When your back is to the wall and a solution presents itself, you don’t ask too many questions. You close your eyes and leap. “Please don’t worry yourself about things like that. Skye adores her teacher, and I’m pleased with how both of them are doing.”
Mrs. Westerly’s eyebrows rose. “Every child who has lived in this house has had only the finest educational opportunities. If you’re worried about the cost, I’ll assume it, of course. The foundation one lays down early determines the choices available later.”
Hailey turned to Skye. “Honey, could you take your book and your cookies out to the chair we saw in the hallway?” Slowly, reluctantly, Skye rose and picked up her book before making her way out of the room in a painfully slow fashion. She didn’t close the door, so Hailey lowered her voice and turned back toward her employer. “First, I am so grateful for the opportunity to work here.”
Mrs. Westerly folded her hands on her lap, but the move was neither docile nor compliant. “Yes. Yes. I’m sure you are. What is it, though, that has you gasping like a fish out of water?”
Hailey took a calming breath. “Skye has had an extremely difficult year. She’s okay, but it’s a delicate situation.”
“And you’d prefer I not involve myself in your family’s business.”
Shit, I’m going to get fired, but she needs boundaries. “Yes.”
With a wave of her hand, Mrs. Westerly said, “I’ll never understand people. All I want is the best for her. How could you not?”
The question cut through Hailey. Her face warmed as her temper rose. She stood, hands clenched at her sides. “With all due respect, you don’t know her or me. Skye is my responsibility, and her welfare comes first . . . always. Even if that means not remaining here.”
“Sit down,” Mrs. Westerly said in a harsh tone.
Hailey remained standing. Part of her wanted to storm out of the house, but there was nowhere to storm to. Shit.
With a sigh, Mrs. Westerly said, “Please.”
Hailey sat tentatively.
“I’ve offended you, haven’t I?”
Seriously? If I answer honestly I can probably kiss this job goodbye. Which might be for the best. “I—you—”
“Are you afraid of me? What is robbing you of your ability to articulate what you think? I had higher hopes for you.”
“As did I for you,” Hailey said under her breath.
“What did you say, dear? Speak in a clear, crisp voice if you want to be taken seriously.”
Sitting up straighter, Hailey said, “I had hoped you would be someone I could enjoy working for.”
“And you’ve already decided that I can’t be?”
“It’s definitely harder to imagine.”
After a short, dramatic pause, she added, “My eldest grandson said I need to soften my approach, or I’ll die alone.”
Hailey coughed nervously. “I’m sure he was joking.”
“He was not.”
They sat in tense silence for a few long moments.
Mrs. Westerly looked Hailey over from head to foot, then said, “I don’t want you to resign any more than you want to look for a new job.”
Breathe. This could work out. Crazier things have happened. “For me, it will all come down to if this is a healthy environment for Skye.”
“Your dedication to your niece is admirable.” Mrs. Westerly leaned forward. “Help me understand why you won’t accept my assistance with Skye’s education.”
Feeling she had little left to lose, she decided to lay the truth on the table. “In the past year, Skye lost her parents, the home she grew up in, her friends, and now my apartment as well. I appreciate your offer, but I couldn’t afford to continue with any option you’d choose if this job doesn’t work out.” Hailey looked down and then raised her eyes to Mrs. Westerly’s. “Skye needs consistency, and I’m trying to give that to her. I won’t be the reason she loses anything else.”
Mrs. Westerly nodded. “I like you, and I don’t like many people.”
Do I still have the job? Oh my God, I think I do. “Thank you.”
“I only have one more question.”
I hope it’s not about how fast I type. I may have exaggerated about that. “Yes?”
“What is your version of why you and my grandson Spencer broke up in college?”
Hailey’s jaw went slack in shock. Mrs. Westerly was Spencer’s grandmother? No. No. No.
Mrs. Westerly added, “And do enunciate, because my hearing isn’t what it used to be.”
Spencer dropped his computer bag on the counter as he entered his apartment. It was nearly two in the morning, and although he was exhausted, his mind was still racing. He grabbed a six-pack of beer from the fridge, placed it near the couch, then opened one as he stepped out of his shoes.
Long day, but that was nothing unusual.
He sat down and took a gulp as he went over the end of the night in his head. He’d finished the Chichén Itzá simulation and proved that the project didn’t require two lead programmers. Without Jordan, both Spencer and WorkChat would survive. What Spencer hadn’t expected was how little satisfaction that knowledge brought him.
He closed his eyes and remembered the call with Brett earlier that night. “What do you need, Brett?”
“Just checking in. I heard you were courting Incom. I’ve dealt with them in the past. If there is anything I can do—”
“I closed on the deal this morning.”
“Under the terms you wanted?”
“I wouldn’t have accepted anything less.”
“Good. That’s good. How is everything else?”
“The same.” It was obvious that Brett had something he wanted to say, so Spencer prodded, “And you?”
“Great. Alisha and I were hoping we could lure you out to dinner with us this week.”
That wasn’t going to happen. “This week? I’m slammed.”
“How about next week?”
“The new contract is going to keep me busy for a while.”
“We’ll drop by your office.”
“Please don’t. As I said, I’m slammed—”
“We have news we want to share. Something we’d rather say in person.”
Fuck. “Alisha’s pregnant.”
Brett was quiet for a moment, then he said, “Yes. We didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else.”
Spencer had stood and paced his office. As messed up as the situation was, he knew how much family meant to both Brett and Alisha. “Mom must be over the moon.”
“We haven’t told her yet. We wanted to make sure you heard it from us first.”
“Although I appreciate the gesture, it’s unnecessary. We’ve been over this. I’m fine with you marrying Alisha. Our engagement wasn’t real, and you two seem happy enough together. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
“How about congratulations?”
“Congratulations,” he said tiredly. He’d known Alisha for most of his life, and she’d always been a good friend. No one else would have gone along with the crazy idea of marrying him to help him get his inheritance early. She deserved this happiness.
“Have you talked to Mom lately?”
“No.”
“She really wants to see you.”
“We don’t all get what we want, do we?” Spencer asked and punched the wall.
“Spencer, you need to let this anger—”
The last thing Spencer wanted was another lecture. He already felt like shit. “I’m not angry; I’m busy. If you haven’t noticed, WorkChat is soaring. Sorry if that means I have to work more hours. I don’t have an inheritance to fall back on.”