Second Chance Christmas Read online

  He even cracked a smile.

  She was off to a great start. Reese passed by the area several times, almost circling the department.

  Didn’t he have more important things to do? She did her best to ignore him.

  The team lead, John Potter, gave her another assignment. This one she’d have to really think about. Screwing up how a page was displayed was one thing. Incorrectly handling an employee’s expense reimbursement was another.

  Six months. That’s all she had to last. Then Chris’s threats would be annulled. She’d win control and do what was best for her daughter.

  Maybe the local economy would ease up by then, and she could find another job.

  Construction season snarled the Orange Street exit, and it took longer to get home than she anticipated. Still, a thirty-minute commute was far easier than the hour plus it had taken to get a few miles in Redmond.

  “How’d she do?” she asked her mother after arriving home.

  “It was a bit of a struggle. About noon, I gave up and let her watch PBS kids’ shows. She’s taking a nap now.”

  “Better get her up. She’ll never get to sleep tonight otherwise.”

  Kelly Anne’s hair was soft and silky against her face when Findlay kissed her daughter awake. Four years old. Almost ready for kindergarten. Would they be able to find one that could deal with Kelly Anne’s special needs?

  “Where were you, Mommy?” her daughter complained.

  “I told you last night, sweetie. I had to start work today.”

  “But when we were with Daddy, you didn’t work.”

  The intense whine stabbed her in the gut. If she had worked even part-time, Kelly Anne would be used to it. But she had agreed with her ex that their daughter needed to be her first priority.

  “Things are different now.” She lifted her daughter to a sitting position and snuggled the sleepy, soft body next to her.

  “I wanna go home.”

  The words she’d been dreading.

  “How about we see what your grandma is making for dinner? I think I smell spaghetti. What about you? Can you smell it?”

  Kelly Anne lifted her head and dramatically sniffed. A smile replaced her frown.

  “Sketty!” She pulled herself from Findlay’s arms and dashed to the kitchen.

  Once they’d finished their dinner, Kelly Anne retreated to her bedroom to play with the few dolls she’d brought from Washington.

  “I think we need a better plan,” her mother said as they cleaned up the kitchen. “I’m happy to take care of Kelly Anne, but I think she’s going to get bored pretty quickly.”

  “You’re probably right.” The court would want to see Findlay was able to not only provide but tend to her child, all at the same time. “But what are the alternatives? It’s the summer.” Findlay gave the plate in her hand a last swipe and stacked it on the others. Her mother had never had a dishwasher, and the soothing task of drying dishes gave Findlay a sense of accomplishment that the finest piece of code never had.

  “There are summer programs. I asked around.”

  Why couldn’t anyone allow her to handle her own daughter? She was capable. She frowned. Ingrate. Her mother was only trying to help.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to overstep.”

  “No problem, Mom,” she said, mouthing a platitude she forced herself to feel.

  Her mother seemed more tired than she’d been when she arrived. A change would be good for more than Kelly Anne.

  But where would the money come from?

  “It’s covered,” her mother said.

  Mom’s habit of answering questions Findlay hadn’t asked had always been unnerving.

  “How?”

  “We’ll have to jump through some hoops, but there are funds available for underprivileged kids.”

  She hated that her daughter was “underprivileged.” Chris had been a good provider—as long as she behaved according to his standards.

  That cost had been too high, though.

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll look into it,” her mother said, caressing Findlay’s cheek. “You aren’t alone anymore. Together, we can do this.”

  If only that were true. But the responsibility for Kelly Anne’s success or failure rested only one place—squarely on Findlay’s shoulders. She was the mother.

  • • •

  Reese was stalking his ex-girlfriend. There was no other word to describe it.

  He couldn’t help it. Proving himself to his father was essential. A wrong move from Findlay could derail him. And he wouldn’t even know it until long after the error was made.

  Like his father, metal made sense to him. He could put his hand on it. But code? He didn’t understand what half the words meant. I/O rates? Garbage collection? Nobody called things what they were. Hell, a cloud used to be just a fluffy thing in the sky.

  But Findlay had mastered all that gibberish. Surely, she could have found a job somewhere else. Why was she here? Why the hell did she work for them? For him? To sabotage them? Get back at him?

  He’d never forgotten the look on her face when he’d told her he was dumping her, on his father’s orders, a decade ago. He’d messed up so badly. Even though he’d acted like it was nothing in high school, his soul ached over his betrayal every time he saw her. Only a few years away from Missoula had dulled the pain.

  He thought he’d put it all behind him. He’d come back to Missoula to move on with his life—and here she was, still a thorn in his side.

  He’d never apologized. Maybe if he did, she would forget her plans of revenge if she had them, and he could move on.

  Lunch. That’s what he needed. Some place far away from Findlay’s cubicle. He needed time to strategize how he was going to keep this situation under control.

  “That girl Wayne hired seems familiar,” Sam Novak said as they slid their cafeteria trays down the metal rails.

  “She’s a woman.”

  “Ah. Sorry. Political correctness. Someday I’ll get used to it.”

  “When?” He shouldn’t be so sharp. Diplomacy applied in business as well as the consulate . . . especially when the person he was talking with was part of the inner sanctum.

