Cora
Cora Anderson had a thousand things to do, and answering an unwanted phone call from her parents wasn’t one of them. According to her assistant, her mother was currently holding on line three. That was great. For all she cared, they could hold for a few minutes. Maybe even a few hours. She didn’t have time for them.
Cora had Michele Bruno, president of Bruno Cosmetics, on line one. That woman was a force to be reckoned with, and she didn’t like how Cora had scheduled the employee satisfaction interviews. On line two was Calvin Payne, of Payne, Leonard, and Matthews. He was happy with the scheduling, which was a blessing since he was known to be unhappy with everything, but not the criteria. He thought it was overzealous and outside the scope of what his company needed.
She wasn’t surprised. Companies only contacted Cora when their employee approval rating was so low they didn’t have a choice. Her coming in meant there was a problem, and companies, especially previously successful ones, hated to admit to having a problem. They preferred blaming other people. Cora had an ex with the same issue. It was never pretty. Well, for that matter, exes weren’t pretty. Neither, she thought as the bright red light for line three continued to blink, is my family.
She was five minutes into negotiating the necessity of her work with Mr. Payne when the light finally flickered off. Her anxiety levels dropped, and she was able to explain to a lawyer why his office could benefit from her assistance, and why she was absolutely the best person for the job. It was an old spiel, but she made it sound new anyway. When she hung up, Cora was smiling. That contact would keep her company employed for another six months.
“Ms. Anderson?”
The door to Cora’s office was filled with a sensible brunette in a demure business suit.
“Yes, Gemma?”
“Your parents. They are calling…again.” Gemma sounded mildly frazzled. It was a rare enough occurrence for Cora’s most trusted and steadfast employee to be anything but perfectly professional that Cora pushed her keyboard away and turned toward the phone.
“All right, all right. I’ll take care of it.”
“If you want me to…” Gemma made a chopping motion across her neck.
“No,” Cora chuckled, knowing the sound didn’t quite match the tightness around her hazel eyes. “I will handle this.”
Gemma looked relieved. Cora couldn’t blame her. Even the best families could be difficult to deal with, and Cora’s were nowhere near the best. While the sensible woman was an assistant who truly went above and beyond, handling the Andersons was completely outside of her job description. She picked up the phone and, after a very deep breath, hit the button to open the line.
“Hello?”
“Cora?” Her mother’s voice quavered out the name. It had the rawness of many hours spent crying. That wasn’t surprising—her mother was always crying about something, especially when the entire world wasn’t focused on her. “Cora, is that you? I swear if you put me back on hold…”
“It’s me, Mom.” Cora already felt a headache forming behind her eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s been real busy at work and—”
“How long does it take you to answer a phone?” The question was angry, shrill, more like the squawk of an angry bird. It was more honest than her tears had been. “Are you ignoring your mother?”
The answer was yes, but somehow Cora did not think it was a good idea to fess up. It had never been a good idea to admit her real feelings to her mother. The woman had a cruel streak that was fueled by cheap wine and poor life choices. “I’ve been working, Mom. I’m sorry.”
“Fine,” her mother said in a tone that felt like anything but fine. “I understand. Big business girl, too busy for her own family.”
“Mom, I’m sorry,” Cora repeated. “Running my own business takes up a lot of my time.” She knew full well that her mother wouldn’t understand that. Samantha “Sam” Anderson had never worked a full-time job much less ran her own business.
“You work too much,” Samantha muttered. For the first time, Cora heard the slight slur that told her that her mother had been drinking. A glance at the clock informed her it was only two in the afternoon.
Cora managed to bite her tongue on an angry retort. If she got her mother blathering about all of Cora’s life choices, good and bad, she would be on this phone for hours. She took a deep breath and made her voice as gentle as she could manage. “Mom, what happened?”
“My baby is in jail!” her mother blurted with a fresh wave of watery hysterics. It was classic Samantha. She didn’t use Oliver’s name, or even call him Cora’s brother. As usual, Sam had picked the phrase that would make it all about her. “My poor little boy. They just dragged him out of my home.”
“They?” Cora did her best to ignore the demand for pity. “The cops?”
“Well, who else?” Samantha demanded. “They broke open my door at three in the morning, shoved this warrant in my face, and took him.”
“Warrant?” That was a little more serious than just getting arrested. A warrant meant they had to come get him, that they had enough evidence about a crime being committed that a judge signed off on placing him under arrest. “What did they say he did?”
“They didn’t say anything! Didn’t I just tell you that? They came and took him.”
“Mom, take a breath, have a drink, and relax. Is Dad there?” Between her parents, Cora much preferred talking with her father. He was easier to handle.
“I don’t need a drink. I’m not a drunk,” Samantha said defensively. “What kind of mother would I be if I got drunk when my baby needs me? But they won’t let us see him, and we can’t afford a lawyer for him. I just don’t know what to do.”
