Читать книгу Catching Her Rival - Lisa Dyson - Страница 12
ОглавлениеJACK WAS UP early the next morning after a late night of prep for his ten o’clock meeting. Fighting the morning traffic from Newport to Providence made his trip a few minutes longer than expected, but it gave him more time to anticipate coffee with Allie.
What was it about her that made him feel different than he did about Charlotte? Physically, they were so much alike. Until he heard they were born in different states, he would have sworn they were identical twins. Perhaps they were sisters with the same father, different mother. Or at least cousins. The central question remained: Why was he attracted to one and not the other?
And, man, was he hot for Allie. His body reacted just at the thought of her. He shifted in his seat as much as his seat belt allowed.
His cell phone played a piano riff from the center console, announcing an incoming call. He hit the button on his hands-free device. “Jack Fletcher.”
“Good morning, Jack,” the female caller said. “This is Monica Everly.”
He recognized the deep, gravelly voice of his potential client. “How are you, Ms. Everly?” The fiftysomething woman had started her successful organic and sustainable farm-animal food company a decade ago and was now looking to broaden her scope by introducing organic dog and cat food.
Jack was determined that he would be the one to make her expansion from farms into people’s homes successful.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to postpone our meeting this morning. I’ve got a family emergency.”
“Emergency? I hope it’s nothing too serious.”
“We’ll know soon enough,” Ms. Everly said in her no-nonsense manner. “I’m on my way to the vet with our Daisy. She was up all night with a cough. I hope she didn’t pick up that nasty kennel cough from the groomer’s last weekend.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. I hope she feels better soon.”
Jack had been introduced to Daisy, a sixty-pound rescue mutt with no manners, when he first met with her owner about moving the company forward into new markets. Ms. Everly claimed their current advertising agency wasn’t taking her future seriously. Daisy had her own space in Ms. Everly’s office, including a bed, water and food bowls and a basket of toys.
“After I know what’s going on with Daisy, we can reschedule your presentation.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Jack said. “I hope all goes well.”
Ms. Everly disconnected in silence.
Jack was beyond disappointed. The firm put all their efforts into securing this account, and they couldn’t afford a delay.
He was close to his office when the piano riff on his cell phone sounded again. He pushed the button to connect. “Jack Fletcher.”
“Jack, my boy, just checking in.” His grandfather sounded more robust than he had on Saturday morning. “Is your presentation up to snuff?”
Jack proceeded to tell him about the meeting being postponed because of the dog.
“The dog?” Granddad practically shouted into the phone. “Damn! We need that account now.”
Nothing Jack hadn’t heard before. His grandfather had been pressuring Jack constantly about luring the client to their firm. His grandfather repeatedly reminded Jack that the fate of the company rested on his shoulders, and Ms. Everly’s business was their best hope.
“Did you reschedule?”
“Not yet. She wants to hear the vet’s diagnosis first.”
“I want you to come to the hospital,” his grandfather said. “We can go over your presentation and decide how to handle this delay.”
“I really need—”
“I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Granddad disconnected with no further discussion.
The hospital wasn’t too far from the office. Jack called his assistant to update her as he entered the hospital garage and then found a parking space.
“I’m here to see Patrick Fletcher,” Jack said to the woman behind a large desk in the bustling lobby of the hospital.
Her fingers clicked on the keyboard while she watched her monitor. “Room 317.” She handed him a visitor badge and said, “The elevators are down that hall and around the corner to the right. Have a nice day.”
“Thanks. You, too.” He clipped the badge to his dress-shirt breast pocket. Then he headed to the bank of elevators.
According to the sign when he got out on the third floor, his grandfather’s room was to the right. When Jack had visited him before the wedding on Saturday, Granddad had been transferred to ICU as a precaution. Yesterday he had been moved back to this floor, but to a different room than before.
“Hey, Granddad,” Jack greeted him as he knocked on the doorframe of his open door.
