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The Good Father

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Год написания книги
2019
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“So the interview didn’t go well?”

“It went about as badly as an interview can go. To start with, Max has already made a hiring decision. He saw me out of courtesy, probably because of my association with Allie and Cooper. But I lost it. I acted like a harpy. I told him he owed me because it was his fault…” She stopped abruptly, not wishing to talk about Scott or the divorce in front of Kaylee. Her daughter, almost four, was growing bigger and smarter every day. She was a sponge, soaking up everything she heard and often repeating it.

Sara understood anyway, and her eyes widened. “Jane, you didn’t.”

“It just came out of my mouth.”

“It wasn’t really Max’s fault…was it?”

“No. Scott and I were attempting a reconciliation that weekend, but it never would have worked. If it hadn’t been that incident, it would have been another.

“I know it’s all for the best. But that doesn’t change the fact that I need work and I just blew my last chance.”

“You know,” Sara said cautiously as she disentangled Kaylee’s grasping hands from her long, curly brown hair, “I could ask Reece to put in a good word—”

“No, please. This whole thing has been humiliating enough. I’m an intelligent, responsible adult with a college education. I should be able to get a job based on that. I refuse to use connections to get what I want. That’s too much like…well, you know.”

Sara sank into her own chair, shifting Kaylee onto her lap. “I was so sure that job would work out for you. You’re exactly what Max needs. Are you positive there’s no chance?”

“Max wouldn’t hire me if hell froze over.” She paused, then said something she’d only toyed with before today. “I’ll have to sell the boat.”

“Oh, no. You love the Princess II.”

“It’s an extravagance, and I can’t even sail it without help. If I sold it, I would have enough money to tide me over until I get on my feet.”

Jane’s cell phone rang and she immediately perked up, hoping it might be another job lead. She’d dropped résumés all over town, and even a few in Corpus Christi, though the larger city was almost an hour’s drive from Port Clara.

“Jane Selwyn.”

“Jane, it’s Max Remington. The job is yours if you want it.”

Chapter Two

By eleven o’clock on Jane’s first day of work at the Remington Agency, she was terrified Max would fire her before lunch.

She hadn’t been all that strong in computer skills at school, and what little she’d learned was woefully out-of-date. Her first assignment was to lay out a simple ad for a new restaurant. Max had given her everything she needed—copy, photo and graphics. She could see the ad in her mind. But getting the computer program to do her bidding was an effort in frustration. So far she’d spent more time reading the manual than actually getting anything done.

She had finally figured out how to size her photo and adjust the color balance when Max tapped on her partially open office door and stuck his head in.

“Is the ad done yet?”

“Um, no, not quite yet. When do you need it?”

“Five o’clock today.”

“Okay.”

“Want me to pick up lunch for you?”

“Sure, that would be wonderful.” It was a cinch she wouldn’t have time to go out to eat. She would be lucky to get this sucker done before she had to leave at 2:45 to pick up Kaylee from preschool.

She had arranged for an after-school babysitter, but Mrs. Billingsly couldn’t start until next week. Jane had explained about her shortened workdays to Max, who hadn’t taken the news with a smile. He probably already regretted hiring her.

Jane reached for her purse in her desk drawer, intending to give Max some money, but he waved it away. “I’ll take care of it. But you will get the ad done, won’t you?”

“I’m doing my best.”

Max flashed a strained smile. “Great.”

Jane returned her attention to the screen and yelped in surprise. Her photo had turned green. The people looked like Martians. She must have hit the Okay button by mistake when she was adjusting the color balance.

She held her breath and hit Control-Z, the panacea for undoing mistakes, and thankfully the photo turned back to its normal colors.

Jane worked steadily, making slow progress and glancing worriedly at the clock.

By 2:45 she had everything roughed in like she wanted it—but she needed to make some refinements. Now that she was getting the hang of it, she found the graphics program to be incredibly powerful. She could certainly be finished by five—if she didn’t have to pick up Kaylee.

She grabbed her purse and attempted to slip out of the office unnoticed, but as luck would have it, Max came into the hallway just as she did.

“Oh, Jane. Are you done with the ad?”

“Um, almost. I have to pick up Kaylee. But I’m coming back, and I’ll finish up before five, for sure.” She turned away from him and headed for the exit.

“Wait. You’re bringing your daughter here?”

Jane turned back slowly. “That was the plan.”

“Jane, this is a place of business. It’s not a day-care center.”

“This is an unusual situation. Once I have my babysitter, this won’t be a problem. I did explain that to you, right?”

“Yes, but that was before I knew you would take all day to do an ad that should have taken you a couple of hours.”

“I haven’t been wasting time, really. Most of today was spent learning the program. Anyway, I only need a few more minutes to finish up, and Kaylee won’t cause any problems, I promise.” She mentally crossed her fingers. Kaylee was very well behaved most of the time. But every so often she still threw a hideous tantrum, a holdover from the Terrible Twos. Just please, don’t let it be today.

He tried again. “The office isn’t a safe place for a child.”

“She’ll be fine. I’ll keep her with me in my office. You won’t know she’s here.”

Max clearly wasn’t happy about the arrangements, but he didn’t argue further. “The ad will be done by five? And you’ll e-mail it to me?”

“Absolutely.”

Finally he relaxed his stance. “All right.”

“I really have to go or I’ll be late. They charge extra if I’m late picking up, and I can’t afford it.”

“Do you need an advance on your salary?” he asked suddenly. “’Cause if you need money for food or something—”
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