Redemption Read Online Free

need projected January sales for our downtown store, plus a list of employees.” As she spoke, she jotted down each idea, each objection, and like a general with a foolproof battle plan, she felt her doubts all but disappear.
    Joan lifted her eyebrows. “I heard they were thinking about filming a movie here, but I thought it was just another rumor.” Then she grinned. “Last year, I heard Denzel Washington was in the store, getting the royal treatment. Turned out it was the fire inspector.”
    “Well, hopefully this will amount to nothing but a lot of smoke.” Claire made a final note on her pad, and then she ripped off the page and handed it to Joan. As she turned to leave, Claire remembered: “Oh, by the way, I was told you’re expecting a baby.”
    Joan glanced back at her, her look of surprise mixed with apprehension. “Yes, around March.”
    Claire’s smile was warm. “Congratulations. I’ve made sure Personnel upgraded you to a permanent employee. You’ll be covered under the family leave policy that went into effect this month.” In the past, Kaslow’s had often hired “temporary” workers for long-term positions in an effort to avoid paying them benefits, a practice that, in Claire’s opinion, stank.
    Joan seemed stunned. “I was told this job was classified as temporary. I thought I wouldn’t be eligible for benefits.”
    Claire shook her head. “From now on, seasonal workers will only be hired in the retail side. Here in the corporate offices, we’ll make every effort to hire permanent employees—and give them full benefits.”
    Joan’s face broke into a smile. “I also heard a rumor you were trying to get a childcare center here.”
    Claire nodded. “Yes. Although we’re not exactly sure where it will go.”
    “I know the perfect place—that old theater on the eighth floor. No one uses it anymore.”
    “That sounds feasible. I’ll make a note to look into it.”
    Then, as Joan left, Claire’s smile faded. She knew Joan wasn’t married, a fact that, subconsciously at least, had probably prompted her to transfer her from reception to the position as her office assistant. She knew all too well the difficulties a single mother faced. If it hadn’t been for her grandmother’s support all those years ago, freely sharing her retirement pension as well as her time babysitting after Tripper was born, Claire never could have made it on her own.
    She shuddered to think what the alternative would have been.
    She turned to the work on her desk. The past was just that, and fortunately, she no longer needed to worry about where the next diaper was coming from. Now all she had to do was outwit this latest trick of Fate.
    “Mom, are you sure I’m your son?”
    Tripper’s question stopped Claire in her tracks on her way to the refrigerator. She glanced over to where he sat at the pine dining table, staring at his school photos. They’d been taken before they left San Francisco and had just arrived in the mail. His face bore a puzzled look of introspection, a look she had often noticed. She assumed it was the inevitable result of being the only child of a single parent. Sometimes there was just too much time for thinking.
    This time, though, his bout of nine-year-old introspection had backed him up the wrong path.
    She laughed and answered lightly, “Of course you’re my son, silly. You certainly aren’t my daughter.”
    “Mo-om!” he protested, rolling his eyes at her attempt at humor. “I’m serious. We don’t even look alike. Your hair’s a lot darker than mine, and your eyes are—” he looked up at her face for confirmation “—sorta gray,” he declared, then continued with his comparative analysis. “And you’re not very tall for your age. I’m already almost your height. I bet I’ll be a lot taller than you one day.”
    The incontrovertible proof of his mistaken parentage was offered solemnly, with all the thoughtful reasoning of a genetics expert.
    “Hmm. You know,