The Firefighter's Match (15 page)

“Wow, you really are a firefighter. Red it is. And your mom?”

JJ had no idea what her mother’s favorite color was. Her favorite sweater was a pale blue, and most of her cars had been blue, so that seemed as good a guess as any. “Blue, I think.”

“Okay, red for you and blue for your mom. I’m pretty sure we have both of those in our collection. What about Max?”

Now that was a question. “I don’t know. He’s chosen a black wheelchair, but I can’t see how that tells you much of anything.”

Melba pondered. “Well, just black wouldn’t really work. I’ll give that project to Violet. She’ll come up something spectacular, just you wait.”

“Well.” JJ sighed. “Max has always been a bit of a spectacle.” She put a hand on Melba’s arm. “Thanks. That’s really nice of you to do.”

“I believe in being nice to friends. Even if my fiancé is your boss, I hope you and I will be friends outside the firehouse. Gordon Falls is woefully scarce in the under-thirty age demographic, so us whippersnappers have to stick together.”

It felt so very good to be an “us” outside of the army and the Army of Jones. With a quiet sparkle in her chest, JJ realized she truly was healing. Maybe everybody was. Maybe the thing about Gordon Falls wasn’t that everything was simple or perfect, just that it was borne together by one big community. If she had come here to relearn how to be alone, how surprising that the best way to do that was surrounded by good people.

For the first time in what felt like forever, JJ reached out to hug someone who wasn’t Max or her mom. “Thank you. Thank you for everything. I’d like to be there for you, too, if there’s any way I can.”

Melba blinked back tears. “I hope you mean that, because my family has a gift for calling in favors.”

JJ’s own eyelashes felt wet. Outside of the bonds of combat, she hadn’t felt like she could rely on anyone lately. “I’ve got your back.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Y
ou cannot!” Sam stood up from his end of the conference table, slamming his folder down on the huge piece of cedar wood. The enormous table had been built by their father and had once served as the family’s dining room table. Alex had insisted it remain in AG’s head office as a reminder that this company was always supposed to be a family, be about family, not some slick enterprise. That had been a nearly impossible atmosphere to maintain over the past three weeks. “We’re contractually equal partners. And I don’t think you can even say that, since you were ready to walk away from all this a month ago.”

“Equal partners of a dead enterprise, Sam. Either we overhaul this from the bottom up or everyone goes under.”

“I refuse to accept your proposal. I will not have this company become some kind of pity factory—we’re a retail chain, not a charity.”

“We’ll be nothing in another month at this rate. I’ve got three of the four vice presidents agreeing with my plan.” Alex had already eaten his words about life not being war. He was in a full-out battle for the future of Adventure Gear. Actually, he felt as if he were in mortal combat for his very soul—despite how melodramatic that sounded. He stood up slowly, eyes locked on his older brother. “I’m not blowing smoke here. I will buy you out or fire you.”

“You wouldn’t. You can’t.”

Alex had been dreading this meeting since that day back in the coffeehouse. He’d always known that Sam would fight him every inch of the way. But he’d also known—with an unshakable certainty he hadn’t felt in years—that this was AG’s only shot at survival. His only shot at living with himself and with what had happened. “I can, and I will. I’d much rather make these changes to AG with you, Sam, but make no mistake—I’m absolutely ready to do this without you.”

Sam looked around the handcrafted table to the faces of the company upper management gathered there. “You can’t seriously believe that adaptive equipment is the answer to keeping Adventure Gear afloat. It’s one-tenth the market we had. It’s one-
twentieth.
And upscale? No, sir. It’s retail suicide.”

That was really all Sam cared about, wasn’t it? Not the chance to make up for some of the damage they had caused; not the chance to create products that would make a difference in people’s lives. No, all Sam cared about was the bottom line.

Alex didn’t even bother to address his response to Sam. The brotherhood they once had was forever split in two, no more repairable than Max’s severed spine. Sam would never change his outlook; it was time for him to stop hoping that he would. Alex’s primary goal now was to convince these upper managers to share his vision and move fast enough to save jobs. “No, it’s not our full former market. But you’ve seen the data—that’s already gone. We have to start over, and I’m convinced this is the way to do it.”

Alex motioned to the stack of papers in front of each vice president. “Look at the projections I’ve given you. If we can secure educational and recreational markets—ski resorts, universities, vacation properties—we could grow the market far beyond what it is now. All these places would gain new customers if they could provide ways to accommodate for adaptive sports. Kids with physical disabilities have families. They have moms and dads who want to vacation with them. Soldiers coming home from combat have spouses and siblings, classmates and colleagues. No one is working to give them this part of their life back. No one is serving this market with the kind of creativity we can bring. And let’s face it—no one is more motivated to find good solutions.”

