Mourning Dove (13 page)

“On the bathroom counter;
want some coffee?”

“Sure.” Cass walked down
the hall like the doomed to the gallows.

Later, they sat across
from each other, sipping coffee, and staring at a plate full of dry toast.

“Cass, what the hell
happened last night?”

“My best guess is we
drained three bottles of Chablis, entertained Allen, and then, after we tucked
you in, he walked me home and put me to bed. I don’t remember anything else and
I sincerely hope that’s because there isn’t anything else to remember. I swear
no more than one glass of wine per night for the rest of my life. It isn’t
worth this kind of pain.”

“He put us to bed? Damn,
I can hear Ron now.”

“Do you think he’d tell
Ron?”

“Would you keep that kind
of information to yourself?”

“Maybe, ah hell, he won’t.
You shouldn’t care what Ron thinks anyway.” Cass looked around the kitchen and
living room. “How long have you been up? This place was a pile of boxes and
packing paper last thing I remember.”

“I think Allen cleaned up
last night.  He also obviously installed the gift he came bearing.”

“Hmm?”

“The reason he showed up
in the first place.” Sara pointed to the far wall in the living room area.
“Check out the note on the coffee table.”

Cass slid the wrinkled
note out from under the remote and read the added post script “PPS: I sent
Allen so you can’t refuse.’”

“You mean to tell me
Allen cleaned up our mess and installed a home theatre system while we slept?”

Sara nodded before she
could remember not to move her head.

“Allen would make a great
Santa Claus.”

“We could hire him full
time as a kind of shared housekeeper.”

“But we’d never find
anything.”

“And, he probably can’t
keep his mouth shut.”

“What are you going to do
with the MGM sound system and television he installed?”

“Keep it. I’m not well
enough to rip it out and drive it all the way back down to Greenland.”

Westminster cathedral
chimes start playing in Cass’s pocket.  In a few minutes her face changed from
pain to concern.

“Are you sure?...How many
were damaged?... I can take him, but he’ll have to stay in a cage...Because,
Merlin is an alpha male and he will tear him apart...I’ll ask...Okay, hold on. 
Sara’s right here.”

Cass handed Sara her
phone. “Jordie wants to ask you a favor.”

“Jordie, what’s wrong?”

Sara listened to his
agitated description of a cat gone berserk, and could not picture that sweet
calico cat of Stacy’s destroying an entire art studio.

“He didn’t.”

“Sara, I wouldn’t ask but
I have nine paintings to restore and two that are totally trashed and need to
be replaced. Can you take Leonardo for me? I’m going to be working straight
through the next three days to get enough for the show.”

“He isn’t rabid, is he?
That’s the only explanation I can think of.”

“Not that’s visible, but
all the canvases were turned over like he leaped on top then got spooked. His
paw prints are all over the floor. He spilled my supplies, clawed a tube of
fuchsia, and walked through the entire mess he created. I have to get him out
of here, but I don’t want to put him down.”

“Sure, I’ll take him on a
temporary loan until after your show. I can’t believe he could cause all that
damage unless he was scared by something – even then, not to that extent.”

“Thanks, I’ll bring him
up to your place this afternoon. And Mrs. Stafford?”

“Yes?”

“One of the paintings
totaled is one of the two you singled out to buy. I’m going to restore the
other and create another special for you. No charge, and don’t argue. I’ll be
up in about an hour with the cat.”

Looking into Cass’s eyes,
she shook her head and grimaced. “I can’t believe Leonardo could wreak that
much havoc.”

“You thinking what I’m
thinking?” Cass asked.

“I’m calling Ron.”

A few seconds later, he
answered Sara’s call.

“Ron, we have a problem.”

“No, we don’t. Allen
installed it and I’m not taking it back.”

“Not that, and thank you
and Allen for your generosity. Cass and I think Jordie’s apartment has been
broken into.”

“Is he all right?”

“Yes, but a lot of his
canvases have been trashed. He’s very upset. He just asked me to take
Leonardo.”

“He’s not thinking about
doing something foolish, is he?”

“Look Ron, not everything
revolves around suicide.”

“You’re living in denial,
Sara.”

“And you have a one-track
mind. Please call him. He’s agitated and thinks Leonardo caused the
destruction. I don’t think that’s possible. Remember the break-in at Stacy’s?
Maybe Jordie is next on the list. I think he needs a security system installed
and maybe the police notified. Cass is here with me and we’re both concerned.
Will you call him?”