The older man was sitting up, the head of his bed raised. He set aside the newspaper he’d been reading. “Hello, my boy. Come on in and tell me more about the animal lady.”
Jack leaned in to hug him, glad to see his color improved. “Not until you tell me how you’re feeling.” Jack hadn’t gotten a chance to ask him when they spoke on the phone. “You’re looking much better than you did Saturday morning.”
“Good enough to go home, but they won’t let me.” He went on to tell Jack about the medical tests his doctor still wanted to do. “Besides having low blood sugar the other day, he’s still worried about my heart.”
Jack moved the lone vinyl chair closer to the hospital bed. “Better to be sure you’re okay.” His grandfather lived alone in a high-rise, even though Jack had been trying to get the seventy-nine-year-old to move into a senior assisted-living facility.
“Yeah, yeah,” Granddad mumbled and then changed the subject. “You feel good about the presentation? You know we must get this account.”
Jack was intensely aware of the pressure he was under, even if his grandfather didn’t remind him constantly. The past few years had been rough ones for Empire Advertising, and his grandfather was counting on Jack to rescue it.
Back when Granddad founded the company—thirteen years before Jack was born—he’d snagged several accounts that grew substantially. They included the company whose duck-shaped cookies became a top snack item for the under-ten set, and a juice company that saw their market share quadruple when they began mixing vegetables into their fruit juices.
Unfortunately, over the past decade, many of the CEOs of the large firms that had been the lifeblood of Empire had retired. In turn, their younger counterparts, looking for a fresher approach, sent their advertising dollars to the younger, hipper ad agencies.
From the time Jack graduated from college ten years ago, his grandfather had pressed him to come and work for Empire. Instead, Jack had stuck to his plan to work for one of those hipper agencies based in New York City. Two years ago, Granddad had finally talked Jack into coming onboard by admitting that Empire couldn’t last much longer without help. That’s also when his grandfather told Jack he’d inherit the company someday. So if Jack wanted the security of his own firm, then he’d have to work for it.
After spending a few more minutes talking strategy with his grandfather, Jack checked the time. “I’d better get into the office. I’ll call you later to see what your doctor says.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Granddad said. “You get that crazy dog woman to give you her advertising money.”
Jack couldn’t help cracking a smile. His grandfather never minced words. He used to have a filter when necessary, but over the past few months that filter had become almost nonexistent.
He hugged his grandfather and left the hospital. He wondered if he’d be able to get any work done before meeting Allie, since he couldn’t seem to get her out of his head.
* * *
ALLIE WAS HAVING a heck of a morning.
Just when she finally thought she had her act together, she found out her eleven o’clock meeting was canceled. So much for the presentation she was up until 2:00 a.m. working on.
So much for the zipper on her skirt that finally got unstuck from her blouse.
And so much for the cold shower she had to take this morning because of the broken water heater in her apartment building.
She sat at her desk in her rented office space and stared at her computer. She was eager to figure out how she and Charlotte could get a DNA test done, but that research would have to wait. Right now she needed to get down to business and find more clients so she could afford to get out of this place and into a real office. Making cold calls was one of her least favorite things. She was the idea person. Give her a product and she’d come up with a gimmick. Preferably one that she could animate.
With no funds to fall back on, Allie couldn’t afford to rent more than the one office she currently occupied. It came with the use of a conference room and a receptionist, both of which were shared by seven other small offices. What was lacking was any sense of style or warmth.
It was a far cry from the office she used to work in. DP Advertising was located in one of the most prestigious buildings in Providence. When she worked for them, Allie had a plush office overlooking the city. There she led a team of talented and creative people with loads of energy. Unfortunately, the team included Jimmy, her ex-boyfriend who’d recently landed in federal prison.
Her phone rang, startling her out of her reverie. “Allie Miller.” She wasn’t used to having anyone call her—most of her communication was done through texts or emails. She hoped this was good news. She could use some.
“Hello, Ms. Miller. This is Joan Broadwell from the Rhode Island Animal Rescue League.”
