Mourning Dove (14 page)

You like him, Mom?
He’s a good man.

Carl! There is a time to
observe, and then there isn’t! How long have you been here?

When you were getting
ready to leave the party. What was the occasion by the way?

My boss and his wife want
those of us in attendance to join their new foundation for the arts.

Are you going to?

I wasn’t at first, but I’ve
changed my mind. It’ll help me get my mind on something pleasant and it’s a
cause I believe in.

Good for you. Your new
friend is one of the good guys, but some of his associates are not. Watch what
you say to the hunk.

“Carl, for Goodness
sake!”

Think it, Mom. We’re
not out of the woods yet.

I forgot. I’ve been
thinking about what you said before. When we’re out of the woods, you’re going
to leave me, aren’t you?

I don’t know for sure.
This is new to me, too. I will always be with you in your heart and your
memories. I don’t know about the rest.

I have another question.
Why aren’t you upset about Matthew Farrell’s attention?

He’s someone I trust.
And...

And what?

Dad has other
interests; why can’t you?

I know that.

Yeah, I figured you
did. I love you, Mom.

“Sara, I’m faxing you
some notes on the financial report for the board meeting. How did the dinner go
last night?” Jonathon asked over the phone.

“It went well. They’ve
asked me to come on board as a financial expert. I suspect I was second choice.
They picked you for the financial spot, but you baled on them.” Sara spun
around in her office chair and looked at the building clouds outside.

“No, actually you were a
shoe in from the first moment they saw you in action at the cocktail party last
week. Matthew Farrell is the last minute replacement for me. If he declines
then I’m stuck like a calf in a prickly thicket. What do you think of Mr.
Farrell?”

“He’s very personable,
and British. Robert says he’ll be working out of our offices for a couple of
weeks, something to do with R & D on the new chip.”

“He will also be speaking
at the Chicago conference at the end of the month. Get to know him; you’ll be
working in close proximity for awhile.”

“Have you had a chance to
sift through the wreckage of two comptrollers out there?”

“It looks on the surface
like just sloppy work, but if you read between the lines, somebody’s been
selling company secrets to our competitors.”

“Espionage then?”

“More like sabotage. From
what I can gather Ross figured it out then tried to find a way to cover it up.
He attempted to clean house so that he would come out as the bright and shining
hero. He was trying to rework some planted evidence to cast blame on corporate
officers.”

“What did you do to that
man to make him so vengeful? Never mind, I don’t think I want to know. Where is
dear old Ross, by the way? Is he being held somewhere?”

“He disappeared, Sara. We
have people looking for him. I figure he’s trying to drown his sorrows in a
local watering hole. We’ll find him.”

“The fax is coming
through now, Jonathon. I’ll call you back if I have any questions.”

“Will do, little lady.”

***

Louise popped her head
into Sara’s office. “Lunch in the pool?”

Glancing at her watch,
Sara nodded agreement. “I have a packet of information to present to the board
on Thursday. How do I go about getting someone to bind up fifteen copies?”

“No problem. Kyle down in
IT can get it done for you. Give him as much lead time as you can though.”

“I’ll get it to him by
tomorrow night then.”

“Hey, do you know
anything about the Brit in Mr. Starr’s office?”

“The Brit?”

“This incredibly handsome
guy who sounds like royalty was seen talking to Mr. Starr in his office. It
isn’t time for the audit; that space is usually reserved for the big cheese
from the CPA firm. And, this guy isn’t him.”

“I understand he’s a
government liaison for the new chip. Remember you are a happily married woman.”

“It doesn’t stop me from
looking.”

“Or drooling?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you at
lunch,” Louise pulled the door shut at her request, and Sara sank into the mire
of Jonathon’s scribbled notes.

***

Leaning on the jam of
Sara’s doorway Matthew Farrell watched the woman focused on her computer
screen, the perfect picture of the female executive at work. A pair of glasses
he’d not seen before were half down her nose as she stared at a gibberish of
numbers. A stack of manila folders filled to overflowing and a flowered mug
with a tea tag hanging over the rim sat behind a brass plate with her name
etched into it. She had surrounded herself with potted plants; the greenery
suited her. He could picture her in an English garden with flowers and puppies
and children.

