Winning Over Skylar

“Lied,” she finished flatly.

“You know I don’t approve of the Nibble Nook.” He wasn’t prepared to put the place off-limits, but he did want to discourage her from going there. He’d had a brief fling with Skylar in high school, and she was hardly the influence his sister should have in her turbulent world—it was tough enough being one of S. S. Hollister’s kids, a man who collected and discarded wives with casual speed. She certainly didn’t need a smart-mouthed, troublemaking high-school dropout as a role model.

Melanie released her seat belt. “Why don’t you approve?”

“Cooper Industry employees are the Nibble Nook’s main customers, and some of them don’t like the new rules I’ve had to make,” he said. It was a valid concern, just not the whole truth.

“Yeah, right.” She got out, slammed the car door as hard as possible and stomped toward the house, her heavy book bag slung over her shoulder and other books clutched in her arms.

“Leave the books. I’ll bring them,” he urged.

She didn’t stop and Aaron grimaced.

There was a shred of truth in Skylar’s accusations. Melanie needed more attention, but there just weren’t enough hours in the days. Take the house for example...the lawn needed mowing and the gardener had quit. There weren’t any other gardening service companies in town, and the local kids didn’t seem interested in earning money by doing yard work.

For that matter, the house was another complication he hadn’t anticipated. Originally he’d moved into an apartment over the company’s business offices, which had been used only once by his grandparents when they were remodeling the kitchen and bathrooms in their house. But when his former stepmother had asked him to take Melanie for the school year, he’d found something more suitable for a teenager.

His cell phone rang and he pulled it out. “Yeah?”

“This is Jim Browning, down at the plant,” said a vaguely familiar voice. “I got your number from Peggy in the main office. Mr. Cooper always wanted us to ring if there was a problem.”

Aaron let out a breath. “What can I do for you, Mr. Browning?”

The employee droned on, detailing a minor issue with the processor for boxing up one of their products, a type of flavored tortilla chip. Cooper Industries produced a wide variety of items, and Aaron reminded himself that making snack foods might not be the same as creating life-saving drugs, but they were important to the company.

“I understand,” Aaron finally broke in. “You’ve arranged for repairs and the boxes can be manually sealed in the meantime.”

“Er...yes, sir. I’m sorry I bothered you, but Mr. Cooper did insist....” The foreman’s words trailed off uncertainly.

Aaron drew a calming breath, realizing he’d probably been too abrupt. The people in Cooperton were chatty, while he wanted to get to the point and stop wasting time. “It’s fine. Your instructions may be modified in the future, but in the meantime, you’re following procedure. Thank you.”

He turned off the phone with relief. He’d left a lucrative CEO position in the computer industry when his eightysomething grandfather finally decided to retire, but he never expected it to be so tough. George Cooper had been an old-school manager, with every decision, large and small, going across his desk. Basically, the place was still being run like a small mom-and-pop shop, rather than a major business producing dozens of different convenience-food items. Responsibility needed to be spread among divisions, with midlevel managers taking the lead on day-to-day operations—except the company couldn’t afford that type of reorganization for a while.

Aaron dropped his keys in his pocket and walked into the house. His grandparents had halfheartedly offered to let him move in with them, but it wouldn’t have been good for Melanie. His sister wasn’t related to the Coopers except through their ex-son-in-law, and they weren’t the warmest people in the first place. He knew; he’d grown up with them. And no matter what Skylar thought about him, he refused to inflict their idea of hospitality on his sister. Even if he didn’t know what was best for a teenage girl, he wanted Melanie to be happy.

“Melanie?” he called. “What do you want for dinner?”

After a long minute she appeared at the top of the stairs and stared at him coolly. “You mean you’re asking?”

Oh, God.

Pain throbbed in his temples. She was usually very sweet and accommodating—almost too accommodating—but apparently he couldn’t say anything right at the moment. Not that Melanie didn’t have cause to be touchy—he’d royally stuck his foot in his mouth—but if this was what it meant to be a parent, you could keep it.

“Yes, I’m asking,” he said as calmly as possible.

“Whatever I want?”

Yeah, she could have whatever she wanted...as long as it came from a restaurant that delivered or had a take-out menu. He didn’t cook. Toast, oatmeal and coffee in the morning were the extent of his culinary skills.

“Within reason.”

