Back Where She Belongs(12)

Sex with Dylan would stay a fantasy. That would be best. She was glad that he seemed happy. He’d made the best of getting stuck here, managed a degree, done remarkable work with his father—and hers. But then, he was brilliant, so he’d do well anywhere. What might he have done if he’d escaped like she had?

Not fair. The Wharton Effect again. Like she’d told him, there were other paths. She’d better get that through her head.

She pushed away thoughts of Dylan and focused on the remaining guests, speaking to each one, noticing again the way conversations broke off when she approached. Were they gossiping about her, her family or Wharton Electronics? Maybe all three.

“Señorita Wharton.” She turned to face a short Latina, probably early thirties, who held out her hand. “So sad to lose Señor Wharton.”

“Thank you,” she said, shaking the woman’s warm palm.

“I’m Sonya Manos.” The woman searched her face. “Mr. Wharton give me a chance I never have before. On the job, I learn.” Her j had that soft y Spanish lent English. “I supervise now. Nine people.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Mr. Wharton...he can be duro...hard. But he see in your heart, what you can do with only a chance.” She pressed her palm into her chest. “He save my family.”

“I’m sure he felt lucky to have you working for him.”

“Always I am grateful,” she said, then walked away, leaving Tara choked up all over again. The funeral speeches hadn’t all been PR. Her father had done good things. She wished more than ever that she’d cleared the air with him.

On her way to the kitchen to finalize things with the caterer, she ran into Faye’s secretary, Carol Conway, filling a trash bag with plates and plastic glasses.

“You don’t need to do that, Carol. The caterers will handle it.”

“I have to do something,” she said, shaking the sack. “I’m so mad.”

“What happened?”

“It’s the gossip.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “That’s a terrible curve. Anyone could have missed it. Faye would never drink and drive. She—”

“Wait. People are saying Faye was drunk?” Tara was stunned.

“It’s an ugly rumor. In the first place, she wasn’t even drinking her one glass of merlot a night anymore. She’d gone low-carb. And what was she doing at Vito’s? Pasta is totally off her diet. Walking by and smelling tomato sauce was too tempting, she told me.”

Chills raced along Tara’s nerves. Here was another person with doubts about the wreck. “Do you know who started the rumor?”

“No. And when I find out, he’s getting a piece of my mind. Or she.”

“I’m puzzled that Faye was driving my father’s car...” she said, leaving a gap she hoped Carol would fill.

“I know. Especially since they weren’t getting along.”

“Really?”

Carol’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t know? I’m sorry. I hope I’m not speaking out of turn.”

“You’re not. Not at all. Do you know what caused them to disagree?”

“Not exactly. Mr. Banes and Faye were arguing, too. It might have been about the quarterlies. Mr. Banes had asked for an extension.”

So Faye had quarreled with her mother, her father and her husband in the days before the accident. Did it have to do with the “transition” Faye had mentioned? Was the company in financial trouble and the management team at odds about how to handle it?

Maybe Faye had gone to Vito’s to confront her father. Or make peace. Or maybe she was sick of depriving herself and dropped in to carb load. It could be a million things. All Tara knew for sure was that the prickling sensation she’d first felt had become a cold chill.

And what was this about Faye driving drunk? She could not allow that to stand unchallenged. On Monday, she would talk to Chief Fallon, who’d been first on the scene...and whispering in her mother’s ear at the funeral.

“I love Faye,” Carol said, her voice breaking. “She’s the best boss ever. She was training me to become a project manager. She paid for extra computer training. Now...I don’t know what will happen to me.”

“You’ll be needed, Carol. You know that.”

She shook her head. “Joseph doesn’t like me. He doesn’t like that Faye includes me in meetings or lets me handle personnel memos.”

“Is that so?”

“They argued about you, too.”

“They did?”

“Yes. Faye wanted to hire you and Joseph threw a fit. He said they didn’t need a clueless consultant nosing around their business.”

“A clueless consultant? Really?”

“He didn’t mean it in a personal way. Just consultants in general. He blurts crap like that when he’s upset. Plus, you’re expensive. Faye defended you. She told him to read your website about your clients and all you’ve achieved.”

Her sister’s confidence in her warmed Tara’s heart and made her more determined than ever to help out at Wharton. Joseph didn’t want anyone nosing around. When managers got secretive, that usually meant it was time to shine a klieg light on their doings.

She’d have to approach the situation carefully. Carol could be an ally, especially since Faye had trusted her. “Faye did ask me to help out. She called a few weeks ago. I’d like to do that, but I know Mr. Banes will take some convincing.”

“That’s for sure.”

“What I’d like to do first is look over Faye’s files and emails, just to get a sense of what she was working on, but without upsetting Joseph. Is there a time I could do that when he’s out of the office?”

“Monday mornings the managers meet upstairs in the conference room. Our floor is quiet with just us worker bees. Joseph will have to run the meetings with Faye gone, so it’ll probably go all day.”

“Perfect,” Tara said, thinking it through. “Joseph offered me a tour. I could check Faye’s office, then pop in to meet the managers and ask about the tour. That’ll be perfect.”

“I’ll help however I can. With Mr. Wharton gone and Faye so sick, we’re all scared about the future.”

“How about before the accident? Were people afraid then?”

“Some were. There was talk about another layoff. It was kind of upsetting when they fired Mr. Pescatore—he was the factory manager. It was because production got behind, but people said it was because he talked about Wharton closing down or outsourcing the factory to some plant in Kentucky. Some engineers left because of the rumors—took jobs in other states.”

“That would be alarming.”

“Yeah, plus Mr. Pescatore was so mad he ran a forklift with a palette of batteries right off the loading dock. He wasn’t on it and no one got hurt or anything. He kept yelling that he would sue Wharton, that he’d make them regret this. Everyone was pretty flipped out.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Mr. Goodman is calmer. He took Mr. Pescatore’s place. Some think he’s too calm, that he won’t push production. I try not to think about it and just do my job.”

So Faye hadn’t been kidding about tensions being high. What the company needed now was strong, stable leadership, and a clear communications plan to reassure employees, clarify the company’s status and counter false rumors. That would be a daunting job for anyone, let alone a man more comfortable with numbers than people, who was worried about his wife.

Joseph would need help—anyone would—and Tara could provide it. When emotions ran high, a neutral professional could be invaluable when it came to setting priorities and making crucial decisions.

“Will you confirm the meeting for me?” she said to Carol. Monday would be busy, if she intended to meet with the police chief, too, but it was a relief to have more to do than worry and wait at her sister’s bedside.

“Absolutely. Faye would be glad you’re here.”

“I hope so. I hope I can make a difference.” As they exchanged numbers, a terrible thought occurred to Tara. What if the car wreck wasn’t an accident? What if it was related to the troubles at Wharton?

The livelihoods of a lot of people depended on Wharton’s continued success. If her father and sister were seen as failing the company, would someone take action against them? What about Joseph? He’d been acting strangely. Could he have run the car off the road in a rage?

No way. Joseph was not a rash or violent person. What about the man they’d fired? Pescatore. He’d threatened a lawsuit and vandalized company property. He’d wanted them to regret firing him. Would he have forced her father into an accident?

It seemed far-fetched, but she would be careful about sharing her doubts with people. Every person she talked to raised her suspicions. She would find out what happened that night and do what she could to help her family’s company. She couldn’t imagine a better use for her talent and training.