  “Easy, man,” Sam said with a smile. “Different generations, you know.”

  Yeah.

  “So who is she?” Sam asked.

  You know damn well who she is. What game was Sam playing?

  “Someone Wayne hired.” He played along. “Lived in Missoula a long time ago and came back. You know he’s a softy for returning Montanans.” And there were always a few. As fast as the state spit out young people looking for new opportunities, their older versions came back for what they’d lost along the way.

  “Mmm.” No longer hungry, Reese paid for his meal then scanned the cafeteria. Damn. She was here—sitting with one of the nerdy-looking guys. He couldn’t think with her around.

  He’d eat in his office. He turned to go but spotted Gossip Central. They had one spot left at their table. He could avoid both Sam and Findlay and get the latest rumors at the same time. A good boss was always on top of what was happening.

  “How’s it going?” he said as he slid his tray on the table and sat in the midst of seven administrators.

  “You’re supposed to tell us that,” Jennifer, the oldest and sassiest of the admins—his admin, in fact—said. She was also the only black woman at the table.

  “Glorious summer day, no layoffs on the horizon, and tomorrow’s Saturday.”

  “Hallelujah,” another admin said.

  A chuckle circled the table.

  He relaxed into the chatter of women and a few men as they talked about the personalities of the office. Here, as in Paris, people lower on the totem pole often had more insight than those at the top. When he’d taken over his father’s newly purchased company, he’d quickly made himself acceptable to those who knew where the bodies were buried.

  “Who’s the new programmer?” Jennifer asked. “You keep watching her.�
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  He hadn’t been as discreet as he’d thought he’d been.

  “Someone I used to know in high school.”

  “I see.” She drew out the second word.

  “Haven’t seen her in a while.” Should he say Findlay was no one important? Or would that make it worse? “Curious to see what she’s like now. And don’t get any ideas. She’s married with a kid.”

  “Divorced,” piped up one of the male assistants.

  Well, that was hopeful. She was back in Missoula for her own reasons, not because she wanted revenge.

  “Whatever,” he said as casually as he could force. “What’s on tap for the weekend? Anyone going to the River Rod Run?”

  “A group of us are going. Want to come?”

  God, he was tempted. Owning a classic car from the last century had always been on the bucket list. Unfortunately, his email box was full. The weekend was the only time to get it under control. “Sorry. Duty calls.”

  “Bad to be you,” Jennifer said.

  He should talk to her about her sass—except he enjoyed it too much.

  His gaze locked on Findlay the moment she got up from her table.

  Looking around, she spotted him.

  The noise in the cafeteria faded for a moment, before she turned away.

  “Uh-huh,” Jennifer said.

  “Time to get back to work.” He used his no-nonsense tone. He didn’t need to answer any other questions about Findlay. Keep her invisible, make sure she didn’t do anything stupid, and he’d still be able to show his father he was good enough to run Gravitz Technologies on a permanent basis.

  Even if he didn’t understand a damn thing his employees said.

  • • •

  “We need to talk.” Reese stood in the door of Findlay’s cubicle.

  Dealing with her old boyfriend on a regular basis was becoming a pain. She’d moved beyond him long ago, and now he was a threat to her plan to retain custody of Kelly Anne. But until her reality changed, she was going to have to deal with him.

  “You’re the boss. As long as it’s work-related, it’s fine with me.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Then we have nothing to talk about.” She turned back to her desk, but his voice stopped her movement, and almost stopped her heart.

  Ridiculous.

  “Yes. We do.” His dark brown eyes stared down at her.

  A flash of being sixteen again, when she could listen to the sound of his voice all day.

  That time was gone. The boy who’d loved her had help destroy her and her family. Now she was faced with the man who could do significant damage to the fragile life she was trying to build.

  He had developed the physique his high school frame had promised—athletically lean. As it had been in the past, his dark brown hair was untamed, and his dress leaned toward preppy casual.

  She bit her tongue.

  “Please.” He intertwined his fingers and flexed.

  The sound of cracking knuckles crawled up her spine.

  “Okay. You can buy me coffee. I need a break.” Maybe if she gave him undivided attention for ten minutes, he’d leave her alone.

  It worked with Kelly Anne.

  She shut down the documentation she was studying and stood.

  He moved away from the door, and she slipped out, all too aware of the in and out of his breathing.

  As they walked to the cafeteria, he kept a neutral expression, nodding to some of the people, flashing a brief smile to others.

  He was the ultimate political boss, never revealing his true feelings.

  The cashier in the cafeteria gave her a second glance after Reese paid for Findlay’s coffee.

  This was so not a good idea. If they had to meet, it should have been somewhere else . . . in another town, like Frenchtown. Or maybe Drummond.

  Butte. Definitely Butte. More than a hundred miles would be far enough away to keep people from talking.

  She sat down beside him, warmed her hands on her paper coffee cup, and stared at the pearlesque button on his shirt.

  Her pulse picked up.

  “We have to talk,” Reese said.

  “You’ve already mentioned that,” she said. “You haven’t told me what you want to talk about.” She dared a look at his chin.

