Cherry lane, p.12
Cherry Lane, page 12
“Let’s promise each other that from this point on we never mention our exes again.”
She closed her eyes for several seconds. “I promise.”
Smiling, David inclined his head. “I second that.”
Devon decided to change the topic. Like David, she didn’t like dredging up her past. “If I’d known we were going to have an Italian meal, I would’ve put up some dough for bread.”
“You make your own bread?”
“I do,” she drawled confidently. “I’m not quite a domestic goddess, but I can cook, bake, and sew.”
“My grandmother used to say a woman had to learn to cook if she wanted to land a husband. But you just sit and relax. Enjoy it now, because once you have little Debbie or Johnny you’ll have your hands full with changing diapers and trying to catch up on your sleep.”
She smiled when he mentioned little Debbie. It was too early to confirm the sex of her baby, but Devon prayed for a girl. It would be easier for her as a single mother to raise a girl than a boy. Sons needed fathers in their lives to teach them how to become men.
“Are you speaking from experience?”
David stared at her as if she were a stranger. “I just remember Aunt Corrine used to fuss with Kara about getting up early and making breakfast for Jeff at six in the morning when she should’ve stayed in bed, because once she had the baby she’d barely have time to make her own breakfast.”
Devon remembered Kara rushing to get to Jack’s because she had to use a breast pump to express milk for her son’s next feeding. “I don’t mind sitting, but I need to do something with my hands, like knitting or quilting.”
“So you really are a Martha Stewart?”
“Not quite. But I am looking forward to cooking in my new home.” She told David about the rustic kitchen with the brick walls and a wood-burning fireplace. “I haven’t decided whether to replace floor bricks with wood floorboards.”
“What about the walls?”
“I want to keep the brick. They may need cleaning, but other than that they add a lot of character to the space.”
Her voice filled with excitement and anticipation, Devon gave David a room-by-room description of the house she planned to call home as he put up a pot of water for linguine. She saw his cooking skills firsthand as he prepared the chicken piccata, linguine tossed with fresh minced garlic and virgin olive oil, and a mixed citrus salad with thinly sliced red onion and escarole and vinaigrette.
She set the table in the dining area with plates and serving pieces and when they sat down together it seemed so natural, as if it was something they did often. She swallowed a forkful of linguine. It was delicious. “Next time I’m cooking.”
David lifted a glass of water. “I’ll drink to that.”
It was minutes after eleven when Devon practically pushed David out the door. They’d cleaned the kitchen together, then retreated to the living room. They lay on the sofa together watching Pretty Woman. “I’ll see you Friday night for the interview with Cynthia.”
Holding her face between his palms, David kissed her forehead. “Remember, we’re going to see each other tomorrow.”
Devon held on to his wrist. “Oops. I forgot about that. Thank you for making dinner.”
He kissed her again, this time on the mouth. “Good night.”
“Good night,” she whispered as he turned, walked out, and closed the door. “We really are a couple,” she said aloud.
Chapter Thirteen
Devon sat across the table from the young woman, noting her full hips, wavy light brown hair, peaches-and-cream complexion, and large coffee-brown eyes. Cynthia Humphries was a beautiful young woman.
Devon positioned the tape recorder so it would record both voices. “Miss Humphries—”
“Please call me Cynthia.”
Devon paused, smiling. “Okay, Cynthia. Mr. Sullivan asked me to interview you because he thought you’d feel more comfortable talking with a female attorney.” She noticed Cynthia rubbing her forefingers over her thumbs. She was obviously nervous. “I’ve gone over your file and discovered you have two degrees in education and another in computer science. That’s quite an accomplishment for a young woman who has yet to celebrate her thirtieth birthday.”
Cynthia dropped her gaze, staring at her fidgety fingers. “I like learning.”
Devon knew if she got Cynthia to talk about herself, rather than hurl questions about her being discriminated against, she probably would be more unguarded. “But you decided not to be a teacher?”
Cynthia met Devon’s eyes for the first time. “After I completed student teaching, I realized I wasn’t cut out to be a classroom teacher, so I became a consultant and trainer.”
“What made you study computer programming?”
An attractive blush crept over Cynthia’s face. “I’ve always been a computer geek.” She paused, picking up the glass of water on the coaster and taking a sip. “When I went online and saw a job posting for an assistant researcher for an independent publisher of children’s and educational textbooks, I knew I was the perfect candidate based on their specifications and my education and experience. I updated my résumé and emailed it to them.
“A week later I got a phone call from someone in HR asking me to come in for an interview. Unfortunately I’d just had foot surgery and couldn’t walk or drive, so I suggested they interview me in a video chat. It went well and I had a second video interview the following week. Because I was seated, all they saw was me from the chest up. The publisher called me the next day offering me the job. We discussed salary and benefits and he told me I could start pending medical clearance from my doctor.”
“Did anyone follow up the call with a letter stating your start date?”
“Yes. They sent me a packet by certified mail with the forms I needed to complete for health insurance coverage and payroll deductions and the company’s policy and procedure manual. I had to sign and return the page indicating I’d read the handbook.”
