Blue-Eyed Devil (Travis Family #2)(88)

"Want to go out for lunch?" I asked gently. "It's on me." She gave me a wan smile and shrugged. "I'm not hungry. But thanks."

"Let me at least bring you a yogurt or a — " I stopped as I saw the glitter of a tear beneath one of her eyes. "Oh, Samantha . . . " I went around to her side of the desk and hugged her. "I'm sorry. Bad day, huh? Thinking about your dad?"

She nodded and rummaged for a tissue in her desk drawer.

"Partly that." She blew her nose. "And partly . . . " Her slender hand reached across the desk and nudged a sheet of paper to me.

"What is this? A billing sheet?" I frowned curiously. "What's the problem?"

"My weekly paycheck is on direct deposit, every Friday. So I checked my account balance last week, and it was a lot lower than I expected. Today I logged on to the office computer and found out why." She smiled crookedly. Her eyes pooled again. "You know that huge flower arrangement the company sent to my father's funeral? The one with all your names on the card?"

"Yeah." I almost didn't want to hear what she was going to say next.

"Well, it cost two hundred dollars. And Vanessa took it out of my paycheck."

"Oh, God."

"I don't know why she'd do something like this," Samantha continued. "But I've made her mad somehow. I think it was those days I took off after Dad died . . . she's been weird and cold to me ever since."

"You took those days off to go to your father's funeral, Sam. No normal person would hold that against you."

"I know." She gave a shaky sigh. "Vanessa must be under a lot of pressure. She told me it was the worst possible time for me to be absent from work. She seemed so disappointed in me."

I was filled with volcanic rage. I wanted to storm through the office like Godzilla and trample Vanessa's desk underfoot. If Vanessa wanted to attack and belittle me, I could handle it. But to crush poor Samantha right after the death of a beloved parent . . . it was too much.

"Don't tell her I complained," Samantha whispered "I couldn't handle getting in trouble right now."

"You won't get in trouble. And Samantha, that two-hundred-dollar deduction was a mistake. It's going into your account right away."

She gave me a doubtful glance.

"It was a mistake," I repeated. Pulling out a clean tissue, I dabbed at her eyes. "The office is paying for those flowers, not you. I'm going to fix this, okay? "

"Okay." She managed a smile. "Thanks, Haven."

The intercom pad on my desk beeped. Since the office was furnished in an open-cubicle system, anything Vanessa said on the intercom was audible to everyone.

"Haven, come to my office, please."

"No problem," I muttered, leaving Samantha's cubicle and heading to Vanessa's corner office. I deliberately took my time, trying to compose myself before confronting my boss. I knew I was probably going to get fired for what I was about to say, and that afterward I would probably be the victim of a highly effective smear campaign. But that didn't matter. I could get another job. And the damage Vanessa would do to my reputation wasn't nearly as important as standing up to her.

By the time I reached Vanessa's office, she had pressed the intercom button again. "Haven, come to my — "

"I'm here," I said, going directly to her desk. I didn't sit, just stood and faced her.

Vanessa stared at me as if I were an ant crawling up the wall. "Wait at my door, please," she said in a detached tone, "until you're invited in. Haven't we gone over that enough times for you to remember, Haven?"

"I'm setting aside the rules for a few minutes. This is important. There's been a mistake with the billing sheets. It needs to be fixed."

Vanessa was not accustomed to anyone else setting the agenda. "I don't have time for this, Haven. I didn't call you to the office to talk about the billing sheets."

"Don't you want to know what it is?" I waited. When it was obvious she wasn't going to answer, I shook my head slowly. "No, because you already know. It wasn't a mistake, was it?"

A curious, chilling smile spread across her lips. "Okay, Haven. I'll play. What is it?"

"Samantha's been charged for the flowers the office sent to her father's funeral." I waited for any kind of reaction, a slight widening of the eyes, a flicker of shame, a frown. Anything. But Vanessa showed all the emotion of a department store mannequin. "We're going to fix it, right?"

An excruciating silence passed. Silence was one of Vanessa's more effective weapons . . . she would stare at me until I felt myself collapsing like a tower of blocks, and I'd say something, anything, to fill the unnerving wordless void. But I held her stare. The silence drew out until it was actually sort of funny. But I managed to outwait her.

"You're out of line," she informed me. "How I choose to manage the employees is none of your business, Haven."

"So taking that money out of Samantha's paycheck is some kind of management technique?"

"I think you'd better leave my office right now. In fact, take the day off. I've had more than enough of you and your bratty attitude."