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She straightened to her full height, certain that she was in trouble. “No.”
“You need to take your breaks,” I said. “Your enthusiasm is appreciated, but there are labor laws.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
“Is there some reason that you’re not eating except at breakfast?” I knew it wasn’t any of my business, but I was curious. I decided to let her tell me that the topic was off limits, rather than just assuming that she didn’t want to share. If I was wrong, I would let it drop. But if I was right, and there was a story behind her odd behavior, then maybe it was something we could work around.
She looked at the window, and then at the lamp. Anywhere but my face. When she spoke, her voice was clipped, her lips thin, and her eyes narrow. “I am currently homeless.”
I didn’t think I’d heard her right. “I’m sorry?”
“I am currently homeless,” she said again. “I am sleeping in my car or at the shelter when they have space.”
“Holy crap,” I spit out before I could stop myself. That was the censored version. My original expletive was far less congenial.
“It’s only until I get a few paychecks,” she hurried on, distressed by my reaction.
“We have to find you a place to live,” I said. I couldn’t see any way around it. My company was my family’s pride and joy, and the employees were important components of the machine. I needed everyone to be on top of their game, not trying to hustle for a bed at night. On top of that notion was a more personal desire to see Ava taken care of. I didn’t want to admit that I cared so I let myself get angry. How dare she put herself in that situation? Didn’t she realize that being my secretary came with responsibilities?
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “It’s really not so bad.”
“Where did you sleep last night?”
“I don’t want to tell you,” she said.
“Tell me anyway,” I commanded.
“In my car. Behind the Aldi.”
I looked at her critically, searching for cracks in her demeanor. There were none. She was as stoic as a figurehead on a ship at sea, unfazed by the rough waters. I didn’t like it one bit. I didn’t want to think about her camped out all night behind some grocery store. I told myself that it was just for the company. We couldn’t afford to have someone as talented and professional as Ava put herself in harm’s way every night. There had to be some rule against that in the code of conduct.
“I’ll give you an advance,” I said.
“No, thank you,” she replied.
“Well, you can stay in one of my apartments.”
“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” she responded.
“What would be appropriate?” I challenged. “To let you sleep outside for one more night?”
“I’m doing fine, and I don’t need help,” she said, putting a little too much emphasis on it.
I could tell that she was wavering. She wanted her own place with a kitchen and a door that locked, but she wouldn’t take it from me. Ava was stubborn, and she had her pride. She was embarrassed that I was going after her, forcing her to accept help.
My experience with most women was quite the opposite. I found that most of the females I entertained would be eager to accept any gift or trinket I might throw their way. Up to and including an apartment, I supposed. I really couldn’t see any of my regular hook ups giving me a problem if I suggested elevating their standard of living.
With a heavy heart, I reigned in my protective impulses. I would have to be very careful in the future not to run over her with good intentions. I thought my money could buy anything. I had a yacht and real estate holdings up and down the coast, but none of that mattered to Ava. She wouldn’t take a handout no matter how hard I pushed, and I respected that.
I wasn’t willing to let the matter drop, though. She needed a home, and I wasn’t going to sleep well in my own bed knowing she was out there somewhere sleeping in her car. It just wasn’t right. I let it go. For now.
This time, when she attacked the pastries, she did so with some reluctance. She knew I was watching and that I understood what she was doing. I realized that they were probably the only meal she got, and that was why she needed two of them.
My thoughts went immediately to how to help her. She was too proud to take a handout, but maybe there was some way I could force her to see reason. She was one of my employees and therefore deserving of my assistance. That’s what I told myself. I couldn’t shake the disgust that visions of homeless shelters brought up and feeling helpless wasn’t my strong suit.
Watching her ease her way out the door, her hands full of sweet treats, I decided to call my mother. Mariah Harris knew all about taking care of people over their objections. She was the queen of intrusive affection. If anyone would know how to help Ava, it was my mother.
Chapter 6
