“You want me to read it for you?”
“Yes, the requests for money. Mary Margaret doesn’t have time to do a summary of each request, and that’s what I want from you. Read the proposal and give me a summary page or two on who wants money, how much they need, what they intend to do with it, and who they think it’s going to help. I want your first impressions. If you were in my shoes, would you fund this project? How would it impact the people involved? If it sounds like a good project for the foundation, we’ll have someone do some digging to find out if anyone else is or should be helping these people. We don’t want to duplicate someone else’s efforts when there are so many other worthwhile projects.”
Cara handed her a stack of folders about a foot tall. “In the beginning, Nick helped me with this part of the work, but with his business doing so well and three kids to play with, he doesn’t have time.”
“He plays with the kids? I can’t remember my father ever playing with me.”
“Nick is the biggest kid in the house, and Maria claims that Blade isn’t much better. They both had terrible childhoods, or Nick did until he found Sophia and his cousins, so they’re making up for it now. The kids think it’s terrific, especially Max. He’s old enough now to appreciate having a father who teaches him how to do things, like play ball and hammer nails.” Cara sat beside Jenna at the round conference table in the corner. “I grew up with nannies, and I didn’t want that for my children. I want them to have warm memories of their childhoods, and that includes playing and cuddling with their parents.”
The more Cara talked, the more Jenna liked her.
Jenna filled out the employment forms Cara had left on her desk. The benefits included medical and dental insurance, a 401K plan for retirement, and life insurance. Her employer would be a corporation called the
Andrews Estate
. “How many employees do you have?”
“At last count it was fifty-eight, I believe, plus the staff at the museum. You’ll meet most of them when we go to California at the end of the month.”
Johnny came running into the room, with Max right behind him, and Cara smiled. “There are my boys.” An unmistakable odor emanated from Johnny’s pants.
“Johnny pooped his pants,” said Max.
Cara took Johnny’s hand. “Come on, you little stinker. You’re supposed to do that in the potty.”
“Couldn’t wait,” he said quite clearly. They were cute kids, and Cara was obviously a loving, involved parent.
She sat at the desk Cara had assigned to her and began reading, making notes as she read. The first proposal was written in legal language and was hard to plow through. No wonder Cara had trouble getting through all these proposals.
By lunchtime, Jenna had only gotten through three of the proposals.
Jenna took the kids for a walk on the beach after lunch. She didn’t mind office work, but she needed to stretch her legs, and the kids needed airing out. Johnny stopped to pick up a rock and show it to her.
She looked up to see a guard watching them from halfway down the hill and another down the beach. They were guarding Cara’s kids.
<>
The next day was the Fourth of July, and the Donatelli family had a picnic in the pavilion on the property between Nick’s house and Blade’s house. Nick and Angelo took the kids out for boat rides, dogs and kids scampered on the beach, and Al set up a volleyball net. They chose up sides and played until Blade and Maria’s little girl ran off with the ball. Everyone called to her, but Jeannie ran next door, to her home, and Blade ran after her. Her gay laughter filled the air when her daddy caught her.
Al watched Jenna laughing and playing with his family. They’d already accepted her as one of them, especially Ma and Cara.
After the little kids had been bathed and put to bed, some of the adults and older kids boarded the boat for an evening cruise to see the fireworks. Ma stayed with Nick and Cara’s kids and Katie, who had been put to bed with Sophie.
Al took Jenna’s hand and helped her onto the boat. He stood behind her on the deck, his arms around her shoulders, watching the fireworks. The kids were pointing and cracking jokes, but Al couldn’t concentrate on them or the fireworks.
All he could think about was getting Jenna alone in his bed.
Chapter Ten
J
enna called Brian to tell him he could keep the apartment for now. “I have a job here in Gig Harbor.” At least she had one for now. One of these days, she expected Teresa to want her job back, and when she did, Jenna would step quietly out of the picture.
“Who are you working for?”
“The Andrews Estate.”
“Never heard of it.”
He’d figure it out soon enough. “Brian, what happened with your lawsuit?”
“My attorney said I needed at least one witness to dispute the guys on the roof, and since you won’t testify for me, I’m dropping it.”
Alessandro was right. He said it would never get to court.
“My old man still wants to meet Cara Andrews.... Hey, you said Andrews... Where are you working?”
“For the—”
“No,
where
.”
“At Nick Donatelli’s house. I’m Cara’s new assistant.”
He let out a whoop loud enough that she had to pull the phone away from her ear. “You can get me in to see her.”
“No, I can’t. She has guards to keep people like you from harassing her.”
“But—”
“No, Brian. Absolutely not.” If he thought she’d let him bother Cara, he’d better think again. Cara had enough on her mind without dealing with Brian Baxter, and after he’d brought that lawsuit against Alessandro, she wouldn’t have anything to do with him anyway.
<>
Mattie had a visitor, a distinguished gray-haired gentleman with a well-tended mustache. “Mrs. Worthington, I’m Dr. Spindler. Your orthopedic surgeon asked me to come by and see how your arm is doing.”
“It’s doing just fine, doctor. How long until I can go home?”
He checked the chart and smiled a little. “You don’t like the deluxe accommodations here?” He put the chart down and moved her fingers. “Will you be able to feed yourself and dress yourself? I don’t see why not, but although your arm is healing nicely, I wouldn’t expect it to be as strong as it was before you broke it. When we get older, we lose strength, and you haven’t been able to use that arm for quite some time.”