“I’ll call him. I’ve got
to go now; I’ve got a trowel of spackling in my hands.”

“Don’t put this off,
Ron.”

“Dictating again, Sara?”

“Please.” She’d reduced
herself to begging and pressed her palm against the pounding in her forehead.

“Sara?”

“What?”

“Aspirin and black
coffee.”

She slammed the case shut
on her cell and turned toward Cass’s worried look.

“He’ll call him. He’s
probably doing it right now.”

“Why did you slam the
phone shut?”

“Allen blabbed.”

“Sara, how was your
weekend?” Louise asked from the door to Sara’s office.

“I’m all moved in if
that’s what you mean.” Sara reached into her desk drawer for her emergency
bottle of aspirin and dumped two into her hand.

“Headache already? He
isn’t even here yet.”

“It was a very
interesting weekend. I inherited a cat yesterday and he spent the night
prowling the house. He meowed each time I drifted off to sleep.”

“First night adjustment?”

“I’m hoping that he gets
it out of his system today, and that he doesn’t trash the place while I’m at
work.”

“A cat?”

“He has a history.”

“Oh, well, I hope everything
works out.  Did he come with a name?”

“Leonardo.”

“As in Di Caprio?”

“As in Da Vinci.”

“Aha. Anyway, do you want
to spend lunch at the pool?” Louise asked. “I could use the exercise.”

“Sure we can swim, as
long as we both make it out of the department meeting on time.  Do you have all
your data?”

“I do; but I’m not sure
Steve does.”

“Ross?”

“He’s stonewalling
everyone.”

“Have Steve come to my
office as soon as he gets here.”

A few minutes later,
Sara’s email download surprised her with a message from Ross telling her to
cool her ass. She’d had it; enough was enough. She hit print, grabbed the sheet
out of the printer, and marched into Jonathon’s office. On the bottom she
wrote:
He needs to be fired, NOW!

***

An hour later, they sat
like birds on a wire in a semicircle around Jonathon’s desk. All financials
were in, except San Francisco.

“Sara,” Jonathon pointed
his bone handle pen in her direction, “anything more since your last message
this morning?” He glanced down at the email on his desk with Sara’s angry
print.

“My recommendation
stands.”

“Good morning, everyone.”
Robert Starr walked into the room. “I just got off the phone with Myers. It
appears we do have a problem out on the coast. Thanks to Sara’s persistence, we
are now in a position to act. Jonathon, get Ross on the line if you can. Sara,
the call is yours.” Robert pulled up a high backed chair from the conversation
group in the corner.

“Ross, this is Sara
Stafford. I’m glad to hear you’re at your desk bright and early this morning.
Where is the information I asked for repeatedly over the last three weeks?”

“I’ve got problems out
here. When I’m ready you’ll get it.”

“If the figures are not
collated you should have sent me a report with the situation and your
impression of the problem.”

“Look, I’ve had just
about enough of your attempt to take over my position.”

“Ross, I’ve given you
every opportunity to act in a professional manner. Your persistent and
continued attempt to sabotage communication in this company has finally reached
the breaking point. Your employment is terminated effective immediately.”

“You think you’re so big
you can do that? You can’t do jack shit to me!”

“There again you’re
wrong, Ross. I have the authority and the grounds, documented and recorded. I
have evidence of your evasion, willful misconduct, and your flagrant disregard
for company policy.”

“Jonathon Pierce is
behind this, isn’t he? He’s been trying to get rid of me because I know too
much. Well you know this; Robert Starr hired me and only Robert Starr can fire
me. And, he won’t do that because when Pierce goes down he’s going to need me
to pick up the pieces.”

“I think old boy, you
might want to put a muzzle on your mouth before we collect enough information
to put you away for a long time.”

“That you, Pierce? I thought
it sounded like a speakerphone. You might want to take that off unless you want
your prissy little bedmate to hear what you’ve been up to.”

Sara’s face heated up and
she knew from the intensity that she was probably glowing red.

Robert handed a note to
Jonathon who nodded his agreement and walked out of the room.

“Ross, I believe you’ve
said enough. This conversation is being recorded as part of the minutes to the
finance department meeting. As such, everything you’ve said was heard by all
members of the finance department, including Steve Jost, Louise Stevens,
Jonathon Pierce, and me. And, although I have the authority to fire you for
cause, I also have the blessing of Robert Starr himself.”

“You stupid little bitch!
You don’t have the authority to piss without observation.”

