The Storm (Fairhope) (31 page)

It felt
so
good to giggle. “Well … nobody got tied up. ‘Us time’ was fabulous, but it’s hard to beat the sleep.” I collapsed on the couch dramatically. “Now that I remember what sleep feels like, I could use a little more.”

“Don’t let her fool you, she’s a dirty little thing,” Andrew teased mercilessly, shaking his ass. “Jana’s a freak! Mama’s got her moves back.”

I threw a pillow at him. “Mama never lost her moves, jackass! Maybe her man just needed to spice it up a little.” I pointed at the book. “Why don’t you try reading that?
That’s
what
sexy looks like.”

“Hey!” Andrew protested, stuffing a chocolate iced donut in his mouth. Daniel bought donuts every Saturday morning like clockwork, a childhood tradition he refused to abandon. “I resent that. I’m a damn stallion.” He started rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. “Where are the Fruit Loops?”

“The Fruit Loops are Calla’s …
stallion
. You are to eat the Raisin Bran; we agreed to cut our sugar back. And if you wake her, you take her.” If he wanted to be obstinately loud, fine, but daddy duty would be the first item on his agenda if he disturbed her nap.

He grumbled something under his breath and reluctantly poured himself a bowl of Raisin Bran. At least I hadn’t forced him to use skim milk yet.

“Where’s my brother?” I yawned, stretching.

Jessica smiled. “He’s napping with Calla.” When she thought we weren’t watching, she snatched the book from its resting place. Her mouth dropped as she read things she’d probably never imagined doing…

My heart warmed. “Napping with Calla, for real? I’ve got to see this.”

“I bet that would hurt,” Jessica muttered incredulously. Her eyes were so wide; I feared they may pop out of her head.

“What would hurt?” Of course Andrew wanted to know.

My macho older brother was curled up with his niece in the high thread count lavender sheets that covered our guest bedroom bed. Calla’s tiny hand rested on his tanned cheek, and their sweet breathing was the epitome of innocence, their chests heaving up and down in synchronization. Quietly, I snapped a picture with my iPhone.

“Daniel’s going to be a wonderful daddy one day,” I told Jessica. As soon as the words escaped, my hand flew to my mouth. Their fertility issue was a very sensitive subject.

Before I could apologize, a forgiving smile spread across her angelic face. “Yes, he will be.” Staring off in space, she fingered the pages of the book while a hopeful glimmer flashed through her eyes.

I waited, but instead of offering any new information, she hummed something pretty and focused her attention on Anastasia and Christian.

THE SCENT OF lavender lingered on my skin, a token from the air freshener I’d purchased for my car. I could smell it above the staunch garlic bread that occupied the center of the table. The table I selected was hidden discreetly in a corner. Ignoring the hunger pangs that chimed loudly, I scanned the local Italian favorite for familiar faces, relieved to see none save a sweet older couple who attended church with my in-laws. My mother-in-law coerced us to attend Mass weekly now, and I’d conformed to the repetitive prayers and constant kneeling.

Jack’s decision to check out his nephew’s new house saved me from a grueling trip to Birmingham. Now that every dollar counted, I was thankful to save gas money this go-round.

The sweet older couple beamed at me and waved profusely, and I returned the gesture with a wholehearted smile. I hoped they wouldn’t ask me, again, if I were going to sign Calla up for the church’s ridiculously expensive Mother’s Day Out program. The inner Grace in me was tempted to retort,
Sure, are you volunteering to pay for it?

Holly talked me into joining Garden Club with several other young women in the area. She raved about how ecstatic she was that Andrew was able to support us so I could concentrate on being the wife and mother God wanted me to be. Sweet Holly meant well, but I still played in a different league than her, and probably
far
from being the wife and mother God wanted me to be. Thinking of my newfound social life, I made a mental note to figure out how to at least keep our grass alive since I had achieved Garden Club status.

