Tapestry of Trust (11 page)

He reached down to get his briefcase then skirted around Erica and toward the door.

“Charlie, hold up a minute.” Mr. Huss’s voice rose from behind him.

Charlie stopped short and circled back, walking to the front of the room. “Yes, Mr. Huss?”

Erica sidled up to her father and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Bye, Daddy.”

“Have a nice lunch, sweetheart.” Mr. Huss walked from behind the podium.

“I will.” She trotted by Charlie, her nose in the air. She didn’t so much as blink in his direction. He was relieved.

Mr. Huss clapped his shoulder. “Charlie, your presentation was excellent. You’re marketing ideas continue to amaze me.”

“Thank you.” Charlie nodded, enjoying the sense of accomplishment that hard work created. Even with all his distractions, he managed to impress his boss.
Thank you, Lord.

“You’ve been a valued employee. Everyone in the firm would agree.” Pausing, Mr. Huss shifted from one foot to the other. He cleared his throat, his voice went lower. “That’s why the topic I need to discuss with you is difficult.”

Charlie swallowed, trying to ease the sudden dryness in his throat. Was
he being let go?

Mr. Huss eyed him warily. “Is there something you need to disclose about the Hanson account?”

“No. Why would there be?”

“It’s your account, Charlie.” The tone in Mr. Huss’s voice became guarded. Maybe even disbelieving. “You know, if you’re mixed up in this, it’s better to come clean now before attorneys and investigators start digging around.”

“Mr. Huss.” Charlie straightened. “Feel free to send any of Hanson’s attorneys or investigators my way. I’ll be happy to cooperate. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Good, I’d be disappointed to find out differently.”

****

Charlie scrunched his eyes against the headache thumping against his forehead. Yanking open the bottom drawer of his desk, he grabbed a fistful of files, shoved them into his briefcase, and stalked to the copy machine outside his office.

His mind raced with a marathon of questions. How could Mr. Huss think he’d be involved in an embezzlement scheme? Hundreds of people worked for Hanson Industries. Were they all suspect until proven otherwise?

Dropping his briefcase onto a chair, Charlie released a sigh. He firmly believed in the justice system, but in case his files were subpoenaed, he’d better get copies.

So much for his free afternoon.

He popped open the briefcase, flung a page onto the glass surface and punched the start button.

Drumming his fingers against the side of the copier, Charlie hoped Erica hadn’t put the bug in her father’s ear suggesting his involvement.
No
. He tossed that last thought out. Even she wouldn’t do something that low.

Charlie slapped another page onto the copier. He took a step back to stare out the sixth floor window. Beyond the pane, bright sunshine filled the sky. Golden rays bathed the neighboring buildings. For a moment, he just stood there remembering how fond he used to be of spring. Fresh air, the scent of grass and trees, long, winding trail rides with Isabelle. What he wouldn’t give to relive those simpler times.

Screeeech. Clunk. Screeeech
. The sound sent Charlie’s gaze scurrying back in a hurry. He fumbled with the buttons and knobs until the paper jam cleared and another copy slipped into the plastic tray. He blew out a sigh. At this rate he would be here all day.

He rolled his shoulders and snagged another page from a folder.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hamilton. How are you today?”

Startled, Charlie looked up to the custodian fiddling with the thermostat. “Uh, yes…good afternoon. I’m doing fine. And you?”
Fine?
A slight exaggeration.

“Good. Good. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone. I thought the bigwigs had the afternoon off? Shouldn’t you be out golfing?”

Charlie gave a forced laugh. “I wish. But I have some things to catch up on.”

“I understand. Nice to have the office to yourself for a change. I prefer to work without interruptions, too. Believe me with the amount of work the boss man piles on, every minute counts. And the work that we have coming up…Woo-wee.”

Charlie half listened to the older man jabber on about some new sound system. He thumbed through another file, thinking about the work he still had to do.
Work.
Another nagging concern. He sure hoped he wouldn’t have to be looking for a new job soon.

“Have a nice day, Mr. Hamilton.”

The custodian’s footsteps clumped against the wood floor, and Charlie had just enough time to lift his head and watch him walk out of the room before Brenda’s two-toned head bobbed into view. So much for having the office to himself.

