Saying Yes to the Boss

Turning the letter over in his hand, Carson ran his gaze over the words one last time. “I think the person who wrote this letter is my father. It’s the biggest lead I’ve ever had and yet somehow, I don’t feel like I’m any closer to finding out his identity than I was before. What good is one initial?”

“It’s more than you had before,” she said in an upbeat tone.

Carson wasn’t feeling quite as optimistic. “Anything else interesting?” he asked.

Georgia shuffled through some more envelopes that were bound together with a rubber band. “These are old pay stubs. She’s kept them going back for years and years. Other than that, not much, sorry.”

Carson nodded and started putting everything back into the shoe box. “That’s okay. We found something. That should make my brothers happy. I’ll hand this over to them and let them analyze to their hearts’ content. Let’s pack up the last of these shoes and call it a day.”

They slowly gathered up all the bags and boxes and hauled them downstairs to the foyer. When he looked down at his watch, Carson realized he’d kept Georgia here far longer than he’d expected to. “Wow, it’s late. I’m sorry about that. I hijacked your whole Saturday.”

Georgia set down a bag of clothes and shrugged. “I would’ve spent it working anyway. I told you I’d help. I didn’t put a time limit on it.”

“Well, thank you. I got through that faster with you here. I might have given up long before I found that box. There’s still more to go through, but I think what I was looking for is right here,” he said, holding the old shoe box. “I’d like to make it up to you. May I buy you dinner?”

Georgia studied his face for a moment, her pert nose wrinkling as she thought it over. Finally she said, “How do you feel about Chinese takeout?”

* * *

“Can you pass me the carton of fried rice?”

Georgia accepted the container and used some chopsticks to shovel a pile out onto her plate beside her sesame chicken and spring roll. The Chinese place a block from her loft was the best in town. She ate there at least three times a week. Carson hadn’t seemed too convinced about her dinner suggestion at first. He must have wanted to take her someplace nice with linen napkins or something, but she’d insisted.

They drove back downtown to her place, then walked up the street together to procure a big paper bag full of yum and grab a six-pack of hard cider from the corner store. That was her idea, too. Lobster and expensive wine were nice, but honestly, nothing topped a couple of cartons of Jade Palace delicacies eaten around the coffee table.

“Wow,” Carson said after taking a bite of beef and broccoli. “This is really good.”

“I told you. It’s all amazing. And really, you have to eat it while you sit on the floor. It adds to the experience.”

Carson chuckled at her and returned to his food. She’d expected him to turn his nose up at eating on

the floor around her coffee table, but he’d gone with it. She had a dining room table, but she almost never ate there. It was the place where she worked on her laptop, not ate.

“I lived with a family for a while that ate every meal around the coffee table,” Georgia explained. “They didn’t watch television or anything. It was just where they liked to be together. There were about six of us who would crowd around it and eat every night, talking and laughing. I really enjoyed that.”

“Those moments are the best ones,” Carson agreed. “There are some days when I’d give up every penny I’ve ever earned to be a kid again, watching old movies and eating popcorn with Aunt Gerty and Mom. My brothers and I get together and do it every few weeks, but it’s not the same.”

Georgia watched her boss’s face softly crumble into muted sadness as he stared down at his plate, shoveled some chicken into his mouth and chewed absentmindedly. She knew what it was like to miss people that you could never have back in your life. She’d always consoled herself with the idea that there was something better in her future. “You’ll make new moments,” she reassured him. “And one day when you have a family of your own, your children will treasure the little things you share with them just the same.”

“That feels like it won’t happen for decades. Honestly, just the idea of a family of my own seems impossible. I work so much. And even if I found the perfect woman, I’d feel like a fraud somehow. How can I be a father when I don’t know what it’s like to have one?”

“You’ll figure it out. Just start by being there and you’ll already have both our fathers beat. You’re a good guy, Carson. I have no doubt that it will come naturally to you.”

“What about you? You’re not going to have a family of your own while you spend all your free time at work.”

Georgia knew that. A part of her counted on it. What good was starting a relationship when it was just going to end? People always left her—life had proven that much—so she kept her relationships casual and avoided more disappointment. “Right now, the Newport Corporation and its employees are my family. The only family I’ve ever had. For now, that’s enough for me.”

“So you’re not dating anyone?” Carson asked.

Georgia’s gaze met his with curiosity. Was he really fishing for information or just being polite? “Haven’t you heard? Carson Newport is my lover.” She punctuated the sentence by popping the last bite of food into her mouth and putting her chopsticks across the plate in disgust. She could really put her foot in her mouth sometimes.

Carson chuckled and set aside his own utensils. Leaning onto his hand, he looked at her over the coffee table and said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Why not?” she said. They’d already covered their painful childhoods. What could be worse than that?

“Why did you tell Sutton I was your lover last night?”

That. That could be worse. “I, uh…” Georgia started, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. “It just popped into my head,” she said as she got up and carried a few dishes into the kitchen.