Chapter 15
A week later…
Foster checked his email, hoping for a bite from one of the many, many places he’d sent resumes to but found nothing.
His ego was really taking a beating. The jobs were there, but he wasn’t getting many nibbles.
He’d assumed it was his connection to his ex-father-in-law, but maybe it was more to it than that.
Maybe he didn’t have the right set of skills employers were looking for.
What that was, he wasn’t sure. He’d only had the one job and there, he’d been told he did a great job.
Nepotism might’ve hidden his flaws. Maybe he should reach out to an old coworker, one who no longer worked for Ashley’s dad, and see if there were any insights he could get. If he was lacking something, he needed to know.
After sending a couple of emails, he scoured several job sites, searching for anything that looked anywhere remotely near his wheelhouse.
He’d already applied to all of the local ones he found.
Apparently, it was time to move outside New York and New Jersey.
He stumbled over a few in Boston that looked interesting and sent his resume to those.
Boston wasn’t too far away.
It’s too far away from Jude.
Foster shook his head. He couldn’t factor Jude into any long-term decisions. They had an expiration date—one of Jude’s choosing.
But there were other obvious reasons to stay.
Seeing how his parents had slowed down for one.
He’d flown in right after the stroke and spent weeks helping with his dad’s recovery and rehab—and according to the doctors, everything had looked great for a full recovery.
But he could only stay for so long. His father-in-law had been generous, allowing him to work virtually part-time, but as the weeks progressed, that generosity dried up.
Ashley had started whining, too, but likely because her father wasn’t pleased and let her know it.
Once Foster had set up a home health nurse to stop in daily, the physical therapy appointments were set, and his parents had gotten into something of a regular routine, he’d returned to California, confident they had a plan well in hand.
He’d had regular weekly Zoom calls with them to ensure his dad’s progress was moving forward.
Both parents had told him how well his dad was doing and that the doctors said he would be back to full steam in no time.
They’d also told him to end the nursing service because they didn’t need it anymore.
Only, his dad wasn’t back to full steam or anywhere close, and he’d learned that his parents had asked for him to end the nursing service because they didn’t want him spending his money covering what insurance and Medicare didn’t.
Perhaps his divorce had been a blessing in more ways than one.
Now that he was home, he could keep an eye on things.
Thanks to being unemployed, he ran errands for his mother and finished his dad’s honey-do-list around the house.
He’d gotten them both out walking every day and while it had taken weeks, his dad was comfortably up to a mile and sometimes more.
The changes in their strength were clearly visible. Not just his dad, but his mom, too.
If Foster was forced to move to Boston—or further—he feared they might not continue without him urging them on.
Before the stroke, his parents had been a fairly active couple nearing their seventies, preparing to travel even more once his dad fully retired from the university.
When he’d returned he’d found that they stuck close to home, only leaving the house when they absolutely needed to.
He realized their lives might never return to normal, but it felt like they’d given up trying to get any closer.
Maybe it’s time to consider changing careers. I could go back to college, I suppose. I’ve got enough in savings to make that happen.
His cell vibrated on the desk. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered, hoping it wasn’t one of the many scam calls he got in a week.
“Hello?”
“Am I speaking to Foster Price?”
The voice sounded familiar. Foster relaxed a bit. “Yes, it is.”
“How are you doing today, Foster? This is Bash Spears.”
Bash Spears? Foster smiled to himself, not wanting to get too hopeful. Bash was one of the owners of a company he’d really wanted to work for—but also the man who’d mentioned he’d known Ashley’s father very well. “I’m doing great, and you?”
“Can’t complain,” Bash said. “I want to start out by apologizing for taking so long to call you. I’m afraid life interrupted. I’d planned to offer you the position we discussed a few weeks ago—but fear you might’ve taken something else considering how long it’s been.”
Foster rose from his chair, eyes wide. He needed to answer carefully, without making it obvious that he appeared unloved and unwanted in the financial world. “I’d be interested to hear your offer.”
“So you have found another position?”
Foster hesitated for a moment before choosing the truthful path. “No. I haven’t.”
“I suppose we can thank your father-in-law for that.”
Foster frowned. “Thank him for…?” He didn’t want to come out and ask what the man had insinuated from the comment. He’d much rather Bash speak plainly.
