Foolish Notions Page 3

  “Pardon?”

  Well, at least she didn’t hang up on him. “She has requested that you be her nurse during her treatment. I know it sounds crazy, but she has been very persistent about this.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Of course she wouldn’t.

  “I can give you the names of some good nurses if you’d like,” she offered.

  James pressed his thumb and pointer finger into his eyes—his migraine from yesterday was returning. The intense pressure across his forehead promised to rival the pain he’d experienced the previous day. “We’ve probably already interviewed them,” he said as he pinched tighter.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He sat up tall in his chair. The motion cleared his head enough so he could think. “She wants you. I’ve tried to explain to her that it wouldn’t work, but she refuses to listen. Normally, I wouldn’t have called, but I’m becoming concerned because her treatment starts so soon and she won’t decide on a nurse until she talks to you.”

  “Maybe if I give her a call I can explain that it just isn’t possible.”

  “That won’t work.” He picked up his pen again and tapped it in an erratic fashion as he gazed out the window. A phone call wouldn’t be enough for his mom. She would want to see Samantha in person. “Come see her.”

  “Come?”

  “She’s staying with me.”

  “I see.”

  “If you’re not busy, why don’t you come over to the house tomorrow? That way you can tell her in person that you can’t work for her. Make something up if you have to. It’s the only way she’s going to back down.”

  “Well—”

  James heard the hesitation in her soft voice and guessed correctly that she didn’t want to risk seeing him. He ground his teeth together and took a slow deep breath. “I won’t be home.”

  “It’s not—”

  “I have to work all day. Just stop in. It would be a wonderful treat for her—she would love to see you.”

  “Yes, I would love to see her, too.” There was a moment of silence before her gentle voice rang through. “Tell her I’ll be by.”

  “Sam—Samantha—”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

  The phone dangled in mid-air before he gently set it back.

  Chapter Three

  James buttered the two slices of cinnamon toast lightly and set a cup of coffee on a bed tray. He eyed Ginger, his housekeeper, as she came out of the utility closet. The flashy gold-toned earrings that dangled from her ears matched the rhinestones embedded around the collar of her shirt. He smiled at his flamboyant housekeeper. “You are a miracle worker with flour and baking powder,” he said as he took a bite of toast. “This is my third piece.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” Ginger ran her hand across a strip of molding, checking for dust on the stark white cloth she had sprayed with cleaner. “I should have made two loaves.”

  He nodded in agreement and polished off the rest of the toast. “Might I ask why you are cleaning houses when you can bake like this? You should have a bakery in old town somewhere.” He held his hands up. “I can see it. A quaint little shop nestled between two antique stores. The aroma of baking yeast would permeate the store and seep outside, drawing in people who were looking for right-from-the-oven goodies.”

  “It does sound tempting. But if I were to do that, people like you would be living in filth.”

  “People like me? Are you trying to imply that I’m dirty?” He stumbled back and made sure he kept his amusement out of his voice. “You wound me, Ginger.”

  She rolled her eyes at his drama then laughed. “Not at all. However, you are a very busy bachelor who doesn’t think about separating his white clothes from his color clothes or the ungodly amount of dust that accumulates on the ceiling fans.”

  He tilted his head suspiciously. “You clean my ceiling fans?”

  With an over exaggerated nod, which caused the large hoops in her ears to swing, she said, “See what I mean? You’re not dirty, just busy.” She wrapped the leftover cinnamon bread in plastic wrap and stored it in the cabinet nearest to her. “Have you found a nurse yet?”

  James’s mood instantly shifted from enjoyable teasing to somber. “No, we’re working on it.”

  Ginger gave him a sideways glance. “Marie being stubborn, or are you?”

  As James watched Ginger meticulously sweep the dining area, it dawned on him how much they had really gotten to know one another over the last year. Ginger was more than just a housekeeper, she was a friend. When she had found out Marie was sick she started to come in an extra day a week. Fortunately, she usually brought a little something to eat, too. “I think it’s a little of both of us. We can’t seem to agree on a nurse.”

  “The two of you are too much alike.” She bent to sweep a pile of dirt into a dustpan. “You’ll agree.”

  James made a grunting sound.

  Ginger looked up and eyed him. “You will.” She stood and moved to the trashcan. “And when you do, everything will work out. You’ll see.”

  “We have one more nurse coming today. My mom will do the interview. Her name is Samantha. She should be here around noon.” He took the tray on the counter. “I’m going to take this up.”

  * * * * *

  “Good morning.” James handed Marie the paper he had already read and neatly refolded. When she tucked it under her arm, he set the tray across her lap.

  “Thank you,” Marie said as she viewed the tray. “What would I do without you?”

  The question was, what would he do without her? That was something he would not allow himself to think about. If he did, it would be like he was admitting she wasn’t going to make it.

  “You’ll never have to find that out.”

  She smiled tenderly at him.

  “Sleep well?”

  “Yes. It’s the first time in days that I’ve been able to sleep through the entire night.” She stretched her arms over her head and looked out the window. The morning sun cast warm golden light into the room, highlighting particles of dust and lint, which appeared to float weightlessly through the air in all directions. “It must be the beautiful weather.”

