Where Rivers Part (2 page)

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A
s the sun toppled full over the San Antonio horizon, Juliet tucked her head and pounded her running shoes against the paved trail, pushing to pick up speed around the final corner. Her lungs burned against the already hot morning air, meting out punishment for every stolen puff she'd given in to yesterday. She'd been weak and must renew her determination to end the nasty habit—one she'd taken up to counter the stress of finishing her doctorate.

The encounter with her father had caught her off guard. After their tense exchange, she had two choices—head to the restaurant for a pile of onion rings or to the designated smoking area to the right of the pool. The way she figured things, her nicotine breath could be covered up with gum, but as she'd experienced for most of her childhood and early teen years, giving in to comfort food proved more difficult to hide, even though you wouldn't know it to look at her now.

Juliet finished her run, wiped her face with a towel, and stretched one slender leg out on the park bench, then the other, each time bending her forehead to her thigh, letting the motion pull her calf muscles taut.

Frankly, she was exhausted and wished she could curl up on that bench and catch a quick nap. The conference had taken a toll.
Even at age thirty-three and despite her mostly healthy lifestyle, she felt herself getting older by the minute. Last month, the mirror revealed tiny lines at the corners of her eyes, which prompted a quick appointment at the exclusive Elian Spa for a very expensive laser treatment.

She'd finally attained an age where she'd be taken seriously in her line of work, but with it came a related set of issues. She couldn't afford to let her looks go.

After glancing at her watch, she cut her stretching routine short and headed for the parking lot, finishing off a bottle of water on the way—Larimar Springs water, a label she was proud of.

Several highly qualified candidates had vied for the quality assurance director position, but she'd learned the position was hers from the minute her résumé crossed the desk of the CEO.

During their initial meeting, Juliet found Alexa Carmichael's handshake firm and her no-nonsense approach even more unwavering. The woman was a walking advertisement for what women in business could achieve.

Juliet could tell from one quick glance that Alexa's suit was a Donna Karan. She'd seen the olive-colored jacket and pencil skirt at Neiman Marcus in Dallas last month. A bit out of her price range.

Most of her own designer apparel was snagged at off-the-rack stores. Only one item had been purchased at retail, and she'd agonized over paying that kind of money. But when Alexa Carmichael turned her pearl-laden neck and glanced with approval at Juliet's black patent Louboutins, she knew she'd spent well.

Both women shared a certain knowledge—ability mattered, but image was everything.

Twenty minutes into the interview, Juliet sensed she'd created a bond with the blonde executive, whose own sharp-edged style earned respect from those inside and outside the corporation. Who knew? Perhaps Alexa saw her younger self reflected in Juliet's confidence and credentials.

“We'll be in touch soon,” Alexa promised with a smile, ending the interview in under an hour. “The role of the quality assurance director is critical, and we'll want to integrate you into the team as quickly as possible.”

Her mother had been delighted, as expected. “Oh, honey. I knew you'd do well. You are so smart.” Then, as if the idea just popped into her head at that moment, her mom's face broke into a delighted grin. “Now you'll get to move back to San Antonio. My girl will be home again.”

Juliet's father, on the other hand, peered over top his magazine from across the table. He frowned, his broad forehead creasing. “So the devil enticed you to the dark side, huh?”

“Oh, Bennett. Stop.” Her mother waved him off. “Ignore him, honey. We're both proud of you.”

Unlike her dad, her mother had always been in her corner.

Not wanting to ruin a good run, Juliet pushed thoughts of her father from her mind and crossed the now crowded parking lot. Inside her car, she shoved her key into the ignition and started the engine, then quickly pushed the air-conditioning on high and waited for it to blow cool. Even this early in the day, the morning air seemed weighted with heat. Outside the driver's side window, two women passed by in running clothes, each drenched in sweat and carrying a bottle of Larimar Springs water.

Perhaps she'd joined with the devil. But nothing quenched the heat like water.

“Morning, Dr. Ryan. How's it going?” Juliet's assistant jumped up from her desk and followed as Juliet made her way into her office.

“Good morning, Tavina.” She opened her attaché and removed the contents—among them her travel itinerary, the invoice from the hotel, and the conference program—and placed them in Tavina's
hand. “What's on the agenda for today?” She slipped into her desk chair and lifted the screen on her Mac.

