Chapter Thirty–Eight
A Man With A Mission
Jordan wasn’t particularly surprised to find that no information about the land deal was in the company records, except for the sale. It’d all be in George’s files at home, of course. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that the files were what Charlotte was after.
Half of him wanted to go home and rummage through the files himself. But that was just pure curiosity. He didn’t care what Charlotte found or didn’t find; at least now he understood why she was looking. He was still a little angry—she didn’t tell him who she was or what she wanted. But then, did he ever really give her a chance?
The first thing he did was call in the HR manager to pull up everything she had on Owen Nichols. She filled out the paperwork for him to receive a full company pension, which Jordan just noted with “for services rendered.” Let George come to him and ask what it was about.
With the personnel file, he had enough information to look up Charlotte. He found her business: private investigator. Well, that figured.
Her office address was actually a residential district on the south side. He could just go there, knock on her door and tell her everything. She had to know he wasn’t like his father. If he told her he knew the whole story, maybe she’d listen.
He replayed that morning in his head. He’d told her she had to quit her job. Christ, she must think he was a misogynist Neanderthal!
He desperately wanted to tell her he didn’t mean it when he told her she never had to work again. Same with the house in the suburbs and the white picket fence. Not unless that’s what she wanted.
He could kick himself for his stupid presumptions. That’s what he got for asking Buddy to set him up. He wasn’t sure he should try speaking to Charlotte at all, he’d made such a mess of it already.
He couldn’t undo what had been done but he could try to fix the damage. An impersonal pension was not enough.
He jumped into the McLaren and plugged the Nichols address into the GPS. He stopped just once, running into the mall to buy a present for Charlotte on the off-chance she agreed to see him. First, though, he needed to apologize to her father.
Parked along the curb in front of her address, he looked at the lit windows for a few minutes. It was a nice house with a large yard. It seemed like it would be a nice place to grow up—nicer than a mansion in Haven, perhaps. He remembered telling Charlotte about school breaks at home and how she said she never felt a lack of caring. Her parents were clearly important to her. And now, here he was.
With a deep breath, he went to the door and rang the bell. A woman with Charlotte’s smile answered the door. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re interested,” she said preemptively, her smile slipping.
“I’m not a sales person.”
She raised a doubtful eyebrow and he was struck again by how closely the mannerism resembled Charlotte’s expressions. It made his heart beat faster. He put on his most charming smile. “I’m hoping to speak to Owen Nichols. Is he in?”
She blocked the entryway. “What’s this about?”
“I’m Jordan Lovett. I—”
Her eyes widened. “As I live and breathe! You really are!” She shook her head. “Goodness me, I haven’t seen you since you were eight! She pulled him into a hug and then let go, looking a bit embarrassed. “You won’t remember me, I guess. I’m Delores.” She pulled him into the house, smiling at him. “Owen! Guess what the cat dragged in!”
Owen came shambling through, wearing a faded terry-cloth robe around a pair of pajamas. Guilt stabbed through Jordan. He looked tired and worn, like he’d been run over a few times. “I’m pleased to meet you, Sir,” he said, holding a hand out. “I’m Jordan Lovett.”
“Of course you are. Call me Owen. How’s the old man?” He shook Jordan’s hand and smiled. Jordan was struck that he used the same phrase as Buddy.
His wife hovered next to them. “Have you eaten? I bet you haven’t. I bet you are just like George and only just left the office.”
“Oh no, no, I’m fine,” said Jordan but she was already gone, a clatter of dishes in the distance.
“You’ll stay for dinner,” said Owen Nichols. “Delores won’t take no for an answer.” He put his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “Now come on in and sit down. Jordan Lovett.” He looked at him curiously. “Is this something to do with Charlotte? Whatever she’s done—”
“It’s not about that.” Jordan couldn’t help but smile at the family resemblence. “She’s amazing.”
“She’s a handful.” The man seemed oddly nervous. “She didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“She doesn’t know. I’m just sorry I didn’t know to come sooner.” Jordan took a seat on the sagging sofa. “Sir, I want you to know I’ve just learned about what happened between you and my father many years ago. I’m sorry about that.” He took a deep breath. “I think what happened is wrong. I can’t undo what my father did but I have arranged for you to get a full company pension, based on our director’s average salary as of last year.”
“You don’t have to do that, son. I told Lottie to leave it alone. What’s done is done. I should have known better. We’ll chalk it up to experience.”
“No, Sir, we won’t.”
“If you don’t stop with the sir stuff, I’m going to ...” He paused, laughed. “Well, I don’t rightly know what I’ll do. But please, Jordan. I’ve known you since you were two feet tall.”
“Mr. Nichols, you started the company. Buddy Reynolds told me you worked like a horse. You don’t deserve to be left out on your own like this now. It’s not right and I won’t have it.” He leaned forward. “I took over Lovett Industry last year and I’ve made a lot of changes. Serious changes. There’s five hundred employees now and we’re becoming known as the best working environment in the city.” He made a face. “George is my father and I respect that he’s handed me the Lovett Industries as a successful enterprise. But I’m not him and I don’t always approve of his ways. And it’s important to me that you know that. I’m apologizing to you on behalf of the company and doing what I can to make it right. I wish it could be more.”
Delores’s shout from the next room interrupted them. “Come and get it,” she yelled.
Jordan met the man’s eyes, half wondering if the man was going to tell him off, that a pension didn’t make up for the company he’d lost, for the future he’d had to give up in order to see the company survive.
Owen smiled. “You were always a good kid. Took after your mother, you did. I’m sorry about what happened to her. You were so lost. It was heartbreaking.” He got up and put his hand out. “But you’ve turned into a man now and a good one, too. I’m proud to know you, Jordan.”
Jordan stood and shook his hand. “I’m proud to know you, too, Mr. Nichols.”
“You two coming or what?” Delores appeared in the doorway waving a tea towel at them.
“We’re coming, we’re coming.”
“I phoned Charlotte, told her to come over for dessert,” Delores said as they sat down.
“Oh.” Jordan swallowed.
“Did I do the wrong thing?”
“I...” Obviously she hadn’t. It was her own daughter, after all. But he wasn’t sure how Charlotte would react to find him sitting in her childhood home. “Does she know I’m here?”
“No, I didn’t mention it.” There was a suspicious twinkle in her eye. “Should I have?”
She didn’t mention you, either, so I guess we’re even.”
Owen rumbled. “Delores Nichols, are you match making?”
“I’m simply making sure that our daughter gets out now and again. Now sit down and eat, before it gets cold!”
And so, Jordan did as he was told, and ate.