Tossing her glasses onto
the keyboard shelf, she leaned back, raised her arms and ran her fingers
through lush waves of auburn. She looked tired, frustrated, and sexy as hell.
He could see her, too, with a halo of curls cascading over a white pillowslip.

“I thought we had a
dinner date,” he said.

“Oh my God! You scared
ten years out of me. What time is it?” She glanced down at her watch.

“It’s ten past seven.”

“It’s way beyond closing
at the cafeteria. I am so sorry, Matthew. Time just got away from me. Have you
been waiting long? Of course you have, you must be famished.”

He laughed. “Do you
always answer your own questions?”

“Not usually...well...sometimes.
My brain is still in startle mode.”

She smiled an apology; he
was rigid in response.

“Where would you like to
go?”

He’d like to stay here,
clear her desk, and bury myself inside her sweetness. “You probably know the
restaurants in the area better than I. Or, would you rather just pick up a
couple sandwiches and eat here. It looks like you’re in the middle of a
project.” And he’d love to complete his fantasy.

“I need to walk away from
it for awhile. But, I would prefer not to wait long just for a table. Why don’t
we go somewhere away from town? I found a place in Saco where the food isn’t
fancy but it’s good.” She turned her computer off and picked up an overloaded
brief case.

“No salmon soaked in
syrup?” he asked.

She reached behind the
door for her coat. “No, but they make a good meatloaf. Their clam chowder isn’t
bad, either.” She flipped the switch at the door, plunging the room into
darkness.

“So where is this Socko?”
The night-lights in the corridor gave off a subdued glow as he helped her into
her coat.

“Follow me.” She gave him
a saucy wink and a smile.

Oh yes, he’d follow her
anywhere. He was already acting like a dog panting after a female in heat.

***

At the restaurant they
were ushered to a quiet booth in the corner. Tiny accent lights focused on the
tabletop without ruining the air of intimacy. He liked the privacy and the
sense of calm that spread across her face.

“Tell me, Sara, do you
always work this late?”

“I had an unexpected
deadline. I really should be home taking care of Leonardo.”

“And who is this
Leonardo: your child, your spouse, or an Italian lover?” He knew the answer to
his questions, but he would like to see her blush again as she did when he
kissed her goodbye the night before.

“Leonardo is a cat and
you
are fishing for information.” She tore a piece from a warm roll in the basket
on the table.

“I apologize, but, I
still would like to know.” He sipped from the lemon water the waitress has just
brought then mopped up the dribble from his tie. So much for sophistication, he
thought to himself.

“I currently live alone,
except for Leonardo. I have no lover on the side.”

“Would you like to?”

“To what?”

“Don’t be obtuse. You
know what I’m asking.”

“When the time is right,
I would like to find happiness, again. If that means another man in my life, so
be it. If it means I have to find peace within myself first, so be that, too.”

“Okay, I’ll back down. I
hope my directness didn’t hurt your sensibilities.” He spread butter on his
warm dinner roll, mentally kicking himself for having pushed. For a few minutes
silence reigned between them then he looked up. “Have I lost ground, Sara?”

She picked at the greens
in her salad, her head bowed. “Men are always so much more direct about sex.”
She looked up with watery eyes. “I guess I’m just...overtired.”

“You’re different than
you were last night.”

“I’m the same person.”

“Last night you were in
control; your social mask in place. Tonight your mask is slipping. Are you
afraid of me?”

“Tonight is different. I
don’t know why.” She put down her fork. “I can usually deflect sexual advances.
When there’s no chemistry on my side, it’s easy. Tonight isn’t and I’m not sure
of myself. Please, don’t push.”

“All right, no pushing. I
would
like to be your friend.” He reached across the table and covered
her hand looking for confirmation. “We’ll see where it leads, shall we?”

She nodded then pulled
back as the waitress replaced their salads with steaming bowls of New England
clam chowder.

They spent the rest of
the evening sharing stories of travels long ago, steering clear of personal
intimacy and relationships. Sexual tension was just below the surface. He could
feel it like a buzzing current. At the end of the evening, he walked her to her
car in the parking lot, heard the click as she unlocked the door, then reneged
on his promise not to push with a mind numbing kiss. She reciprocated and
his
mind melted. Moments later, with his body pinning hers to the side of her car,
he could feel the rapid-fire march of her heartbeat in tandem with his. “Good
night, Sara. Drive safe,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. “I’m trying to be
patient.”

