A Time To Give

“I have a line on another business that might be fun to court.” Man, he liked the thrill of the chase. The kill, when the time came.

“You have a lot of energy, Mac.”

“For a man in his late fifties, not bad. Get in touch when you’ve got this rolling.”

He disconnected and leaned back in his plush leather chair. Propping his feet up, he linked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. At least he’d have something to look forward to. Aside from his daughter, work was the only thing in his life. He preferred it that way. He didn’t have to tolerate a nagging wife who wished he was home more, friends who disagreed with his tactics. He didn’t have to explain himself to anybody.

So there was no reason why he opened the left drawer of his custom-built granite-topped desk. No reason to pull out the picture of the man, woman and child. Still, he did it.

A lump clogged his throat as he stared at the images. Mac was young, only twenty-six. He had dark hair then, not this mop of gray. He was thinner, too, and more relaxed. The little girl was stunning, just like her mother. God, his wife had been beautiful. And fragile. She’d never stood a chance with him. He could still remember her laughter… Lammon, you’re home early, I love it when you surprise me like this… Lying beside him… You’re so good in here—she’d tap his naked chest over his heart—why can’t you let others see that? See what I see… Her face when she’d held out their child to him for the first time… It’s all right that you weren’t here for the birth, darling. Isn’t she beautiful?

But then, as always happened when he thought of Anna, bad memories followed like the furies chasing prey. I can’t believe you did what the paper says… Tell me these are vicious rumors… I won’t leave her with a man like you….

Abruptly he dropped his feet to the floor, shoved the picture back in its hiding place and bolted out of his chair. He strode to the sideboard and poured himself a hefty scotch. When it didn’t take the sting away, he gulped back another. Finally, that numbed him.

He studied the office—the oak ceiling, the grass-cloth walls, furniture that had cost more than some people’s houses. They were all testaments to his success, and that comforted him. The clock caught his eye. Ten o’clock. He scowled at the phone. Stalking to the desk, he picked up his cell and punched Redial.

The answering machine clicked on again. “This is Emily Erickson. Leave a message at the beep.”

“Emily, this is your father. Where the hell are you?”

CHAPTER TWO

THE APRIL SUN BEAT DOWN on Ben’s shoulders, making him sweat like he used to after an hour in the sauna at his former health club. His T-shirt was more wet than not and his back ached. But he hefted the concrete blocks without complaint. This Saturday-morning stint with its overtime pay would earn him enough money to buy heavy work boots for the winter. Grunting with effort, he was hit with a flashback so quickly he couldn’t roadblock this one….

Buy those hand-tooled boots, Benedict, they make you look like a cowboy.

He’d chuckled at Mallory, his model-chic fiancée, and mimed drawing a gun out of an imaginary holster. Watch it, ma’am, never know what an hombre like me might want from a lady like you.

She’d laughed and he’d bought the boots. They’d cost almost a thousand bucks and he hadn’t blinked at the expense.

“Hey, Cassidy. You got a visitor.” The foreman hovered over the hole Ben was in helping to lay the foundation for a small house.

Ben frowned up at him. “Who is it?”

“Didn’t ask his name. Take a break. You been goin’ nonstop since six this morning.”

Ben glanced at the Timex that had replaced his Rolex. It was noon. Who the hell would know he was here? He’d cut off all ties with his old life when he’d lost his company. Puzzled, he climbed the ladder and shaded his eyes against the sun. Trey Thompson, his former lawyer—his former friend—stood on the edge of the site looking like the preppy from Yale that he was, in an oxford shirt, khakis and Docksides. As best he could, Ben wiped the sweat off his face with the hem of his shirt and crossed to Trey. “Hey, counselor, how’s it going?”

Trey grasped Ben’s hand warmly. “Fine, except you had me waste my whole morning chasing you down. Can’t you at least return my phone calls?” There was a note of exasperation in his voice. And offense. Ben had forsaken the racquetball games, the lunches and occasional double dates he and Trey had shared for almost a decade.

“Phone calls?”

“Don’t bs me, pal. I know you got my messages. Your landlord thinks I’m a handsome devil and assured me she left them under your door.”

“Still charming all the ladies, are you?”

His friend snorted. “And she’s the one who told me you were here. Apparently the head of this construction crew lives in your boarding house.”

Ben shook his head. “So much for privacy.”

Trey nodded to a makeshift bench in the shade. “Can we talk? It’s about Cassidy Industries.”

“Look, Trey, I appreciate your attempts to stay in touch, but I’m not interested. I wish you could accept that.” Every couple of months, Trey contacted him. It was a painful reminder of what Ben had once had.

“You’ve made that perfectly clear.” Trey shot him a blistering look. “And I still resent it. And I still don’t understand why you prefer to live like this.” He swept his arm across the construction site.

“It’s an honest living,” Ben said defensively.

“Of course it is. I just don’t get why you chose it. You’re the guy Fortune magazine dubbed the most successful, best-liked, self-made man in business. You went to Wharton. You developed a patent for fuel-cell technology and—”

“And lost my shirt.” And my self-confidence and self-esteem.

“Still, you could have stayed in the business world. Any company in Rockford would hire you.”

“Drop it, Trey! I won’t rehash this.”

His friend clearly fought his anger. “All right. But you’ll listen to why I came.”

“Fine then.”

“Mackenzie’s selling off your company. Probably in pieces. The employees could all lose their jobs if the buyer moves the plant out of Rockford.”

“He’s selling already?” Ben raked a hand through his hair. “I know that’s his MO, but it’s only been two years.” He mouthed a vicious expletive.

“My sentiments exactly. Now can we talk about this?”

Ben made his way to the bench. He tried hard not to think about the people on staff who’d survived the first round of Mackenzie’s cuts, but now would suffer the sword of his greed. Dan, the comptroller, was still there. He’d heard Mackenzie had brought in his own vice president of human resources but had kept Janice, who supported her elderly mother and did the personnel work for Rockford Gas & Electric. His secretary and mother hen, Betty. And all those factory workers in the plant….

Trey sat when they reached the shade and removed his Ray-Bans. “I got a line on something.”

Still standing, Ben braced his foot on the bench and draped his arm over his knee. “Trey, I appreciate all this, but I’ve told you time and again the battle was over the day Lammon Mackenzie outmaneuvered me. Why do you keep after this?”

The lawyer’s lazy gaze sharpened. “I’m still involved for a number of reasons. One—” he held up a finger “—you and I were friends as well as colleagues. I’m mad as hell that you ditched me because things went south. Two—” another finger joined the first “—I was your attorney when the sleazebag went after Cassidy Industries and I couldn’t stop it, so I owe you.” He drew in a breath. “Number three, you won’t use the money you got for the business and paid my fees. I put it in a bank account for you, but it just sits there. So that’s still an issue.”

“Damn right it is. I keep getting notices on it.” He straightened. “I don’t want the damn money.”

“And last,” Trey continued as if Ben hadn’t spoken, “I think I might have something on the bastard.”

“Unless it’s something he did illegally when he took over, which you would have found out then, it doesn’t matter.”

“It’s not exactly illegal, but it’s unethical and we might be able to claim fraud and possible bribery.”

“I—” Ben stopped. “It is? What?”

“Remember when the contracts from Rockford Gas & Electric got stalled?”

“How could I forget?” Ben began to pace. “If we’d gotten those contracts, we wouldn’t have had to take Mackenzie on as an investor.”