Driven to Date (13 page)

Dad sank his fork into his lasagna. “Do you plan to stay with Corbett, Gray, & Shaw indefinitely?”

Ryan studied his plate a moment, then lifted his gaze. “That depends on what the future holds.”

Dad leaned back in his seat, and folded his hands on the table. “I see. Well, you won’t find a better attorney or a harder worker than my daughter.”

The corner of Ryan’s mouth lifted. “I’ve noticed that. I can see you’re very proud of her.”

“Yes, I am.” He turned, and met my gaze straight on. “Now it’s my turn to make her proud of me.”

My eyes welled as I reached over, and squeezed my dad’s hand. I may not know how to find balance yet, but I’d seen enough just now to know I had to start opening up to Ryan. Show him how I felt about him, no matter how vulnerable exposing myself would be.

Otherwise, I might end up like my dad, in my fifties, and alone. Panicked about how to win back the one he loved, and had lost.

****

We drove back to Sacramento in silence. I was grateful we didn’t talk on the ride, and I sensed Ryan was giving me space. Upon leaving San Francisco, I’d flipped on the radio, and he’d taken the hint that I wasn’t up for conversation. Now I was back in the office, glued to my desk as usual. A rustling at the door caused me to look up from my memo pad.

Sarah stepped in. “Case settled?”

I smiled wearily at my friend’s optimism. “Not yet.”

“That’s too bad.” She snapped her fingers. “You’ll get him next time.”

“Thanks, Sarah.” I turned on my computer, and waited for it to boot up. Meeting with Frank Wilson and then my dad had left me slumped over my desk, stilettos piled on the floor next to the wall.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” She headed to the door. “We doing girls’ night tomorrow? Geoffries lounge?”

“Sounds good.” I thought about my interview tomorrow afternoon, and hoped I’d be ordering champagne to celebrate my new job.

I logged into my computer, then checked my emails. There were several from Sarah regarding phone messages she’d taken, a note from Human Resources on the importance of not flushing “anything” down the toilet besides the provided toilet paper, and a message from Sherri, the program director at H.H.P.

I clicked on the email:

Jill,

Thank you again for your help serving dinner yesterday evening. I’m intrigued by your idea of doing more to help the homeless. Would love to talk to you more about this when you get the time. Maybe lunch next week? You can always reach me on my cell.

Kind regards,

Sherri

I closed out the email, and sighed. Yes, I wanted to do more. But how? That was the question. I pulled out a yellow legal pad and clicked my pen open. I dropped my gaze, which landed on the Homeless Solutions article that lay by my keyboard. Suddenly, my eyes widened and I reached for the phone.

I punched in Sherri’s number, which rang several times before she answered. I had butterflies dancing in my stomach. “Hi, Sherri. This is Jill Parnell.”

“Hi, Jill. Fast return on the email.” Sherri’s voice was friendly, but she spoke so quickly, it was hard to keep up. “Does this mean we’re on for lunch next week?”

I glanced at my calendar, feeling the excitement build. “Are you free for a drink tonight? At the Geoffries hotel?”

“Absolutely.” Sherri’s tone was enthusiastic. “Eight o’clock? I know you work late . . .”

“Let’s make it six.” I blurted, without feeling the slightest bit guilty. Yes, I worked hard. But my personal time counted too, and this project was important to me.

****

“I love it!” Sherri clinked her wine glass to mine. “It’s a great idea.”

I ignored the plate of prawns the server set down, and went on. “It would be a more focused homeless outreach program. One person at a time.”

“Yes.” Sherri cheered passionately. “That’s exactly how you make a difference.”

Tingles ran up both of my arms. “We’d get donors to provide the basics to the selected individual. Food. Shelter. Clothing. In addition, we give them whatever they need to get back on their feet. Counseling. Job training. Drug treatment program. Whatever would help them.”

She nodded, enthusiastically. “Change the world one beautiful person at a time.”

I smiled, then reached for a prawn.

Sherri sipped her wine. “It’s going to be a lot of work. I’m warning you now.”

I leaned toward her. “Work is my specialty. When I set my mind to something, I’m driven until I achieve it.”