He pulled away from her
and opened her door. She slid into the driver’s seat, nodded in return without
looking up. It took a few minutes before she managed to insert the key and he
smiled.

There was more at risk
here than international terrorism he thought as he watched her tail lights
disappear into traffic.

Louise eased into the
shallow end of the pool. Joe Stein, the fitness manager who always put a smile
on Sara’s face, stuck his head in the door and waved. Sara could think of a
thousand and one reasons to skip this lunch workout, only sanity as a reason to
stay. She dove from the deep end slicing through the chlorinated therapy of
midday at the club.

Five laps later, she was
winded. It had been a long time since she could do thirty without breathing
hard. Louise eased toward her with a lazy backstroke. They had the pool to
themselves, but the training room was full of fitness buffs. No equipment sat
idle during lunch.

“How can you do that?”
Louise asked.

“Do what?”

“Do ten laps to my two.”
Louise pulled her hair back from her forehead and wiped the wetness from her
face.

“It was only five. At one
time I could do a lot more.”

“Feels good though,
doesn’t it?” Louise pushed into a back float.

“Yes, it does. I’ll be in
the board meeting tomorrow. You’re going to have to solo, here.”

“No way. I see the way
those lechers from sales look at us when we enter the pool area. I swear the
only reason they’re all up there playing macho man on the treadmills is because
we take our lunch break in the pool.”

“You think?”

“I know.” Joe says hardly
anybody took lunch at this time until the word got out that you and I were
scheduled for the pool at the same time.”

“Really, I had no idea.”

“When you climb out of
the water, look in the mirrored surface on the far wall at the reflection from
the training room. I didn’t believe it either when Joe told me.”

Sara turned toward the
glass separating the two rooms.

“Don’t look at them,”
Louise grabbed her arm to stop her movement. “If you look, they’ll think you’re
inviting something else.”

“Oh, for God’s sake! Men
and their immaturity.” Sara was disgusted.

“Men and their one track
minds, you mean. The latest office rumor is that you dumped Jonathon Pierce for
the more sophisticated Brit.”

“I what? That’s
ridiculous. Apparently, people don’t have enough to do.”

“You can’t stop
speculation. Everybody knows that Jonathon had you overnight at his place. The
word is that afterward you had a lovers quarrel and then he flew out to San Francisco on a trumped up excuse because you started coming on to the B. I. Then he . .
.”

“Wait, wait just a
minute. B. I.?”

“British Invasion, that’s
what everyone’s calling that hottie in the office next to Robert’s.”

“Please tell me you’re
not a part of this gossip mongering.” Sara stared at Louise in shock.

“No, of course not, but
it’s amazing how many stop by my desk, email queries fishing for info, or snag
me coming down a hall or in the parking lot at the end of the day. The only
reason I’m telling you is so you can be aware and be careful around the
office.”

“I just can’t believe
this. I’m a middle-aged woman, and one of the top executives in the company. I
don’t need this kind of crap. If I ever find out who’s pushing the rumors
they’re going to wish they were never conceived.”

“I wasn’t looking forward
to telling you; but I felt it was important to let you know. Please don’t shoot
the messenger.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.
However, I
don’t
want you feeding the office grapevine even in an
attempt to squash the rumors. That has a way of validating the gutter talk.”

“If that’s what you want.
By the way, you were seen leaving the building late last night on the arm of
the B. I. That’s the latest fuel stick on the gossip bonfire.”

“I’ll tell you,
and
only you
, the night at Jonathon Pierce’s place was a cocktail party for
seventy-five people. I was assisting Elaina Starr with the hosting as I am
assisting Matthew Farrell in the financial aspects of his business with the
company. Mr. Farrell and I are also working on the establishment of the Starr
Foundation for the Arts. That working relationship requires occasional business
dinners. There has never been a
thing
, an
argument
, or a
falling
out
between Jonathon Pierce and me. Nor has there been a physical
relationship between us. He’s my direct supervisor and mentor here at Starr
Shine. The reason he’s in San Francisco
is
Ross Gordon.” Sara let
silence seep in between them and prayed that her diatribe was not overheard by
the lascivious manhood watching through the glass, and that it hadn’t ruined a
budding friendship with Louise.

