As she walked down the hall, she couldn’t stop thinking about her night with Josh. Never in all of her twenty-eight years had she experienced that level of passion or felt more cherished than she had in his arms. But as wonderful as her night with him had been, once he had taken her back to her place the following morning, reality had intruded as she remembered the unresolved issues between them.
She sighed. He had made it easy to forget that the funding committee would be meeting at the end of the week and she still had no indication if he would recommend additional funds for the day care or side with Beau Hacket and Paul Windsor in hopes of seeing the center close. And then there was the matter of finding the right words to tell him that he was Emmie’s father.
If she told him now, how would he react? As fond as he seemed to be of Emmie, Kiley was almost positive he would accept and love her. But her main concern was that he might think she was trying to use her daughter to influence his recommendation to the funding committee. For that matter, it could cross his mind that she had made love with him for that same purpose.
She really didn’t think he would consider her making love with him a ploy to keep her job. As if by unspoken agreement, neither of them mentioned the day care center’s future when they were away from the TCC clubhouse. But she wasn’t so sure he would take the news about Emmie being his child as well. That’s why she had made the decision not to tell him until after the funding committee met. If she withheld the information, then there would be no question about her motives. And besides, it wasn’t like a couple of days would make a difference. Josh was Emmie’s biological father and there wasn’t anything that would ever change that fact.
Lost in thought, she paid little attention to the group of teenage boys gathered in one of the alcoves she passed as she walked down the main hallway. At least, she didn’t until she heard one of them mention her name.
“I’m telling you it’s just a matter of time before that damned Roberts woman and her day care center full of rug rats are history,” she heard one of the boys say.
Stopping just out of sight of the sitting area, she shamelessly listened to what the group had to say.
“What makes you think the day care center is going to close, Hack?” another boy asked. “From what I hear it’s doing pretty good.”
“Well, when it got torn up, my old man said whoever did it had done the club a big favor,” Hack said, sounding smug. “He said he had enough influence on the funding committee to see that what the insurance didn’t cover would be taken out of the center’s budget and that it would run out of money by spring. He even told me he’d thank the vandal if he knew who he was.” The boy laughed. “I told him he could just buy me a new truck and we’d call it even.”
“You’re full of it, Hack,” one of the boys scoffed. “There’s no way you’re the vandal the police are looking for. And your dad wouldn’t let you get away with doing something like that here at the TCC.”
“Yeah, man, why would you say something like that?” another one asked.
“I know how to work the old fart. He thought I was joking with him.” Laughing, the teenager added, “I wanted him in a good mood when I asked for my new ride.”
“In other words, he got what he wanted, now you figure he owes you,” the scoffer said slowly.
Kiley had heard enough. If what he boasted about was true, Beau Hacket’s son had been responsible for the damage done to the day care center. But whether it turned out he was the vandal or not, his claim needed to be investigated.
The Christmas programs forgotten, Kiley walked straight to one of the house phones to have the switchboard operator page Josh. He had stopped by the day care center earlier on his way to lunch with Gil Addison and she hoped they were still in the restaurant or possibly in the bar.
“Josh Gordon here,” he said, coming on the line a couple of minutes later.
“I know who vandalized the day care center,” Kiley said, careful to keep her voice quiet.
“Kiley?”
“Yes. I just overheard someone bragging about it,” she said, deciding not to say the culprit’s name aloud for fear of alerting the boys that she had overheard their conversation.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“On the house phone in the main hallway,” she answered, keeping an eye on the sitting area. The boys were still there. “Hurry, Josh. He’s in a group of teenagers in the alcove across from the Grand Ballroom.”
“Gil and I will be right there.”