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Chapter Three

Nearly a week later, Jack sat behind what had been his father’s desk, cursing his agreement to take over the company, even temporarily. Every day brought a new crisis and, with it, bad news. At this point all he was asking for was twenty-four hours without something major going wrong.

He’d already had to deal with the IT people informing him that their Web pages were nearly at capacity and, to support the Web expansion, they were going to have to negotiate with their server. The previous quarter’s report showed magazine subscriptions falling for their three best publications. A train derailment had destroyed nearly a hundred thousand magazines heading to the West Coast markets and he’d just seen the layout for the launch of their new home-decorating magazine and even he could tell it sucked the big one.

There was too much to deal with, he thought. How the hell had his father done all this and run several departments?

Jack leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. He already had the answer to that one—George Hanson hadn’t done it well. Things had slipped and there’d been no time to fix them before the next crisis had appeared. Despite hiring department heads, Jack was still overwhelmed by the sheer volume of work.

As far as he could tell, there was only one way for Hanson Media Group to survive—he had to get more help.

He buzzed for his assistant. When Mrs. Wycliff entered his office, he motioned for her to take a seat.

“I need to get in touch with my brothers,” he said. “Do you know where Evan and Andrew are these days?”

If the older woman was surprised that Jack didn’t know where to find his brothers himself, she didn’t show it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” she said. “Would you like me to try to find them?”

“Please. I suggest you follow the credit-card charges. That’s generally the easiest way.” Evan favored Europe and Andrew tended to follow the seasons—summering in exclusive beach resorts and wintering in places like Whistler and Gstaad.

Jack knew all the psychobabble about siblings. In every family each tried to get his parents’ attention in a different way. For Jack, it had been about being the best at whatever he did. He’d learned early that he was expected to take over the family business and for a long time he’d worked toward that. But in the end, he’d walked away from Hanson Media Group, just like his brothers.

None of them had made the old man proud.

Did Evan and Andrew ever feel guilty? Jack had tried to make peace with his father more than once, but the old man had never seemed interested. All he’d talked about was how Jack should be at Hanson Media Group instead of practicing law.

Jack regretted losing touch with his brothers a lot more than he regretted disappointing his father.

“I’ll get right on that,” Mrs. Wycliff told him. “Have you spoken with your uncle?”

“Not about this,” Jack told her. “But that’s a great idea. Thank you.”

She rose. “I’ll let you know as soon as I locate them,” she said, then left.

Jack buzzed David’s office. “Hi. Are you available?”

“Absolutely.”

The public relations department was the next floor down, on the main level of Hanson Media Group. Here the bright overhead lights contrasted with the rich blues and purples in the carpet and on the sofas and chairs.

Jack took the stairs and made his way to David’s office. His uncle couldn’t have been more different from Jack’s father. Where George had lived and breathed business, David always had time for his nephews.

David’s secretary waved him in. Jack pushed open the door and walked into David’s large office.

The space had been designed to impress and put people at ease. It did both. David walked around his desk and shook hands with Jack, then pulled him close for a quick hug.

“How’s it going?” David asked as he led the way to the sofas in the corner. “Still finding things wrong?”

“Every day. I’m hoping for some good news soon. I figure we’re all due.”

“Toward the end, George wasn’t himself,” David said. “I think the work became too much for him. I’m guessing. He didn’t confide in me.”

“Did he confide in anyone?” Jack asked.

“Probably not. You hanging in there?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Jack looked at his uncle. Like all the Hanson men, he was tall, with brown hair. His eyes were lighter and he was nearly twenty years younger than his brother. Maybe that was why David had always been closer to his nephews. Maybe that was why David had been able to be there for them, Jack thought. George had been more like a father than a brother to David.

“You always have a choice,” David told him. “You could walk.”

“I gave my word to the board. I’m here for three months to clear things up and then I’m gone. I’m trying to get ahold of Evan and Andrew.”

David frowned. “Good luck with that.”

“Mrs. Wycliff is going to follow the money. That always works.” Jack shook his head. “They should be here. We should do this together.”

“You’ve never been close. Why expect it now?”