Melanie lifted her chin. “I’ll take a chicken sandwich and sweet-potato fries from the Nibble Nook.”

“That isn’t within reason. You know the Nibble Nook is closed for the day.”

“Then I don’t care. I have geometry problems and an English assignment to finish.” She turned and disappeared.

The afternoon just kept getting better and better. Aaron arched his back, trying to release the tension. He really had to deal with the yard. The neighborhood association had written, complaining about the length of the grass. Why anybody minded, he didn’t know. This wasn’t the garden district of New Orleans, it was a little town that rolled up its sidewalks at night and on Sundays.

Despite his grandfather’s expectations that he would eventually take over one day, Aaron had never wanted to live in Cooperton again...and yet here he was. Of course, coming back would have been easier if George Cooper had retired before the business had fallen apart. Once Aaron got it viable again he’d have to evaluate whether he was going to stay, or consider other options.

Putting on jeans and a work shirt, Aaron went out to the garage. The rented house hadn’t come furnished, but he’d seen a lawn mower and had a couple of hours of daylight left to work.

Forty minutes later he was hot, sweaty, and his shoulders ached. He gazed perplexed at the mower that refused to start; he was a novice at cutting grass, but it shouldn’t be tough to figure out. The mower had gas, and he didn’t think it was terribly old. Yet the damn thing wouldn’t go. Maybe the gardening service used to bring their own equipment because this one was broken.

Frustrated, Aaron shoved the mower back into the garage and headed into the house. The service had told him they were overextended with customers and regretted terminating him as a client, but their regrets didn’t help him get the lawn mowed.

In the kitchen he leafed through a stack of menus. They hadn’t ordered pizza in over a week, and Mama Gianni’s also had a decent chicken Greek salad. Pizza from Vittorino’s Italiano was better, but they didn’t deliver except on weekends. He dialed Mama Gianni’s and ordered the Meat Lover’s special and a family-size salad. Yet as he hung up the phone, he heard Skylar’s voice in his head.

Do you even know what pizza she likes?

Shut up, Skylar, he ordered silently.

She hadn’t changed much since high school—she still had that gorgeous auburn hair and green eyes...and a mouth that wouldn’t quit. She’d sassed the teachers, cussed out the principal, gotten suspended more than once for breaking every rule in the book, and finally dropped out before graduation. It was ironic that a girl who’d skated through classes by the skin of her teeth was now diligently overseeing her kid’s homework. And she wondered why he questioned if she might be a bad influence.

Yet a part of him didn’t blame Skylar for being antagonistic. She’d represented a challenge when they were kids—his pals had dared him to nail her and he wasn’t proud of his teenage self for taking that dare, or for dropping her once he’d done it. No woman, young or old, appreciated being treated that way. It was also hypocritical to think her sexual activity in high school was any more questionable than his own.

When the food came, Aaron ran upstairs to tell Melanie. She was in front of the television, watching a baseball game. She didn’t look up, just nodded and said she’d come down after a while.

“Don’t you want to eat together?” The question had nothing to do with Skylar; he’d already thought they should share more meals. At the same time, he didn’t want to force anything on Melanie—until recently they’d been little more than casual acquaintances.

“I don’t care.”

I don’t care... How many times a day did he hear that from her? Good Lord, teenagers were impossible, and Aaron felt a fleeting sympathy for his grandparents. He wasn’t close to them, though his grandfather had supposedly “groomed” him to take over the company...mostly with lectures about the value of hard work. Nonetheless, it couldn’t have been easy to take on a resentful kid, tired of being shuffled between his divorced parents and other relatives. That was one of the reasons he’d agreed to have Melanie live with him for the year. He could have refused, but he knew what it was like to be a Ping-Pong ball in someone else’s battle of wills.

CHAPTER TWO

SKYLAR PULLED A casserole from the freezer and put it in the oven to heat. She liked cooking; she just didn’t enjoy it after spending hours over the Nibble Nook’s fryers—the volume of French fries and onion rings they went through never failed to astonish her. As the owner, she filled in wherever necessary, and today the fry cook had phoned in with a child-care problem.

Tiredly she pressed a hand to the aching small of her back. The long, hard days used to be more fun. Jimmie had made everything fun, no matter what they were doing.

The cat walked into the kitchen and stared at his empty bowl in dismay. He meowed plaintively.