  “You look good.” He wasn’t just saying it to encourage her, either. Her cheeks held a hint of soft, pale pink. He noticed how her blue eyes had flickered brightly—with mischief—when he had leaned over and set the tray across her lap. She must have gotten up early, because her hair was neatly combed and she wore a matching jogging suit instead of her nightdress.

  “I feel good,” she added. “I think that was all I needed, a good night’s rest.”

  “No pain?” He moved to the window and cracked it open to allow the richly scented breeze in.

  “Just a little. Nothing to worry about.” She nibbled on a piece of toast.

  “I can get you something.” He turned toward the bathroom.

  “I don’t need anything. I’m fine, really.” When he stopped, she smiled at him. “Nothing I can’t handle. Besides, I’m not going to pop a pill every time I feel a little twinge.”

  James took a seat in a Victorian floral tapestry chair, which was only a few feet from the bed. “Ginger made a loaf of her famous cinnamon bread.” He motioned to her plate. “It’s delicious toasted. I think I should hire her as our cook instead of our housekeeper.”

  Marie took a bite of the crisp bread. After she swallowed, she spoke. “This is delightful.” After a moment she added, “Did you call Samantha last night?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And?”

  “She’s coming over sometime today.”

  Dropping the toast, she clasped her hands together and smiled. “Thank you.”

  He lifted a brow. “That doesn’t mean she’ll be able to take the job.”

  “I understand, but it will be good to see her.”

  He looked at his watch. “I need to go. I have to get
in early so Shelly can type up a proposal. The earlier I get there the happier she will be.” He pushed out of the chair and kissed her cheek. “Call me if you need anything. Don’t forget Ginger’s here, too.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She lifted the tray off her lap and set it aside.

  “I need to get my lazy butt out of bed, that’s what I need to do.”

  He looked over his shoulder. “Just don’t overdo it.”

  “Have you ever known me to overdo it?”

  James stopped midstride and slowly turned so his large frame faced into the room. His eyes locked with his mom’s. By her expression, he knew that she was very aware of the huge can of worms she had just so unwisely opened. “You really don’t want me to answer that, do you?” he asked, as his disdainful gaze challenged her.

  She cocked her head hopefully. “Is that a rhetorical question or an authentic one?”

  “Take a guess.”

  She looked heavenward, her hands quickly folding into prayer. Her expression was split between wholesomeness and sheer determination as she began to speak. “Please, Lord, have mercy on me and I’ll never ask that question ever again nor will I ever—ever—”

  “Don’t bring the Lord into this.” He watched her wince when he interrupted her prayer.

  “He’s the only one who can save me now.”

  “Perhaps. However, I have a feeling you’re about to make a promise you can’t keep,” he said dryly.

  Marie drew her eyes from the ceiling to glance at him. “Oh, I’ll keep it if the good Lord spares me this conversation.”

  “You will not be saved today, Mom,” James said as he moved back into the room. “Let’s see, where shall I start?” His finger popped in the air suddenly. “Let’s start when I was six and I had the chicken pox and wasn’t able to go see Santa at the mall.”

  “Must we really do this?” Giving up on the prayer, Marie found her way back to the edge of the bed and let out a long breath as she sat. “I’m beginning to feel tired.”

  “I bet you are.” He watched her take the coffee from the tray and sip it slowly. “You brought Santa home.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Naturally, you start with the Santa story—”

  “I start with the Santa story because—”

  “I know, I know. Because, according to you, it’s the most traumatizing of all the things that I’ve done.” She thought for a moment. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed. Besides, it’s what any good mom would have done.”

  His eyes widened, and when he spoke his voice was an octave higher than normal. “But you reconstructed the entire wonderland in the living room and Santa’s workshop in the dining room.”

  Marie nodded and smiled at the same time. “It was magnificent wasn’t it?”

  “Mom—”

  “You were surprised when you came downstairs, weren’t you?”

  “Startled was more like it.”

  She waved a hand at him. “Oh, that was just the fever.”

  “Mom, there were reindeer in the kitchen.”

  Marie shook her head in objection. “Don’t exaggerate. There was only one reindeer and it was supposed to be Rudolph.” The delight on her face grew as she thought about it. “In retrospect he should have remained outside on the deck. And that red nose wasn’t a very good idea either.” She took another sip of her coffee. “I should have listened to your dad on that one.” She looked up at James and smiled. “Live and learn.”

  James’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “And you see nothing wrong with that. You don’t feel that’s overdoing it just a tad?”

  “Nope.”

  He watched her for a moment, wondering if his mom was truly a sane woman. “Do you know any other mothers who did anything like that?”

  “Nope, but that doesn’t prove anything.”

  “It proved everything,” he snapped. “It proves that no one is crazy enough—”

  “Crazy? That’s a little extreme.” She pointed a finger at him. “I like to call it creative, not crazy.”

  “What about the time—”

  Marie lifted her hands helplessly. “Will I be tortured for the rest of my life just because I tried to be a good mother?”

