a hug. Wyatt had never had a better hug in his life.
“I’m going to take her home, then. School’s almost over for the day.”
“Is she still getting help?”
“Yes. We’re seeing the counselor twice a week. She’s making good progress. It’s slow, but steady. Due for some sort of breakthrough, the counselor thinks.”
“Good. If there’s anything we can do to help, please schedule a meeting with her teacher and me.”
He stood and shook her hand, thanking her. As he left, he held out a hand to his niece. “Come on, Jules, let’s hit the road.”
She stood and carefully, deliberately settled the book bag around her shoulders. After a moment she placed her little hand in his. He closed his fingers gently around hers and let out a breath as sadness washed over him. He wanted to see her have some sort of normal childhood. He simply had no idea how to get her there.
A SLENDER HAND with golden-brown skin and a perfect manicure reached over Sadie’s shoulder and snatched the phone out of her hands. She reached to grab it back and noticed the jagged nail she’d forgotten to fix after breaking it while opening a box of mop tops.
“Magdalena!”
Her best friend slid into the booth across from her with a flounce of heavy dark hair and pinned her with nearly black eyes. She held the phone up. “Don’t try to piss me off by calling me that. You can’t distract me. Why were you looking at it?”
Sadie ignored the flare of guilt and gestured to the glasses of wine on the table. “I already got your chardonnay. And I ordered the hummus.”
Lena lifted the wineglass and took a healthy sip. “Thank you. Why do you keep looking when you know it only makes you feel bad?”
Sadie took her phone back. Setting it aside, she took a long sip of her own wine. She knew she should stop checking her mother’s Facebook page. It stirred up pain and anger she should have left behind years ago. It wasn’t healthy, she knew, to read the accomplishments of her half brother and sisters and feel the need to shout, “Hey, I still exist! I’m accomplishing things, too!” Her jealousy of mere children made her sick with shame. But she couldn’t stop. A part of her wondered if her mother had wanted her to find it. There were no privacy settings on the account. All she had to do was send a friend request.
She didn’t need to say these things to Lena. She knew. The waiter brought the hummus and, as Sadie reached for a wedge of bread, Lena put her hand over Sadie’s.
“I’m sorry, Sades. I didn’t say that to hurt you.”
Sadie shrugged and pulled her hand away.