“Tell me it’s not so.” Brenda marched toward him. “You didn’t get fired?”

Charlie slapped another page on the copier. “Why aren’t you at lunch?”

“Ate early with Hannah. You know, when the rat’s away the mice will play.”

“Don’t you mean cat?”

Brenda grabbed the stack of papers from his hand. “No, I like cats.” He watched as she slipped the pages into a tray on top of the copier and pushed start. “If you put them into this automatic document feeder, you don’t have to go through that archaic routine of yours.”

Ah.
He knew there had to be a better way
.
“Brenda, what would I do without you?”

“You wouldn’t wanna know.” She grinned then scrunched her brows, all humor draining from her face. “Hey, you didn’t answer my question. Did you get canned?”

“No.” At least not yet.

“That’s not what I heard. Erica’s been a-squawking.”

Charlie shook his head and grinned. “I’m sure she has.”

Erica’s threat to make him miserable had begun. Not that he was surprised.

Brenda leaned in, her tart onion breath wafted up his nostrils. He stifled a sneeze. “You weren’t fired, and you’re working on your afternoon off. My guess you haven’t made nice with Miss Isabelle yet.”

The scent lingered, and Charlie inched back a little. “Correct.”

Brenda wagged her finger at him. “Like I told you. Erica would meddle if she found out you were hot for someone else. I heard what happened at the party.”

“Really?”

“Erica’s version, that is.”

Charlie could only imagine what that would be. Just thinking about the whole ordeal made him angry all over again. He breathed deep and pinched the skin between his brows where a headache continued to brew. No point wasting energy fuming. At least Isabelle still agreed to meet with him. News he received from Mark, via Kate.

“So what are you doing here? It’s a beautiful day.” She gestured toward the window.

“I needed to copy some files.” And distract himself from life’s issues. Evenings alone in his apartment were enough.

“Well, then tell me what’s up with the little leftover girlfriend.”

“Leftover?” Charlie laughed and shoved the copied paperwork back in his briefcase. “Isabelle’s far from leftover. We still have some fences to mend, which I’m working on. I just hope Erica leaves her out of our issues.”

“Not possible.” Brenda waved a hand. “But keep going. No one listens to Erica.”

Charlie laughed again. For the last year, at Erica’s request, he’d kept the details of their breakup under wraps. Not that he minded keeping their personal life out of the workplace. Apparently, those days were now over. “So what do you want to know about Isabelle? The truth, or shall I trump up the facts to give you something to gossip about?”

“Give it to me straight. I’ll play the devil’s advocate with the gossips.”

Charlie felt a surge of appreciation for Brenda’s allegiance. “Brenda, I believe you’re more of an ally than I thought.”

When Brenda’s eyes welled up, he wished the words back. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to offend you.”

“I’m not offended. I just can’t believe Erica’s on the warpath; and if she gets her way, you’re out of here.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

That didn’t surprise him. But for now, it was just gossip, and he’d let it be. Mr. Huss still appreciated his work.

Brenda swiped her eyes, and Charlie swallowed past a lump in his throat, wondering how to respond. He hadn’t expected Brenda, of all people, to get sentimental. But before he could deescalate her emotion, she pulled a candy bar from her pocket, tore open the wrapper, and took a bite. So much for her rush of melancholy.

“So are you getting married?” She smacked her red lips.

Charlie shook his head.
Wow. How do women do that?
“No wedding plans yet.”

“No?” Her eyes misted again. “Well, I hope you get the girl, Charlie. You’re a good guy. A little weird. But in an OK sort of way.”

Charlie scratched his head, chuckling. “Thanks…I think.”

She tore off another bite and winked. “Now, back to your story.”

He shifted then shrugged. “Isabelle and I dated through high school. We attended different colleges. Unfortunately, distance… immaturity...”

Brenda flapped a hand. “I get the message. But you’re a grown man now. A man of God.”

Charlie lowered the pages he’d pulled off the copier. “How did you know I was a Christian?”

She stopped chewing, her brows scrunched. “Didn’t you think I’d notice how you cleaned up your language? Or that you’ve been more respectful to others? Not to mention you have a Bible on your desk.” She grinned. “I look out for such things. I wanna know who I’ll be spending eternity with.”

