Love and War Read online

  “And Timberlake Lodge is going great guns?” she asked as she set the table.

  “Wonderful. You should go take a look around, it’s really lovely out there. Sheila Lawson is the manager, you know. Wasn’t she in your class?”

  Sandy frowned. Not exactly a classmate: rather, her baby-sitter once upon a time. Sheila was five years older, which wasn’t that much between adults. Plenty of Sandy’s friends in Atlanta had been thirty and older. But how was she supposed to relate as an equal to a person who had been her baby-sitter?

  How long, she wondered, did it take to feel like a grown-up in the town where you grew up?

  Feeling more discouraged all the time about her prospects in Tyler, Sandy said, “What’s it going to take to get Drew Stirling to come around?”

  Britt paused, gazed at her, then resumed slicing the roast. “You’re worrying too much about Drew Stirling. He’ll come around. In the meantime, forget about him, for goodness’ sake.”

  Sandy wasn’t sure that little task would be as easy as Britt made it sound.

  * * *

  JAKE FOUND HIS stepson in his bedroom, playing with Jacob. It struck Jake that the toddler was about the only one in the family sixteen-year-old Matt had much to do with these days.

  “Can we talk?”

  Matt looked up only briefly, then turned his attention back to Jacob, who was intent on tasting each of a dozen empty CD boxes scattered around the bedroom floor.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  Jake wasn’t certain how to begin. Memories began to swirl through his head, reminding him of the belligerent adolescent Matt had been when Jake first became interested in Britt romantically. For a while it had looked as if the boy would sabotage the whole relationship simply by behaving obnoxiously. Eventually, however, Matt had come around. In the almost four years since the wedding, Jake and Matt had grown close. Having the boy learn to confide in him and depend on him had been one of the most satisfying experiences of Jake’s life. He felt as much like this teen’s father as he did the father of the two-year-old playing so contentedly on the floor between them.

  But closeness hadn’t come that easily lately. Jake couldn’t pinpoint exactly when things had begun to change, but he couldn’t deny any longer what he was seeing. Matt didn’t seem to hang out with his friends anymore, not even the new kid in town, Jon Weiss. For the first couple of months of the school year, Matt and Jon had been inseparable, especially when they both got involved in the co-op work project at the F and M. But in the past month or so, the boys didn’t seem to spend any time together. Matt hadn’t even been interested enough to sign up for a substitute co-op project after the fire at the F and M put an end to his first project. Gradually, that disinterest had spread to his other friends, his family, now apparently even to his schoolwork.

  One thing Jake had learned quickly: you don’t play games with teenagers. So he cut to the chase. “You weren’t in school this morning.”

  Matt tensed visibly but didn’t look up. “Who told you that?”

  “I saw it for myself.”

  Matt shook shaggy brown hair out of his eyes and glanced up defiantly. “You were spying on me.”

  “I was out at that end of town on business. I saw you.”

  Matt didn’t reply.

  Fighting his impatience, Jake said, “Why weren’t you in class, Matt?”

  Screwing up his mouth on one side, Matt began pushing on the heel of one Nike with the toe of the other one. “You tell Mom?”

  “So far this is between us.”

  The shoe came flying off and landed in the middle of the jumble of CD boxes. Startled, Jacob whimpered, studied the offending shoe and touched it gingerly.

  “I cut class, that’s all,” Matt said at last. “Calculus. Big deal. I hate calculus. The teacher’s a dork.”

  It sounded so reasonable, given a teenager’s logic. But Matt’s demeanor, now and for the past few weeks, raised a red flag for Jake. “Something bothering you, Matt? This isn’t like you. In fact, you’ve been acting like something’s eating at you for—”

  “Nothing’s bothering me, okay? I cut class. Wisconsin doesn’t have the death penalty for cutting class, okay?”