Sam pushed his chair away so hard it almost fell over. “I will not let you take this company on some kind of corporate guilt trip just because you’re scared for the first time in your life. Your style is to disappear when things get sticky, Alex, not to latch on to some ridiculous pipe dream.”

Alex was losing the battle to keep his temper under control. “The pipe dream here is thinking we can survive keeping on the way we have.” Every day since his return to Denver, Alex had carried a piece of SpiderSilk in his pocket. It reminded him of what was really at stake. He fished the piece of rope out of his pocket and tossed it into the center of the table. “We pushed the product too far too fast and now we are paying the price. Our high-end customers aren’t going to forgive us and the settlements will wipe out our reserve. We can stand by and watch while we shutter the stores one by one, or we can rebuild and keep as many jobs as possible. We can do the right thing here, people. This can be our funeral or our fresh start. And I, for one, don’t plan to start wearing black anytime soon.”

* * *

Tony Daxon stared at JJ as if she’d grown a third arm. “You believe him.” It was an accusation of treason, not a statement of fact.

JJ pulled the door shut of the rental cottage she’d just locked up. It was the first of the month, and a couple was coming in tomorrow to rent the cottage Alex had occupied. “I’m not sure yet.”

Daxon angled in front of her. “Yes, you are. You’re just afraid to tell Max you’re selling him out.”

JJ stared down at him, glad to have even an inch of height over the man. “Does Max know you’re here?”

Daxon loosened his tie in the late summer heat. “I thought it would be better to ensure I had your support before I handed Max this unfortunate offer.”

“Unfortunate?”

“This is a dodging tactic. This is what Alex Cushman is known for—the diversionary solution. This scheme of his can’t possibly work. His brother’s already left the company. Come on, even you can see this is just a way to get out of a no-win court battle. Offering Max a job in six months is like promising a kid in a desert an ice cream cone if he can just hold it for an hour. When it comes time to pay up, nothing’s there.”

JJ put her box of cleaning supplies in a cart on the cabin’s deck and began wheeling it toward Max’s office. She mentally counted all the steps that would need to be ramped if Max came back.
When
Max came back. “So you haven’t told Max about the offer from AG?”

“I’m his attorney. I’m supposed to protect him from stunts like this. Especially at a vulnerable time in his recovery. Your brother needs financial security, not flimsy promises.”

She’d seen the offer. Alex had sent her a copy. Alex had emailed her nearly every day since returning to Denver, recounting the gains and losses of his battle to give AG new life in the face of disaster. Reading Alex’s struggle alongside her daily phone conversations with Max, JJ couldn’t help but see how alike they were. “Alex’s offer to Max was very generous. He wouldn’t lack for anything if he worked for AG. And he’d have a job. A reason to get up in the morning. I’m not sure you can put a price on that.”

“Oh, now it’s ‘Alex’s offer.’ I see it’s become personal.”

“It’s my brother’s life. It’s always been personal. I wonder just how much you have at stake here, Mr. Daxon. Does the right thing for Max spell out in more than just dollar signs for you?”

Daxon scowled. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

JJ put down the handle of the cart. “I’ve learned the hard way never to trust anyone, Mr. Daxon. Especially someone who declares very loudly that they have my best interest at heart.”

“This offer is a mistake. Let me do my job here, Ms. Jones. Don’t let sentimentality cloud your thinking.”

There was something about his eyes. They lacked the clarity she could always find in Alex’s gaze. Still, what he said made sense. AG’s offer did hinge on their ability to stay afloat. “Answer me this one question. If we go to trial and we win the full amount you’re telling me you’re going to request, can AG survive the hit?”

Daxon balked. “You have no reason to be worried about what AG can survive.” His eyes narrowed. “Or do you? Maybe it’s time for you to think about where your loyalties lie. If it came down to what’s best for Max or what’s best for your new friend Alex, could you make the right decision? Are you ready to stand by your brother when he needs you most?”

The knot in her stomach—the one she’d supposedly come to Gordon Falls to heal—seemed to double at the question. Daxon had a point: it might very likely come down to a choice like that...on paper, at least. Alex seemed pretty convinced that his solution was what was best for them all. Was he right? Could she trust him when her family’s future was at stake?

A month ago, there wouldn’t have been any question, but Alex had changed her. In ways that could never be undone and in ways she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to undo. “Are you so sure this has to be war?” She kept thinking of Alex’s words, about him striving for the solution where everybody won instead of nobody. She was deathly tired of war.

Daxon’s laugh was ugly. “Your brother is in a battle for his life and you, a soldier, are asking me if this has to be war?” He shook his head. “I have to say, Cushman is even more clever than I thought. He’s got you hooked, hasn’t he?”