“That is enough of that,
Mr. Gordon. This is Robert Starr, you’re behavior is unconscionable! I demand
an apology for the ladies in this room, particularly for Mrs. Stafford.”

“Ah, Robert, so you’re
the sleeper. Just a minute, I have company.” 

They heard the sounds of
three other voices. “Mr. Pierce, this is Ralph from security. We removed Mr.
Gordon from his office.”

“Thank you, Ralph. You
are talking to Robert Starr. Document all your encounters with Mr. Gordon up to
this time and fax them to me in Portland.”

“Yes sir, I will.”

When the connection was
severed Robert turned toward the finance crew surrounding him. “I apologize for
Mr. Gordon’s horrific behavior on the phone. I ask that you all keep the
details of this last hour strictly confidential.” Then he turned to Sara and
lifted her hand in his. “Sara, I am truly sorry for the crude comments you had
to endure.”

“You’re not your
brother’s keeper, sir. Let’s get on with the communications business.” Sara
smiled as Jonathon walked back into the office.

“Jonathon, whom are you
sending?” Robert looked up at his second in command.

“I’ll go. A big stick has
a louder voice. Sara will stay here and cover my spot. I trust Steve and Louise
can cover most of Sara’s duties between them.”

On Monday evening at the
Starr home, Jonathon said, “Well Robert, what do you think?”

“I think we’ve got a
problem. How do you expect to watch Mrs. Stafford and investigate the situation
in San Francisco at the same time?” With bourbons in hand, they observed the
flow of people Elaina had selected for her little eight-million dollar project.

“Second team should be
here any minute. He knows his job.” Jonathon watched Sara work the crowd.
“She’s very good at what she does.”

“That’s why I married her.”
They watched Elaina thread her hand around Senator Warner’s arm and guide him
to where Sara was listening intently to John Thomas, purported to be the best
legal mind in Portland.

“I was talking about
Sara,” Jonathon clarified. “She could be Elaina’s daughter the way she finesses
the crowd.”

“I was impressed with her
style at this morning’s meeting. Sometimes it’s hard to remember she’s here
under protective cover.”

“She doesn’t know that,
Robert; and I have to admit she’s a good fit for the position.”

A burst of laughter
erupted across the parlor. A crowd gathered around the pink-marble fireplace
watched one of the artists pantomime a skit pulling a very large dog stuck in
the chimney.

“When do you have to
leave, Jon?”

“After we introduce
Farrell to Elaina.”

“I’m not so sure this
agent will fit in. He’s too quiet and secretive; I don’t like it.”

“Spend some time with
him. You’ll change your mind. His family history gives him credibility in this
group Elaina’s putting together, too. Hell, Sara just might fall for his
British accent. For some reason, women usually do.”

“Your replacement just
arrived,” Robert nodded toward the front entrance as they turn to greet the
second team.

Matthew Farrell walked
through the elegant front foyer, smoothing his tuxedo jacket. “Welcome to my
home, Mr. Farrell. I hope you were able to find your way without any
difficulty.”

“I had no problem finding
the house, sir. It’s the largest one on the block,” he jested while he
unbuttoned his jacket and slid his hands into his side pockets. He looked up at
the crystal chandelier and curving staircase in the center of the cavernous
foyer. “This entrance hall reminds me of my grandparents’ country place in Yorkshire.”

“I’m glad you like it.”
Robert shook Matthew’s hand. “What can we get you?”

“Ginger ale with a slice
of lime, if you please.”

“Nonsense son, you have
to have something stronger than that.”

“My liquid preference is
soft, sir, but thank you for the offer.”

“All right,” Robert
turned to the staff person hovering behind them. “Patricia, see to it that Mr.
Farrell gets his preference.”

In a soft voice, not
meant to be overheard, Matthew whispered, “I trust Jonathon has covered my
reason for being here.”

“Yes, he has, son. I’ve
set you up in a workspace next to mine at the office. Let me introduce you to
your hostess this evening.”

“Elaina, my sweet, I
would like you to meet Mr. Matthew Farrell, a liaison from Washington who will
be working closely with us for awhile. He is also a good friend of Jonathon’s,
has an interest in international finance, communications,
and
is a
patron of the arts.”

Matthew bowed over
Elaina’s hand with continental flair. “Mrs. Starr, I’m pleased to finally meet
you. Your generous interest in the arts precedes you well. Thank you for giving
me the opportunity to join you this evening.”