  Jake remembered his futile attempts to bulldoze his way through the wall Matt had built during the early days of Jake’s relationship with Britt. Each assault had simply guaranteed that Matt would hoist up another brick, building the barricade a little higher. Jake should back off now; he knew that. But it wasn’t easy. Didn’t feel right.

  Standing to leave, he tweaked little Jacob’s nose, then said, “Dinner’s on the table in ten minutes. Sandy’s joining us. Think you can help make her feel welcome?”

  Matt shrugged and stared at his stepfather suspiciously. “That’s all? I’m not grounded or anything?”

  “Not this time. But don’t let it happen again.” He waited for some sign of agreement from Matt, but it didn’t come. “Whatever it is, I can be a good listener.”

  But the youth gave no indication that he was listening at all.

  * * *

  SANDY AND DREW butted heads again when she learned from Britt the next day that he and Jake had reached a decision about the outlet store in town. Never one to back down from a confrontation, she marched into Drew’s office immediately.

  “Why would you make a decision like this without consulting the marketing director?” she asked, carefully measuring forcefulness against abrasiveness. She had watched Gin, her former boss, enough to understand the fine line that separated the two, especially for women in business.

  Whatever hint of amusement she had seen in Drew’s eyes at their first meeting was no longer in evidence. He didn’t look hostile, she decided, but he was working hard simply to remain neutral.

  “We decided long before you arrived,” he said. “All we’ve done is select a location.”

  Clueless, she thought. “I repeat, why would you make a decision like that without consulting the marketing director?”

  He made a move to stand, then apparently changed his mind. He was unwilling to look as if he thought it necessary to flex his muscles, Sandy thought. He would prove he had the power by remaining in his chair, as if having to look up at her wasn’t enough to rob him of his clout.

  “What does marketing have to do with the location of a store?” he asked.

  Sandy wanted to laugh, but kept it to a smile. “Marketing has to do with every decision we make that affects how we reach our customers.”

  “I see.” He smiled back. But Sandy had seen his real smile, and this wasn’t it. “I’ll try to remember to keep you informed.”

  “I don’t want to be informed,” she said. “I want to be involved. I’m going to be in your back pocket. I’m going to be inside your head when you make your decisions. We’re going to be joined at the hip, Drew Stirling. That’s the way marketing and sales work. And if you don’t get the connection, I can recommend some basic marketing materials to read in your spare time.”

  He did stand now. He was taller, six feet or an inch or so over. But in her heels, Sandy barely had to look up.

  “Now, look, Ms. Murphy—”

  “Sandy,” she said, smiling. Always smile when you have to be tough, Gin used to say. It disarms them. “We don’t have to be so formal, do we?”

  He clenched his jaws tightly. “Sandy. I don’t need educating about marketing.”

  “Oh, really. Then I know you understand that location, physical layout and appearance of our facility all have an impact on its success. We’ve never had a retail outlet before. Shouldn’t we sit down and discuss fixtures, signage, things like that?”

  “Of course, of course. Whenever you want to.”

  “Good. How about now?”

  “How about just after lunch?”

  “Perfect.
My office or yours?”

  His, of course. You’re stronger on your own turf. Sandy knew that, too. But she had demanded to be included in a major new project for the company and she had won the round. Next time, she thought, maybe he wouldn’t be so quick to leave her out of the company’s business.

  Sandy realized as she left that she had failed to mention to him her plans for later in the afternoon, but she decided not to turn around and go back. He would find out soon enough about her appointment at the elementary school to talk with the school’s dietitian about including Yes! Yogurt products in the daily menu.

  Let him see how it felt to be left out, she thought, hating the idea that she sounded exactly like the pouting child she didn’t want anyone viewing her as.

  By the time she left the school a few hours later, with an agreement to offer free samples one day during lunch to see how the children reacted to the yogurt, Sandy had all but forgotten about Drew. She was on her way back to her car when Renee Hansen ran up, giggling and breathless, her book bag hanging off one shoulder.

