A Small-Town Homecoming by Terry McLaughlin Read Free Book Online Page B

me.”
    He shot one of his penetrating looks at her, the one that made her feel as though he could see deep inside her to that place where she hid all her doubts and insecurities. She detested that look, nearly as much as she detested the fact that he was right. She had to work with him.
    “Fine,” she said. “I’ll work with you. And I’ll expect the same. A phone call when there’s something— anything —to report.”
    He nodded solemnly. “You got it.”
    “Now, about the security—”
    “Already taken care of.” He called another instruction to the man with the marker. “I discussed it with Geneva.”
    His words stung like a slap. Tess tried not to show it, to keep her eyes on his, but she knew from the way his frown deepened that he’d noted her flinch.
    “Well,” she said when she’d recovered, “now you can discuss it with me.”
    “Look, Tess, this isn’t—”
    “Later. At my office. Five o’clock.” She turned on her soggy, muddy heel and walked away.
     
    S TILL in a temper a quarter of an hour later, Tess shoved her way into her office and then swore when her Macho-Mex mocha sloshed over the edge of the cup. Chocolate spatters layered over the dusty red splotches on her slingbacks. “Aww, for cryin’ out—”
    The phone on her desk rang, and she carefully speed-walked to the back of the room, holding the coffee at arm’s length. “Roussel Designs, Tess Roussel speaking.”
    “You’ve obviously made it back to work,” Geneva said with a hint of sarcasm.
    “Not all my work is done in the office.” Tess set the cup on the desk and reached for a tissue to wipe her hand. “Thank you for returning my call.”
    “Anytime, dear.”
    Tess frowned as she toed off her shoes. Her grandmother didn’t sound all that upset by what had happened at Tidewaters that morning. Not that she wanted her grandmother to be upset—not unless she was upset with Quinn. Then she could erupt like a Fourth of July fireworks display and fire his nicely shaped ass. “I wanted to touch base with you about what happened at the site this morning.”
    “The vandalism,” Geneva said with a disgusted sigh.
    “Yes.” Tess tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and snatched another tissue from her apple-red dispenser. “I understand Quinn has already discussed everything with you.”
    “Yes, he has. It’s all terribly distressing, all the trouble and expense involved in setting things right. But he assures me there won’t be any delays. And he’s handled everything quite satisfactorily, with no need for your attention.”
    “He may not have needed it, but he got it.” Tess picked up one of her shoes and began to scrub at the stains. “Finding out from one of the shopkeepers downtown that the police had been called to Tidewaters got my attention pretty damn quick.”
    “Really, Tess, must you use that kind of language?”
    “I beg your pardon. Sorry.” She chipped a nail on her shoe heel and swore under her breath as she tossed the soiled, crumpled tissue toward her waste bin. The wad bounced off the rim and tumbled to the floor. This just wasn’t her day. “I tend to get upset when my job site is the scene of a criminal investigation, and I’m not notified.”
    “Although I appreciate your enthusiasm for this project,” Geneva said in a terrifyingly frigid tone, “I must remind you that Tidewaters belongs to me, not to you.”
    Tess stiffened and dropped the shoe. “Yes, Mémère.”
    “You may be my granddaughter, but you are also, where Tidewaters is concerned, my employee.”
    It was that fact, more than her grandmother’s scolding, that heated Tess’s cheeks with embarrassment and guilt. An angry phone call wasn’t the best way to display her professional abilities to her biggest client to date.
    She detested being caught making an error in judgment. She despised weakness, especially in herself, and she loathed the shriveling remorse that swamped her at times like this. That was