“I’m here, Jacquie,” she snarled by way of a greeting, assuming her assistant was on the other end of the line. “Patch me into the conference room whenever you’re ready.”
“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Loar.” Phillip Hutchinson’s voice boomed over the line.
CHAPTER THREE
“THE KRAMER GROUP HAS postponed the sign-off meeting until tomorrow afternoon,” Phillip Hutchinson continued.
“Postponed!” Dread kicked Amy’s pulse into a sprint. “What happened? Jacquie was supposed to call if there was a problem.”
“I shared with the Kramer management that you had an unavoidable family emergency, and that you were out of the office today. I’ve bought you some time. Wrap up whatever you’re doing, so you can be back for a five-o’clock conference tomorrow.”
“But…” She closed her eyes and fought to manufacture order out of chaos. “Mr. Hutchinson, I appreciate your help, but I can handle this meeting long distance. Jacquie has my files. She’ll be distributing the report and handling the audiovisual. And I’ll be conferenced in on speakerphone. It will be fine.”
“It will be fine unless something goes wrong. This is the last meeting before we present the deal to their CEO on the thirtieth, and Alex Kramer is one of the toughest sells in the business. You can’t afford to botch this. I know what’s best in this situation.”
Lord save her from men who knew what was best.
“Thank you, Mr. Hutchinson, but—”
“Then it’s all settled.” His tone announced just exactly what he thought of the word but. “I’ll see you tomorrow by five.”
Gwen smoothed a comforting hand down Amy’s arm. Strength and support radiated from her touch.
“No, sir.” Amy sat taller, fighting the impulse to back down. “I can’t be there tomorrow.”
“Ms. Loar—”
“Mr. Hutchinson.” Her voice was boardroom direct, cutthroat calm. “I’ve given Enterprise Consulting my heart and soul for this pitch. The Kramer project is on time and under budget, and you have my personal assurance that tomorrow’s meeting will proceed without incident.”
It had likely been decades since anyone had dared to say no to Phillip Hutchinson. Deafening silence echoed the ringing in Amy’s ears. She waited for a response that never came.
“My staff is more than capable of handling anything that arises in my absence,” she assured him. “The project is in good hands.”
“For your sake, Ms. Loar, I hope so. Your future in this firm depends on it. You’re taking an enormous risk.”
Amy blinked at the finality of his statement. At the thought of all she stood to lose, and how easily everything she was fighting for could vanish, all because of one mix-up.
“I have to be here in Sweetbrook. There’s an important meeting at the school tomorrow afternoon I can’t miss. I’ve promised my daughter,” she added, another no-no in business—bringing her personal life into the workplace.
Which she’d never let happen. Until now.
“Do what you have to do,” Mr. Hutchinson said. The uncomfortable rasp in his voice must have been his attempt at sounding supportive. “Take care of your daughter, take care of your family. Hell, take care of the entire state of South Carolina. Whatever you need to do. Just get yourself back here by Monday.”
“Yes, sir.”
Amy ended the call and stared at her mother.
Her crazy little world had just taken an even bigger twist into bedlam. One misstep at tomorrow’s meeting, one crisis over the weekend that her staff couldn’t cover, and her professional goose was cooked. Meanwhile, she had just over three days to find some common ground with her angry ten-year-old daughter and work things out at her school.
“I’ve got to talk with Josh now,” Amy muttered, her next course of action clear.
“Why?” Gwen asked. “You have an appointment with him tomorrow.”
“Yeah, him and Becky’s teacher, and the staff counselor. I can’t go in there cold. I need more facts, and I need them now.” Her daughter’s happiness and so much more was on the line. “Josh seemed so certain he understands Becky better than I do. Maybe he does. Where does he live?”
“Back at his family’s house, ever since he divorced and his father became ill. His folks moved to Demming late last year.” Gwen checked her watch. “He’s probably home from school by now.”
“Then that’s where I’ll be.” Amy headed into the den for her purse, her mother following close behind. “Tell Becky I’ll be back in a little bit. Maybe I can take her for ice cream after dinner and we can talk then.”
“Honey,” Gwen said as Amy opened the door. “I don’t think going to Josh White’s house is such a good idea. He’s been through a lot himself lately, what with—”
“This isn’t a social call, Mama. I know I’ve been out of touch with things around here for the last few years, but I can’t wait to catch up on all the gossip before I talk with him. Josh is the one who called me. I won’t take up any more of his time than I absolutely have to.”
Amy hugged Gwen’s shoulders, then walked out to her car.
A twinge of sadness whispered through her at the thought of how little she knew about Josh’s life now. He dominated the lightest, happiest parts of her Sweetbrook memories.
She’d never let him guess that her feelings of friendship had deepened into something more their last few years in school. She’d never let on how much that kiss they’d shared during their argument about Richard had affected her. After his harsh words that night, their friendship had fallen apart, and they hadn’t spoken since. Not until yesterday, when she hadn’t even recognized his voice.
She’d handled his phone call badly, partly because of her embarrassment that he was playing a starring role in her crisis with Becky. But only partly. She’d distrusted him on the spot, and she’d said as much to his face. And no matter what had happened between them, Josh didn’t deserve that. She owed him an apology. If it came down to it, she’d beg him to forget about everything but helping her the way he’d offered. She’d even weather more of his obvious disappointment over the mess she’d made of her life. Whatever it took.
Tomorrow’s SST meeting had to be a success. That would leave her the rest of the weekend to work things out with Becky, as impossible as that seemed at the moment. But Amy had done the impossible before. She’d escaped from her marriage physically whole, albeit emotionally scarred. Surely she could make this work, too.
She had to.
“GIVE THEM BACK!” Daniel ripped the last of his clothes from the closet and flung them across his bedroom.
“They’re gone.” His uncle crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb.
True to his word, he hadn’t come into the room. From day one, he’d said he wouldn’t, not unless Daniel invited him in. He wanted Daniel to feel at home here. To know he had his privacy. To feel safe.
Whatever that meant.
Daniel crossed his arms, copying his uncle’s stance. Anything not to let on how much a part of him wanted this guy to like him. But that wasn’t going to happen. Things were too messed up. He was too messed up.
“So when you said my stuff was my stuff,” he blurted, “that was just a bunch of bullshi—”
“Enough,” his uncle barked. “Those shoes were falling apart. And I asked you to stop wearing them to school. You ignored me, as usual,