“Good point.” Jack didn’t have an answer. “Who am I kidding? If I had the chance to bolt, I’d take it.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” David said. “You could have told the board no and you didn’t. You have a strong sense of responsibility.”

“Great. Look where it got me—here.”

“Is that so bad?”

“It’s keeping me from my real job.” Jack leaned forward. “Why don’t you take over? You know more about Hanson Media Group than any of us. You could run the company.”

“Not my thing,” David said. “Even if it was, I would respect my brother’s wishes. He wanted one of his sons to be in charge.”

“We don’t know that,” Jack said. “And we won’t until the will is read.” He swore. “What was my father thinking? Why on earth would he want us to wait three months to read the will? It’s crazy. Nothing can be settled until then. For all we know, he’s giving his majority shares to the cat.”

David grinned. “He didn’t have a cat.”

Someone knocked on the door. “Come in,” David called.

His secretary walked in with a tray and set it on the coffee table. “Anything else?”

David smiled at her. “Thanks, Nina. You didn’t have to do this.”

“No problem. Oh, you had a call from the printers.”

David groaned. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Not really,” Nina said cheerfully. “Don’t worry. I’ve already fixed the problem.”

With that she left.

Jack reached for one of the cups of coffee. “Tell me Andrew and Evan will at least come back for the reading of the will.”

David looked at him. “Are you hoping to cut and run the second their plane touches down?”

“It crossed my mind. I have a law practice to get back to.”

“Maybe you’ll appreciate your career more if you have to suffer a little here,” his uncle told him.

Jack narrowed his gaze. “If you start talking about Zen centering, I’m going to have to punch you.”

David laughed. “You know what I mean. You shouldn’t take things for granted.”

“I don’t. I’m not here to learn a life lesson. My father convinced the board that I was the only possible heir and now they’re pressuring me to take over. It’s all about self-interest. His, theirs, mine. My father didn’t give a damn about what I wanted. He’s doing his best to control me from the grave.”

“George loved you,” David said. “In his own way.”

“That’s like saying the black widow spider doesn’t mean it personally when she kills her mate.” He took another drink of coffee. “You’ve always defended him, even as you stepped in to take his place as our father.”

David shrugged. “I wanted to help.”

“You should have had a family of your own.”

“So should you. Speaking of which, I put out a press release about the new people you’ve hired. One of the names was familiar.”

“Samantha was the best person for the job,” Jack said, refusing to get defensive.

“I don’t doubt that. I’m simply saying it was interesting to see her name again. I remember her from your time in grad school. The one who got away.”

“She was never that,” Jack told him.

“You talked about her as if she were.”

“That was a long time ago. Things are different now.”

“Is she married?”

“No.”

“Then maybe fate is giving you a second chance.”

Jack looked at his uncle. “If you start drinking herbal tea next, we’re going to have to have a talk.”

David chuckled. “I’m just saying maybe you’re getting a second chance.”

“I don’t believe in them.”

David’s humor faded and he gave Jack a serious look. “Not every woman is Shelby.”

“I know that.” He put down his coffee and stood. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. As for Samantha, she’s a co-worker, nothing more.”

David grinned. “You’re lying. But we’ll play your game and pretend you’re not.”

“Gee, thanks. And if you hear anything on the whereabouts of my brothers, let me know.”

“You’ll be the first.”

“Oh, my,” Helen said as she looked around the condo. “It’s very …”

“Plain? Beige? Boring?” Samantha asked with a grin.

“I was going to say very ‘not you.’ But those will work as well.” She stepped forward and hugged Samantha again. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me, too. Getting out of New York was number one on my to-do list. You made that happen.”

Helen sank onto the sofa and dismissed Samantha with a flick of her wrist. “Oh, please. I got you an interview. I certainly didn’t get you hired. It’s not as if Jack would ever think to ask my opinion of anything. You got the job on your own.”

Samantha settled next to her friend and touched her arm. “You look tired. How do you feel?”

“Exhausted. Shell-shocked. It’s been two months. I guess I should be used to it by now, but I’m not.” Tears filled her eyes, but Helen blinked them away. “Damn. I promised myself I was done with crying.”