“No.” JJ’s answer was sharp and quick and uncertain. It was nearly impossible not to be drawn in by the optimism Alex gushed in every email. It was as if Alex grew more energized as Max seemed to grow more bitter. More focused on vengeance. Could she really blame him? She hadn’t lost her ability to walk; her life had been changed, but it hadn’t been blown to pieces like Max’s had. “I just think it’s a mistake not to let Max decide for himself.” And that really was it, wasn’t it? When it came right down to it, even if this turned into a war, it wasn’t
her
war. Max had to choose how and when he’d fight for what he wanted, not her.

Watching Alex respond to the threat of his own life coming undone, tackling the disaster head-on with determination the way he did, had woken JJ up to a deep truth. Max could not be coaxed back into a full life—it had to be a choice he made for himself. With all the facts and possibilities, not just Tony Daxon’s heavy-handed management. She squared her shoulders at the attorney. “So tell me, Mr. Daxon, will you show him AG’s offer or will I?”

“I don’t think it’s worth considering.”

“Don’t you think that should be Max’s decision?”

Daxon buttoned his suit coat back up. “If you want to take the risk of confusing Max with an ill-advised scheme that might rob him of the financial security he could guarantee now, I can’t stop you. But you’ll be doing so against my counsel. And you should know I’ll strongly advise Max not to take it.” He pointed a finger at her. “This is about Max. About getting him all he needs. He’s an innocent victim in this—never forget that.”

“I have a friend back in the VA hospital. Have you ever been there?”

“Occasionally.”

“It’s filled with victims. Guys who gave their all for their country and came back with injuries no one should ever have to endure.” JJ had gone back last week to find one soldier from her unit, who had lost the use of his legs, hoping to gain some advice. Instead, the experience had been a devastating lesson in how war destroys its wounded warriors. She’d broken down and called Alex that night, terrified Max would end up the civilian version of the hollow souls that occupied the corners of those rooms. Worst of all, JJ had felt like she’d seen her own soul in those veterans—empty, burned almost beyond restoration. She’d always thought war had stolen her faith, but that afternoon she realized she’d been the one to cast it off, a victim of her own despair.

She and Alex had talked for two hours, clinging to a tiny piece of the connection they’d had on the river dock, reminding her that a faith cast aside could be picked up again if she chose to turn back. God hadn’t left her—it was she who’d left Him. She just had to make room for Him in her life again. And that meant letting go of the despair. For herself, and for Max.

JJ glared at Daxon. “There’s one guy who lost his eyesight and half of one arm. Only he’s lost so much more than that. His every physical need is taken care of, but he’s dropped out of life. Just sits there, waiting for the rest of his body to fail. Nobody’s given him a chance to take his place back in the world. I can’t help thinking Alex might just be handing that place back to Max.”

“Alex Cushman is soothing a guilty conscience and a terminal balance sheet. He’s already lost. He’s just trying not to lose everything, and that can’t be your problem.”

“If there’s one thing war taught me, it was that there’s a huge difference between losing and surrender.”

* * *

Come to Chicago and talk to Max.

Alex stared at the seven words on his computer screen, stunned. In all his emails back and forth with JJ, he’d sensed her growing openness. The night she’d called after her visit to the VA hospital, he’d almost flown out there uninvited despite his promise to Doc that he’d stay put until the Joneses had made their decision.

It had been hard not to bolt. The battle over AG had been bitter. Sam had been awful, and a few of the upper management had taken his side to make for a nasty split. Every day handed Alex a reason to flee the painstaking process of retooling AG for its new focus. He’d thrown his Go-Bag in the Dumpster at the end of the first week because it kept calling to him from the closet behind Cynthia’s desk.

Cynthia was gone, too, laid off like many of the administrative staff. He hated Cynthia’s loss more than all the others. She was a fabulous employee and someone with a bright future, but her departure had practical casualties, too—Alex was terrible at administrative tasks; the plethora of mistakes in his letters and emails had become a company-wide joke. Still, Alex felt it was essential that he bear the hits as much as any other AG employee. Too many people had to be laid off—and Alex hadn’t slept well in weeks as a result—but the leaner AG would hopefully be nimble enough to shift and survive.

He’d be sticking around this time to make sure.

He found himself fighting his old nature with every ounce of determination God could give him. Even the travel photos in his office had to go because he found himself staring at them with a craving to disappear that often drove him to blurt out desperate prayers for the strength to stay the course.

JJ’s email could not have come soon enough. The only thing that kept him from jumping in his car this minute was the knowledge that even a flight five hours from now would get him to Gordon Falls faster than his beloved Land Rover. He’d booked his flight and shifted four meetings in a matter of minutes. They were important meetings, but everything else could wait if he got the chance to convince Max Jones his future lay with Adventure Gear.