“Karin?” she called. “Bennie has to be fed and his litter box scooped.”

“The first play-off game is on.”

“Then you’d better hurry,” Skylar said. “We’ve talked about this. You wanted a cat and he’s your responsibility.”

“But Mooommmm, I—”

“Now, Karin. He’s hungry.”

Karin stomped into the kitchen. “He isn’t mine, not really. Bennie always ends up with you in the morning. He’s supposed to sleep with me. It’s like I’m kryptonite or something.”

For an instant Skylar wished she could have a single evening free of teenage angst. “That’s because he keeps getting kicked off the bed. You thrash around and when he’s had enough, he goes someplace quieter.”

“I do not.”

“Trust me, I couldn’t keep a blanket on you, even as a baby. A professional soccer team doesn’t kick that much.”

Muttering under her breath, Karin poured food into the cat bowl and petted Bennie, despite her sulk. It wasn’t easy insisting she take care of her chores—she used to watch the baseball play-offs with her dad, and Skylar could see the weepy melancholy beneath her daughter’s defiant surface. The previous autumn Karin had sobbed straight through her favored team’s sweeping victory; hopefully this year wouldn’t be as bad.

“Here,” Skylar said. “I made a snack for you to eat during the game. And there’s caffeine-free cola in the fridge. I’ll bring dinner in when it’s ready.” Normally they ate meals at the table, but this wasn’t a normal night.

Karin brightened and took the bowl of fluffy buttered popcorn. “Gee, thanks, Mom.”

When Karin was back in the family room, Skylar sat at the kitchen table, feeling melancholy herself. She wasn’t a baseball fan, and it used to drive her crazy during the play-offs and World Series to have Jimmie and Karin riveted to the television. More than once, a game had gone into extra innings or there’d been a rain delay, and he’d let her stay up to the bitter end, even on a school night. When she fell asleep at school the next day, there would be the inevitable phone call from her teacher, who was always mollified by Jimmie’s abashed apology.

Skylar would give anything to have those days back.

Instead, she had Aaron Hollister and his sister and her temper getting her in trouble. She had to be more careful. Aaron hadn’t seemed interested in Karin in their encounters, but she couldn’t take any chances. She refused to think of him as Karin’s father. Jimmie was Karin’s dad. He’d soothed her as a teething baby, been scared stiff when she broke her collarbone in the fourth grade, saved for her education and welcomed each and every sticky child’s kiss and homemade Father’s Day card. Skylar ached at the memories—Jimmie romancing her as a new mother had been one of the biggest surprises of her life. They’d gotten married when Karin was four months old—he’d simply refused to see any reason they shouldn’t be together.

She glanced around the kitchen, shivering though it was warm. She’d had such a good life with Jimmie, so much better than she had ever expected to have. He’d loved Karin without reservation, and his family had accepted them both. The Gibsons must have been worried for their son in light of her youth and disreputable upbringing, but they hadn’t shown any hesitation. If Jimmie loved her, that was all they’d needed to know.

But Jimmie was gone now. If he were here, he would reassure her that Aaron or his family couldn’t possibly hope to get custody of Karin after such a long time. It was a worry that Skylar had harbored over the years, pushed into the background of their lives together, yet still there.

Bennie rubbed against her leg, purring madly, and she reached down to stroke him.

“Hey, boy,” she whispered. “You should go in with Karin. She needs you.”

He wandered toward the door. She could swear that he’d understood, though being a cat, he had to show his independence. Anybody who said felines were just selfish little beasts was wrong. No matter how egomaniacal, Bennie was fond of his humans. He just had to act as if everything was his idea—dogs were far more direct with their affections.

She got up and gathered a basket of laundry. The problem with housework was that it was never done, especially with a teenager in the house. Why her daughter had to change clothes ten times a day was beyond her. When she was that age she had been lucky to have four or five outfits, much less an overflowing closet.

Skylar winced. Back then, clothes were the least of her problems. The police and her teachers had labeled her incorrigible, and she’d come close to self-destructing. Her mother and father hadn’t noticed—they were too busy having public screaming matches and getting arrested for bashing in the windows of a neighbor’s car or some other drunken behavior. Skylar had both envied and resented the other kids for having nice, ordinary parents who didn’t knock them around, the way her parents did when they were tired of beating on each other.