“There’s no time limit on grief.”

“I know.” Helen squeezed her fingers. “You’re sweet to worry about me. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay. I’m pretending to be fine and that should count for something. Most of the time I do okay. I can now go for an hour or two without falling apart. In the beginning I was only able to survive minutes. So that’s an improvement. It’s just I miss him so much and I feel so alone.”

Samantha didn’t know what to say. Helen really was alone in all this. She didn’t have any family of her own and George’s sons hadn’t exactly welcomed her with open arms.

“Have you tried talking to Jack?” she asked. “He’s not unreasonable.”

“I know,” Helen said as she dug in her purse. She pulled out a tissue and wiped under her eyes. “He’s very polite and concerned, but we’re not close. I tried. I tried so hard, but no matter what I did, those boys resisted.” She sniffed. “I suppose I shouldn’t call them boys. They’re all grown men. They were grown when I met them. It’s just that’s how George thought of them. As his boys.”

Samantha angled toward her friend. “I don’t get it, either. They should have adored you.”

“Oh, I agree. I did everything I could think of. On my good days, I tell myself it wasn’t me. George was a wonderful man, but he was never very close with his sons. I don’t know why. Whatever problems they had existed long before he met me. Oh, but I loved him so much.”

“I know you did.”

Helen smiled. “All right. This is stupid. I didn’t come here to cry. I want to talk about you. Tell me everything. Are you loving your job?”

Samantha accepted the change in subject. She didn’t know how to help her friend, so maybe distracting her would allow her a few minutes away from the pain.

“Every second,” she said. “There’s so much work, which is great. I like keeping busy. I have so many ideas for the new Web site that I’ve started keeping a pad of paper and a pen on the nightstand. I wake up two or three times a night with more details or directions or things we could do.”

Helen wrinkled her nose. “I can see we’re going to have to have the ‘balance’ conversation in a few weeks.”

“Maybe,” Samantha said with a laugh. “But for now, I’m really happy. I like the people I work with, I feel I’m contributing. It’s great.”

“Do you miss Vance?”

Samantha sighed. “No. And I really mean it. I thought I’d hurt more, but I think all the betrayal burned away the love. For the longest time I thought I’d never forgive him. Lately, I’ve come to see that I don’t care enough to worry about forgiveness. He was horrible in so many ways. I have to think about myself and getting better. Not about him.”

“Good for you. You’ve made a fresh start. You can get back on your feet. Look around. Maybe fall in love again.”

Samantha held up her fingers in the sign of a cross. “Get back. There will be no talk of love or relationships in the context of my life, thank you very much.” She lowered her hands to her lap. “I’m done with men.”

“Forever?”

“For a while. I don’t need the pain and suffering.”

“It’s not all like that,” Helen said. “Vance wasn’t the one for you. You figured that out and moved on. It was the right thing to do. But you don’t want to turn your back on love. You don’t want to miss the chance to have a great love. I believe there’s one great love for everyone.”

Samantha nodded. “And George was yours.”

“He was everything,” Helen said. “I was so lucky to find him. We shared so much. That’s what I want to remember forever. How much we shared. How much we mattered to each other. I’ll never find that again.”

Samantha wondered if that was true. Helen was still a relatively young woman. And a beautiful one. Samantha had a feeling there was at least one other great love in her friend’s life. As for herself, she wasn’t interested in trying. Not when she’d been burned so badly.

“Speaking of men,” Helen said. “What’s it like working with Jack?”

“Good. He’s very efficient and gives me all the room I need.”

Helen raised her eyebrows. “And?”

Samantha shrugged. “And what?”

“Are there sparks? I remember there were sparks when you were in grad school with him. I remember long discussions about whether or not you should risk getting involved with him. I also remember saying you should, but you ignored me.”

“He’s not my type,” she said, sidestepping the sparks question. Mostly because she didn’t want to admit they were still there and starting fires every time she and Jack were in the same room.

“Type doesn’t always enter into it,” Helen said. “Some men simply turn us on.”

“If you say so.”

Her friend stared at her. “Jack isn’t like Vance. He’s honest and he’s been hurt.”