“What title were you given when you were first hired?”
“Assistant researcher.”
“What was your supervisor’s reaction when you showed up at the office for the first time?”
“He was unable to hide his shock when I introduced myself as Cynthia Humphries. It took him about two minutes before he told me to wait in the reception area. The office manager came out twenty minutes later and gave me some bullshit story about having to move my office because of a leak. She said workmen were scheduled to come in to rip up the carpet and replace ceiling tiles.”
Devon leaned over the table. “Why did you believe it was a lie?”
“How long does it take to make repairs to a twelve-by-twelve office? Definitely not three years. They put me in a cubbyhole next to the mailroom and whenever I had to confer with my supervisor I had to walk halfway around the office to see him. I knew I wasn’t imagining his revulsion because he never looked me in the eye.”
Although full figured, Devon found Cynthia well groomed. Her black sheath dress was perfect for her curvy figure. “How was your relationship with other employees?”
“It was good. We ate lunch together in the office lunchroom and every couple of weeks we’d hang out on Fridays for happy hour.”
Lacing her fingers together, Devon gave Cynthia a long, penetrating stare. “So it was only your supervisor who seemed to have a problem with your appearance?”
“Yes, Miss Gilmore.”
“Do you have proof of this?”
Cynthia closed her eyes. “I overheard someone saying that Mr. Gantt couldn’t bear to be in the same room with me because I reminded him of a beached whale.”
“If we were to subpoena this person, would they be willing to testify under oath that he said this?”
Cynthia opened her eyes, blinking back tears. “I doubt it, because there might be reprisals from upper management.” She sniffled and sucked in a breath. “I’ve always had a problem carrying most of my weight below my waist and I’ve tried every diet in existence. I’d lose a few pounds, then pack them back on when I was stressed out. I’ve been the brunt of every fat joke imaginable. I know Mr. Gantt would’ve never hired me if I’d had an in-person interview.”
Devon wanted to tell Cynthia she was right if the man really did harbor an intense dislike of overweight people. “Tell me about your being passed over for promotion.”
“After the company expanded the digital department, they posted a position on what we call the community board for a programmer. My supervisor, who’d been promoted to head that department, would have to approve the candidate for the position. Although I didn’t expect to get the position, I still applied. I got the customary thank-you-for-applying rejection letter and let it pass. However, I continued to get raises and favorable evaluations.”
“Why didn’t you leave?” Devon asked her.
“I needed the money because I’d just bought a condo. Meanwhile, I’d been working at home coding a curriculum program for homeschooled children in grades K through twelve. Companion books and teacher guides would accompany each subject for every grade. There was another posting for a programmer a year later for which candidates had to submit samples of their projects.”
“You gave them the software for your homeschool curriculum?”
A wry smile twisted Cynthia’s mouth. “No. I gave them something else. I wasn’t ready to shop the curriculum project because I knew a tech company would offer a lot more than a promotion with a raise. They rejected my submission and I was again passed over for a promotion. Each time they would hire someone from outside the company when they professed to hire from within in order to boost morale. That’s when I decided I’d had enough and quit.”
“If you left of your own accord, then why are you suing them for discrimination?”
“Because someone at the company sent me an anonymous letter with the news Johnston and Jennings Publishing was selling my program to schools and colleges.”
A frown appeared between Devon’s eyes. “Why isn’t this detailed in your original deposition?”
“Because I met the informant earlier today. That’s why I didn’t want to talk with Mr. Sullivan until tonight.”
Devon carefully schooled her expression not to reveal her excitement. If Cynthia’s former employer was selling her program, then she was entitled to a portion of the sales. “How did this person know it’s your program?”
“She overheard them bragging about it in a closed-door meeting. Mr. Gantt said I did them a favor by resigning because they got their money’s worth out of the fat cow. She said they were laughing about keeping Baby Huey in the corner. She was so angry she couldn’t remain silent any longer because J and J had fostered a culture of not promoting their female employees as quickly as they did the men.”
Reaching into her oversize handbag on the table, Cynthia took out a large plastic box filled with computer disks. “Here’s what J and J Publishing is selling.” She pushed another box with a half dozen disks across the table. “They’ve condensed eighteen disks into six.”
“How did they get your prototype?” The silence following Devon’s questioning was deafening.
Chewing nervously on her lips and rubbing her thumbs, Cynthia sniffled again. “There was a company rule against fraternizing, but I kind of liked this guy who worked in the digital unit and I would occasionally flirt with him over lunch. One day I told him about my coding but warned him not to tell anyone. Then…”
Devon shook her head. She knew instinctually what had happened, because all over the world some man was taking advantage of a woman for his own personal gain. “He seduced you and eventually you let him see it.” The tears filling Cynthia’s eyes overflowed, running down her cheeks to her chin. Devon flicked off the tape recorder. Rounding the table, she sat next to Cynthia. “Don’t cry, honey. We’re going to make those bastards pay.”