Yet somehow, for reasons beyond understanding, she’d believed in the fairy-tale family, and Aaron’s family had seemed oh-so-respectable from the outside. That could be why she’d finally gone out with him. She hadn’t realized that being rich and publicly proper didn’t mean a thing. You could still be a louse.

The phone rang, and Skylar hurriedly started the washing machine before answering.

“It’s me, dear,” said her mother-in-law. “Are you busy?”

“Hi, Mom. No more than usual.” Skylar tucked the receiver under her chin as she folded clean towels. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. But Joe has the baseball game on, and I was wondering how it’s going over there.”

Skylar pictured her daughter’s stormy face. “The way you’d expect. Karin is watching, too.”

“I figured she would be.”

They were both silent for a long moment. Skylar wished she could tell Grace about her confrontation with Aaron, but she’d never discussed Karin’s biological father with her in-laws. Jimmie was the only one who’d known it was Aaron Hollister. Well...almost the only one.

It was odd. She would have sworn that nobody had guessed she was pregnant when she dropped out of school, and she’d deliberately moved to Trident to keep anyone from guessing. Yet S. S. Hollister had tried to give her payoff money after Karin was born. Skylar figured Aaron must have put it together and told his father—but if she was wrong and he didn’t know that Karin was his biological child, or had made himself forget, she’d rather keep it that way.

Payoff money...Skylar gritted her teeth. As if she’d gone to them for support or something else. She had ripped the check in half and told Sullivan Spencer “Spence” Hollister exactly what she thought of him and his son and where he could stuff his money. He’d simply laughed and walked away...forever, she hoped.

“Oh. Sorry, Grace, what was that? My mind was drifting,” she apologized, realizing her mother-in-law had broken the silence with a question.

“I just asked how Karin is doing in school so far. She was obsessed with her studies last year.”

“She’s no longer obsessed,” Skylar said drily. “This afternoon she informed me that her geometry problems are lame and aliens have replaced the principal with an android look-alike who drinks double espresso lattes all day and plots ways to kill students with boredom.”

Grace chuckled. “Good Lord. Aliens?”

“Yes. She’s now into Star Trek. Yesterday I found her practicing the Vulcan hand signal for ‘live long and prosper.’ At least I think that’s what it was, not something rude.”

“She wouldn’t have to practice that.”

Skylar instinctively looked at her fingers. No, you didn’t have to practice rude gestures. She’d begun flipping birds at her teachers in junior high school...a piece of information she’d prefer her daughter didn’t find out. Karin may have heard stories about her mother over the years, but since she hadn’t asked any questions, she probably wasn’t taking them seriously.

“When did this new interest in science fiction begin?” said Grace.

“That weekend she was sick and we couldn’t come for dinner. One of her friends loaned her a set of the Trek movies. Two days and half a bottle of cough syrup later, she was a fan.”

Grace chuckled again. “That’s our Karin. When she embraces something, it’s with all her heart.”

They chatted another few minutes before saying goodbye.

Skylar put the clean linens away and went to check on Karin in the family room. Things had been awfully quiet—no yelling at the pitcher, no declarations that the umpire needed glasses, and no shouts of triumph or despair.

“Hey,” she said. “What’s the score?”

“Five–zip, Dodgers.”

Skylar might not be a baseball fan, but she knew Karin’s three-word report meant the Los Angeles Dodgers were ahead. “Isn’t that the team you’re rooting for?”

Karin shrugged. She wasn’t crying, but she wasn’t happy, either. “It’s only the bottom of the fourth inning. They’ll probably blow it.”

Skylar let out a discouraged breath. Karin was a bright, enthusiastic kid...except when she was thinking about her dad being gone. “And they might win,” she reminded gently. “I’m sure Grandpa Joe would love to get on the phone with you.”

Karin didn’t respond, but she inched farther toward the end of the sectional couch. Right. She didn’t want the phone; she wanted someone sitting next to her...she just didn’t want to ask someone to sit next to her. Skylar thought of the dozen different tasks she should get done. It was a busy week, and she had a meeting on Thursday at City Hall that would take all evening.

She sat down. “Okay,” she said. “It’s time I learned more about baseball. Tell me what’s going on. The ones in white are the good guys, right?”

