Читать книгу Found: Her Long-Lost Husband - Jackie Braun - Страница 7

SUMNER MAYFIELD WAS average height and a little on the heavy side. He carried his weight well, though, thanks to broad shoulders and cleverly tailored clothes that helped hide his widening girth. To Claire, her father had always been larger than life, someone she had feared as much as she had revered. Today, as she sat across from him in his office in the Mayfield headquarters building, she noted the deep lines that fanned from his eyes and the thinning hair. He’d grown older, she realized. And she’d finally grown up.

“Your mother was wondering if you’d be by for dinner this evening,” he said.

“I have plans.” She didn’t, but neither did she intend to subject herself to an evening of badgering and emotional blackmail. “Sorry.”

“You disappoint me, Claire. Aren’t you even going to ask how she is?”

“Has she recovered from her migraine?”

“Thankfully, yes. She’s been in bed for days, you know. Even the prescription the doctor gave her failed to take the edge off for more than a day.” His tone held accusation.

“Why is that my fault, Dad?” He always did this, both of her parents did. They tried to make her feel guilty and responsible, as if her mother’s very survival depended on Claire toeing the line.

“Well, your current behavior certainly isn’t helping matters. You know how delicate her health is.”

Claire sucked in a breath, held it a moment before exhaling slowly through her teeth.

“I’m not here to talk about Mother. I’m here to discuss business. I want you to reconsider my application for vice president of new product development for our North American market.”

“Kitten, we’ve been over this,” he said condescendingly. “Before you left for the Himalayas I explained why I passed you over. You’re just not ready.”

“Clive thinks I am,” she said, invoking the name of the department’s executive head. He was set to retire by the end of the year, at which time the current vice president would take his place, creating the opening Claire sought. Clive said she reminded him a lot of her father.

“You have great instincts,” he’d told her a couple of months back when he’d encouraged her to approach her father.

Sumner didn’t share his opinion.

“I think you need more time,” he said, steepling his fingers. “Besides, Roger Fleming has been in the department longer.”

“So longevity trumps ingenuity? For goodness’ sake, Dad, Roger Fleming wouldn’t recognize innovation if it bit him in the butt,” she countered. Claire had ideas. She saw potential for greater opportunities for Mayfield to move into so-called green products that were more environmentally friendly. It was a largely untapped market for the company. “Mayfield is on the cusp. We can embrace change or we can watch our customer base continue to erode.”

“Some of our products face stiff competition,” Sumner conceded. “But overall we’re solid.”

“Dinosaurs were solid too. Look what happened to them.”

He snorted. “Mayfield is never going to become extinct.”

“Maybe not extinct, but we’re following where we used to be leading. You’ve told me often enough that Granddad was a pioneer. That spirit has been lost. We’re reacting to our competitors, rather than being proactive and forcing them to react to us. I can be a great asset to this company if given half a chance.”

After that impassioned monologue, Sumner merely shook his head. “I’m sorry, Claire. My mind is made up. Maybe in another couple of years you’ll be ready for a position like that. For now, I think you need more…seasoning.”

“Another couple of years?” She thought about the bike trip, the hours she’d cycled, the distance she’d traveled in more ways than could be measured in miles or kilometers. She couldn’t tolerate the status quo any longer. “I’m sorry too, Dad, because you leave me no choice but to look for work elsewhere.”

Sumner looked amused by her bold declaration. “And where would you go, kitten?”

She gritted her teeth at the childish nickname. Even now he didn’t see her as an adult. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think I’ll have a problem getting a job.”

“Oh, really?”

“As you’ve always told me, Dad, the Mayfield name opens doors.”

Sumner glowered in response. “Don’t threaten me, young lady,” he admonished, standing so he could lean forward to rest his hands on the desk.

It was a tactic she’d seen him use often in the boardroom, generally with favorable results. It didn’t work on Claire—this time. She rose to her feet as well.

“I’m not threatening you.” She kept her voice calm, her gaze steady lest he accuse her of being hysterical. Her father could be disgustingly sexist, a character trait Claire’s mother enabled with her feebleness. “I’m stating fact. I want to stay at Mayfield. That goes without saying. But only if you finally start taking me seriously and recognize that I have real contributions to make.”

“Perhaps I’d take you more seriously if you’d settle down and stop acting so outrageously. Moving into the city, breaking your mother’s heart.”