“Oh goodness, my heart is
all a flutter.” She placed her jeweled hand over her ample cleavage. “Thank you
for your interest in our little project. I understand Jonathon is being
difficult and flying off on business. You will be a marvelous replacement. What
part of England are you from, Mr. Farrell?”

“Yorkshire, Mrs. Starr,
and my friends call me Matthew.”

“And I am Elaina. There
is someone special I want you to meet.”

Jonathon watched Elaina
shepherd Matthew Farrell into the throng.

A few minutes later,
Jonathon turned to Robert. “I believe we can leave this budding relationship in
your wife’s capable hands. I saw her matchmaking antenna surface the moment
Sara’s eyes glazed over at Farrell’s introduction. When Elaina caught Farrell’s
little hand maneuver, she beamed a hundred watt smile. I’ll keep you posted
from the coast.” He swallowed the last of his bourbon and placed the glass on a
passing tray. “Enjoy the game.”

“The game?” Robert asked.

“Romancing the Mourning
Dove,” Jonathon said with a smirk on his face.

***

Sara watched Elaina lead
the new arrival through the throng in the front parlor. She looked into a pair
of steel gray eyes she’s seen before, but not in the GQ image standing in front
of  her. Black wavy hair, thin aristocratic nose, and a trim body that filled a
custom made tux. Reaching out to shake the hand he extended, Sara searched
through her memory for where she’d seen those eyes before, and missed most of
his long list of accomplishments.

Elaina was just finishing
the introduction when Sara finally registered that he was holding her hand
longer than politeness required, rubbing his thumb intimately over her
knuckles. Gently pulling away, she looked up at a very sexy smile. “I’m pleased
to meet you Mr. Farrell.  I’m sorry I didn’t catch your first name.  I was
trying to place where I’ve seen you before.”

“I was thinking the same
thing; we definitely had a previous connection but I can’t place it. And my
friends call me Matthew. You haven’t been to Brussels, have you?”

“Not since I was a child.
Was it Washington?”

“I spend a great deal of
time there, but you would have known that had you not been gathering wool
during Elaina’s introduction.”

“I am truly sorry. I’m
not usually this inattentive. You’re from Washington then, and obviously raised
in Britain.”

“I grew up in Yorkshire but I do travel extensively; we could have met almost anywhere. I understand you
work in the finance department at Starr Shine. We will probably see each other
at the office next week. Robert has been kind enough to offer me some workspace
while I’m in town.”

“Oh? Are you interested
in Starr Shine Communications?”

“I’m the government
liaison for the new chip Starr Shine is developing. I look forward to getting
to know you better.” 

Elaina guided the two of
them through the crowded room and Sara could feel the warmth of a strong hand
gently leading her into the crowd. She smiled at the gesture.

Promptly at seven, Elaina
tapped on her water glass with the side of a spoon as they took their seats.
She had seated Matthew Farrell next to Sara.

“We’ve gathered you here
this evening to invite you to be part of a wonderful initiative furthering the
arts in Maine, New England, and the world. Robert and I,” she nodded to her
husband at the opposite end of the crystal and china-laden table, “are creating
The Starr Foundation for the Arts
.
Each of you has special qualities
that
would enhance both the board of directors and the advisory panel for our
foundation. Below your dinner plates are cordial invitations to join our new
endeavor. We ask each of you to seriously consider the positions requested of
you. Bring your time, talent, and generosity to support New England artisans
and showcase their work.”

The room filled with the
sound of opening envelopes and questioning voices. “What does yours say?” Sara
asked Matthew.

“She’s asked me to join
the Advisory Panel as financial advisor to the grant committee, whatever that
means. What about yours?”

“I’ve been asked to join
the board of directors as a financial expert. She seems to think I will be a
good treasurer for the board of directors. I’m not sure I have the time
available to commit to this position.”

“We understand if your
lives are already on overload.” Robert rose from his seat. “What board member’s
life isn’t? We ask you all to think over this request during dinner, ask
questions as you need, and let us know that you intend to accept our invitation
and join our project.”

It was obvious that
Elaina and Robert had done their homework. There weren’t any duplicates in
specialty; most were carefully selected as movers and shakers in the artistic
and business communities; although Sara was not quite sure why they selected
her. No other financial person was asked to sit on the board of directors. No
other financial expert was asked to sit on the advisory panel. It looked like
they’d covered every available excuse to bail out.  Matthew Farrell and Sara
appeared to be stuck.

