to stick it out and see where things went. “We stay. But don’t get too comfortable. I have a feeling this just isn’t the place for us.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“IT’S JUST temporary,” Dean said to Brandon’s sullen, accusatory glare from across the dinner table. “Your uncle Sammy seems to think we need a little help around the office. And Annabelle is a friend of Dana’s so it seemed like a good deal for both of us.”
“We don’t need anyone messing around with the office,” Brandon said. “She’ll screw up Mom’s system. Besides, what happened to the temp service you were using?”
“The temps weren’t working out as we’d hoped. There was too much turnover. Besides, there wasn’t one I felt was a good enough fit. As much as I hate to admit it, we’re in bad shape. And we can’t afford to lose any more business. But don’t worry, she’s not going to change anything. And, if things don’t work out, we don’t have an obligation to keep her. I made that clear.”
Dean pushed away from his plate, his appetite disappearing at the direction of the conversation. He drew a deep breath. “Like I said, it’s temporary and there’s nothing wrong with helping a person who’s down on their luck. Your mom would’ve wanted us to lend a hand. You know she would.”
Brandon softened imperceptibly at the mention of Beth, but Dean could still see the storm raging behind his son’s eyes. “I don’t want her there,” he said. “It feels wrong seeing her sit in Mom’s chair. Doing Mom’s job. It’s just not right.”
“You didn’t have a problem with the temps.”
“She’s different. The temps were usually old ladies looking for a supplement to their retirement. This woman is no old lady.”
Dean leveled his gaze at Brandon and hoped his son never found cause to doubt his word as he said, “No one is going to replace your mother. Ever. She’s always here in our hearts and no one can ever take that away. But, as much as I’ve tried to ignore it, the office is falling apart. We lost two bids last week to Eagle Construction, and as far as I can tell Aaron’s hot on the trail of any unsecured contract. We can’t keep taking hits like this for much longer if we want to stay in business.”
A long pause sat between them until Brandon relented with a slow nod of his head. His boy was headstrong but not stupid. “So, you’re saying she’s only staying until we get things organized, right?” Brandon asked.
“Well, that’s the plan,” Dean answered with complete conviction, but Brandon still seemed troubled. “What?” he asked, wanting to do whatever he could to allay his son’s fears.
Brandon shifted in his chair, plainly uncomfortable with whatever else was rattling around his head. “She’s pretty,” he finally blurted, but the way he said it didn’t make that sound like a good thing and Dean knew what his son was afraid of.
“She’s attractive,” Dean acknowledged, shutting out the image of Annabelle as she’d been dressed the other day. All legs and breasts. “But I’m not looking, if you know what I mean.”
Brandon sighed with obvious relief and he grinned for the first time since the evening began. “Thanks, Dad. I needed to hear that. I got a little freaked out when I saw her. A lot of guys would think she’s hot or something, but I should’ve known you’re too old for her anyway.”
Dean forced a chuckle, trying not to let his son’s innocent statement sting. Hadn’t he told himself the very same thing? “Glad we got that out of the way,” he said a bit wryly, signaling the end of the conversation.
Brandon smiled. “Me, too. I guess she can stay until you can find something else for her. You’re right. Mom would’ve wanted us to help if we could. She was always looking out for everyone but herself.”
Dean nodded and swallowed the sudden lump in his throat that never failed to choke him when he thought of Beth. God, he missed her. It didn’t seem fair that she’d been taken from them so young, but since it never brought her back, he’d long ago stopped railing against the injustice of God’s plan.
Some things just weren’t fair and that was that.
His thoughts wandered to Annabelle and what little he knew of her. Sammy had implied that life hadn’t been particularly fair to her, either, but she didn’t seem the type to cry about it. He had to admit he admired that in a person. Anyone could sit and bawl. It took guts and a strong character to pull themselves up and move when all they wanted to do was quit.
Where was Honey’s father? Was he in the picture at all? Sighing, he realized it wasn’t his place to wonder such things. No good was going to come from him poking his nose into Annabelle’s business, especially after promising his son that she wouldn’t be around long.
ANNABELLE ARRIVED on time the following morning, earning a curt nod of approval from Dean as she entered the office. He also didn’t hide his relief that Honey was not with her. She withheld a sigh for his obvious dislike of her baby and tried not to take it personally. It was his loss. Honey was an amazing kid.
Dean gestured toward a ridiculously small desk and she looked at him quizzically. “That’s where I’m supposed to sit? Which sixth-grade classroom is missing a desk?”
“I know it’s on the small side, but I wanted you to have a space to work from while we get things figured out. It’s all I could find on such short notice.”
“What’s wrong with that desk?” she pointed at the large and still cluttered desk he was behind.
“It’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not.”
She inhaled a short yet frustrated breath. “Listen, this is a little crazy. You can’t possibly expect me to sit at that baby desk when there’s a perfectly good, adult-size desk right here.”
“My wife used to sit there,” he said bluntly.
She tried to tread carefully, but his odd territorial stance on the furniture was wearing on her patience. If she’d had anything else to go to, she’d ditch this job in a second. But she didn’t and therefore was stuck with the need to make a go of it. With as much delicacy as her annoyance would allow, she said, “I’m sorry for your loss. Dana told me your wife died. But I can’t really do the job you’ve hired me to do without a proper place to sit. I promise I won’t change anything. I won’t move pictures around or kill her plants—although, you seem to be doing a pretty good job of that yourself—and I’ll even do my damnedest to learn your kooky system, but you have to loosen up, too.”
He stared and she held her breath, knowing the next words out of his stern mouth were going to be something along the lines of Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out, and resigned herself to another serious job hunt.
But he didn’t.
“You’ve got a point,” he slowly agreed, though it looked like the admission was painful. “All right, I’ll haul that kiddie desk out of here.”
“Thank you,” she said, thinking privately it seemed an odd thing to be grateful for, but she accepted the victory just the same. “Now, show me how to run this office.”
An hour later, Annabelle had a headache.
“But why don’t you just file the jobs alphabetically?” she asked, not quite understanding the inefficient way they were doing things. “This number system is bound to screw things up. No wonder you’re losing stuff. Look here, this job and this job—” she gestured to two different slips of paper “—have the same number but they’re different contracts. If you used an alphabetical system by company or client name you’d have less slipping through the cracks.”
“Beth devised this number system and it worked before so it’ll work again. Now, instead of fighting me on it, just listen and learn.”
Annabelle