Hard to Resist

chapter THIRTEEN



“HE WAS A CREEP, anyway,” Tati declared. Her dream man, the one who’d claimed he wanted to marry her, had used her and dumped her, just as Kat had feared. “But I have so learned my lesson, Ms. Kat. I am not depending on any man for anything, anymore.”

They were in the school cafeteria, where Kat was helping the girls fill out job applications. The group was smaller today, because some of the girls had already gotten jobs. Which was mostly good news, except that Kat missed them.

No matter what lesson they had on the agenda for the day, talk always turned to boyfriends—an area Kat did not feel real confident about right now. But she did her best.

“I’m really happy to hear you say that, Tati,” Kat said, beaming. “Certainly having a boyfriend can be a wonderful thing. But not if you sacrifice everything else in your life for his sake.”

“Sure, it’s easy for you to say that,” Stephie grumbled. “You have a boyfriend.”

Kat had probably shared more of her personal life with the girls than was prudent. But she’d discovered that when she opened up, they did, too, and that was the goal, to get an honest dialogue going.

“I had a boyfriend, until recently.”

They gasped in unison. “Did he dump you?” Tati asked breathlessly.

“No, it was a mutual decision.” Faced with skeptical hoots and out-and-out accusations that she was lying, she admitted that she was the one who ended the relationship.

“Why for?” asked Gwen, who was seventeen and the oldest member of this group. She’d really blossomed over the past few months, having gone from academic probation—almost dropping out—to decent grades. She’d even begun to talk about college.

“The relationship was too one-sided,” Kat answered. “He was doing all the giving and I was doing all the taking, and it didn’t feel right.”

“So why didn’t you start giving more back?”

“Well, I gave as much as I could. You all know about the fire, and what a difficult position I was in. But even when I tried to give him something simple, like making him a sandwich or cleaning up his kitchen, he didn’t want to accept anything from me.”

“Sounds like the opposite of my guy,” Tati said. “My ex-guy. He just wanted to take, take, take.”

“Extremes in any direction aren’t good,” Kat said.

“What about love?” Tati asked softly. “If you really love each other, can’t that fix everything?”

“Sometimes love can’t fix everything.”

“But it can sure motivate you to try to fix some things,” Gwen said, her eyes dreamy. She’d recently met a new guy. He was twenty-two, but he owned a car wash and seemed, at least on the surface, to be a huge step up from her previous drug dealer.

“Ms. Kat?” said Stephie, and Kat braced herself for another love question. But instead Stephie said, “That man is watching us again.”

Kat turned, and sure enough the same silver-haired man was leaning against the cafeteria wall, arms folded, watching them. Not even pretending to be doing something else.

This was too much. She was going to find out, once and for all, why this guy was so interested in the StrongGirls. She got up and marched toward him, full of purpose, with a bit of verbal encouragement from the girls.

Kat stuck out her hand and introduced herself. “Can I help you with something?” she asked, trying not to sound confrontational.

He introduced himself as James Canfield and handed her a card. “I was just observing. I’d heard about the StrongGirls program and I wanted to see for myself what you were up to.”

“I appreciate your interest,” Kat said carefully. “And if you’d like to make an appointment and come to my office, I’d be happy to tell you anything you want to know about the program. But these coaching sessions are private.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said, immediately contrite. “I didn’t mean to intrude. And I apologize for being rather…clandestine. But I was afraid if you knew you were being observed, you might act differently.”

She studied his card. “You’re an attorney?”

“I represent a client who might be a very good match for your program.”

“And are you the one who’s been talking to some of my girls?”

“Yes, I am. But I needed to see for myself what kind of effect your program was having. They were eager to talk about StrongGirls. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.”

“And we’ve only just begun,” Kat said, with pride. “If you have someone you’d like to refer, please call me at the office. I can get you a brochure.” She turned, intending to fetch a whole stack of brochures from her tote bag. If he dealt in family law or juvenile criminal defense, he might be a source for lots of referrals.

“No, wait,” he said, “I have a brochure, thank you. I’ll let you get back to your work now.” And he strolled out of the cafeteria, leaving Kat baffled.

Later, as Kat was driving home, the girls’ questions and opinions about love echoed in her head. Could love fix everything?

She didn’t love Ethan. She hadn’t allowed herself to fall, because she’d told herself it wasn’t time yet. But how could she be sure? Maybe she needed to be more flexible and take a risk.

