Pamela Bauer - The Man Upstairs

Maddie squeezed her hand. “Of course not. Did you have a good time?”

Dena Bailey looked at the beaming bride and knew what she had to say. “Yes. It’s been fun seeing everyone again.” Although “everyone” was actually a couple of women who’d lived on the same dorm floor as she and Maddie during their college years.

“It means so much to me that you came. I’ve missed you. I wish we could get together more often.”

It was exactly what Dena had been thinking all weekend, and she’d been waiting for the opportunity to tell Maddie her news. “We might just get to do that. I may be moving to St. Paul. I interviewed for a job while I was here.”

“You did! That’s great…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes held a look of disappointment. “Only I’m not going to be here. Dylan’s taken an assignment in the south of France. Of course, we’ll come home to visit.”

Dena could only smile weakly and wish them good luck.

“If you haven’t found a place to live, you should talk to my mother-in-law,” Maddie suggested. “She’s looking for someone to rent my room. It would be perfect for you. It’s on the bus line, close to Grand Avenue and all those wonderful little shops and restaurants. The rent is reasonable, too.”

“It’s really kind of you to offer, but—” Dena began.

“But nothing,” Maddie finished for her, pulling her by the hand. “Come. We’ll go talk to Leonie right now. Trust me. You’re going to love 14 Valentine Place.”

“ARE THOSE GORILLAS on your socks, Bailey?”

Dena had been sitting with her feet propped up on her desk, but she dropped them to the floor when she saw the art director in the doorway of her cubicle. With his slicked-back hair and his dark framed glasses, Greg Watkins reminded her of a smaller version of Clark Kent. She half expected that if he ripped open his shirt she’d see an S on his chest. Although he couldn’t leap from tall buildings or bend steel with his bare hands, he did flaunt his power over her on occasion. She hoped this wasn’t one of those times.

“The world’s a jungle out there,” she answered.

“Don’t I know it,” he said with a knowing lift of his brows.

“So what can I do for you?”

“You can tell me whether or not you’re going to make a donation to the Aaron Jorgenson auction. He’s the high school kid who was injured in the skiing accident. Kramer’s taken a special interest in this event because the kid goes to his church.” Greg had a habit of referring to people by their last names, even the creative director who was the head of the advertising agency.

“They’re having a benefit dinner to raise money to help pay the medical bills, right?”

“You got it. I don’t see your name on the list.” He waved a clipboard in midair.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to attend,” she said apologetically, then reached for her purse. “But I’d be happy to make a cash donation.”

“It would be better if you donated an item for the auction…preferably something that will bring in big bucks.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged. “Anything. I’m donating a tour of the Channel 8 studio and lunch with a news anchor. You probably heard that my sister’s their newscaster?”

Dena nodded. “I suppose I could ask my brother to help me out, but I don’t think lunch with a mechanic would have quite the same appeal, do you?” She gave him a wry smile.

“Probably not,” he answered with his own understanding grin. “But there are any number of items you could donate. Seriously, Bailey, this could be an opportunity for you to catch Kramer’s eye.”

“You mean if I bring in something unique he’ll remember my name?”

“You keep doing work like that and he’ll notice you,” he said, looking over her shoulder to the mockups lining her shelves.

“I’m good at packages,” she admitted in a tone that was not the least bit pretentious, just honest.

“So I’ve noticed…as have a lot of other people. So what do you say? Are you going to donate an item?”

She hesitated a second, then said, “All right, put me down. For what, I don’t know, but I’ll come up with something.”

He pulled a pen from behind his ear and wrote her name on the clipboard. “I’m sure you will. You’re clever. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

She knew it was true. To land a job at an advertising agency like Delaney Design, one needed to be better than good. Getting hired had been a boost to her ego and an affirmation that she’d made the right decision in leaving her job in marketing to pursue a career in graphic design. Unfortunately, with the new job came the pressure to perform. Everyone at Delaney was talented. It wasn’t enough to simply be good.

Greg Watkins straightened. “You’ll need to let me know by next Friday what you’re donating to the auction. The benefit is February 10. I have to tell you, Bailey, Kramer’s going to be pleased to see your name on the list.” He gave her a mock salute and slipped out of her cubicle.

Dena didn’t want to simply please the creative director. She wanted to impress him, to prove to him that she belonged at the prestigious agency.

It wasn’t anything new—proving herself. She’d been doing it most of her life and she’d do it now. She reached for the phone to call the one person who might be able to help her—her brother.

AS CHILDREN, Dena and Ryan had been as close as any brother and sister, but when they were teenagers, their parents had divorced and the fragile bonds that had held their family together were broken. After graduation, Ryan Bailey saw no reason to stay in the small town in Iowa where they’d been raised. He moved away with his high school sweetheart, eager to make a new start in life.

Left alone with her father, Dena envied her brother his freedom. No matter how hard she tried to get her father’s attention, there was only one thing in life that mattered to him now that his wife was gone—his work. His idea of being a good parent was to send Dena to boarding school, where she felt just as isolated as she had living with her father. After graduation, she didn’t return home. Like her brother, she left Iowa, but she made her exodus alone.

It was how she’d lived most of her life—alone. She may have had a mother for thirteen years, but she’d learned at an early age not to expect much from her. As a small child she’d never understood why her mother wasn’t like other kids’ mothers. She never played with her children and rarely laughed with them. It wasn’t until Dena was thirteen that she understood the reason why. She hadn’t wanted to be a mother in the first place.

It was a fact of life Dena couldn’t change no matter how hard she tried. So she learned to take care of herself, to rely on her own tenacity and resourcefulness rather than depend on anyone else. She was self-sufficient and proud of it, only now that she’d moved to Minnesota, she was beginning to realize how lonely her life had been and how much she’d missed Ryan.

That’s why she didn’t hesitate to turn to him for advice about the auction donation. As usual, she’d worked late that evening and stopped at his house on her way home.

“Dena, it’s good to see you,” her sister-in-law, Lisa, said as she opened the door to her. “Come in. Ryan took Luke sledding at the park, but they should be home shortly. I was just about to make some hot chocolate…or would you rather have a cup of tea?”

“Hot chocolate sounds good.” Dena removed her jacket and slung it over the back of one of the wooden kitchen chairs before taking a seat. “Where’s Bethany and Jeremy?”

“Jeremy’s at hockey practice and Bethany’s at a birthday party for one of her friends from school. It’s her first pajama party so I’m a little anxious about it,” Lisa admitted as she poured milk into a pan on the stove. “I didn’t want her to go. I think eight’s a little young for slumber parties, don’t you?”