The floodgates opened as Cynthia wept openly against her shoulder. “He said things to me no man has ever said. He called me beautiful…said that…that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. I didn’t want to tell Mr. Sullivan that it was the first time I’d slept with a man because I didn’t want him to think—”
“Mr. Sullivan is your attorney and it’s his responsibility to protect your interests, not judge you,” Devon said, cutting her off. Now she knew why Cynthia hadn’t told David the entire story. Devon took a tissue from the box on the desk and blotted Cynthia’s face. “I want you to answer one question for me.”
“What is it?” Cynthia whispered, reaching for another tissue and blowing her nose.
“Did you copyright your software?”
She nodded. “I researched intellectual property rights and discovered they are the foundation of the software industry.”
Devon pumped her fist. In their haste and greed, J and J Publishing had underestimated Cynthia Humphries. She patted the woman’s back. “Go to the restroom and fix your face. Mr. Sullivan will take over now.”
Cynthia hugged Devon so tightly she thought she was going to strangle her. “Thank you, Miss Gilmore. I feel so much better.”
“You’re pretty and very smart. Don’t ever let anyone define who you are.”
Waiting until Cynthia disappeared behind the door to the restroom, Devon picked up the recorder and walked out the conference room and into David’s office.
David stood up when Devon walked in. His admiring gaze moved slowly from her hair, which was in a sophisticated twist, to her black double-breasted pantsuit and matching patent leather pumps. The single strand of pearls around her slender neck matched the studs in her ears. She’d morphed effortlessly from tourist to attorney. He’d had to cancel their Wednesday dinner date when a client called him after he was arrested for assaulting his sister’s abusive boyfriend.
Smiling, she handed him the tape recorder. “Everything you need to sue the hell out of J and J Publishing is on this tape.” She gave him a brief overview of her interview with Cynthia. “Are you familiar with computer law and intellectual property protection?”
David’s hand tightened on the small instrument. Devon had done in less than half an hour what he hadn’t been able to do in two hours. “No, but we have someone on staff who is. I can’t believe you got her to talk.”
“It’s all about girl power.”
It took all of David’s self-control not to hug her. Several attorneys were working late and he didn’t want to risk one walking in on them. She had arrived five minutes before Cynthia and he’d escorted her to the conference room as he would a client.
“I owe you, Dee.”
“No, you don’t,” she said quietly. “This firm owes it to that young woman to make it right, and I’m willing to bet her that former employer will settle rather than go to trial, because it could prove quite embarrassing for one of their executives once women’s groups are made aware of his views about full-figured women. You’ll also need to get the names of the people who can back up her testimony before drawing up subpoenas.”
“I’m going to make this case a priority,” David promised.
“Do you think you will settle it before you leave?”
“I’m not going to give it a time limit. I’ll continue to work the case until Cynthia gets her dignity back.”
Devon rested a hand on his shirtsleeve. “That’s good.”
“Don’t you want to go for drinks to celebrate?” he asked when she scooped her tote off the chair beside his desk.
“Ask me again next year around this time and I’ll take you up on your offer.” She blew him an air-kiss. “I can find my way out.”
Cupping her elbow, David steered her out of the office. He’d forgotten she couldn’t drink while pregnant. “I’m going to walk you to your car.”
“David, please go and talk to your client.”
“She’s not going anywhere.” He reached for her hand. “You agreed to let me take care of you,” he whispered in her ear, “so let me play superhero, because right now I’m the one with the magic cape.”
She giggled softly. “Who are you tonight? Batman or Superman?”
David reached over Devon’s head, holding open the door leading to the parking lot. “Spider-Man.”
“But he doesn’t wear a cape.”
“Don’t hate on Peter Parker. Cape or no cape, he’s a real cool dude.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re a comic book junkie.”
“I was a junkie. I still have my collection packed away at my parents’ place. One of these days I’ll take you there and show it to you.”
Devon stopped short, causing him to almost trip over her. “Your parents’ place?”
“Yes, my parents.” She pressed a button on the Prius door handle, and David opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m certain they’ll adore you.”
“No, David!” Devon protested. “Our friends and the whole town are already going to assume you’re my baby’s father.”
“So let them.”
“But even your parents?”
“Do you actually think they aren’t going to hear about us?” David asked her. “And I’m willing to bet my mother will want to meet you sooner rather than later.”
“I’d rather it be later,” Devon said under her breath.
David shifted to the right, stopping her from getting into the car.
“I’ll tell them you don’t want to use the baby as leverage to get me to marry you.”
“I’m certain they didn’t raise you to become a baby daddy.”
“They didn’t,” he confirmed. “But as they say, times have changed. Shotgun marriages are a thing of the past. What about your parents? Do they know you’re pregnant?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about them. I’ll call you tomorrow for an update on Cynthia.”
“Call me before eleven, because after that I’ll be out of the office.” He moved aside, watching as she got into the car. He closed the door, smiling.
Blowing him another kiss, she started the engine and drove away, leaving him staring at the lights on the rear of the hybrid vehicle.
