“What happened after that?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I grew up in a series of foster homes. Most of them were pretty okay. The people tried to be nice and help me fit in. I had some counseling. I managed to make friends and keep up my grades. Unfortunately I had lousy taste in men. I had a series of loser boyfriends. They weren’t mean—they just didn’t get anything right.”
“Including Damian?”
Ashley tried to remember the last time she’d talked about her past. She usually didn’t say anything because there was no way to talk about it without making her life sound like a badly written soap opera. Now she found herself spilling her guts and she couldn’t figure out why. She wasn’t sure Jeff was even interested.
“Damian tried,” she said. “But he wasn’t what I wanted him to be. We met during my senior year of high school and I was so sure he was the one. I believed that he would love me unconditionally and forever.”
“Is that what you wanted?”
The question startled her. “Of course. Doesn’t everyone?”
“No,” he said evenly.
Ashley stared in surprise. Who wouldn’t want more love in their life? She thought about Jeff. He was a man who spent his life alone. Most likely by choice. But why?
She thought about asking, but she wasn’t feeling that brave.
“Damian tried,” she continued, picking up the thread of her story. “He cared about me, but he was too young and too much of a dreamer. He would rather scheme than work. He was always going to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Unfortunately his dreams weren’t practical, and when it came time to put food on the table, he took shortcuts. I don’t know everything he was involved in, but I suspect it was all illegal. By the time I’d figured that out, we were married and I was pregnant. After Maggie was born, I told Damian he was going to have to change his ways or it would be over. It had been scary enough when it was just me, but with a child to consider—” she shook her head “—I couldn’t do it.”
She wondered if he would ask for details. She didn’t want to talk about the strange men who had come to the house in the middle of the night, or the gun she’d found in her husband’s coat pocket.
But Jeff didn’t ask about that. Instead he said, “When he wouldn’t go straight, you left him?”
“I didn’t have a choice. I filed for divorce. Six months after it was final, he was killed in a car accident.”
“You’ve been on your own ever since.”
Again, not a question.
She nodded.
He leaned forward and set his drink on the desk. “You’re strong, Ashley. You’ve more than survived all that life has handed you—you’ve succeeded. Not many people can say that.”
His kind words made her squirm. “I didn’t have a choice. There was Maggie to think of.”
“You named her after your sister.”
“I love them both.” She cleared her throat. “And things are looking up. In eighteen months I’ll have my degree and I’ll be able to get a real accounting job, with good pay. Maggie will be entering kindergarten. A couple of years after that, I’ll be able to afford a town house for us. We’ll be a regular family.”
She was counting the days until that time. She was tired of watching every penny and stretching them until they snapped like rubber bands. She wanted to be able to buy her daughter pretty clothes and occasional dinners out. She wanted to go to the movies every couple of months and maybe even afford a trip to Disneyland.
That would come, she reminded herself. The worst of it was behind her. She would—
“I don’t want you going back to work at Ritter/Rankin Security,” Jeff said.
Her world shattered. In that second, as he spoke those few words, everything changed. Her throat tightened and her hands started to shake.
“Because I brought Maggie to work?” she asked, barely able to breathe, let alone speak. “But Jeff, you have to understand why.”
“I do understand. Your schedule is impossible. You don’t get any sleep. Your free time is spent studying and taking care of your daughter. You have no savings, no backup. I’m amazed you’ve stayed as healthy as you have.”
So why was he firing her? She needed the money and the benefits the job provided. Where else would she get such perfect hours and medical insurance for her child? Her eyes burned, but she refused to give in to the tears.
She set her glass on the desk and rose to her feet. “You can’t fire me,” she insisted. “Dammit, Jeff, I do good work. How can you do this—cutting me off without a way to support my child? I’ll have to drop out of school. I—”
She couldn’t go on. It was so unfair.