Allie had forgotten about the application she’d filled out online. “Yes, Ms. Broadwell. It’s good to hear from you.”
“I’ve been looking over your fostering application and have contacted your references. I’m happy to say that you’ve been approved. We should have a dog for you to foster in the next few days.”
“That’s wonderful.” Allie tried to sound excited, but she was faking it. It wasn’t that she disliked dogs. She was simply indifferent to animals of all kinds. She saw no need to have them as pets. The only reason she applied to foster a dog was to impress her potential client. As soon as she landed the account, Allie would return the dog and tell the Rescue League that being a foster parent—or whatever they called it—wasn’t working out for her.
She’d hoped to get the dog before her presentation so she could bring it with her. In the end, having her appointment with the client delayed had worked in her favor.
The woman who owned Naturally Healthy Animal Food brought her own dog to her office. And it was actually because the dog—named Tulip or Rosebud or some such thing—had caught something called kennel cough that their meeting this morning had been canceled.
“Now, you do realize that since you live in an apartment, we can’t give you a dog larger than about twenty-five pounds.”
“Yes, I understand.” She didn’t need a big dog like Daisy—that was the dog’s name. But Daisy wasn’t anything close to a delicate flower, as she had proved when she jumped up on Allie, practically knocking her over.
They finished their conversation and disconnected. Not two minutes later, the phone rang again.
“Allie Miller.”
“Oh, Ms. Miller, this is Joan Broadwell again. Great news! We have a dog that we think will work perfectly for you.” She went on to explain that one of their other foster parents had to go out of town unexpectedly for an extended time and could no longer care for the Jack Russell terrier–beagle mix he’d been fostering for a few weeks. “When do you think you can pick up Harvey?”
Allie hit a key on her keyboard to display her calendar. Blank. The rest of the day was open except for coffee with Jack at two.
“I can come anytime after three,” she said. Jack probably couldn’t take more than an hour off from his job, whatever that might be. Surprisingly, that particular subject hadn’t come up.
As soon as she hung up, she searched online to find out what a Jack Russell terrier looked like so she wouldn’t look stupid and inexperienced when she picked up the dog. The beagle part was easy. Isn’t that what Snoopy from the Peanuts comic strip was?
She was about to become a first-time pet owner. Wow. How weird did that sound? Almost stranger than saying she was Harvey’s foster mom.
* * *
CHARLOTTE WAS DUSTY and dirty by the time she brought down the first of many boxes containing her mother’s files that were still in the attic. The plastic tubs felt heavier than she remembered as she carefully made her way down the folding steps to the guest room on the second floor.
She was anxious to continue searching for clues about her adoption, deciding to go through each file meticulously, not putting the boxes back in her attic again. Of course, that would take time, but she didn’t want to miss anything, and she certainly didn’t want to go through them again later.
She’d covered the hardwood floor of her spare bedroom with an old sheet to protect the surface. She hadn’t gotten around to furnishing the room yet, so it was a large empty space. When her college friend had visited several weeks ago, Charlotte had given Joanie her own bed, and Charlotte had slept on an inflatable air mattress in the spare room. She wasn’t expecting more company anytime soon, so using the room to spread out Mom’s papers should work perfectly.
“Bank statements, receipts, tax returns,” she said aloud. “Even her pay stubs from when she worked at a fast-food chain in high school.” Charlotte couldn’t help laughing.
She had to admit that even though her mother might seem like a hoarder to some, the files were definitely meticulously organized.
A thought came to her. Would her mother have had to pay money at the time of Charlotte’s adoption? If so, a receipt of such a transaction might give Charlotte a clue about who her mother had dealt with. She must have at least paid for legal or medical expenses. Charlotte searched the box for records from 1986. Nothing. Wrong box.
She carefully climbed back into the attic to find the right box. The two bare bulbs with pull chains didn’t provide the best light, so she had to bring several boxes down before she found the right one.