  “Hi!” the ten-year-old said, stumbling over her own feet in her efforts to stop. “What are you doing here?”

  Sandy gave her young friend a hug. Renee was her favorite of Britt’s children, probably because she had been the youngest for so long, until little Jacob came along. Quiet and easygoing, Renee had often seemed to get lost in the raucous shuffle at the Hansens’, a feeling Sandy had always identified with. She remembered so clearly the little girl’s somber complaints during the long, hard months after her father died, when Sandy had done plenty of baby-sitting for the noisy foursome.

  “Nobody ever listens to me, ’cause they think I’m too little,” Renee had said, sucking on the end of her pigtail. “But I talked to Daddy in heaven last night and he said he’s not sad. And we shouldn’t be, either.”

  At that moment, Sandy had pulled the little girl into her arms and made up her mind that she would listen to Renee, no matter what Renee’s siblings did. Even after Sandy left for college, she had made it a point to send postcards and funny greeting cards to her young friend, filled with news of college life.

  Renee had rewarded her with laboriously hand-printed notes about all the family news. Such as, “Matt says I can’t come watch him at band practice because I’m too little, but I don’t mind.” Or, “Christy says I’m not old enough to go with her friends to the mall in Sugar Creek. But if I’m ever the big sister, I’ll take my little sister everywhere with me.”

  Sandy had commiserated and listened and become the object of a huge case of hero worship. It was a strange feeling for someone who had herself felt left out because she was the baby of the family.

  Renee might no longer be the official baby of the family, but with her plump, freckled face and the adoration in her eyes, she was still one of the cutest kids Sandy had ever met. She kept her arm around the little girl’s shoulders and said, “Well, hi! I’ve just been convincing the school dietitian to have a Yes! Yogurt day in the lunchroom. You think the kids’ll like that?”

  Renee shrugged. “If you’re there. Then I’ll make sure they like it.”

  Sandy laughed and unlocked her car door. “It’s a deal. Say, isn’t that your bus?”

  Renee looked around and saw kids piling onto the big yellow vehicle for the ride home. “Yeah, I better hurry.”

  “How about I give you a ride? It’s on my way.”

  “Cool.”

  They had to clear the change in routine with Renee’s teacher, who had once upon a time taught Sandy. Then Renee entertained Sandy most of the way home with a recitation of a comedy routine she had seen on TV the night before. Sandy suspected something had been lost in the translation, because most of the punch lines that sent Renee into a spasm of giggles didn’t make much sense to her. But she still enjoyed the little girl’s giddy enthusiasm.

  “That’s where Drew is gonna live,” Renee said, pointing to a well-hidden turn off the asphalt road.

  A muddy drive disappeared into the woods. “Oh, really?”

  “Yep. He’s building a house. It’s gonna be way cool. It’s got room for his wife and everything.”

  Sandy’s heart jumped its track. “His wife?”

  “Um-hmm. Can I find a new station?”

  Renee began surfing for a better station on the car radio and resumed her chatter, but Sandy barely noticed. She kept thinking of what Drew Stirling had said to her outside Worthington House the day they’d met. Hadn’t he said he wasn’t married?

  By the time she pulled up in front of the farmhouse and Renee bounded out of the car, Sandy had to know the answer. As the little girl waved goodbye, she called out, “I didn’t know Drew was married.”

  Renee grinned. “Well, not yet. But I’m gonna find him somebody. ’Cause he’s already said he’s too old for me.”

  Sandy burned rubber pulling out onto the roadway. She didn’t like the way relief had flooded her with Renee’s clarification of Drew’s marital status.

  It would be better, she reflected, if he were married.

  * * *

  BY THE END of Sandy’s first week on board, Drew had begun to remember most of his grandfather’s tales about the battlefields of World War II. He discovered he wasn’t comfortable living in the midst of constant skirmishes and sporadic ceasefires.

