Page 67

I press the button for the floor of the daycare, a place I’ve maybe visited once when it was being designed. There’s no reason for me to go there. I truthfully only put one in for the tax incentives. Plus, it looks good on me if I’m putting the care and convenience of my employees’ families first. My father always drilled into me the importance of good press. He also liked to drill his secretary behind my mother’s back. He was good at business, but a lousy family man up until the day he died.
The elevator doors ding and I lead Brock down the hallway toward the daycare. Through the viewing window, it’s just as I remember, with large windows that allow sunshine to pour in and a hand-painted mural on the wall. Plush floor chairs in pastel colors are scattered throughout with baskets of books. Wooden shelves line the walls filled with wooden toys and plush animals. It looks impressive, and I can see that Brock thinks the same as he looks through the glass.
“Wow. This is three times the size of mine,” he murmurs, taking it all in.
“It was three times the tax credit.”
Brock chuckles beside me.
“You’re something else, Marco.” He shakes his head.
As we turn to leave, I feel like something is pulling me to stay, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s a feeling tingling just under my skin. I ignore it for now, walking Brock toward the elevators and riding down to the lobby. As the doors open, I seeErica hugging a tall, dark-haired man by the front doors. I stop right in my tracks, causing Brock to look back curiously.
“S-sorry. Shoe’s untied.” I lie, bending down.
He nods and turns away, looking at the lobby, unaware of the beautiful woman who has caught my eye, no matter how hard I try to look away. I take my time on my shoe, watching from afar, curious as to who the man is. My jealousy fades quickly as I recognize him. It’s her brother. I breathe an internal sigh of relief. She doesn’t see us as she waves goodbye and heads to the other elevators on the far wall.
I watch her brother exit through the glass doors, and wonder if he knows about me. About me being Josie’s father. I don’t know how she would be able to keep a secret like that from her own family. From what I know about her, she seems close with her brother. Then again, I haven’t told my mother. Some secrets are just too hard.
“Well, I hope you enjoyed the tour,” I say, putting my hand on Brock’s back as soon as Erica has disappeared in the elevator. “The souvenir shop is that way,” I joke.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you have a shop full of coffee mugs and stationery with your face on them.”
“Hey, that’s not a bad idea…” I muse.
“I appreciate you showing me around, and I plan on taking the next few days to think about our possible partnership. I think it might be a solid move for my company.”
“Wellington and Vallejos take over New York,” I say, putting my hand in the air as if I’m reading a headline.
“We would certainly shake up the business world.”
“That we would.”
“You’ll be hearing from me,” he says, holding out his hand.
I shake it firmly and lead him to the front doors where the doorman already holds it open for him. I give the doorman a nod and a final goodbye to Brock. Back inside the elevator, I find myself pressing the button for the floor of the daycare again. I still have that feeling rattling in my bones. I can’t shake it. I walk back down the familiar hallway and this time, walk inside the large room.
“Mr. Vallejo,” says the young woman at the counter, her eyes wide.
“Good afternoon.”
“Y-you’re here. In the daycare,” she stammers.
“I am,” I say in amusement at her greeting.
“Right. Of course. Come in, come in.” She stands from behind the front desk and fumbles with the safety latch on the small white gate. She pops open the top lock and it swings outward. She holds it open as I step inside.
“Um…” she says quietly, looking down at my shoes.
“Yes?”
“We don’t allow shoes in here. I’m so sorry. It’s just a policy. I’m sure you know. I mean, you own the place.” She nervously rambles on.
“Right. Of course.” I bend down and take off my loafers, placing them in a nearby cubby where the rest of the shoes are stored, except those are a quarter the size of mine.
“Germs. You get it.” She gives me a meek smile.
“Good thinking.”