Brenda a Christian?
He felt his jaw go slack and firmed it up.
Lord, forgive me.
Who am I to judge?

Brenda must have read his mind. “Yes, Charlie. Christians come in all shapes, sizes, and personalities.” She smoothed her hair and raised a brow.

Touché.
He nodded.

“By the way.” Brenda peered at him. “Do you want to hear what Erica’s saying about you and your gal?”

“Not really.”

Brenda ignored him and knotted her hands under her chin then worked her voice into an almost perfect rendition of Erica whining. “I caught Charlie cheating with his old girlfriend.
Sniffle, sniffle
. He begged me to give him another chance, but I said, ‘forget it.’ Yada, yada, yada.” Brenda’s eyes nearly crossed and she blinked. “There are several more chapters of the Charlie and Isabelle’s saga. Even with my love of information, I became too nauseated to listen.”

Charlie felt nauseated, too. He shook his head. “Well, I’m not afraid of Erica. She can say whatever she wants. I just don’t want Isabelle hurt.”

Struck by the significance of his own statement, he felt a sudden ache in his chest. Here he was worried about Isabelle getting hurt, when he’d probably hurt her more than anyone ever could.

****

An eerie feeling made Isabelle raise an eyebrow at the photo in the rumpled newspaper spread across the art table. She pushed aside a drying painted clay pot and took a closer look. So familiar. Something about the woman’s eyes. Isabelle leaned in and squinted at the small image.
Erica.

Isabelle put her hand over her mouth to smother a gasp that rose in her throat. Even at work in her classroom she wasn’t safe from thinking about Charlie? Or worse—his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, according to Charlie,
like me.
Cringing, Isabelle read the accompanying article.

Erica Huss newly appointed Vice President of Strategy and Growth for Wilson and Huss Marketing Firm. Huss holds a MBA from the University of Texas, a BS in International Business and also studied at Oxford.

“Miss Crafton, I’m all done.”

Isabelle jumped. She’d forgotten Drew was here.

Gathering herself, she slid a pot over the article and wheeled around. She moved to the front of the class. She’d read enough anyway. Enough to know that despite a shared ex-girlfriend status, she was nothing like Erica. Proper, gorgeous, brilliant, and well bred.

Seeing Drew’s brow knit, she stopped in front of her desk and countered with a sheepish grin. “Did you check your answers?”

“Yep.” Drew was already out of his seat and halfway down the aisle. “How many more weeks do I have?”

Isabelle waved him forward, delighted by Drew’s new enthusiasm. “Give me your worksheet, and we’ll take a look.”

Drew shoved the paper into her hand. “Tell me how many stars I got, too.”

“I’ll do that.” Isabelle circled the desk and lowered herself into the chair as Drew danced on his toes beside her. Opening her calendar, she pointed to the first Tuesday in May. “OK, we have about four weeks left. And, you have…” She pulled out his behavior chart and counted the stars with the end of her pencil. “Fifty-six stars.”

Drew craned his neck to peer at the page. “I have too many stars for now. Huh?”

Isabelle leaned on her elbows, caught between amazement over Drew’s mathematical processing and concern that his reasoning might get him into trouble. “Drew, look at me.”

Drew’s eyes met hers. He twisted his lip. “Huh?’

“Let’s go over this again. You need a hundred-and-fifty stars. That’s about five a day.” She didn’t want him to slack off now. She knew at best, he’d need her grace when the end-of-the-year festivities began. “Remember last Thursday, you received four stars, then six on Friday. See, every day is different, so you don’t have
too
many. You’re doing well, but don’t stop trying.” She looked into his eyes. “I bet you’ll love Copperhead Arcade.”

Sighing, Drew slumped his shoulders. “It’s kinda hard to be good all the time.”

All the time
—not exactly accurate. Although, she had to admit, his behavior and schoolwork had improved. “Hang in there. Blessings for your effort will come.” She winked. Four more weeks to keep him motivated.
Four long weeks.

Kate hurried in to the room, her blunt heels tapping across the tile. “Drew, I saw your ride out front.”