At last Saturday evening’s Mass, Mary Ellen slipped me the phone number of her housekeeper, bragging that she would be flexible and come twice a week before the kids’ nap times.
Twice
a week? The fond feelings I had for Mary Ellen vanished when I realized how far her indulgences went, considering her children were in school all day. But, what was I to expect? I fraternized with the elite wives of Southern Alabama. Though I loved these people, this town was not known for poverty. There was definitely no money for a housekeeper twice a week in our one-income budget.

Mama, and how hard she worked at home to care for her family, crossed my thoughts. Money never flowed freely in my family, and she knew how to stretch a dollar. She was her own housekeeper, and her only luxury was preschool for me and Daniel twice a week, for three hours at a time, which was usually filled with grocery shopping and bill-paying. When she returned to the work force as a nurse, we were both in high school, so she worked one or two night shifts every other weekend in an effort not to disturb our schedules. I hoped to live up to the mother she was to us.

The ice melted as I sipped my water too slowly. Gazing through the crystal clear glass, my thoughts wandered as I waited on Jack. Gambino’s was Grace’s and my favorite spot to eat. We met on Fridays to mingle over the finest breadsticks and chicken alfredo our taste buds ever met. Each time, we swore to skip dessert but commenced with the taste of semisweet chocolate clinging to our tongues. I swallowed the all-too-familiar lump in my throat as the aroma of fresh garlic sparked memories of the past.

I closed my eyes, pushing the sadness away.

Twenty minutes late, Jack apologized, explaining that he left his cell phone at Sadie’s brother’s house.

He only took a minute to select an entree, and I succumbed to my incessant stomach growls, wolfing down an entire basket of garlic bread nearly single-handedly. Damn week three of birth control pills; I was going to eat myself sick.

“The depositions went even better than I expected. As I predicted, there is little weakness on our side.” Pausing, Jack dabbed his mouth with his white napkin. “A few of your former colleagues were neutral in their statements, but that is to be expected. They still work for Covington and likely fear retaliation. Neutral is what I hoped for. Neutral says, ‘Jana did nothing wrong, but I do not want to make my work life miserable by opposing my manager.’

“Of course, they contend the decisions for downsizing were based on legitimate business reasons, but the way you were treated could be criticized independently of termination. You would have a solid lawsuit based on how you were treated, even if you
had
kept your job.”

I nodded reluctantly, taking a deep breath and focusing on my lasagna, which hit a whole new level of scrumptious. “That’s crossed my mind, also.”

Jack cleared his throat after taking a sip of tea. “Covington Company provided statistics on the ages and races of severed employees, but collected no information on gender.”

I remembered that information in the severance package.

“Is there anything I need to worry about?” I feared his answer. Other than Jeff’s keeping a log on me that contained little more than subjective complaints, Covington had not offered much in the way of defaming my work ethic.

So far, making the
decision
to sue had been the toughest part. After surviving depositions, I realized I was stronger than I believed. I’d had no reason to fear my former colleagues. I’d done absolutely nothing wrong.

“Absolutely not.” A smile spread slowly across his face. “Covington Company’s motion for summary judgment was
denied.
”

I clapped my hand over my mouth and gasped. “The judge ruled in my favor?”

“Yes.”

Butterflies twirled in my stomach. That meant my chances of a settlement jumped to the “excellent” range…

“Thank you for all you have done, Jack. You have made the process much less nerve-wracking for me.”

“That’s my job, Jana.” He paused to polish off the rest of his shrimp. “At this point, my team and I will compile a settlement brochure. Your entire case will be laid out, including comparable verdicts, along with evidence and a final computation of damages.

“Almost certainly, we will settle for less than seven hundred thousand, but you won’t be disappointed. It won’t replace the potentially lifelong career you lost … but it will certainly help.” His smile was broad, his eyes glued to my face as he awaited my reaction.