With each descent, she checked the box to see if it contained the bank statements from 1986. Finally, on the fourth box, she found them.
Her heart beat wildly.
Like the others she’d found, the 1986 bank statements were in one of the small boxes inside the plastic tub that Charlotte had used in order to ensure nothing was ruined by moisture or heat in her attic.
She pulled out the small box from the plastic tub and sat cross-legged on the floor. For a moment, she simply stared at the container in front of her. What would she discover? Perhaps something life-altering? Maybe nothing at all.
Her hands shook and she laughed at her nervousness as she opened the box to find twelve identical envelopes in chronological order. She began with January, thinking there may have been a payment to someone several months prior to her birth.
She removed the pile of checks, which were in numerical order. There were canceled checks for rent, utilities, groceries, even a check made out to a local family-owned furniture store long out of business. The notation on the check said crib.
Charlotte’s eyes teared up. Her mother had been nesting before bringing her baby home.
A single tear escaped and ran down her cheek. She brushed it away and blinked several times to clear her vision. She studied the bank statement. Nothing unusual. The only deposits were identical checks that Charlotte assumed were from the accounting firm where her mother had worked. One near the beginning of the month and one right after the middle. Direct deposit wasn’t readily available in those days.
She took out the February statement. Nothing looked any different from January, except for a check with a notation of changing table, made out to the same furniture store where her mother had bought the crib.
March was the same, but there were no extra checks written for baby items. Mom must have used her credit card for the other purchases. Charlotte was sure to discover those records eventually.
Finally, April. The month of her birth. She could barely breathe. She carefully opened the envelope. This time she pulled out the bank statement first.
She immediately saw a deposit for thirty thousand dollars. “Where the heck did that come from?” she asked out loud. Her mother’s yearly salary at the time wasn’t much more than that.
Who could have given her that much money? Had she taken out a loan? Charlotte would have to dig through more paperwork from 1986 to find out.
She looked at the statement again and noticed a check for thirty thousand had been written by her mother two days after Charlotte was born.
Who had given or loaned her the money? More importantly, who had she written the check to?
Charlotte quickly pulled the checks from the envelope. Her fingers trembled as she went through each one. Finally she came to the one she was looking for. Thirty thousand dollars, but it was made out to Cash.
She quickly turned it over to see who had endorsed it. Her heart sank. As hard as she studied the signature, she couldn’t decipher the scribble. She couldn’t make out the first letter in either the first or last name. Even worse, the check had been cashed at the same bank as her mother’s account, not deposited, because there wasn’t even an account number along with the signature.
Definitely a dead end.
* * *
ALLIE SPENT NEARLY an hour on the internet, trying to find local businesses that might need assistance with their advertising. She found three prospects to contact, meeting the daily goal she’d set for herself.
Next she went on Twitter and participated in a discussion on branding. She would check later to see if she had any new followers. Other advertising professionals would be good, but finding companies or individuals who were trying to do their own advertising would be ideal. She could assist them in improving their public presence both online and anywhere else that might be beneficial to their individual goals.
Finally, she decided her newly formed company needed a blog. She figured she could find something worthwhile to say at least twice a week, so she started on her first entry. She called it “How a Brand-New Ad Agency Handles Its Own Advertising.” Her website already had a blog page ready to go, so uploading her piece would be simple.
With a draft of her blog entry set aside to review later, she turned her attention to searching for information about getting a DNA test done. Lots of ads came up with the search, but after reading some websites, she had a better understanding of the process.
She picked up the phone and called Charlotte. “Any news on your end?” she asked without preamble. “This is Allie, by the way.”
Charlotte laughed. “I know. You sound like I do when I listen to myself on my voice mail message.”
Allie grinned and paid attention while Charlotte told her about finding the deposit and the check to Cash in her mother’s files.
“That’s a good start, but it brings up a lot more questions.”
“I know. Believe me, I’ve been making a list,” Charlotte told her. “I’m guessing she got a loan for the thirty thousand dollars since it all showed up at once, and as far as I know she had no living relatives, but I haven’t found any documentation. Which is surprising, since she was so organized.”