“You dropped your
napkin,” he whispered.

Sara reached down between
their seats to retrieve it and collided with his head. He reached out to steady
her arm almost shoving her out of her chair.

“I’m terribly sorry. Are
you all right?”

“I’m not sure.” She
tucked an errant strand of curls back into place. “I’m not usually this
klutzy.” Sara sat back as her half empty soup cup was replaced with a bowl of
salad greens.

“I wish I could say the
same. Whenever I am near a beautiful woman, disaster seems to follow.”

He handed her the elusive
linen, brushing the back of his hand against Sara’s in the process.  His touch
was warm, electric. She pulled away. “I’m sorry; I’m not used to gallantry.”

“Maybe I can find a mud
puddle to lay my dinner jacket over to impress you.” He smoothed the edge of
her napkin across her left thigh.

She replaced his hand and
laughed.

“What do you find funny
about my chivalrous offer?”

“I just had a vision of
two of us upon a tuxedo float sinking into a deep muddy sea.”

They both laughed
bringing questioning looks from those near them at the table. Three seats down
at the left end of the table Elaina Starr was smiling like a Cheshire cat. Sara
wondered what that was about.

“Do you spend a lot of
time in Washington?” he asked.

“I did while both my dad
and grandfather were in government service. I was placed in the position of hostess
on occasion. Mother was...often indisposed and Gran had fragile health in her
later years.”

Sara reached for another
sip of the chardonnay and noticed his was untouched. “The wine is very good.
You’ve not tried it.”

“Alcohol of any kind and
I don’t get along,” he whispered far too close to her ear. “I like it far
better than it likes me.”

She nodded and asked,
“How did you end up working for the government?”

“My father was in
government service and spent several years in England. He met Mum there.  Her
family is titled and was horrified that she brought home a commoner from the
states. They disowned her until I came along. They were frightfully concerned
they would never see their only grandson and recapitulated. I spent my youth in
Yorkshire. When we moved back to the states, my grandparents begged me to
spend summers with them. I did undergraduate work at Duke, then, at their
insistence, graduate studies at Oxford. What about you?”

“I like to think of
myself as a small town girl. I graduated from the University of New Hampshire, did post graduate studies at Harvard.  Dad was a Senator from New Jersey and,
for a couple of years, a violinist with the Philadelphia Philharmonic.
Grandfather was an ambassador, posted first to Belgium, then to Britain. I cherish the peace of suburban living, but I grew up with charity fundraisers and
government shindigs. Although my preference is a quiet evening with a good book
and classical music playing in the background, I know my way around the
diplomatic corps.

They dug into the main
course of grilled salmon before Sara returned the query. “What is your
preference, Matthew?”

“I can fit in anywhere,
but I enjoy solitude, Chopin, Beethoven – and a good mystery.” He blotted his
lips. “This salmon is excellent; I can’t nail down the added flavor though.”

“It’s marinated in maple
syrup.  It’s definitely the best thing I’ve eaten this week.”

“What do you do for
recreation, Sara?”

“When I have the
opportunity, swimming is my preference, although I can hold my own in a round
of golf or a tennis match for charity. And you?”

“Swimming is something we
have in common then. I was also on the rowing team at school, but I haven’t
been in a boat for a long time now.”

The night passed quickly.
Matthew Farrell, grandson to an Earl, had charmed Sara with his accent, his
intelligence, and his clumsy attempts to flirt. But, she could not connect his
eyes with a memory. Nice man – hell, what was she thinking, Cass would call him
a hunk.
Sara
would call him a hunk if she was in the market for one.
Maybe she’d sit on this one for a while.

“I’ll walk you out,” he
came up behind her with her coat.

“You are going to spoil
me,” Sara smiled over her shoulder.

“I would like to see you
again,” he whispered into her ear as he smoothed his hand across her back.

“Will you be meeting with
Robert tomorrow?”

He nodded then guided her
down the front terraced steps of the Starr Mansion. “Where is your car?”

She pointed to her
Sebring, the third from the front of the line of vehicles parked in the curved
drive; they walked toward the end of a perfect evening. “I’ll probably see you
at the office then. Good night, Matthew.” She offered her hand to shake. “I
enjoyed our conversation tonight.”

“Reserve your dinner
break for me,” he whispered and bowed over her hand. He turned it palm side up
and placed a feather light kiss on her wrist.

***

In the car with the
engine running, Sara waited for her blush to recede. “My God, what a hunk!”