“Alexa called some big meeting this morning. The large conference room at eleven. She said to tell you it would run over lunch.” Tavina shuffled through the papers, immediately putting her hand on the documents she'd need for the expense report. “How was the conference? Sorry about the late-night route, but that flight was the only one available.”

She opened her email folder and groaned at the volume. She knew better than to let her inbox pile up while she was away. “Don't worry. The travel arrangements were fine,” she said, looking up at Tavina. “Did Alexa say what the meeting was about?”

Tavina shook her head. “No. Just said to make sure you were there.” Her assistant glanced back at the open door, then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “But word has it, there's some big announcement coming.”

She rewarded Tavina with an appreciative nod.

No classroom instructor ever revealed what Juliet learned very early in her career—administrative assistants were one of your most valuable resources. Sure, a good one performed their job duties well, but the real gold was tapping into the stream of information that flowed from the administrative network—which is why she'd taken Tavina Mosely to lunch that first week on the job.

Juliet had wanted to treat her new assistant to an elegant lunch at the Colonial Room in the historic Menger Hotel, but Tavina widened her gorgeous deep brown eyes and said, “Oh no, huh-uh. That place is haunted. I appreciate the offer and all, but ghosts just ain't my thing.”

So instead, they parked themselves at a rustic thick wooden table in the trendy Boiler House located in the Pearl. Over spinach salads and grilled pineapple pound cake, she learned Tavina had grown up on the west side of San Antonio, in a condominium project known
as Casiano Court, built in the fifties by the San Antonio Housing Authority. Not exactly a great neighborhood.

Both Tavina and her brothers attended community college, thanks to a mother who kept her children at the kitchen table with their studies and out of the streets where most of their friends hung out. “Mama used to tell us we could do things her way, or her way—but no matter what, we were going to do things her way.” Her assistant laughed and dabbed the linen napkin at the corners of her mouth.

It was Tavina who clued her in to the fact Alexa was not a morning person—the result of working until the wee hours from home—and to never approach her with anything requiring a decision before she'd had at least two cups of coffee. The comptroller, Fred Macklin, had a penchant for issuing reports, and if your inbox filled with large stapled documents, he was the likely culprit. His secretary, a wiry little woman in her sixties, might go through your desk drawers if you didn't lock them.

“Alva Jacobs is the worse kind of snoop,” Tavina warned. “I mean, really, what does the ol' bat think she'll find?”

Juliet was amazed. “She goes through people's desk drawers?”

“Yup, we all know to lock 'em before heading to lunch.” Tavina finished off her cake and placed her fork neatly by the side of her plate. “And never wander around the plant alone during the evening shift.”

Juliet lifted her brow. “Why not?”

Tavina's face took on a knowing look. “Well, the ugly girls can.”

Juliet nodded slowly, hating that women in corporate America still faced obstacles of that nature. Tavina would be especially vulnerable, with her big brown doe-like eyes rimmed with thick black lashes and skin the color of milk chocolate—the expensive kind that melts in your mouth like silk. The girl could easily be a model, and a stunning one at that. Sadly, raising a small son on her own limited those options. But Tavina didn't seem to mind. She really liked her job.

Juliet was most interested in what Tavina had to say about Greer Latham, the vice president of marketing and sales. “All the girls definitely agree that dude is some fine eye candy,” her assistant confided.

Juliet hesitated, not sure how to react to what she knew was dangerous territory. Tavina picked up on her concern and waved her off. “Oh, I know, I know. But it works both ways. The ladies look too, and you
know
that's so, girl.”

To her credit, Tavina wasn't afraid to speak her mind, a fact that had benefited Juliet often in the early weeks of her new position.

From the frown now on her assistant's face, Juliet knew to brace herself for another round of candor. “What?”

Tavina sniffed at the papers in her hand. “Don't tell me you've been smoking again? You said you was quitting?”

“I know, I know. I only had one.” Juliet swallowed her little white lie and waved Tavina out the door. “Now, let me get through these emails before that meeting.”

Promptly at eleven o'clock, the executive board members and department heads gathered in the large conference room. Juliet took a seat sandwiched between the head of human resources and the extraction manager. Across the massive granite table, Greer Latham sat looking as perfectly GQ as Tavina had described in that first lunch, with his precision haircut and expensive gray suit. Their eyes met only briefly before Alexa Carmichael strode into the room.