Just like that interview tomorrow with McKenzie of McKenzie, Atkins, Haugan, & Hall. I was going to nail it, and land that job.

Sherri pressed a hand to the cocktail table, then looked me in the eye. “I could tell exactly the kind of person you were the first time I met you at that fundraising dinner. You’re organized, driven, and have a good heart. You’ll follow this project through, no matter how many setbacks come your way.”

My eyes watered from the compliment. “I thought of a name for the program. What do you think of
Founding Friendships
?”

Her face brightened. “I think it’s the best possible name.”

Tears filled my eyes. I’d finally found friendships again, and it had made my life fuller. Now it was time to share that joy with others.

****

I arrived home from the Geoffries, my mind swirling with ideas for the
Founding Friendships
program. Before her wedding, Kristen had mentioned that she enjoyed volunteer work. Maybe she’d be interested in counseling someone in the program. The possibilities seemed endless, but rewarding.

I dropped onto my sofa, the conversation with my dad circling my brain. The anguish on his face broke my heart, but I knew from my mom’s voicemail she had no interest in talking to him. He’d pushed her past her limit, taken her for granted, and she was done. My throat tightened. How awful that it took her leaving him until he was willing to change.

Dropping my handbag on the coffee table, I decided to deliver my dad’s message to her. It was eight o’clock here on the west coast, and I didn’t know which time zone she was in. But this felt too important to wait, even if it was late. The call rang once, then went to voicemail. Ugh.

I waited for the tone. “It’s me, Mom. I saw Dad today. He wanted me to tell you that he got a job, attorney contract work, and it’s full-time. So, I’m passing on the word. Hope you’re doing okay and having fun on your vacation. Love you.”

The message I left my mom made me think of Ryan. What a crazy lunch that had been, and I’d been so quiet in the car because I wasn’t good at opening up to a man.

The right thing was to call Ryan, and clear things up. Before I could change my mind, I sent him a text:
Just wanted to apologize for my dad calling you a turkey at lunch.

Beep! Beep!
Sliding my finger over the screen I read:
I’ve been called worse.

I typed:
I’d love to hear about that. In detail.

He replied:
I can be over in fifteen minutes.

A zing zipped through me, and I typed:
Then what are you waiting for?

My phone chirped:
Not a thing. See you soon. :)

****

Twenty minutes later, Ryan arrived with a bottle of wine. “If I had known earlier I was coming over, I would’ve tried to find Mojito in a bottle for you.”

I laughed. “If it doesn’t come in a bottle, then it should. Come in.”

He followed me into the kitchen, where I uncorked the bottle, then poured us each a glass of the Merlot. We took our wine to the living room couch, where I curled up, and faced him.

I sipped the rich liquid, and twirled a lock of hair around my finger, wondering about Ryan’s life before Corbett, Gray, & Shaw. “What made you leave your job in San Francisco?”

This was actually something I’d wondered about since that first week we’d gone to
Takeshi
. I’d asked him the same question, and he’d avoided answering.

His eyes clouded, and he took a sip of wine. “My mom had been sick.”

The look of pain that crossed his face tugged at my heart. Instinctively, I took his hand. “What happened?”

Two lines formed between his brows. “She needed a kidney transplant. My dad immediately offered, but after blood tests and crossmatching, it turned out that he wasn’t compatible. I was.”

Chills traveled down my neck. He’d donated one of his kidneys to his mother? I marveled at the incredible sacrifice, and how he’d said it like there had been no choice involved. For him, there probably hadn’t been though. “How long was recovery?”

“The first few days were the worst, but the morphine took away most of the pain.” The two lines stayed between his brows as he spoke. “I was released after three nights, and then recovered at my parents’ house for about a month.”

I wondered why he’d have to quit his job in San Francisco. After all, it was a family emergency. “Your firm in San Francisco wouldn’t give you leave?”

“They offered, but things were so stressful at the time I decided to move to be close to my parents. I even bought a townhome in San Diego.” Ryan stopped for a minute, and appeared deep in thought. “After my mom got better, she decided she wanted to move back to her roots here in Sacramento. Their house is on the market, and they’re waiting for a buyer. Meanwhile, Jim called. So I moved back before them.”

