DOTTY (The Naughty Ones Book 3) (97 page)

I looked at him. “Does it matter?”

“I didn’t want to leave you, Addison. But my brother needed that medication, and money was the only way to get it for him.”

“I know.”

“He’s a doctor now. He’ll save dozens of lives over the course of his career. Don’t you think that matters?”

“Of course it does.” I ran my finger over the rim of my coffee cup. “But I could have given you that money.”

“You could have. But I never would have asked.”

“So it was okay to take it from my dad, but not from me?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

He shook his head as though the movement would help him organize his thoughts. His eyes were wide and tight on my face, as though he were trying to make me understand just by looking at me. But I didn’t understand.

The waitress chose that moment to return with our food. Plates piled high with eggs and steak and potatoes. By some coincidence, we’d ordered almost the same thing. But I was no longer as hungry as I’d been when we’d walked through the door.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, both of us pushing at our food with our forks. I kept thinking what it waste it was, but I couldn’t stomach even a single bite. All I could think about was how easy it was for him to take that money and walk away. If he’d really wanted to be with me, would it have been that easy?

“My mom died when I was just a month or two from graduating from high school,” Grant said into the silence. “I had a full scholarship to UT Austin. I was going to be a lawyer.”

I nodded. I’d known about his mother’s death. He told me late one night while we were walking back to his car from a movie theater. We’d only been dating a couple of weeks. He was very clinical about it, but I could hear the pain in his voice when he talked about his mother.

“My father left when I was eight. She was a housewife. She had absolutely no work experience. She had to take a job cleaning houses for this company that paid her off the books. And then she managed to get a job in a hotel. Menial work. But she did it for our family, so that we wouldn’t end up on the streets. And then she just died one day. Collapsed in a guest room. No fanfare, no long illness. I always believed it was the stress of having to work so hard all those years.”

No mention of a brother. No discussion of how he helped his brother finish high school and get a scholarship to UCLA. Just that little bit of information. But I was already so head over heels, I thought the fact that we’d both lost our mothers was a sign that we were meant to be together.

“Why didn’t you go to school?”

“Kevin. He needed me. And a lack of money. My mom left behind what little was in her bank account and nothing else.”

“What did you do?”

“I quit school. Got a job working in a fast-food restaurant.”

I couldn’t imagine him in a place like that. I looked at him, trying to see one of those little paper hats on his head. I couldn’t.

“But that didn’t work out. I couldn’t keep my temper under control. I was…angry. Very angry.”

That I could imagine. I was only five when my mom died, but I was a little ball of anger for weeks afterward. For me, it had been different. She was sick. I knew it was coming. My dad knew. Yet, we were both blindsided by the finality of it all. My memory of it was spotty, but I had very strong memories of my dad sobbing late at night when he thought I was sleeping. Whenever I was angry at him as a teen, I remembered those moments. Remembered that he was human.

“One night, I had too much to drink. I went for a walk and ended up on a construction site. And I destroyed everything I could get my hands on, tools and materials and standing structures. Then I passed out.”

“And Billy found you.”

“Billy found me. Threatened to call the police. I begged him not to, told him about my mom and my little brother. Then your dad showed up.”

I watched him, watched emotion dance over his face. I knew how the story ended. It was obvious. But it made me wonder how he could turn on my dad if he owed him his life, as well as his brother’s.

“He gave you a job. And Billy helped you deal with your grief. Very sweet.”

“Yes, well, it didn’t go quite like that.”

My eyebrows rose as I studied his face. “How did it go, then?”

“Your dad wanted to call the police. He told me I was a loser who would always be a loser. He told me there was no hope for someone like me and he didn’t want me anywhere near his construction sites.”

“Did he call the police?”

Grant shrugged. “No. Billy convinced him to let me go. But I went back. Every day I went back until Billy knew I was serious. Until he convinced the foreman to give me a chance.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you want to work there after what my father said?”

“Because I heard his words in my head every time I closed my eyes. And I had to prove that he was wrong.”

“You worked for him for, what, four years? Don’t you think you proved it to him?”

“He never noticed me. Never even knew my name until I started dating you.”

I nodded. “Is that—”

“No.” He reached for my hand across the table, but I pulled back so that he only grabbed empty air. “That had nothing to do with why I asked you out.”

“But it sure was convenient. He suddenly remembered you well enough to know you would take the money when he offered it to you.”

Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what you think?”

“What should I think?”

Silence fell between us. I pushed my plate away.

“We should go. I have stuff to do at the office.”

He nodded. “Rebecca wanted to know if you could meet her at my apartment on Monday afternoon to discuss the furniture and such.”

I stood up and took another sip of my coffee.

“You can get a cab, right?”

And then I was gone.

The lobby was crowded when I walked into the building first thing Monday morning. A lot of worried faces focused on mine and relief replaced some of the uncertainty that lived there. Hands touched my arms, people calling out to me, asking what all of this was about. I could feel their fear and I wanted to reassure them, but there were so many of them.

I was only a few feet into the crowd when a man came over and slid behind me, guiding me through the crowd while trying to keep the people—my employees—from touching me.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m security. Mr. McGraw asked me to escort you to the podium.”

“What podium?”