She was going to think long and hard about her priorities and what was really important. Standing strong and being independent were all well and good, but how high a price was she willing to pay for the privilege?

* * *

“BASQUE!”

“What? Oh, sorry, Captain.” Ethan had pulled KP duty and was chopping up potatoes for hash browns. If the fire department was teaching him one thing, it was how to cook.

“In my office. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” He quickly wiped off his hands on a dishcloth, his heart beating a hundred miles an hour. What did Campeon want with him? What had he done wrong this time? His current shift was less than an hour old, so he couldn’t imagine anything he’d done that would incur the captain’s wrath.

On his last shift, Ethan had been the one to spot smoke as they were driving the engine back from a false alarm, and they’d caught a young kid setting a fire in a Dumpster. Ethan had chased down the little firebug and, rather than getting tough with him, had engaged in a long discussion about the damage that could have occurred to nearby houses—and people—if the fire department hadn’t happened upon the scene. The kid had been in tears afterward, and had promised not to set any more fires. He’d even expressed interest in the fire department’s Explorer program.

Ethan’s efforts had earned him a rare compliment from the captain.

So what was wrong?

Captain Campeon looked more nervous than Ethan felt. Not mad at all. Ethan took a chair and waited.

“Part of my job is to see that my men—and women—are fitting in and adjusting to the job. It’s a sort of touchy-feely thing I’m not very good at.”

“I’ve been hanging out at Brady’s,” Ethan said immediately, since Campeon had been the one to suggest it.

“I didn’t bring you in here to reprimand you. You and Veracruz and Garner have gone out of your way to fit in. You’ve taken a lot of flak without complaint, and it’s paying off. I know being a rookie isn’t easy—especially not in this situation.”

“I’m not complaining. I love this company,” Ethan said, meaning it. Oh, no, was he about to get transferred? He’d go wherever the department wanted him, but he hated the thought of working without Tony and Priscilla by his side.

“You don’t seem very happy.”

Ethan was startled that the captain even noticed the moods of the firefighters under his leadership.

“I’ve been a little bummed because Kat and I broke up,” Ethan admitted, wanting the captain to know it had nothing to do with job satisfaction. “I hadn’t realized it was affecting my work.”

“It’s not. You’re doing a good job. You’re gonna go far. And I did hear about your breakup. The firefighter grapevine thrives.”

Ethan was pleased with the praise—Campeon didn’t often go out of his way to give pats on the head. But he was still puzzled as to why he was sitting here.

“I was sorry to hear you broke up. Kat seems nice. I thought she’d moved in with you.”

“She did. And we broke up. It’s complicated.”

The captain cleared his throat, indicating he wasn’t interested in any messy details. “So, anyway. I thought you might want to meet my sister.”

“Uh.” Ethan was speechless. A setup? He’d never been on a blind date, and he didn’t intend to start now. “She’s single?” he finally asked, realizing immediately what an idiotic question it was.

“Of course, she’s single!” Campeon thundered. “Would I offer to introduce you if she was married?”

“No, sir.” If it was anyone else, he would quickly make it clear he wasn’t interested. But this was his captain.

“She’s divorced. Has a couple of kids. Her ex is a jerk—she always dates jerks.

“I want her to meet some nice, gainfully employed guys. And since I know you’re unattached, and you like kids…”

“Sure, Captain, I’d love to meet your sister.” What else could he say?

“Great. We’re having a big barbecue here on the Fourth of July. Friends and family invited. That would be a good time for you to meet Tina and her kids, don’t you think?”

Ethan nodded. “Sure.” What a nightmare. Not only did he have a blind date, but he’d have to conduct it with Captain Campeon watching. Not to be insensitive, but if she were unattractive or if she hated him on sight, he would never live it down. He would be the butt of fire-department jokes for years to come.

“In case you’re wondering, she’s a former runner-up Miss Latina Texas. But I appreciate your saying yes even before seeing her picture.” He pulled a picture out of the drawer, and Ethan studied it.

Tina was, indeed, attractive.

Ethan hadn’t given up totally on Kat. But they were broken up for now, and maybe spending time with another woman would ease the pain—or at least help to pass the time. He tried to feel some optimism about meeting Tina, about moving forward. But he felt nothing.

* * *

TO KAT’S SURPRISE, James Canfield, the lawyer who’d been so interested in StrongGirls, called her the day after talking with her at the Sunset High cafeteria. His client, he said, was Oscar Breckenridge. He paused, waiting for her reaction. But while the name sounded familiar, it meant nothing to her.