I put a hand over my heart, unable to speak for what felt like forever. “I’m trying to grasp everything you went through for your mom.”

Ryan squeezed my hand. “The least I could do.”

I laced my fingers through his, realizing he was not at all how he appeared to be. He seemed so cool and confident like nothing could bother him. But he had such a soft side, that he would quit a successful career to move close to his family when they needed him. Wow.

My mom couldn’t even get my dad to stay in the country for any length of time. Although, in all fairness, it seemed like my dad was trying.

He circled his thumb over the back of my hand. “Does it still bother you that I’m Managing Attorney?”

I sipped my wine, then took a deep breath. If Ryan could open up to me, then I owed him the same respect. “I slaved at the firm for five years.
Five
years. Yes, it still bothers me.”

He brought my hand to his lips, and placed a soft kiss over my pulse. “I’m sorry.”

My belly fluttered, and that kiss made it hard to talk. “I know you’re qualified, and you run the department beautifully. But, they gave you that position because you’re Jim’s nephew.”

“I’m more your boss in name only.” He gazed over at me. “The partners control your salary, and in case you haven’t noticed, you don’t need supervising around the office.”

I looked away. Talking about this was a moot point. On Friday, Madison would likely make me an offer. If it was good, I’d give notice, and the problem would be solved. It did leave the question as to what would happen between us though. The thought terrified me.

If Ryan wasn’t my boss, there would be no reason not to take our relationship to another level. I’d never put my feelings on the line before, not even with Aidan. The possibility of getting hurt scared me senseless. My heart raced, wondering if Ryan was feeling the same things I was.

He kept my hand on his lap. “I wish we could put it behind us.”

I sighed. “But it is awkward, you have to admit that.”

His brows came together. “Awkward can be okay. Look at how we handled lunch.”

I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

He chuckled. “Your dad seems very nice. I hope things work out between him and your mom.”

“Me, too,” I said, shaking my head. “He had a successful job as an attorney and even made partner at his firm. Then one summer, he hiked Mt. Whitney, and he was hooked. One hiking trip after another. He stopped pulling his weight at the office, and the partners dissolved their company.”

He grimaced. “Ouch.”

“They have a mortgage on a house in the city, and he went into contract work because firms don’t like it when you take off for a month to hike in the Alps.” My heart ached, remembering my mom going to her day job, then picking up evening jobs too. She’d modeled exactly why I
didn’t
want to depend on a guy. “I don’t blame her for leaving. It’s just hard, you know?”

“I understand.” He slipped his arm around me, then played with the hair I’d been twisting around and around. His eyes connected with mine. “I’m glad you told me.”

“Me, too.” I gazed into his hazel eyes, then leaned forward, and pressed my mouth to his.

I’d opened up to Ryan, which should’ve felt good. But now I felt vulnerable, like I had that much more to lose. After he went home, I turned off my lamp, pulled the blanket up to my chin, and closed my eyes. My nerves were on edge, worried about all the things I couldn’t control, and I couldn’t fall asleep.

Beep! Beep!

My eyes popped open. What the . . .?

I groped for my cell on the nightstand, and found a message from Ryan:
Still thinking of you. Sweet dreams, buttercup.

Sweet dreams.
I typed back, then snuggled into my pillow, and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Eleven

Friday morning, I arrived early to the office, since I was taking the afternoon off for an appointment. AKA: interview that could change my life. By mid-morning, I was deep into a new product liability case when my phone gave two cheerful beeps.

“Jill?” Ruth’s voice chirped out. “Stan would like to see you in the conference room.”

“Be right there.” I tapped my highlighter against my palm, wondering what he wanted since he’d never responded to my email. My eyes narrowed. There’s no chance he’d know about my interview with Madison since I hadn’t told anyone.

Rising to my feet, I tugged my blouse straight, and headed out of my office.

“Jill?” Sarah’s voice came from behind me.

Startled, I put a hand over my chest, and spun around toward Sarah’s cubicle. “Hey, I’m actually in a hurry.”

“I won’t keep you,” she said, quickly. “Just making sure we’re still on for drinks tonight.”

“Definitely.” Truthfully, I had the urge for drink right now. “Ginger’s coming, too.”