Not in Her Wildest Dreams(15)

     



 

His mother's cheeks went pink. "Fine. I should shop for dinner," she  said with a sharp pivot toward Sterling. "We'll eat at six thirty. Don't  be late." She marched away, the knife in her hand reflecting flashes of  florescent light.

Paige let out a breath and moved some papers on her desk.

"And you don't want to work together," Sterling mocked.

"Pardon?"

"Tag teams in the WWF don't work this well. I barely got to headlock Mom at all before you body-slammed her."

"Rosie genuinely needs help."

"I spoke to her at the hospital when I came to see you and Grady there  on Friday. She said she's going with Grady to Palm Springs."

Paige didn't apologize for the lie, only started to pull her chair  around to sit, sending him a beleaguered look. "Will you get out of my  office, please?"

"We're off to meet and greet. We can put this away as we go." He jiggled the box he still held.

"I'm really not up to it." Her tone was stiff and cool, but there was an underlying thread of emotion.

He thought about what she'd suffered upon arrival. His gut instinct was  to go out there with Paige and confront whoever had made that comment,  watch her suspend the asshat at the very least, but she obviously  preferred to retreat. That bothered him. The heavy corners of her mouth  and the drawn tension around her eyes bothered him.

She was hurt.

"Tomorrow maybe," he said.

"We'll see." She jiggled her mouse and made a face at the cord.

He left, disgruntled.

Fuming.

Out on the factory floor, he made a point of advising the foremen that  Paige was a partner, there were laws against sexual harassment, and if  anything like today's performance happened again, jobs would be lost.

~ * ~

Hanging up from leaving a voice mail for Britta, Paige went back to  sterilizing her father's office, knocking the dust off the mouse pad,  closing the unused day planner, then gathering the various sticky-notes  off the frame of her father's computer monitor.

She should give someone these unidentified phone numbers, she thought. Sterling, maybe, if he was going to be covering sales?

One said ‘Zack's game- Thursday five p.m.' He hadn't played basketball  since pulling his Achilles tendon last year. She threw it out along with  the faded blue, ‘Your daughter called' with a July date on it.

Footsteps stopped outside the door and she glanced up.

Olinda again, and she was frowning even more deeply than earlier.

"I thought you were going home for lunch."

"I'm leaving now. And I just heard downstairs that you sent out an email  asking everyone in the office to write out their job descriptions?"

"It's part of the audit. Did you-"

"Get the list of things you want from me? Yes, but I don't know when  you'll get them. We don't have time for job descriptions, Paige."

Paige drew in a long, subtle breath of gathering patience. This was a  new dynamic, she reminded herself. Everyone would need time to adjust.

But despite viewing Olinda as family, this was one time when she couldn't afford to be a pushover.

"I could use your help on this," she said, deliberately making it sound  like Olinda would be doing her a favor, rather than simply doing her  job.

"You're scaring people."

"How?" Paige set aside the notes she'd collected.

"They think if you find mistakes, you'll fire them."

"Tell them we prefer public canings over termination." No smile. "Come on, Olinda, you know I'm not here to fire anyone."

"None of us has accomplished a decent day's work since your father went  into the hospital. We're all behind and we can't afford to drop  everything for an audit."

Paige sat back. Being nice wasn't working. "Look, I'm used to  encountering resistance. No one likes audits, but you understand why  this is necessary, don't you?"

"No, I don't! You've worked under me, yet you're calling into question my procedures, my integrity...."

"This isn't personal, Olinda," Paige assured gently. "I'm not checking up on you. I don't expect to find anything big."

"You won't find anything at all. I run a tight ship." Olinda was flushed, eyes bright.

Paige knew she had to tread carefully, but her conscience forced her to  be honest. "Some errors always come to light. It's to be expected.  Everyone makes mistakes now and again."

She was making one now. Olinda's shoulders were going back.         