A small giggle escaped from Karin. “You’re really silly, Mom.”

* * *

AARON DROVE PAST the Nibble Nook the following morning and scowled. He had a huge job in front of him getting Cooper Industries back in shape, and Skylar wasn’t making it easier by befriending his sister. Well...her daughter had befriended Melanie, but it was essentially the same thing.

There were numerous cars at the hamburger stand, along with motorcycles and a couple of big rigs parked at the side of the road. They obviously served breakfast, and he had to admit, the scents wafting into his car were tempting. On the other hand, the presence of motorcycles and 18-wheelers was disturbing—the drivers of those vehicles weren’t necessarily a bad element, but there were no guarantees.

Almost as if taunting him, a tattooed cyclist got up from a table and strolled to his Harley. He spat on the ground and adjusted himself in his grubby-looking jeans before roaring away.

Wonderful.

Exactly the element an impressionable teenage girl needed.

Peggy was at her desk when he walked in, and he gave her a brief nod. He wasn’t thrilled with having Peggy as an assistant; she was efficient and responsible, but she was zealously loyal to his grandfather and likely calling him daily with reports on the company. Someone was informing George Cooper of the changes and new policies being made by his grandson, though he wasn’t showing a great deal of interest other than to say, “What’s good for Cooperton is good for Cooper Industries.”

Any warmth George possessed had mostly been shown to his employees and the town. He could be a genial man-of-the-people in the flash of an eye, but inside his own home he was cold and uptight. No wonder Aaron’s mother had rebelled—she’d fled Cooperton and done nothing but play ever since.

The phone rang before he reached his desk. It was Peggy, saying his father was on line one.

“Yes?” he said, punching the button.

“That’s a fine way to greet your old dad.” Spence Hollister was only “your old dad” when he wanted something.

“I don’t have time for games, Dad.” Aaron tucked the receiver under his chin and sorted through a stack of phone messages Peggy had left on his desk. A new phone system with voice mail had been installed months before, but he hadn’t decided whether his calls should continue to be screened by Peggy in a traditional executive style, or to take them himself.

“That’s always been your problem—you don’t enjoy life.”

“Some of us have a job. Why didn’t you call my cell phone?”

“I assumed you’d changed the number after moving to that Hicksville. You didn’t have to take over the Cooper company, son. For God’s sake, give it a decent burial and get out. Your mother never wanted to go back there—it’s the only thing we ever agreed on the entire time we were married.”

A headache stabbed Aaron’s temples. Much as he regretted giving up his lucrative position as CEO of a computer company, he couldn’t abandon Cooper Industries. He might have to give it a decent burial, but not until he’d done his best to keep it alive.

“What do you want, Dad?”

“I... Hang on. We’re having a spot of trouble with a champagne cork.”

A feminine laugh sounded in the background, and Aaron shook his head. His father was between wives, so his companion could be anyone from a London society deb to a belly dancer. Spence liked his ladies young, beautiful and endowed—and since he had an abundance of charm and wealth, they liked him, too.

“Sorry, son. I wanted to know if you’ll join my crew in next year’s America’s Cup race.”

“I haven’t been on your yacht since I was nineteen and foolishly took a semester off from college to train and compete.”

“Foolish? Nonsense. That was a damn good race—we won two of the heats, so I know you’re the key to the Sea Haven finally getting the trophy. Will you do it?”

Aaron practically snorted. Spence wasn’t into effort; he ran a yacht in the America’s Cup because he loved the publicity and being seen as a sportsman. He’d particularly reveled in the media coverage the year his eldest son was a crew member. On the other hand, Aaron was still fighting the dilettante image he’d earned.

“Not a chance, Dad.”

“But you can’t save that place. What’s the point of trying?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. By the way, Melanie is fine. I’m sure she’ll appreciate you asking,” Aaron said, his voice laced with irony.

None of S. S. Hollister’s kids had any illusions that he was especially concerned about them. You could be sure he didn’t even remember your name, and five minutes later he could make you feel as if you were the most important person in the world. As a kid, Aaron had craved the moments when his father focused on him and would have done almost anything to get his attention. Now he was mostly wary. When S.S. called, he wanted something, and it usually wasn’t to your benefit to give it to him.