  They argued about the advertising budget. They quibbled over his choice of publications for advertising. And Sandy made good her promise to live in his head. Oh, yes, she was there all right. Day and night.

  Following their conversation about the new outlet store, he had taken her to the building on the highway that he and Jake had selected. She had walked around, her smile fading perceptibly as she studied the empty store. Finally, she had turned to him, shaking her head.

  “I don’t think this is going to do, Drew. Not at all.”

  They had sparred, of course. He had told her about signed contracts and she had started in on traffic flow. He had mentioned rental price and she had countered with ambience.

  “Are you doing this just to prove a point?” he had muttered between clenched teeth as real estate agent Cordelia Rolphe phoned to arrange for Sandy to view the store Drew and Jake had already rejected.

  Her gently arched eyebrows went up a half notch. “What point would that be?”

  “That I should have brought you in on this to start with.”

  There it was, that damned unflappable smile of hers.

  “Well, you should have. But I don’t see where playing manipulative little games is necessary to prove that, do you?”

  He didn’t reply. She couldn’t be twenty-five. No one that young could have him tied in this many knots so quickly.

  Then Cordelia came back from the phone and announced that they could take a look at the other store now. And on their way out, she turned to Sandy and said, “Say, want me to be looking around for an apartment? Or maybe a house? It’s a buyer’s market, you know. Paying rent’s a dead end.”

  “I know,” Sandy said. “But I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

  “You can’t stay with your parents forever,” Cordelia said.

  Color came into Sandy’s cheeks, and Drew realized the reference to living with her parents embarrassed her. He told himself to be a gentleman and let it go.

  Then he remembered how many times she had made him look like a know-nothing these past few days, and before he could stop himself he was saying, “Still living with Mom and Dad, huh?”

  “I’ve only been in town a few weeks,” she said, her tone even.

  He might never have known how deeply his comment had needled her if not for the color that continued to rise in her cheeks.

  He trailed after her and Cordelia to the other store, certain that nothing she could say would convince him he and Jake had made the wrong decision. But as
soon as she started pointing out the advantages of the second building—more natural lighting for an airy feeling, a display-room configuration that would encourage browsing, the possibility of more foot traffic right in town, as well as ample parking nearby—Drew realized she had seen other things besides the financial considerations he and Jake had focused on.

  She had placed herself in the customer’s shoes.

  Drew hated being wrong, but just this once he could admit it.

  “Round one to you,” he said as they got in his car and headed back to Yes! Yogurt headquarters.

  “It’s not about winning, Drew.”

  “Yes, it is. It’s always about winning.” For people like you. He didn’t know what made him think that. She seemed sincere and certainly knew about being customer oriented. Her smile was warm and her eyes friendly and—

  And that, he thought, was what really troubled him. Whenever he looked at her, he saw Sandy the attractive young woman instead of Sandy the capable director of marketing. That kind of thinking wasn’t his style, and he didn’t like himself for it right now.

  But acting as if he disliked her was easier than admitting it to himself.

  She placed her hands flat on the briefcase in her lap. “Am I going to need a score card?”

  “I’ll keep you posted,” he said.

  She laughed, and he found himself admiring her ability to keep her sense of humor even when she wasn’t being treated very fairly. Was there anything about her he didn’t like?

  “Can you be trusted?” she asked.

  “Didn’t I admit when I was wrong about the building?”

  “Not exactly. What you said, I believe, was, ‘We’ll try it your way, then.’ Not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

  “Okay, how’s this? I can see what a bonehead decision I made and I’ll be forever grateful you were there to save my butt.”

  “That’s fair, I suppose.”

  He laughed as well and thought maybe things were easing up between them.

  But it wasn’t their last skirmish of the week. She wanted to start market research and he didn’t want to spend the money. She came in with a scaled-down plan that looked doable to him, although he could see it placed the burden of a lot of extra work on her. He questioned her methods and she requested a look at his sales figures.