“I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean to insinuate—”
“Oh, yes you did,” her mother cut in. “I know exactly what you think of us. I know exactly how you feel about your white-trash family still living in a doublewide while you go pretend to be better. Do all those people who hire you know you didn’t even finish high school?”
It was a low blow, and both of them knew it. Cora blew a breath out of her nostrils and dragged a hand through her short professional coif of rich red hair. It disrupted her careful do, but Cora wasn’t thinking about that right now. Right now, she was struggling not to lose her temper and yell. She was an adult. She was not going to get into an argument with her drunk mother. “Mom, my history is fully available on my website. Anyone who visits knows I got my GED and used money from odd jobs and part-time work to put myself through college. I don’t make a secret of it.”
“Oh la-di-da,” Samantha sneered. This was also normal for Sam Anderson. If she couldn’t rile someone with one statement, she’d switch to something else. “Bet you don’t even have a man.”
Well, that much was true. Cora hadn’t been on a date since she’d caught her last boyfriend horizontal on his desk with his secretary. It had been especially humiliating because his secretary had been Gemma’s husband. Nothing like complicated workplace romance.
“I date plenty,” Cora responded coolly, “but that’s not why you called, remember? You called because of Oliver. Why don’t you tell me what you and Dad want from me?”
“I did, you just weren’t listening.”
Cora racked her brain while massaging her left temple in a vain attempt to stave off the impending migraine. She couldn’t remember her mother making any kind of request. “I’m sorry, but—”
“A lawyer. We can’t afford one.”
“Oh.” Of course it was about money. Cora wasn’t sure why she thought this would be about anything else. Money was all her parents really cared about, and only because it helped them give into their vices. “Mom, I need to know everything.”
“Why? Can’t you just send us the money?”
“Not without knowing what’s going on. Where is Dad?”
Her mother made a sound of utter disgust. Cora could hear a door open and then the pounding of stomping feet. There was the crackle of a phone being passed from one person to another, and then her father’s deep baritone voice boomed over the receiver. “Cora-girl, is that you?”
“Yeah, Dad, it’s me.”
“How are ya, little wonder?”
She heard her mother’s voice snap something in the background, but she was too far away to hear the words. It sounded pissed off and petty, though. Her father didn’t respond. He was good at ignoring things. He much preferred to pretend like everything was just fine. Cora often imagined he would sit in his La-Z-Boy while the entire trailer burned around him. A fire that he had probably started with one of his perpetual stogies.
“I’m fine,” Cora said. “Mom said Oliver was arrested?”
“Yeah. Yeah, he was. Damndest thing. He was home in his bed when it all went down. They didn’t knock or nothin’. They just kicked in the door and broke my dog statue when they did it. I liked that statue.”
“I know you did. I’m sorry. Did they tell you why?”
“Said he’d been racing his motorcycle again. Third time.”
Third time, that was bad news. The law around here was pretty specific about committing the same crime over and over again. The first time was normally a slap on the wrist, the second usually came with a heftier fine and some weekend jail time, but the third was to throw the book at you. Oliver liked to brag that he liked everything fast: fast money, fast women, fast bikes. He was an idiot, but not a bad kid.
Kid? God, he wasn’t a kid anymore. She was thirty years old, which made her little brother sixteen. Young, certainly, but no longer a kid. He was a teenager riding the cusp of adulthood, and it sounded like he wasn’t handling it particularly well.
“Damn,” she cursed.
“I was thinking the same,” her father drawled slowly. “You know I ain’t much for askin’ for help, little wonder, but we need the help. They got me on disability now on account of my leg, and your mom works part-time at the grocery store, but it ain’t enough. Oliver helps out—he pays for my medications and groceries and things.”
“I understand,” she said. “All right, I’ll be there in a few hours.”
“Be here?” Her father sounded almost hopeful. “You gonna come by?”
This time she could hear her mother’s shouts. “We don’t need her to come. Just have her wire the money.”
“Yeah, Dad, I am.”
“Well, all right, then. Guess we’ll have to clean up the place a little if we are going to have such pretty company.”
She found herself laughing. Her father wasn’t a bad guy when everything was said and done. He was just weak in a way that had nothing to do with his messed-up leg. He didn’t know how to stand up for himself or anything else, and that meant Cora’s mom could walk all over him. He dealt with it by pretending to be a log.
“I’ll see you in a few hours.”
She cradled the phone and hit the button for Gemma’s desk. A moment later the intercom hummed to life. “Yes, Ms. Anderson?”
“There is a family emergency. I am going to need you to rearrange my schedule for the rest of the week.” Cora pulled out her smartphone and began a new checklist of all the things she needed to accomplish before she left. “Separate my meetings between Martin and Helen, hand my in-person meetings over to Margot. Everything else can be pushed back.”
“All right,” Gemma said. There was a short pause. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine,” she lied. “My brother just needs my help.”