“We’ll get to it later,” Gretchen said.
“We have other business to discuss with you, Eb, but first things first.” Linda crossed her arms and pinned him with a fierce glare. “What are your intentions toward Sandra?”
Eb went cold, and he slowly sank into a chair at the table. He wished he knew how to put into words the depth of his feeling for her or his fears he’d lost her.
“She’s a good friend,” he finally said, lamely.
Gretchen’s brows disappeared under her bangs. “Afriend? Because you are way too distracted for only a friend. It’s a busy time of year, as you well know, and I need you to be at your best.” Her expression softened. “But I’m also worried about you as more than an employee.”
Before Eb could respond, Linda asked, “Are you telling me you’re not in love with Sandra?”
Walt shifted uncomfortably, but he said nothing. His expression, however, had taken on a menacing feel to it.
“If you three are trying to intimidate me,” Eb said carefully, “you’re succeeding. But I want you to know I won’t be bullied.”
Gretchen sighed and mumbled. “HR will kill me.” Then she met his gaze. “We’re not trying to bully you. It’s more like a love intervention.”
A love intervention? The humor of it must have struck Walt at the same time it did Eb, because they both chuckled.
“You two behave.” Linda elbowed her husband and scowled at Eb. “We’re worried about Sandra. She’s desolate.”
Eb straightened in his chair. “Is she all right?”
“She threatened to quit,” Walt said, all seriousness now. “Sandra was…brokenwhen she came to work for me all those years ago. I’ve only just found out why. She’d finally been coming alive again and looking like a young woman ought to. But not anymore. Now, she reminds me of how she was back then.”
How could Eb help if she wouldn’t talk to him? And how could he explain?
“So, I’ll ask you again,” Linda said. “Are you in love with her?”
“I am.”
“Then why haven’t you called her?” Her words had grown soft now, sympathetic, like she knew the dilemma which kept him up at night.
“Because I don’t know what to say.”
“Then I have a question for you.” Walt clasped his hands and rested them before him on the table, like he sat in a business negotiation. “You have to decide if you love your dream of a large family more than Sandra.”
Eb nodded his head, but before he could reply, the man continued.
“I’m having my first experience of being a father.” Walt put the last word in air quotes. “And a grandfather. And I love my new family. There are more ways to create a family than having biological children.”
“It’s just something we think you should consider,” Linda interrupted, “if you haven’t already. Because if you can’t love Sandra outside of her ability to give birth to a baby, you’re not good enough for her.” When Gretchen and Walt shifted uncomfortably beside Linda, she scowled at them. “It’s the truth.”
“Well, I think we’ve given you enough to think about on that point,” Gretchen said. “About the Santa Run. Walt has pulled out.”
“What?” Nausea hit Eb, and his stomach hurt. They’d done all that work in preparation. “Why?”
“Because I did it last year,” Walt said, “and there’s someone better this year who should receive the honor.”
Resigned, Eb pressed his fingers to his temples. “Who?”
“You,” the three said at the same time, all now grinning.
“Me? No.” Eb jumped to his feet. “Why would you want me?”Please don’t let it be about the shooting.The man had pled guilty, sparing his family the trauma of a trial. But bringing it up again meant more chances Rue would hear of it, and he didn’t want the attention to steal her acceptance of his injury.
“You know why I want you,” Gretchen chastised. “What you did represents what I love in this community. It doesn’t hurt to show the caliber of my employees. But it will also help in your custody battle for Rue.”
That stopped Eb’s protest. “Do you think so?”