“What’s outrageous about wanting to run my own life? I could be the best thing to happen to product development in a long time if you’d stop treating me like I’m twelve and start remembering that I have a master’s degree in business. As a Mayfield, I have a stake in this company, which is why I’ve stayed even after watching less qualified people be promoted above me. I want a position that reflects my capabilities and challenges my potential. If I can’t get that at Mayfield, then I’ll go elsewhere to meet my needs.”

“Your needs?” He levered himself away from the desk and walked to the window. Over one shoulder he asked, “What do you need, Claire? Your mother and I have given you everything you could ever want.”

“Except the freedom to push myself,” she said quietly. “That’s what I liked about the Himalayas trip. For the first time in my life, being a Mayfield wasn’t enough. I had no one else to fall back on.” She thought of Ethan when she added, “I had no one to use.” And then she thought of her parents. “I had no one to blame. It all came down to me, to my stamina, to my skills and to my sheer will.”

“It was just a bike ride.”

She shook her head. He still didn’t get it. “You know, Dad, I’ve never considered myself to be very much like you. Everyone has always told me I’m the picture of Mother, soft-spoken and delicately built. For a while, I started to believe that I needed to be cared for, looked after. But you know what? I inherited some of your steel after all. I’ll give you until the end of the week to reconsider the promotion. I won’t take no for an answer this time.”

He issued an oath. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”

Her smile was sad. “I know you don’t, but I do.”

Early the next morning, Claire sat alone at a table in Café Connections, an Internet coffeehouse within walking distance of her apartment. Her life certainly was in chaos, which she recognized and accepted as a necessary first step to true change. Recognizing and accepting, of course, weren’t the same as liking. She’d spent a sleepless night trying to figure out how to tidy up the current mess so she could move on. She sipped a cup of French roast and considered her options.

“I won’t take no for an answer.”

She’d told her father that yesterday. Maybe she should have said the same thing to Ethan when they’d spoken earlier in the week. Despite offering an apology, nothing between them felt remotely resolved. In fact, quite the opposite.

She needed encouragement. She needed advice. And so she booted up her laptop, logged on to the Internet and wrote an e-mail to Simone and Belle.

Lots to report in the past week here…

She summarized the meeting with her father and then the conversation with Ethan.

We spoke on the telephone—and before you say anything, Belle, he refused to meet with me, so he left me little choice but to do my groveling over the phone. I said I was sorry. He didn’t appear moved by the apology. The exchange was relatively brief.

She sipped her coffee, recalling that there had been a time when they’d been able to talk for hours.

And not all that polite.

Just as there was a time when he’d been solicitous, gentlemanly.

Claire glanced out of the window for a moment, watching the traffic speed by and the pedestrians file past. They all seemed to know where they were going.

I don’t feel any better, she confided. I don’t feel like I’ve resolved anything. In fact, I realized as I spoke with Ethan that I’m still a little bitter that he took that damned check from my father.

And she was.

She remembered seeing it in his hand, a pale green slip of paper that had sealed their fate. Ethan hadn’t refused it or torn it to bits as she’d expected him to, had wanted him to. The dollar amount had been visible, and though it was a princely sum, her only thought had been: is that all I’m worth?

“Things are easily taken care of in your world, aren’t they?” he had the nerve to say, sounding angry.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Are you going to stand there and tell me you planned to stay married to me?”

The truth was she hadn’t been sure…not until the previous night when he’d made love to her with such tender conviction. Her face heated and she was too embarrassed, felt too exposed to share that thought with him. He apparently took her flaming cheeks to mean something else.

“Claire.” Her father was at the door to their hotel suite, holding it open, impatient to be on his way. “We need to leave. Now. You’re Mother is waiting.”

“Better go, kitten.” Ethan’s lips twisted as he used her father’s nickname for her. He knew, of course, how much she despised it. “No need to keep slumming now that you’ve made your point.”

Claire didn’t understand what he’d meant by that nasty comment, but her father ushered her out before she could ask. On the flight home, she was so confused. What did she want to happen now? What exactly had she expected to happen between her and Ethan after their hasty nuptials? She hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Later, when it had become clear she would never see Ethan again, she’d felt disappointed, disillusioned. Finally, all that had remained was shame and regret for her behavior. Apparently anger had been hiding in there as well.

She wrote:

So, what do you guys think? Do I try again? And, if so, how do you suggest I go about it?

Send.

She sipped her coffee and waited for a response. Belle would be done for the day at the television studio, her London morning talk show long off air. As for Simone, she’d probably be kicking back in her Melbourne apartment after a long day at work at the magazine.