  James shot her a look. “I don’t believe you’re the one who was tortured.”

  “You know, you don’t always have to be right.”

  “But I am right about this.” James paused for an instant.

  Someday, he swore to himself, he would make her see how crazy all of it was. “On my tenth birthday, when I requested a cowboy theme, reconstructing the Bonanza set was going overboard.”

  “Maybe, but you had a great time.”

  “There was a blacksmith in our back yard.” He could do nothing but walk out of the room when he heard her gleefully go into detail of how the horse corral had been created.

  “It’s not like I committed a crime,” she called out to him as he went down the stairs. “And if I’m so crazy then why did all your friends want to stay the night at our house?”

  * * * * *

  James smacked his hand against his desk as he looked over to his vice-president, Raymond Stewart. “Goddamn it, I took special security measures to ensure our competitors didn’t find out about this.” He shoved away from his desk suddenly. “Shit.”

  He began pacing in front of a large row of windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. Reaching his hand around the back of his neck, he rubbed the stiff area. Being the CEO of a major consumer electronics company was a curse sometimes. Currently, his company was working on secretive new technology that, once launched, would not only change the face of the industry but also double his company’s revenue base. A situation like this could be catastrophic depending on how much information was leaked. “How the hell did this happen?”

  Raymond shook his head as he sat calmly on the edge of the chair opposite the desk. “I’m not sure. I’ve got a hunch that it’s from within.”

  James turned and stared at him.

  “Security is so tight, it makes the most sense,” Raymond added.

  “It can’t be from within. None of our employees would leak the information.”

  “If they were paid enough, they would.”

  James pinched the bridge of his nose, not even wanting to consider the thought.

  “Perhaps it’s one of the senior managers.”

  “A senior manager?” James went down a mental list of managers and couldn’t fathom any of them selling company secrets. He not only treated his employees well, he paid them well, too. “I don’t see that happening.”

  Raymond propped his elbows on the sides of the chair and stared at his boss.

  “I think it’s more plausible that ISAC hired an investigator.”

  James’s hand shot out in air. “Hell, we know a lot of corporate espionage is done by professional investigators who specialize in it.”

  Raymond sucked in a long breath. “True.”

  There had always been competition between ISAC and his company. But James had believed it to be healthy and fair. Perhaps he was mistaken. “Now that I think about it, I wouldn’t put it past McDonald.” McDonald was the CEO of ISAC. He had an unbridled rivalry with James. But James thought the rivalry was completely normal, and even valuable, because it fueled motivation and diversity between the two.

  “The man has absolutely no ethics,” Raymond stated firmly.

  “You know I’ve always thought that.”

  James knew Raymond didn’t like the man. McDonald was too brash and cocky for Raymond. “When we’re back against the wall, we all get down and dirty, too.”

  “Not like him. We maintain a moral code. He doesn’t. What we are releasing is huge. So huge that I think he’d stoop this low. I think it’s worth looking into.”

  “I agree. But first we need to see how much information has been leaked.” James turned and stared out the window.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Call Al.”

  Raymond�
�s expression turned to surprise. “Are you sure?”

  James was quiet for a moment and then nodded. “Yes. I want this over and done with, fast.” He shook his head. “If they have an excellent investigator on their side, which I suspect that’s what they have, I want the best on my side. Al’s the best.

  Besides, we’ve worked together before.”

  “Okay, I’ll call.”

  James turned. “Keep this between you and me.”

  Raymond stood and walked to the door. “I’ll let you know when and where we’ll meet.”

  Chapter Four

  Samantha smoothed out her blouse, tucked her hair behind her ear, took two deep breaths, and knocked on the door. She quickly stuffed her raised hand into her pocket when she noticed that it was slightly trembling. She hated being apprehensive—it made her feel weak and vulnerable. The rolling in her gut matched the rolling of the ocean’s waves that she could hear crashing behind the house. She sucked in a few more breaths, taking command of the emotions running through her. Within a few seconds she felt a little of her anxiety diminish. Her yoga instructor would be proud of her. And to think she used to struggle with the technique. She was confident that over the next hour or so her relaxation skills would be tested to the limit.

  Pulling back her sleeve, she glanced at her watch. She knew she hadn’t been standing at the door for more than a few seconds but it felt like an eternity. Time was cruel. It stood still for things dreaded and flew by for things enjoyed. It wasn’t fair.

  The door swung open suddenly, and Samantha’s head snapped up. “Hi, I’m Samantha.” She smiled weakly at the unfamiliar face. “Marie is expecting me.”

  “Yes, she’s been waiting for you. I’m Ginger,” the woman said as she waved a friendly hand. “Come on in.”

  Samantha nodded and took a cautious step forward as the woman stepped aside and allowed her in.

  “Marie is in the guest room. Up the stairs and it’s the first door to your left.”

  Samantha observed Ginger, whose bright pink lips offered a surprise flash of color in her otherwise fair-complexion face. The cheery woman held a feather duster in one hand and a can of furniture polish in the other. She smiled and pointed over her shoulder toward the stair.