  “We need to discuss what happened when we were kids. Put it behind us once and for all.”

  This time her gaze snapped to his eyes.

  “Simple,” she said. “Your father framed my father, forced him out of their partnership, you dumped me, and my father killed himself. End of story.”

  Reese flinched as if he’d been punched.

  Good.

  “Thanks for the coffee.” She started to rise.

  “Sit down.”

  Her hesitation cramped her thigh muscles, and she sat.

  “My father didn’t frame yours,” he said. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Her résumé was still current. There had to be something else in Missoula that fit her skills and requirements.

  “Wayne says you’re a solid programmer and detail oriented,” he said. “You’re just the type of person we need. But . . . ” He narrowed his eyes, causing previously unseen lines to appear at the edges.

  “What?” Couldn’t he just spit it out?

  “I don’t know . . . ” He took a gulp of coffee. “Look, we have to work together.”

  “No. We don’t. You own the company I work for, but we don’t work together. If you’d stop following me around, we’d be fine.”

  He stared at her.

  Crap. No need to resign. She’d be fired for insubordination.

  “Why did you apply here?” he asked.

  “Li neglected to tell me you owned the company.”

  “I don’t. My father does. I’m the hired hand.”

  “I needed a job,” she countered.

  “Most people do.” He took a gulp of coffee. “I heard you have a little girl. What’s she like?”

  “She’s sweet.” Her insides got all gooey and she forgot where she was. “She’s everything to me. Four years old and curious as a kitten. Got to keep an eye on her, though. She tends to wander off and then can’t remember how to get back.” Would her mother keep a close enough eye on her? The neighborhood was quiet, but it wasn’t that far from busy streets and railroad tracks.

  “Sounds pretty scary.” His voice startled her back to the present.

  “It is.”

  “But at four, doesn’t she know the rules about wandering away?”

  Her shoulders stiffened.

  “Kelly Anne is different.”

  His eyebrow twitched, but he kept quiet.

  So did she.

  After draining his coffee, he glanced at his watch then looked around as if searching for a clue of what to say next. “I’ve kept you too long.”

  She picked up her phone to check the time and nodded but didn’t move.

  They hadn’t resolved a thing.

  “You haven’t told me what you want,” she said.

  “Okay,” he said, “we’ll do it your way. Whatever your father did . . . ”

  “My . . . ”

  He held up his finger.

  “That’s in the past,” he continued. “Fresh slate. I’ll stay away from you as much as possible. You do your job and . . . um . . . stay out of trouble, and we’ll be fine.”

  He picked up his cup, stood, and walked away.

  What the hell had that been all about? What trouble could she possibly get into?

  She pulled attention from his retreating back and glanced around.

  Every person in the cafeteria stared at her. Oh, they tried to hide it, but it was as if a thousand bugs crawled up her spine.

  She stood slowly, head held high, pushed her chair in, and walked to the exit, hiding the adrenaline urging her to run right back to Seattle.

  Chapter 3

  As the weeks progressed, Reese kept his promise and stayed out of her way, so Findlay was able to relax into
her job. She’d enrolled Kelly Anne in one of the summer programs her mother had recommended. Under her new teacher’s tutelage, Kelly Anne blossomed and adjusted to her new routine.

  They’d settled into their traditional Friday night supper—grilled cheese and tomato soup—when her mother’s old-fashioned landline rang. As he’d promised, Chris called Kelly Anne once a week, usually on Wednesdays.

  “Hello?” her mother said. “I’ll pass the phone.” Mouthing “Chris,” she handed the phone to Findlay.

  “Hello?” she said as she walked the handset out the back kitchen door into the tiny yard.

  “It’s Chris.”

  “You’ve already talked to her this week. What do you want?”

  “Damn it, Findlay. Cut me some slack. I’m not the bad guy here. I’d like to talk to my daughter.”

  “Our daughter.”

  “Give it a rest. I love her just as much as you do.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it.” She started a loop around the edge of the small lawn, her go-to route when she paced.

  “I don’t always come up with the right words like you think you do, but I want the best for her. Yeah, it took me a while to adjust to her not being perfect, but I’m there.”

  “You don’t know what she needs. How can you try to take her away from me?”

  “How do you expect me to learn when you’ve taken her to godforsaken Montana? I can get better services for her here. And I have insurance.”

  “Which you have to provide for her.”

  “I do.”

  The silence that stretched between them was almost as effective as volleying verbal balls. She could feel his displeasure all the way from Washington.

  “Can I speak to my—our daughter now?”

  She clenched her teeth. Her attorney had told her she had to let Chris speak with Kelly Anne, no matter what. If she didn’t, he’d have a legitimate case to go back to court. With a different judge, he might get more.

  “Don’t upset her.”

  Taking the phone away from her ear, she walked back into the kitchen.

  “It’s your father, sweetie,” she said, trying to hide the displeasure in her voice.

  “Daddy!” Kelly Lynn grabbed the phone. “I got a new school, and there’s a nice lady and she has snacks!”

  Maybe her daughter would get on one of her talking jags, and Chris wouldn’t be able to get to her.