A sizeable judgment meant saying hello to Jana Cook: Artist, Mother, and Wife, and Goodbye to Jana Cook: Gender Discrimination Victim and Covington Company whipping girl. Several hundred thousand dollars, even less Jack’s fee, was huge to this small town Alabama girl.

I daydreamed about a trip to the Bahamas to celebrate with the aqua water and endless supply of Miami Vices. Chills ran up and down my spine as I imagined winning, actually
winning
this case. Maybe Andrew would let me dip into it for a congratulatory vacation …

No, probably not.

Our squeaky-voiced teenage waiter asked if we wanted dessert.

“Yes, definitely,” was my instant reply. “Chocolate cake, and make sure they cut it large. I’m stressed.” I popped my knuckles, which Andrew detested, but he wasn’t here so I could pop all ten of them to my heart’s content.

Jack’s tough features broke into a smile. “Stressed? You should be excited. This is almost over. Covington knows they will lose this one. I’m not even going to put the rest of the dates on my calendar because they will not happen.”

“I am … it’s just…”

“I understand. Scared of gossip, scared of retaliation, scared of not finding another full time job when or if you need one. Am I right?”

“Spot on.” He pegged my feelings precisely.

“Good things happen to good people.” Jack ate the last bite of garlic bread on his plate. “Have you spoken with Sadie about your website?”

“Yes! We discussed it last week. I’ve started to gather information to help victims. Several of my friends are helping with the ‘tips’ section.” I paused, reflecting on my recent conversations. “We will wait to launch until the lawsuit is finalized. I’m really excited!”

We chatted further over dessert. I planned to hire a marketing professional to help me reach my goal of branding it as more of a “women’s” site than a “discrimination” site. I wanted to ensure that women realized discrimination was not a “feminist” ploy, but, unfortunately, a reality for many that should be fought.

“Making the
decision
to sue can be the biggest challenge. Attorneys won’t offer to take your case if they believe it’s weak.”

He’d read my mind. “I was just thinking that.”

After I demolished the last bit of decadent cake, I rose from my chair, following Jack. Only a few steps toward the door, I froze in my tracks.

I saw
her
first, her tight curls unmistakable and slender body hidden under her Covington Company scrubs. Brooke stood at the entrance to Gambino’s, arms folded tightly and wearing the unmistakable expression of a woman scorned. How had I missed her? Had she seen me?

The man beside her was partially hidden, but there was no need to see his face to make a correct guess. His body language spoke a thousand words. His arms flared in the air spastically, and his head jerked side to side, up and down. I recognized the watch on his wrist. My former boss and evil nemesis were clearly locked in a heated argument.

“Jack, stop,” I called out desperately. “Go on … I need to pee.” I groaned to myself as he looked at me a little strangely. Couldn’t I have thought of something better?

Now I could see Jeff’s face as the entrance cleared. My heart skipped a beat and I hoped he wouldn’t see me. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and I watched as he shrugged his shoulders.

Slowly, she lifted her left hand to her face and swiped at her cheeks. Was she
crying?
I wondered if something had gone awry in their forbidden relationship. Maybe Jeff’s wife found out!

Rapidly, Jeff’s body angled in my direction. Instinctively, I whirled around, wiping perspiration caked with foundation from my forehead. I wished I had turned down the fabulous chocolate cake now that I was wrought with nausea.

I was not fast enough. As my hair whipped over my shoulders, I caught Jeff’s displeased expression as he recognized me. Brooke flew out the door, her dramatic exit drawing the attention of others.

Jeff, his face hardened, gave me a curt wave before turning away. His platinum wedding band caught the light as he waved and shimmered. He didn’t chase Brooke.

Over an hour remained before I was due to rescue Jessica from the clutches of Calla, who was much more needy than usual. A spring of mischief bubbled inside me.

Should I? Yes. No. Yes. No … yes.

Grabbing my purse, ignoring the loose change that spilled out, I rushed out the door to follow Brooke.