“Yes, well,” Canfield said, “Mr. Breckenridge is most anxious to meet with you.”

“Does he have a daughter who could benefit from the program?” Kat asked, a bit confused.

Canfield laughed. “No, no. I’m afraid I haven’t made myself clear. He’s interested in helping you with the StrongGirls program. He’s impressed with it, but he can see that you’re underfinanced.”

“So he’d like to make a donation?”

“Something like that. He’ll explain it all to you himself. He’d like to meet with you tomorrow morning at eight a.m. Now, I know that’s very short notice and I’ll understand if you’re already committed, but his schedule is very tight.”

Kat flipped her calendar to the next day. “As it happens, I don’t have anything scheduled. Would he like to meet here?”

“He wants to meet at his office downtown. Parking is difficult and expensive, so he’ll send a car to pick you up.”

Well, this was nice.

Since the meeting was early, it didn’t make sense for Kat to come into the office first, so she gave Mr. Canfield her home address and said she could be picked up there.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, as she rushed out of her bedroom, her arms loaded with StrongGirls materials, she ran smack into Ethan.

“Oh, sorry,” she said breathlessly as he steadied her. She’d overslept by a few minutes, waking only when Sam’s grandmother called, announcing she had come down with a cold and couldn’t watch her granddaughter that day as planned. “Ethan, I need a huge favor. Can you watch Sam for a couple of hours this morning? My babysitter fell through.”

“I’d be happy to,” he said, “and it isn’t a huge favor. But where are you off to so early?”

“A taxi is picking me up in…” She consulted her watch. “Yipes. Five minutes. Someone may actually want to invest in the StrongGirls program. Oh, Ethan, I’m so excited. Maybe I can get this guy to underwrite printing the StrongGirl book.”

“You wrote a book?” he asked, taking the heavy box of materials out of her arms and carrying it toward the front door.

“It’s more of a course manual, with worksheets and exercises and little inspirational essays. But right now I photocopy everything and stick it in a binder. It’s not very professional. There’s a copy in that box, if you want to see.”

Ethan seemed more interested in talking than reading. “But you could write a book,” Ethan said. “One of those motivational kinds that shoot straight up to number one on the bestseller list.”

“Don’t tempt me! As if I don’t have enough to do.” She looked down and saw she had a spot on her blouse. “Oh, no. Ethan, would you look out and see if the taxi is here, please? And if it is, tell the driver I’m coming. I’ve got to change shirts.”

She didn’t wait to see if he agreed. She dropped the box, her tote bag and her briefcase at the door and ran back to her room, mentally going through her closet and wondering if there was anything else presentable.

She found a silk shell that was only slightly wrinkled and put it on. Though it was too hot for a jacket, she grabbed one anyway. Better hot than wrinkled-looking.

As she raced back toward the front door, she saw Ethan at the open door, smirking at her.

“What?”

“Your transportation is here. Only it’s not a taxi.”

She’d take an oxcart if it meant getting to meet with a possible StrongGirls benefactor. She grabbed her purse, briefcase, box and tote bag, somehow juggling them all as she headed out onto the front porch. And then she nearly dropped everything. A black stretch limousine was parked at the curb, with a uniformed driver standing next to the back door, preparing to open it for her. A couple of the neighbors were standing on their porches gawking.

“Oh, my.”

Ethan came up behind her. “I bet you’ll get your book printed. Now go to your meeting. Knock ’em dead.”

“Thank you. Sam’s probably still asleep. Will you tell her I’ll be back soon?” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then ran to the limousine and climbed in, less than elegantly.

Kat tried to collect her thoughts as the limousine whisked her through the Dallas streets. But this was just too weird.

She opened the door in the glass panel between herself and the driver. “Excuse me.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Do you work for Mr. Breckenridge?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“For how long?”

“Seven years come August.”

“Does he make a habit of picking up single women and having them delivered to his door?”

The driver laughed. “No, ma’am.”

“Okay, thanks.” She probably should have asked a few more questions of the attorney before proceeding with this adventure. But she was into it now, and she might as well enjoy the ride. She watched the neighborhoods change from the stately frame houses of the historic district to the workaday businesses of Davis Street, through the up-and-coming Kidd Springs neighborhood and upscale Kessler Park.

Then finally, they crossed the Trinity River out of Oak Cliff and into downtown Dallas.