“I think we both likely suspect he’s put out the word you’re not to be hired. There’s no way anyone with your track record should still be looking for a job otherwise.”
Foster sighed.
“Fortunately for me, I wouldn’t have listened to him even if he had called me.”
Foster perked up. “When I didn’t hear back from you, I assumed your connection to him might’ve kicked me out of the running.”
“I said I knew your father-in-law. Never said I liked him,” Bash said.
Foster fought a smile.
“Sorry it took so long, but we’d love to have you join the team. If you’re still interested, that is.”
“I am sir,” Foster replied, fighting a broad grin.
“Great. How about you come in on Monday, and we can nail everything down?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Spears. What time would you like me there?”
“Let’s say ten. Come on up to meet with me and we can discuss the particulars—then take you on over to HR to fill out all that pesky paperwork… and you can call me Bash, by the way. Don’t make me feel any older than I already do.”
Foster laughed. “Sounds great. I’ll see you Monday.”
After hanging up, Foster zipped down the apartment stairs and rushed to the back door of his parents’ home. He found them both in the dining room, working on a puzzle.
His mother looked up when she noticed him watching them. “Well, I like that smile you’re wearing today.”
“I’ve got news to go along with it. I got the job at Spears and Walker.”
His mom squealed. She jumped up and gave him a big hug.
“Congratulations, kiddo,” his dad said, turning to him with a huge lopsided smile.
“That’s the one in Manhattan, right?” his mother asked.
Foster nodded.
“So you’re going to stay close to us?”
Foster leaned back and smiled down at her. “I’ll be staying close.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Best news I’ve had in a long, long time.” She hugged him again. “Maybe you should just stay here. In the apartment?”
Foster wanted to be close, but not that close. He needed a little distance and privacy, but he wasn’t in a hurry to leave just yet. “For now, that’s fine, but maybe not long-term. At the very least, maybe I can start paying you rent now?”
They’d refused his offer when he’d first returned, no matter how much he told them he was financially okay. He’d been leaving cash in his mother’s office desk drawer for weeks, but nothing had been said. He wasn’t even sure she’d found it yet.
“Nope. I won’t take a single penny,” his mother said.
“Then I should move out so you could rent it to someone you will take money from.”
“Oh stop,” his mother said before wandering into the kitchen. “What would you like for dinner? We need to celebrate this great news.”
Foster followed her into the kitchen and hopefully out of his dad’s earshot. Lowering his voice, he leaned closer to her. “You change the subject every time I bring up finances.”
“Because they’re none of your concern,” his mother said, her lips going into a thin line.
“Mom… I’m not trying to pry but…but I realize Dad’s stroke likely racked up a lot of medical debt.”
“We had good insurance,” his mother said.
“Insurance doesn’t cover everything. Between his extended hospital stay, the therapies, the medications, I know your portion wasn’t small.”
His mother hedged, not answering him.
“I just want to know that you guys are in good shape. And that you’re going to be comfortable for the rest of your lives.”
She sighed and lifted her gaze to him, suddenly looking years older. “I managed everything. We’re okay.”
“Okay doesn’t cut it. Comfortable, Mom.”
His mom remained silent.
Foster leaned over the counter and took her hand. “Please. Be honest with me.”
She worried her lower lip a moment. “We’ve had to make a few cuts here and there, but we’re going to make it. In fact, we didn’t need most of those extras anyway.”
“Can you let me look at your accounts?”
She worried her lip even more. “I’m supposed to take care of you. Not the other way around.”
He tilted his head, lifting a brow.
His mother sighed. “Fine, fine. I can show you. Just not right now.” She forced a smile that didn’t quite make it to her eyes. “We need to celebrate, and you never answered my question about dinner.”
“Why don’t we go out?” Foster said loud enough that his voice traveled into the dining room. He stepped back from the counter, eyeing his father, checking for signs if it was a yay or nay.
“That sounds like a great idea,” his father yelled back, all smiles.
Foster eyed his mother, who looked nervous.
“Mom, he’s getting stronger and walking more and more. He can handle a night out. Especially with me there for assistance.”
“Yes, he can.” She sighed. A slow smile spread over her lips. A real one this time. “I suppose we’re going out, then.”