Samantha drew back. She was beginning to think all men were like Vance. “Are you matchmaking? If so, stop right now. It’s so not allowed.”

“I’m not. I’m making a point. Jack’s a great guy.”

“For someone else.”

“If you say so.”

Jack’s last meeting finished at four. He returned to his office and found several empty boxes by the wall.

Mrs. Wycliff, efficient as ever, had delivered them while he’d been out. He planned to pack up a lot of his father’s things and have them put in storage until his brothers showed up. Then the three of them could sit down with Helen and figure out who wanted what and what to do with anything left over.

He headed for the bookcase first. There were several out-of-date directories and registries. He dropped those into boxes without a second glance, then slowed when he came to the pictures of his father with various clients, city leaders and employees.

“No pictures of family,” Jack murmured. No graduation shots, no informal photos taken on vacation or over holidays. Probably because they’d never much traveled as a family and, after his mother’s death, holidays had been grim, dutiful affairs at best.

It should have been different, he thought. He knew guys with brothers and they were all tight. Why hadn’t he, Evan and Andrew connected? Why weren’t they close? They were all dealing with the death of their father. Wouldn’t they do it better together?

“Did it matter? I don’t even know where they are.”

What did that say about the relationship? That he had no idea where to find either of his brothers? Nothing good.

He finished with the bookcase and started on the credenza. He needed room to store reports, quarterly statements and the like. The credenza was perfect. He pulled out old files and glanced through them. Some of them were over a decade old. Was that what had gone wrong with the company? Had his father been unable to stay focused on the present?

Jack had a feeling he would never get those questions answered. He and his father had never been close and any opportunity for that had been lost years ago. What made the situation even worse was Jack could barely feel regret about the circumstances.

He filled more boxes with papers, files and bound reports. When the credenza was empty, he reached for the quarterly reports and started to slide them in place. But the shelf wasn’t high enough.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he said as he looked at the credenza. “They should fit.”

He reached inside and poked around, only to realize the base of the shelf was too thick by a couple of inches. What the hell?

After a little more prodding, he felt a narrow piece of metal, almost like a lever. When he pushed on it, the shelf popped up revealing a long, shallow recessed space and a set of leather books.

Jack’s first thought was that his father had kept a diary. He was surprised to find himself anxious to read the older man’s thoughts. But when he picked up the first book and flipped through it, there weren’t any personal notes. Instead he stared at rows and rows of numbers.

His world was the law and it took him a second to realize he was looking at a detailed income statement. He glanced at the date and felt his stomach clench. This was for the previous year. He’d just spent the better part of the morning looking at the income statement for the past year. He was familiar with those numbers and they weren’t anything like these.

Even though he already knew, he still found the first statement and compared it to the one his father had kept hidden. All the entry titles were the same but the amounts were different, and not for the better.

Anger filled him. Anger and a growing sense of betrayal. George Hanson had kept the truth from everyone. Jack didn’t know how he’d done it, but the proof was here in the second set of books he’d hidden away.

Not only was the company close to bankruptcy, but his father’s concealment had been criminal and premeditated. The company was totally screwed—and so was Jack.

Chapter Four

Jack carefully went through the books, hoping to find something to show that he’d been wrong—that his father hadn’t defrauded employees, stockholders and his family. But with every column, every total, the truth became more impossible to avoid.

He stood and crossed to the window where the night sky of Chicago stretched out before him. He could feel the walls closing in and fought against the sense of being trapped. With news like this, the board would pressure him to stay longer. They would insist that a three-month commitment to get things straightened out simply wasn’t enough. In their position, he would do the same.

He heard someone knock on his office door, then push it open. He turned toward the sound.

“You’re working late,” Samantha said as she walked toward him. “I had a feeling you would still be here. You executive types—always going the extra mile. Doesn’t being so conscientious get—” She stopped in mid-stride and stared at him. “What’s wrong?”

So much for a poker face, he thought grimly. There was no point in keeping the truth from her. He would be calling an emergency board meeting first thing in the morning. Time was critical. The financial information would have to be disclosed, first to the board, and then to the investors and the financial world. His father had insisted on taking the company public, which meant playing by the rules of the SEC.

