The bully, a kid not much older than him but much bigger and stronger, had gotten mad at him when Trevor had told him to leave another kid alone. That’s when the bully pushed him down the slide and then slid down right after, not bothering to wait like you were supposed to. The bully hit the water hard. Their heads smacked together, and even under the water, Trevor had seen the panic in the kid’s eyes right before he used Trevor as a human ladder to save himself. Trevor was a good swimmer, or at least he had been, and he might have been able to get them both out of the water if the kid had stayed calm. But the boy had been much heavier than Trevor and had taken him down quick, pushing him deeper and deeper into the water, standing on Trevor’s shoulders so he could reach the surface to get air.
Trevor sucked in a breath at the thought of it.
He still had nightmares about the incident. He wasn’t sure he would ever forget the feel of the kid’s meaty hands wrapped around his ankle, keeping Trevor from being able to get air as the kid pulled him under and then used him as a ladder. It hadn’t helped that Trevor’s right arm had been injured when he’d landed on the slide carved from rock. He’d swallowed water and thought he was going to die. The pain in his chest had been unbearable, spreading inward and downward. He remembered trying to flail his good arm. He’d even tried to claw at the boy’s leg, but nothing had worked.
The next thing he remembered was lying on the cement, lungs burning, still struggling to breathe. His chest hurt. Everything hurt. He was taken away in an ambulance, and Trevor remembered the EMT talking to him, calming him. After he returned home, Mom had driven him back and forth to therapy sessions to help strengthen the muscle in his shoulder, which was better now . . . but he wasn’t sure anything would ever fix his fear of the water. It had taken all his courage to simply dangle his legs in the pool at their house, where he’d learned to swim.
It made him sad when he looked at Mom. She wanted him to be back to normal . . . back to his old self. He wanted it, too, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get past the panic—fighting to get to the surface, praying for a floatie, a friend, solid footing, something . . . anything.
CHAPTER THREE
It was Saturday night. As the hostess walked David and Nora through the restaurant, Nora found herself wishing she had taken the time to change her outfit. The Red Fox was beyond extravagant. Low lighting, fresh flowers, crisp white tablecloths, and tasteful artwork made for a lavish ambience. They were led to a table toward the back, where Jane Bell was already seated at a table that offered more privacy. Nora assumed it was her because the woman stood as they approached and waved them over. When Nora had typed Jane Bell’s name into the search bar on her computer, she’d been taken to IMPACT’s website, which provided all the important company information, except for photos of executives or staff.
Nora wasn’t sure what she had expected when it came to Jane Bell’s appearance, but it wasn’t this. Over the phone, Jane had sounded intelligent and self-assured. For that reason, which wasn’t the least bit fair or progressive as far as her thinking went, Nora hadn’t expected Jane to be smart, rich, accomplished, and gorgeous, too—tall, slender, blue-eyed, and buttery blonde hair.
“So nice of you both to come.” Jane shook their hands. “Have a seat. I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine, but if you’d like a cocktail, our server will be back in a minute.”
“Wine is perfect,” Nora said.
David nodded his agreement.
Once they were all seated, Jane seemed to focus solely on Nora. Jane chuckled, looked away sheepishly, and said, “I’m sorry. I’m just so happy you’re here. The last time we talked, I was beginning to think I would never be able to convince you to meet in person.” She straightened in her chair, as if she needed to get that off her chest before getting started. “Before we order dinner or talk business, I wanted you both to know I have been thinking about your son, Trevor, after I heard about what happened. I have a doctor friend at Sutter who told me he suffered no permanent damage.” She put a hand to her heart. “Thank God.”
Nora was taken aback. She might have mentioned that they had recently returned from a family vacation when she’d first talked to Jane, but she was certain she’d never mentioned the pool incident. Why would she? She’d only told two people at work.
“Thank you,” David said, saving Nora from her stupor. “Trevor is doing fine. We were lucky.”
“Yes,” Jane said. “You were incredibly lucky. I suggest you get him into the water right away. Sort of like riding a horse. If you fall off, you get right back in the saddle again.”
“My father used to be fond of that saying,” David said. “Verbatim, in fact.”
“Is that right?”
David nodded. “We were staying at a ranch in Montana, and I fell off the horse . . .”
Jane and David laughed. Nora did, too, because the whole conversation had taken a weird turn, and she’d never heard David tell the story before.
Over the next few hours, they dined on moist, tender salmon and lemon butter broccolini and sipped some of the best Sauvignon Blanc Nora had ever tasted. Dessert was crème br?lée, and the whole dining experience was topped off with a cola-dark, cool and spicy after-dinner drink. They had chatted about Trevor and Hailey, Hawaii, sports, and entertainment, but mostly about work. Jane made it clear she wanted Nora on her team at IMPACT, and she hadn’t missed a beat. It was as if she knew Nora better than Nora knew herself. Jane hit on everything that was important to Nora—talked about creating a work culture that would leave the decision-making to key employees, spoke passionately about diversity, inclusion, communication, and offered to double Nora’s salary. “Listen,” she said at the end of the night, right after sending the server off with her credit card to take care of the bill. “I don’t want to employ just anyone for this position. My company is my baby. It’s doing great, but—like a sports team—you can have really good players who don’t play well together. I want chemistry and players who play well together, people who I connect with. I like you, Nora. You too, David.” She took a breath. “I became successful for a reason. I have always had a good instinct for people.” Her eyes landed on Nora’s. “I don’t think—I know you would be a great fit for IMPACT.”
Nora and David were back in the car heading home when Nora asked David what he thought.
“About Jane or about the job offer?” David asked.
“About everything. All of it.”
“What’s not to like?”
“Jane was amazing—personable, friendly—but . . . the job sounded too good to be true.”
“Everything she said at dinner made sense,” David said. “She knows exactly what she wants, and evidently she wants you.”
Nora said nothing.
“Jane was charming,” he added. “Her business is new and doing well, which tells me she’s made smart financial decisions right from the get-go. She has a sound business plan, and the icing on the cake was how you two seemed to hit it off.”
“We did, didn’t we? I really do like her,” Nora said, wondering why in the world she was so surprised by her own admission. Because Jane Bell was bombshell gorgeous? Because she was not only beautiful but smart, confident, and successful? Was Nora worried about being a little less shiny around this gold medallion? Or did her trepidation have to do with the fact that Nora had been feeling insecure lately? Her shoulders dipped at the thought. What was wrong with her? She had enjoyed their dinner and Jane’s company. “I think we could even be friends . . .”