“Keep looking. You’re sure to find the answers. Maybe she transferred it from a savings account.”
“That’s true. I haven’t come across her savings account records from back then yet,” Charlotte said. “I don’t actually know if the money in and out of her account is even related to my adoption. Just because it occurred two days after I was born, that doesn’t make it conclusive. Maybe she bought a car or a really nice piece of jewelry.” Charlotte paused. “Although she wasn’t the expensive jewelry type.”
“Back then, for that price, that would have been a pretty nice car,” Allie commented. “Do you really think she would have spent that much on a car, or anything for that matter, knowing she’d need money for the baby she was about to adopt?”
“Probably not. You’re right. She never had expensive taste,” Charlotte said. “She was able to pay for my education and left me more than enough money to buy my house—all on her accountant salary.”
“Sweet,” Allie said. “The advantage of being an only child.”
“One of the few.” Charlotte’s voice turned somber.
Allie needed to change the subject before Charlotte’s mood sank lower. “I’ve been checking out DNA testing online,” she said. “It sounds pretty straightforward. You’ve probably seen it done on TV. You swab your cheek and send it off to the lab.”
“How long before we’d get the results?” Good. Charlotte had snapped out of her melancholy.
“That information wasn’t available on the website, so I emailed to ask and also to find out exactly what the results might tell us. If they don’t contact me by tomorrow, I’ll make some phone calls.”
“Sounds good. Anything else going on with you? How did your presentation go?”
“Postponed. The CEO’s dog might have kennel cough. Is that a real thing? I meant to look it up.”
Charlotte laughed. “Yes, it’s a real thing. They give dogs vaccines for it. I would think your animal-food CEO would have had that covered.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Allie checked the time on her computer and realized she had to leave in a few minutes. “Hey, can I call you later? I’m supposed to meet Jack for coffee at two.”
“You are?” Charlotte’s excitement was clear. “Why didn’t you tell me? When did that happen?”
Allie told her that he had come out of his house as she was leaving Charlotte’s the day before. “It’s just coffee. Nothing more.”
“Well, have a good time. He’s really nice, and funny, too.”
“And you’re sure you’re not interested in him?” Allie needed confirmation.
“Absolutely.”
“You don’t have to sound so positive about it,” Allie teased. “You make it seem like there’s something wrong with him. Is he a serial killer? A pervert? Please don’t tell me he has a third nipple or six toes.” She giggled at the thought.
Charlotte laughed, too. “I didn’t mean it that way, but for all I know, he could have webbed feet or something equally as disturbing. I just don’t have feelings for him like that, that’s all.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. You would tell me if there’s something I should know, right?”
“I swear. He’s a good guy. He even seems to be the sole caretaker for his grandfather.”
“That’s a good reference,” Allie said. “Now tell me his faults.”
“I don’t know him well enough to know his intimate secrets, but I should warn you about how he feels on the topics of marriage and commitment.”
Please don’t let him be looking for a wife. Please, please, please.
“Go on.” Allie held her breath.
“He’s commitment-phobic, completely against settling down. I’m not sure exactly why, but I think it has something to do with his dad.”
Allie expelled the breath that was burning her lungs. “Whew! You had me worried. Have I mentioned that I’m off men? Sometime I’ll tell you about my last boyfriend.” Allie closed her laptop and put it into her rolling brief case. “I’m only having coffee with Jack so I can tell him that—that I’m off men.”
“Don’t be so hasty,” Charlotte said quickly. “You never know how things will work out. Besides, you have other things in common, too.”
“Like what?”
“Well, you’re both in the same profession.”
Allie’s heart stopped. “The same profession?
“Yes, he’s in advertising, too. I’m surprised he hasn’t mentioned it.” Charlotte laughed. “Wouldn’t it be funny if you two were competitors?”
“Yeah, real funny.” Allie wasn’t laughing, though.