“You would have let me know if Melanie had a problem,” Spence said easily. “Are you sure you won’t be a member of the Sea Haven’s crew? I’d make you skipper, but I’ve finally gotten Bill Driscoll to sign on and we have an ironclad contract. I do get to pick one crew member, and you’re the one I want.”

“Why don’t you ask Matt? He doesn’t have anything to do.” Aaron’s second brother was almost as much a playboy as their father, except he avoided serious relationships and was scrupulous about birth control. “Or Tamlyn or April or Oona?”

“Yachting isn’t their thing.”

Aaron snorted, suspecting his father had gone first to Matt and his three adult sisters before calling him. Spence wouldn’t have asked Jake, though. Even Spence knew his second son couldn’t be pried away from risking his neck in pursuit of the next great photograph—Jake’s photography was stunning, but his pictures weren’t taken in safe, convenient locales. It wasn’t any wonder that some people speculated whether Jake had a death wish.

“Yachting isn’t my thing, either, Dad. Give the choice back to Driscoll and let him win for you.”

“Ah, well. Let me know if Melanie wants anything. I’ll buy her a car as soon as she has her driver’s license.”

“No, you won’t,” Aaron insisted, a surge of adrenaline going through him. He did not want Melanie to have a car—he had good reason to know that teenagers did insane things when they were driving, and he had no desire to see his sister wrapped around a tree. She was going to have a top professional driving instructor and lots of practice before getting her own car was an option.

“Oh? I gave you a Mustang when you were sixteen. A sweet job. Just what a teenage boy needed to get girls.”

“And you gave me another when I was seventeen. I totaled the first one, remember?” Aaron knew it was a miracle he hadn’t killed himself when he’d spun out and slammed into a telephone pole—instead he’d gotten off with bruises and minor cuts. “Anyhow, Melanie is young for her age and I want her to have experience driving before she’s handed her own set of keys.”

“Fine, fine, just let me know when. Bye for now.” Spence didn’t sound upset—few things ruffled S. S. Hollister.

Aaron dropped the receiver in its cradle and looked around the office. He’d made a few modifications since returning to Cooperton, shifting the desk and adding file cabinets, but it remained furnished with his grandfather’s ponderous mahogany furniture and deep red carpet. Redecorating was out for a while though; other things were needed more.

On a sturdy new worktable by the window was his proposal for updating and expanding the factory. To finance the project he would have to sell some of the land the Cooper family had held for generations throughout Northern California, but he was convinced the company wouldn’t survive otherwise.

“Mr. Hollister?” Peggy said from the door. “The foreman in the tortilla chip division says there’s still a problem with the repairs he phoned you about yesterday. It seems a part in the machine is no longer replaceable—the company that used to make the equipment is now manufacturing air conditioners.”

“That’s what happens when you’re operating with antiques,” Aaron muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Have them assign additional employees to tape the boxes, then get the records on the equipment and special parts needed. I’ll research the matter.”

Peggy left, and Aaron tried to unclench his jaw. His grandfather hadn’t invested in significant capital improvements at Cooper Industries for almost three decades. The company needed so much, and here he was, spending time on an ancient machine that sealed boxes for shipping.

Perhaps if he got it taken care of quickly, he could get on with what he’d planned to do with his day. Three experts had reviewed the plans he’d worked up with an industrial engineer and now he needed to submit them to the Cooperton City Council for their approval—the town was so small they didn’t have a planning department. Besides, there was a zoning issue.

It was frustrating that elected officials, rather than trained professionals, would have a hand in deciding the future of Cooper Industries, but it shouldn’t be hard to get their support. After all, his company was the biggest employer in town.

* * *

“MELLIE, WASN’T THE game awesome?” Karin asked as they waited in line at the cafeteria to pay for their lunch. Her mom wasn’t crazy about the food the school served, but didn’t make her bring a sack lunch or anything. Thank God. Only the dorky kids ate sack lunches. It would be nice to eat at the Nibble Nook, but the school didn’t allow them to leave the grounds except with a parent or written permission.

“Yeah, but I’ve never watched baseball before,” Melanie confessed. She gave the cashier a fifty-dollar bill; the woman looked at it twice and glowered as she started counting out the change.

“How come?”

“I guess because I’ve moved around so much. A long time ago, before my mother got married again, one of her boyfriends was a football player, but I never knew what was happening when we went to his games. Baseball is easier.”