The roofing guys trade a scared look. “You think we’re in trouble?”
“Nah.” My project manager looks thoughtful. “You heard what Luke said—we’re kicking ass on this job. Bet somebody’s getting a raise.”
That’s followed by nods of agreement and some murmurs like, “You earned it, man.”
I brush it off with modesty, but the truth?
I hope that’s the case. I’m good at my job as a construction foreman. I’m smart and hardworking and try hard to be a decent guy. A raise would be nice, but here’s what I’m not telling the crew:
That email from Hazel? The one requesting my after-hours presence in the boardroom? It specifically said, “Please come alone.”
Hard not to read into that, right?
True, she’s barely spoken a word to me since our scorching-hot hookup nearly four months ago. But that’s about to change.
“Good luck, man.” My sheetrock guy gives me a fist bump, then gets in his truck. “Let us know how it goes.”
“Will do.”
“Yeah, good luck.” One of the roofing guys nods. “Hope you get a real big raise.”
“Thanks, man.” I trade some high fives with the crew, then hop in my truck for the ten-minute drive to the Spencer Holdings headquarters.
The main office—that’s the other thing tipping me off this might be important. I’m not being summoned on behalf of Spencer Development, the construction arm of Hazel’s family business. Spencer Holdings is the bigger corporation. The conglomerate, the umbrella organization, the big leagues.
Whatever this is feels like a big deal.
Parking my truck at the edge of the lot, I glance at my watch. It’s stopped working again, unless I’ve somehow entered a time warp and bounced back to lunchtime. When I glance at the clock on my dashboard, I see I’ve got ten minutes to kill. Might as well call my sister.
“Hey, Ames,” I say when she answers. “How’s my little angel?”
“Great,” she reports. “Jessa’s driving and voting responsibly and just got into her first-choice college.”
“Atta kid.” Since my niece is a toddler, I know Amy’s kidding. “How are you?”
“Good.” She pauses. “I looked into Dad like you asked.”
“Oh yeah?” Blood roars through my ears like a tidal wave. “Did you use your high-tech cop tools to track down the bastard?”
“I couldn’t find much.” No response to the bit about using official cop resources to find our long-lost father. Amy’s a rule follower, so I’m sure she did it all by the book. “The last records I could find for Edward Clifford Lovelin were two outstanding speeding tickets in Vermont and a donation to a children’s cancer fund in Florida.”
“At least he’s balancing out the bad with the good.”
“You sound bummed.”
“Nah.” That’s a lie.
My sister knows it. She even deploys her gentle mom voice. “He clearly doesn’t want to be found. Considering how much back child support he probably owes?—”
“Asshole.”
“Obviously.” She pauses. “Why the urge to find Dad all of a sudden, anyway?”
“Not sure,” I admit. “Guess it’s the sorta thing a guy does when he gets older.”
“You’re my kid brother. You can’t be getting older because then I’m older.”
“You’re ageless, Ames.” I glance at the clock on my dashboard. “Gotta go. I have a meeting.”