“I found a second set of books,” he said, nodding toward his desk. “My father kept them by hand. I’ve checked them against the computer financial statements and they don’t add up. He was concealing massive expenditures and losses.”

Samantha’s eyes widened. “Fraud?”

“That’s one word for it. I can think of fifty others. We’re going to have to do a complete audit and find out the true financial situation. I doubt it’s going to be good news. We’re talking about a possible SEC investigation, plenty of bad press and downturn in the stock price.” He returned his attention to the view. “At least the family owns a majority of the shares. We don’t have to worry about a total sell-off. There will be a hit in our price, but it shouldn’t be too bad. Not with a new management team in place and complete disclosure.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.

“You and me, both. Not exactly what you want to hear about your new employer. Ready to cut and run?”

“What? Of course not.” She moved next to him. “Are you all right?”

“I’m not happy, if that’s what you mean. Just once, I’d like to be surprised by good news.”

“Jack, you’re talking about your father. That he concealed material financial information. That’s a big deal.”

“Good thing he’s dead, then. Otherwise, he’d be going to jail.”

He sounded so calm, Samantha thought. As if all this were happening to someone else. From what she knew, Jack and his father had never been tight, but this had to be hard for him. No one wanted to find out a parent had committed a crime.

“He wasn’t a bad man,” she said, not knowing if there was any way to make this easier for Jack. “Maybe he just got in over his head.”

He looked at her. “You’re trying to justify what he did?”

“Of course not. But from everything I’ve heard, he wasn’t evil.”

“He doesn’t have to be evil to have broken the law. People do it all the time.” He shook his head. “I’m almost not surprised. He ran several departments himself. He couldn’t give up the control. Maybe this was just another way of holding on tight. The numbers weren’t what he wanted them to be, so he modified them. No wonder he wasn’t big on change—technology would have made it tough for him to hide the truth.”

“But he did,” she said.

“In spades. I wonder if David knows about this?”

“Are you going to ask him?”

“I’m going to ask everyone,” Jack said. “The only way to ward off a crisis is to have a plan in place to solve the problem and to find anyone who may have helped him.”

“You don’t think he acted alone?”

“Unlikely. But I know it was his idea.”

“You might want to talk to Helen,” Samantha said before she could stop herself. “She may know something.”

Jack glanced at her. “You think she was involved?”

“What? No! Helen wouldn’t do anything like this. But she might be able to tell you if George was acting stressed or if he suddenly seemed to change. She might have some suggestions.”

His mouth twisted. “I don’t need shopping advice.”

Samantha stiffened at the insult to her friend. “Is that what you think of her? That she’s a useless bimbo who only cares about clothes and jewelry?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really know the woman.”

“And why is that? She’s been a part of this family for a while now. Why weren’t you interested in even trying to get to know her?”

“I’m familiar with the type.”

“Helen isn’t a type. She’s a person and she’s not the person you imagine her to be. How interesting. You think your father got himself and the company in this position because he held on too tight to outdated ideas. It seems to me that you’re a lot like that, too.”

Samantha took notes as one of her team members wrapped up his presentation. “Great job, Phil,” she said. “I really like how you’re using colors to coordinate your section. It will make navigating the site really fun.”

“Younger kids respond to colors. They’re easier for them than instructions,” he said with a grin. “I was thinking we could use the same format for the sections for older kids, but with the colors getting darker. Light blue flowing into dark blue into navy. So clicking on anything blue will automatically pop up math-related questions.”

“Good idea,” she told him, then looked at Arnie. “So, does that make your job harder or easier?”

Arnie rubbed his hand on his khakis. “Once we get it programmed, it’s not a problem.”

“Good.” She found it helpful always to include the IT guys in on the planning stages of any Internet project. Better to get their cooperation and input while the work was still easily modified.

“You could, ah, use drop-down menus, too,” Arnie said. “After they click on the color. So it’s not just one question. It could be a series. And then based on how they answer, they can go to another place on the site. Like if they get the answer right, they get a mini game. You know, for motivation.”