     



 

"Look, incidental oversights don't matter," Paige ran on. "I'm more  concerned with the big picture. If the way you're doing things is  solid-and I'm sure it is-then I can be confident the financial  statements are a true reflection of the company's worth. How can we sell  Dad's share until we know the price is right?"

"And once you do sell, you'll pay me what he owes me?"

"Is that what's really bending you out of shape? The fact the audit delays the sale?"

"I could really use that money!"

Paige bit back a curse. "Then help move this audit along."

Olinda folded her arms and scowled. "Fine. I'll tell everyone to go ahead and write up their job descriptions after all."

"You-" Paige held her tongue. She had what she wanted. That was enough for the moment. "Thanks," she forced herself to say.

Olinda nodded and Paige expected her to leave, but she hovered.

"Something else?"

"I'm wondering about Rosie. You said she was trying to make a claim on the house?"

"Right. Um... I may have found a way out of that." Paige licked her  lips. She had hoped not to have to admit this to Olinda but, "She's  going to Palm Springs. With Dad. Remember he went there that other time  to recover? Because it's right around the corner from that clinic where  Anthony's aunt works? Anyway, Rosie has a cousin there and thinks she  can get a job. It seemed a good way to get her out of the house-"

"He's taking her to Palm Springs." Olinda grew tall with resentment.  "Taking his little trophy girlfriend who he can't even have sex with  because it's liable to kill him. She's younger than you are, Paige. It's  criminal. Did I ever get a vacation out of that man? How many times did  I ask you if I could use the condo in Palm Springs? Why does he get to  use it with her, and I never did even once?"

"Would you rather she stayed here at the house and acted like she owned it?"

"No," Olinda grumbled.

"There you go."

Paige's phone rang, prompting Olinda to leave in a huff.

Paige let out a breath and picked up the receiver, grateful for the  interruption, but still annoyed as she said, "Paige Fogarty."

"Hey." Britta's voice had her sagging back into her chair.

"Hey yourself."

"I thought your message to call you at this number was a joke. What are you doing there?"

"Your Dad didn't tell you? I had him draw up the paperwork so I could take over from mine. I have a new job."

"The hilarity continues. Does this have anything to do with my news?"

"No." Not directly anyway. "But you want to get together after work to talk?"

"Sure. But, um, at The Mill?"

Paige frowned. They never met there. "For dinner? I guess."

"‘kay. See you then."





Chapter Nine

Paige thought she saw Britta's car, but couldn't find her inside. She  sat at a table in Lumberjack's, the café of the Liebe Falls Hotel, for  ten minutes before she was tipped off by a waitress that Britta was in  the bar.

Pushing through the swing-back doors, she walked down the hall, past the  washrooms, into the subtly-lit interior of The Mill, pleasantly  surprised by the way the family who owned the business had refurbished  since she'd last been in here to pick up her Dad. Chipped mirrors had  been replaced with ones that had frost-tipped edges. The stained carpet  had been torn up and the original hardwood restored. It didn't even  smell the same, which was a small pity because the stale, cloying scent  had been a nostalgia trigger for her.

Skimming the faces in the booths, she wound up nodding more greetings  than she would have expected, seeing the receptionist from the factory,  one of her brother's longtime friends and an acquaintance from high  school who stopped her.

"I heard you and Sterling are taking over the factory?"

"No, he's only- I'm not-" Paige could hardly speak in the face of such  fervent snooping. "We're not doing anything together. Oh, there's  Britta. ‘scuse me." Paige made a beeline for her friend. "Good grief,  that was horrible."

"What was?" Britta lifted her face, her smile uncertain. She was wearing  a snug emerald-colored sweater that did amazing things to her skin tone  and emphasized the green eyes she'd inherited from her father.

"I was just stopped by-never mind. Doesn't matter. I just wish you  hadn't picked here. I thought you meant the diner." Paige tossed her  purse and suit coat toward the inside of her bench seat.