LITMIR.BIZ

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      Lindsey found out it was easier said than done to get a face-to-face appointment with Zane Holden. She persevered through frustrating phone calls to his office, and being told he was “unavailable.” But she refused to take no for an answer. Stubbornness. That had always been one of her saving qualities. A quality that had helped her survive everything she’d gone through. What she had, she’d fought for—and the funding for the center was something she’d fight for.

      Finally, she got some satisfaction when Zane Holden’s secretary capitulated slightly with “I’ll see if there’s any way to work you in.”

      Lindsey tasted a degree of victory when the woman came back on the line. “Mr. Holden can see you for a brief meeting tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”

      A brief meeting? She’d take anything she could get. “Thank you. I’ll be there,” she said, hung up the phone in her office at the center and let out a cheer. “Yes!” she yelled and raised both hands, curling them into fists over her head.

      “Shhhh, keep it down.”

      She turned and found Amy Blake, her coordinator, at the open door of the small office. The tiny woman, dressed in jeans and a pink sweater, her long dark hair pulled back from a fine-featured face in a single braid, had her arms full of stuffed animals.

      “Oh, sorry. I thought you were gone,” Lindsey said.

      “Taylor’s still in the nap room, and I’m letting her sleep while I pick up a bit. What’s going on?” She came farther into the room as a smile grew on her face. “Come on, tell me. That sounded like a victory yell. We’ve got funding? We can get a new van? Start the Mommy and Me program?”

      “No, we don’t have any of that—at least, not yet. But I have a meeting with Mr. Zane Holden, head of LynTech, tomorrow at nine in the morning.”

      “That’s great,” Amy said, but the smile wasn’t as big now. Lindsey knew that Amy had more to lose than she did if the center had to make drastic cuts. She barely made enough now to support herself and her daughter. But being employed here was the only way Amy could be with her tiny daughter and still work.

      “At least I can talk to the man face-to-face instead of through notes. It took me forever to convince his secretary, ‘the human iceberg,’ that I needed to see him in person.” Her sense of victory was starting to fade under nervous anticipation of the meeting. “I’ve got prep to do before the meeting.”

      “You know everything inside and out.”

      “I’d better,” she sighed as she smoothed the brown slacks she was wearing with a beige silk shirt. She looked around her cluttered office. Boxes and bare board shelves didn’t make it look very professional, but it was usable. Organization was not her strong suit, but she had to be completely in control for her meeting. “I need to go over the figures to make them look better. Maybe take away a few little things to make him think I’m compromising. But I’ll get the most important things, believe me. I’ll try to get you more money, too.”

      “If you can do that, it would be terrific.”

      Lindsey couldn’t spot her clipboard with her list of what they needed, then remembered she’d had it out in the play area. “I’ll give it my best shot,” she said as she moved past Amy and into the hallway to head for the main part of the center. She stepped into the space with clouds painted on the pale blue ceilings, walls alive with murals depicting various fairy tales, and dividers that looked like rows of giant crayons.

      It was quiet now, but for ten hours a day the center was alive with children who desperately needed the care, children whose working parents knew that their children were close by and well taken care of, and children who weren’t coming home to empty houses and hiding in closets just to feel safe.

      She spotted her clipboard on one of the tiny mushroom tables near the napping area on the far side of the room. “What to cut,” she whispered as she crossed to pick it up. Then she sank down on one of the mushroom-shaped stools by the flower petal tables in the story area. It was an awkward place to sit with her leggy five-foot seven-inch frame. But the only adult chair in the playroom was a rocking chair filled with children’s toys.

      Amy was there, talking quickly in a low voice. “Do you think he’ll go for it? He’s rejected three attempts.”

      She stared at the lists she’d made. It would be hard to cross off anything, but she could start with a few of the extras. The new storybooks. The new sleeping pads. They could make do for now. But they did need the stove for the kitchen area, and they needed a better van for transporting school-age kids to the center so they could wait here for their parents to get off work.

      “I’m going to get everything I can,” she said, “even if the meeting is going to be ‘very brief.”’

      “If anyone can talk Mr. Holden into giving us the funding, it’s you. Look what you did with Mr. Lewis. He didn’t even know about day care centers until you met him and convinced him to start this place.”

      “He was anxious to make things better for his employees, not just worried about how much profit he could make. I just wish he were still here, instead of running all over Europe chasing that daughter of his.” She grimaced up at Amy. “Last I heard, he was in France with her celebrating her third engagement in three years and no marriages. Now, that has to be some sort of record.”

      Amy shook her head. “I heard she’d gone through tons of colleges, too, and got kicked out of most of them. She’s running her parents a merry chase.”

      “And I think she’s part of the reason he retired and sold out to the Holden group.” Lindsey exhaled. “Tell me, what’s the point in getting a corporation like this, then cutting it up into little pieces and selling the pieces off to the highest bidder?”

      “Money, Lindsey. It’s the money. It’s called doing business for a profit.”

      Lindsey wrapped her arms around herself in a hug, rubbing the flats of her hands on her upper arms. “I don’t care what it is, as long as it doesn’t ruin this program.” She looked at the other woman, as dark and tiny as she was leggy and blond, her face tight with concern. “I won’t let anyone destroy this program.”

      “They’ve already started the layoffs. You might not have a choice.”

      Lindsey hadn’t had a choice about not having parents, or being in foster homes, or being alone and scared, but she’d had a choice in making a life for herself when she was old enough to be on her own. And she had a choice now.

      “No, I’ve got a choice. I can fight or I can give up. I’m not giving up. I’m not going to let Zane Holden ignore us any longer. For better or worse, he’ll have to deal with me in person.”

      “Isn’t that like trying to reason with the Big Bad Wolf? All he knows is killing and eating.” Amy smiled. “I don’t mean he’s a killer, but you know what I mean. He’s ruthless.”

      “Do you think he has kids?”

      “Do people like that breed?”

      Lindsey laughed at that, and it felt good to find humor in something at that moment. “Forced sterilization is against the law,” she said. “But, God help his kids. If they don’t perform up to expectations, he probably has them downsized.”

      A tiny voice came from the other room: “Mommy?” Amy turned and called out, “Taylor, Mommy’s out here, in the playroom.” She looked back at Lindsey. “I need to get her, then head on home. How about you?”

      “I have to face the Big Bad Wolf, and I’m not going to end up as his dinner. So, I have to have a good battle plan in place. I think I’ll be here for a while.”

      “Don’t stay too late. You’ve looked tired all day.” She frowned at her. “Are you sleeping okay?”

      Lindsey shrugged away the dream that disrupted her nights. “I don’t sleep well at the best of times, but I

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