“Too bad I didn’t break the other arm instead.”
“Too bad you had to break anything,” he replied. “According to this chart, you’re in excellent physical condition for someone your age.”
Her parents had lived well into their nineties, and she didn’t expect to die for at least ten more years. And she expected to spend those years in the inn.
As soon as her arm healed, she was going home. That young man promised her she could live out her life there, and if he protested, she’d sue him and get her inn back. It wasn’t in writing, but they had a verbal contract, and she wasn’t letting him weasel out of it.
After the doctor left, she stared out the window at the courtyard. The kids in the daycare down the hall were playing in the sunshine. The flowers were blooming, and two of the aides were outside sitting in the shade. It must be break time, although she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why they needed breaks. They didn’t work that hard, and it always took them forever to come when she pushed the buzzer. At the inn, there were days when she was so busy she didn’t even have time to use the toilet until late afternoon.
When she was a little girl, she lived in the attic of the inn with her parents. Her grandparents and Uncle Roald lived on the main floor.
Papa would take her with him to the farm down the road for milk and eggs and vegetables, and they’d get their flour and other staples from the store in town. They’d take the horse and buggy, because it was too far to walk. Papa always drove down to meet the ferry twice a week. It brought the mail and newspapers along with the guests who stayed at the inn. Mama baked bread and fancy coffee cakes and other goodies, and Grandma cooked the best meals. They ate in the dining room with their guests. Mattie was always on her best behavior, as was expected of children in those days.
Uncle Bjorn was a fisherman who’d been washed overboard in a storm. They’d expected him to take over the inn someday, but with him gone, it came to Papa, their second son. Uncle Roald and Aunt Dagmar stayed at the inn with their parents until they married. Aunt Dagmar and her husband moved to Tacoma. They had fourteen children, like having a litter of pigs, Mama said. Uncle Roald lived in Gig Harbor until he died of old age. He had six children, and they’d all moved away. Mattie had lost track of them many years ago.
At one time, Papa had talked about leaving the inn to one of his nephews, since he only had a daughter, but Mama talked him into waiting. Mattie was old enough to marry, Mama said, and unless her husband had another business, she could help her husband run the inn.
So they waited. Mattie worked hard to show them that even though she was a girl, she was capable and dependable, because she didn’t want to lose the inn. And then Charlie came along. He was a guest of the inn, with his parents and brother. Mattie was long past twenty and she hadn’t had a single marriage proposal. Mama took one look at Charlie and decided that even though he was several years younger, he’d make a good husband for her spinster daughter. Charlie’s parents agreed, and before long they were engaged.
The wedding was set for late summer, and they married at the little white church in downtown Gig Harbor. The reception was held on the lawn at the inn. It was so pretty in those days. The roses were blooming and the grass was so green. They’d cooked and cleaned for days to get ready. Mattie wore the ivory lace dress Grandma had worn for her wedding. They considered it good luck, since her grandparents’ marriage had lasted so many years.
Mattie’s marriage would have lasted longer if she hadn’t killed her husband. Charlie couldn’t understand why she didn’t want his bastard to have her inn.
His
family didn’t build the inn and run it for three generations.
His
grandparents and parents didn’t die there.
Hers
did, and she intended to die there, too.
Charlie’s brother died young and his parents lived well into their eighties. Mattie had taken care of them in their old age, and she’d taken care of her own parents, as her mother had done for Mattie’s grandparents. It was expected that family would take care of family, but Mattie had no children of her own to take care of her. All she had was her husband’s bastard, the girl who’d dumped her in this awful place.
<>
Over the next few days, Jenna read and summarized the entire stack of proposals, and then she and Cara sat down together to discuss them.
“There’s one here that’s different. It’s from a mother who lives near a polluted stream. She wants money to clean the stream and remove all the polluted soil around it, so her children won’t get sick.” Jenna wondered what the foundation could do about it, but it seemed like a good cause. “I thought the government and the company who caused the damage would take responsibility, but according to this, it isn’t happening, and this woman is concerned about her kids.”
“I don’t blame her. I don’t know if we can clean up the stream, but we might be able to create enough publicity that it might push the company into taking care of it. If not, we can petition the congressmen from that area to get involved. There are often other ways to help people without throwing money at the problem.”
“What about health screenings for the kids who live in the area? We could also have the water and the soil tested.”
“Excellent idea. We’ll have someone check to see what kind of health services are available and how thorough they are, and there are environmental groups who might do the water and soil testing.”
They went over each of the proposals and Jenna took notes of things to add to the summary sheets. She was beginning to understand the way Cara thought and what she wanted to accomplish with the foundation. Other rich people might give a chunk of money to a charity and ignore the human impact, but Cara wanted to help people have better lives.
For the first time she could remember, Jenna felt like she was doing something worthwhile. This was by far the best job she’d ever had.
<>
Angelo called Sophia and invited her for dinner that night.
She said, “I’d love to come, but I have other plans tonight.”
For a brief moment, Angelo didn’t speak. Was it that surprising that she’d have other plans? Yes, she supposed it was, since she’d always put her family first. But they didn’t need her like they once had.
“With the family?”
“No.”
“You have a d-date?” The last word squeaked out and she almost laughed. It sounded so like high school.
“I’m having dinner with a friend. We eat together nearly every Friday evening, and we walk together three mornings a week.”