He gestured to the very back of the wide, long lobby. Standing in the center of the elevator bay, looking out on the growing audience, was a raised platform with a podium behind it. Grant stood there with Rebecca, leaning down just slightly to hear something she was saying. Angela was there, too, scanning the crowd, clearly looking for someone. When her eyes landed on mine, she seemed relieved.

The security officer gave me a little push and I was beside the platform. Grant nodded to the man even as he reached down to help me up. I wanted to refuse his hand, but the platform was several feet off the ground and I would have looked ridiculous without his help. It was bad enough that I’d made the unwise choice of wearing a tight A-line skirt that barely fell to my knees.

“I think it would be best if you speak first,” he said.

No hello. No good morning. Just instructions on how to proceed.

I moved behind the podium and looked out at the crowd. For the first time I realized how many of them were middle aged or older. The younger people were mostly laborers with the construction crews. The office staff were all older men and women, people who had been with the company since its conception or shortly thereafter. I saw Billy in the crowd, a few of the foremen who were clearly unhappy to miss some daylight hours in order to appear at this mandatory meeting.

“Good morning,” I called into the mic, making it screech a little. I stepped back as Rebecca tried to reach over and adjust it. “I’ve got it,” I told her, shooting a dirty look in Grant’s direction. “Good morning,” I tried again, and this time there was no screech.

The crowd grew quiet almost immediately. More than four hundred eager, and some frightened faces stared up at me. I’d never been incredibly good with public speaking. My knees were beginning to knock despite the fact that I knew ninety percent of these people on a first-name basis.

I took a deep breath, trying to put my thoughts in order. I practiced what I would say in front of the mirror this morning, but it all just disappeared as I stood there looking out at these people.

“As you know,” I began, speaking slowly as my eyes moved over one familiar face after another, “my dad began this company thirty-five years ago with just a little construction experience and a couple thousand dollars he borrowed from his future wife. Over those thirty-five years, he built it into a company that not only he, but all of us, could be proud of.”

A cheer went up in the room, even as a few people turned to their neighbors and began to whisper to each other.

“When I joined the company three years ago, it was with the intention that I would take over the reins in another thirty years when my dad was finally ready to retire.”

A few chuckles, but not many. There was more whispering going on.

“Is he sick?” someone called from the center of the crowd.

“Has something happened to Mr. Berryman?” another asked.

“No,” I said, shaking my head, even as I lifted my hand to calm the murmur that was now building through the room. “No. My dad is just fine.”

“Then what’s going on?” someone else called out.

I glanced at Grant, but he gestured for me to continue.

“What most of you are likely unaware of is that the company has suffered some setbacks in the last two years. We have lost quite a few jobs to competitors, and we’ve been struggling to pay our creditors.”

Again murmurs began to rise.

“Please,” I said, raising my hand again, “let me finish.”

The murmurs were quickly rising to a roar. Again I looked at Grant, but he was standing back against the elevator doors, his arms crossed, just watching. And then Billy—sweet, demanding Billy—whistled.

“Give the girl a chance to speak!”

The noise immediately ended and all faces turned toward me again.

“As I was saying, we’ve been struggling and we’ve had to make some business decisions that were quite difficult, but necessary. My dad has decided to step down as CEO.”

There was an immediate roar this time. And I could hear what they were saying. Many of them couldn’t believe that I would allow my father to be pushed out of his own company. Others wanted to know why he would agree to such a thing. It was his company, after all. There were so many questions, many of them not phrased with any sort of diplomacy. And more fear. I could see the fear in their eyes.

“This decision has allowed for an outside party to buy the company and provide the welcome changes and influx of capital we need to survive.”

“We’ve been bought out?” someone called.

“Does that mean we’ll all lose our jobs?” someone else asked.

“No,” I said in the most assuring tone I could manage. There will not be mass layoffs.”

That calmed them a little.

“I will remain as COO for the moment. We will be implementing changes within the main office and on the project sites. We are in a highly competitive market, and we must keep up with everyone else. To do that, we do need to make changes that some of you might not like. But you need to understand that these changes are designed to help keep the company profitable and keep your jobs.”

Grant came up behind me then as the room exploded in questions and comments.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his voice loud enough that he almost didn’t need the microphone, “if you will give her a chance to explain.”

The room quieted again for a moment.

“We simply ask that you bear with us. All of this is as new to us as it is to you,” I said. “There will be an adjustment period. But, after that, I hope that things will go back to running as smoothly as it always did for my dad.”

I stepped back and gestured to Grant.

He moved to the microphone and said, “I’m Grant McGraw.  I am the new CEO of Berryman Construction. I remember some of you from when I worked for Berryman seven years ago. The rest of you, I look forward to getting to know you over the next few months.” He glanced at me. “As Ms. Berryman said, there will be changes over the next few months, mostly upgrades in technology here at the office and on the sites. We ask that you be patient as we implement these changes. And, as Ms. Berryman said, there will not be any mass layoffs. We have no intention of making personnel changes, except where it is absolutely necessary.”

That didn’t sit well with the crowd. Again people began shouting out questions. But Grant was done. He held up his hand and backed away, gesturing for me to follow him. I didn’t know what to do. I should have stayed and talked to the crowd, but I didn’t. I tucked tail and ran, just like him, let them live with what they’d just learned. I was hoping they would understand what it was we were trying to do, but something told me it wasn’t going to be that easy.

This was going to be a long day.