Samantha glanced at her team, who all seemed pleased with the idea.

“Good thinking,” she said. “You have a big thumbs-up on that one, Arnie. Thanks.”

He shrugged and blushed. His gaze never left her face.

Samantha recognized the signs of a crush and wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it. Not only wasn’t she looking for love right now, Arnie wasn’t her type. He was a nice enough guy, but nothing about him caused her to tingle.

Just then the conference-room door opened and Jack stepped inside. He didn’t say anything and quietly took a seat in the back.

Instantly her body went on alert, just in case her brain hadn’t noticed his arrival. She hated that even though she was still angry with him, she reacted physically. She found herself wanting to sit up straighter and push out her chest. Of course the complete lack of significant breast-type curves made that gesture futile, but still, the urge to flaunt was there.

Go figure, she thought. Arnie was available and pleasant and smart and probably completely uncomplicated. Nothing about him pushed any of her emotional buttons. Jack might be available and sexy, but he was also her worst-case scenario, man-wise, and totally unreasonable. He made her crazy with his assumptions about Helen.

Which they would deal with another time, she thought as she turned her attention back to the meeting in progress.

“The reward games should be related to the topic,” Sandy said. “At least on some level. Like a blaster game based on times tables for the math color or something scientific for the science section.”

“The difficulty of the games could increase with each grade level,” Phil added.

“We’re going to be spending a lot of time on content,” Samantha said. “But it will be worth it. We’ll need to take these ideas to research and get them going on questions and answers. We can do timed and non-timed quizzes. Maybe coordinate some of the questions with what’s being studied in the textbooks. Are they standardized by region? Let’s find that out. If we can emphasize what they’re already studying, we’ll reinforce the teachers’ lessons.”

“I’m working on the time line,” Jeff said. “So a kid can type in a date and find out what’s happening all over the world at that time. We’re thinking anything date related will reference back to the time line. So if someone is working on a paper on Thomas Jefferson and they go online for information, the Web site will offer a time-line link. That way the student can see not only what was happening in this country, but everywhere. We can also cross-reference, so with the Jefferson paper, they could talk about what was happening in China and how it was the same but different.”

“Wish I’d had that when I was in school,” Samantha said.

“Me, too,” Jeff said. “I would have done better in history.”

The meeting continued. Ideas were offered and discussed. They had a limited amount of time to get the Web site up and running, so there would be a final of only the best. Still, she wanted as much to choose from as possible.

As people spoke and offered suggestions, Samantha was careful not to look at Jack. On the professional side, she knew it was important to put their argument behind them. As someone who cared about her friend, she was still really mad.

“That should take care of it for now,” she said. “Good work, people. I’m impressed. We’ll meet again on Friday.”

Her staff stood and headed for the door. Arnie glanced at Jack, who remained seated at the table. The smaller man hesitated, looked at her, then left. Samantha had no choice but to acknowledge her boss.

“We’re getting there,” she said as she collected her notes.

“Yes, you are,” he told her. “Your team works well together. I like where things are going.”

“Good.”

“You have an easy working style. You’re firmly in charge, but you don’t force your will on anyone.”

“What’s the point of that?” she asked. “I already know what I think. I’m looking for their ideas.”

“Not everyone thinks that way.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

“You’re still mad at me,” he said, making it a statement not a question, so she had no reason to deny it.

“I don’t understand why you’re determined to think the worst of Helen. From what I can tell, you barely know the woman. If you’d spent time with her and she’d been horrible, I would understand your less-than-flattering opinion. But you’re basing it all on a few casual meetings and the mythology that stepmothers are inherently evil.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “It’s not about her being my stepmother.”

“Then what is it?”

He hesitated. “She’s much younger than my father,” he began. “My father was not a kind man.”

Samantha stood. “Oh, I see. You’re saying she married him for his money? Is that it?” Anger filled her. “I’ve known Helen for years. In fact, she used to be my babysitter. We’ve stayed close. She’s like family to me. She loved your father. Maybe you and he didn’t get along so you’re having trouble with that concept, but it’s true. She considers him the love of her life. I can’t help defending her. It’s like you’re attacking my sister.”