The limo had a small refrigerator filled with drinks and snacks. Kat’s stomach was too tied up in knots to try anything. But she could get used to this. She could get used to not worrying about traffic. She could turn on some music, sit back and enjoy a few minutes of calm, as her limo whisked her along.

The limo pulled up in front of Willowplace Tower, a modern, green-mirrored skyscraper, offering some of the priciest office space in the city. One had to have permission to even get past the receptionist to the elevators.

Kat was expected, she soon discovered. A woman from Mr. Breckenridge’s office came down to escort her.

Kat had never seen anything like this. The elevator was the biggest she’d ever ridden in. It even had its own sofa.

The elevator stopped on the ninth floor, and the woman, whose name was Patricia, told her the Breckenridge Foundation occupied the ninth, tenth and fourteenth floors.

“It must be a really big operation,” Kat said inanely.

She’d tried to do some research on Oscar Breckenridge the night before, but the man kept a very low profile. Neither Deb nor Virginia had heard of him, and all Kat could discover was that he ran a foundation that concerned itself with doing good deeds.

The foundation’s reception area had its own waterfall. Not just a fountain, but a built-in rock wall with water gushing and cascading down its surface into a pond.

The pond was full of big orange fish.

The receptionist was a woman who would have looked perfectly at home attending the symphony or giving a garden party. She was of indeterminate age and the epitome of culture and good taste.

“Ms. Holiday,” she said with a smile of genuine warmth. “Mr. Breckenridge is waiting for you.”

“I’ll take her back,” Patricia said.

Kat felt a panic attack coming on, as she was led down a series of carpeted hallways that all said Money. Everything from the antique oil paintings on the walls to the inch-thick wool carpet said this place meant serious business.

What was she doing here, with her discount-store suit and her stubby fingernails? Everyone she saw was so polished.

Patricia tapped gently on a door that was cracked open, and at the hearty, “Come on in!” she opened it wide and gave Kat a little push inside.

“Kat Holiday.” The man behind the desk was smaller than average, with a silver crew cut and big black-framed glasses. He stood to greet her with a wide, reassuring smile, his hand outstretched. “I’ve been looking forward to finally meeting you face-to-face.”

Kat stepped forward on shaky legs. “I’m afraid you have the advantage.”

“Please, sit down. And I’ll tell you who I am. And then I’ll tell you what I want to do for you.”

And he did. As Kat sipped from a glass of cold water that Patricia had brought for her, Oscar Breckenridge told her how he’d grown up with nothing, and how a man from the Big Brothers program had shown him a way out, a way up. He’d made millions in the computer chip industry and then had sought a way to give back, which was how the Breckenridge Foundation had been born.

“I don’t seek publicity for the work I do. I fund a select group of grassroots programs that are doing good things at the community level. When one of my staff brought StrongGirls to my attention, I knew I had to learn more about it. I was impressed at every turn, especially when I found out there are only three of you. Three people, doing everything—the counseling, the administrative work. It’s astounding.”

“Actually, we’re five now,” Kat said proudly. “I had to start small, given my funding is very modest. But the people I recruited to work with me are the best. And if the program reaches a certain level of participation by the end of the summer, the grant money increases.”

“Do you mind if I ask how much?”

So she told him how her grant was structured.

He had the nerve to laugh. “You’re doing the whole program on that?”

That? It seemed like a fortune to her. “I’m very good at stretching a dollar.”

“I’ll say. How would you feel about a slightly larger budget?”

Kat’s heart skipped a beat. “I’d welcome an increased budget, of course. I have so many things I want to do. Like transportation. Just getting the girls to class sessions can be a challenge, when they don’t even have bus fare. I’d like to be able to consult with a nutritionist. I’d like—”

“What if you had, oh, about ten times what you have now?”

Kat opened her mouth, but no words came out. Was he kidding?

Finally, she found her voice. “It sounds too good to be true. But I have to tell you that, while securing funds for the program is very important to me, I’m not ready to let it go. I’m just getting started, and I have very definite ideas of where I want the program to go. I’ll take money, if it’s offered. I’ll account for every penny. But I’m not ready to let someone else start making the decisions.”

“My dear Ms. Holiday, I’m not an idiot. StrongGirls is nothing without you. You are the program’s strongest asset. I wouldn’t dream of taking a single decision out of your hands. So let’s get down to brass tacks. Here’s what I’m offering.”