Maddy's Oasis

Chapter One

"You missed your last two payments. I don't want to refer your account to collections. You'll have to find a new doctor if you're not able to bring your account up to date."

"I took out a loan that should've transferred to my account today," Madeleine replied in the same tone. "If not, I'll have it tomorrow. Either way, I'll transfer the funds by noon tomorrow."

"Very well, Ms. Winters."

Madeleine hung up and drew a deep breath. Her mother's cancer treatment and nursing home had already eaten through both their retirement savings and a second lien on her house. Her credit cards were maxed out, and the bank had been very, very hesitant to extend the latest lifeline. When Nigel offered her the six-figure bonus for finishing this project, she leapt at the opportunity, even though her gut warned her against it.

She needed the money too bad to say no.

She regained her resolve and made her way carefully toward the office, twisting her ankle only once on the rocky ground beneath her four-inch heels. She straightened and dusted her suit jacket before ascending the rickety metal stairs to the office.

The contrast of the building’s dark interior blinded her. She paused inside the doorway and blinked, making out several quiet forms in a small reception area sporting two worn couches in front of a cluttered desk.

She raised her sunglasses and gazed at the three silent men standing before her. One beefy, older Mexican's white shirt labeled him as Javier. Another wore blue with the familiar logo, Smithson Contracting. The third was small and round with an oily smile.

“Good morning,” she said when no one spoke. “I’m Madeleine, assistant to Mr. Howard, and the new project manager assigned to oversee completion of the Desert Oasis.”

She offered her hand to the nearest man, Javier, whose barrel-chested frame made her feel tiny. He gave a hearty shake. His grizzled smile—as rough as his salt and pepper speckled start of a beard—widened at her direct gaze. His skin was caramel, the dominant shade in southwest Texas, his eyes bright blue.

“Javier, of Javier and Sons,” he responded in a thick, slow Spanish accent.

“Larry’s Security,” the small, oily man said, stepping forward and holding out a hand.

“Ah, Larry’s Security,” she said. “You’ve been in charge of my site for the past week.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “I received your phone call but didn’t understand. Thought I’d drop by and meet you.”

“I appreciate your visit,” she said. “However, my message was very clear. Your services are no longer needed.”

“Ma’am, I was hired by—”

“Alex. I know. And I’m releasing you. I confirmed our last payment to your company. If you would like to contest either your payment or your release, here is the number to Mr. Howard’s attorneys’ office.”

She handed him a card. Without awaiting any further objection, she turned to the man in the Smithson uniform.

“Jim Smithson,” he said, sticking out his hand.

While not impressed by any of what she had seen so far, she was the least impressed by the man before her.

“How may I help you?” she asked.

“My contract with—”

She cut him off. “Your contract has been terminated. Here, for you, is the card for Mr. Howard’s attorneys. Raise any complaint you have to them. Or you can await their call. Mr. Howard is leaving it up to me whether or not to press charges for this disaster you call a building. The local inspector already faxed us his initial inspection results indicating a great deal of negligence in your performance. Eric, escort Mr. Smithson and Mr. Larry out.”