“Just when I think I’m
working in a professional atmosphere with other intelligent adults, I find I’m
surrounded by a bunch of juveniles with sophomoric mentality and teenage
hormones running amuck. Let’s get out of this gold fish bowl and get back to
work.” Sara stroked to the shallow end the farthest from the glass wall.  She
didn’t want to see male idiocy at the moment. She grabbed her towel and wrapped
it around her suit waiting for Louise to catch up. A glance at the mirrored
wall validated her assessment of the men in the next room. All but one were off
the equipment, wiping sweat from florid faces, and gathered inches away from
the glass as if they were waiting in line for a strip show.

In the women’s locker
room, Sara started to remove her wet suit then hesitated.

Louise, in a state of
undress, looked up at her pause, “What?” she asked.

“They can’t see in this
room, can they?”

“I hope not! That’d be
reason to sic my linebacker husband on them. On another subject,” she began to
dress, “I was reviewing the phone traffic for the corporate office this
morning. I found some unidentified long-distance phone numbers that came from
your office and from Jonathon’s about two months ago. That would put Ross,
and/or Jonathon, in the middle of something.”

“Can you trace them?”

“All were unlisted. A few
are currently out of service. But, they weren’t out of service from one fifteen
to two in the morning in the middle of July and August. One number really
peaked my interest. I called it to see who would answer.”

“And?”

“The female voice on the
other end answered with ‘Central Intelligence Agency.’ I hung up, but I’m sure
they have some kind of caller ID on their end.”

In the same low tone of
voice, Sara asked, “When did you make these calls?”

“This morning, I thought
you should know, just in case I need validation.  I don’t know what’s going on
with Ross; but I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“Keep it under your hat
for now, and leave the printout in my office. I’ll see what I can find out.”

Sara thought, I should
ask Carl tonight – or maybe Matthew. Somebody’s got to know what’s going on.
Ross, what the hell did you get us into?

***

The day slipped into
evening again. A light knock on Sara’s door broke her concentration.  Matthew
stood there smiling with a large brown paper bag in his hands.

“Whatever you’ve got
there smells delicious.”

“Chinese, I know you
didn’t eat lunch. Your desk is still piled high, although it looks like a new
stack.” He walked into the office and set his offering onto the only available
space on the side table.

“How do you know I didn’t
eat lunch?”

“I saw you in the pool
upstairs.”

“You were with those
drooling juvenile males from the sales department?”

“I did not have my sweaty
nose pressed to the glass; I was putting a few miles on a treadmill. They seem
to live vicariously through your lunch activity. They also have some colorful
thoughts about you and your assistant.”

“I was horrified when
Louise told me they were there just to watch us swim. I hope they all got leg
cramps. By the way, what makes you think I don’t already have plans for
dinner?”

“Do you?”

“Just with Leonardo, I
called a neighbor to come over and feed him. He was decidedly unhappy last
night with the lateness of his vittles.”

“Maybe you should just
leave some dry food out,” he suggested as he picked a spiral bound folder off
the top of her desk and began to read.  “It appears you finished this task.”

“I believe it was the
absence of my company that caused Leonardo to unravel and shred a whole roll of
toilet tissue throughout my house. And the board report would have been
complete, but Jonathon sent last minute changes to be added.”

He laughed, “I’m sorry,
it was probably not funny for you, but the image of a cat wrapped like a mummy
in white tissue is quite humorous. I suggest we get down to the business of
eating my offering before it gets cold. Then you can get home at a more
reasonable hour to entertain your feline friend.”

He looked down at the
stack of reports and asked, “Have you got the changes inserted, yet?”

“No, they’re printing
now. Then I’ve got to punch holes, strip the binding, add the edited pages, and
rebind the reports. The board meeting is at nine tomorrow morning. They moved
it up to accommodate somebody’s root canal.”

“I’ll make a deal with
you. Help me devour all this food before I perish from hunger, and I’ll help
you add the changes to the report. I used to work a binding machine in a past
life,” he nodded toward the portable equipment temporarily filling the other
half of the side table.

“You have a deal. Did you
bring plates and something to eat with?”

He hit his forehead with
the palm of his hand. “I knew I forgot something. I’ll just whip up to the
cafeteria and procure the essential equipment. Be right back.”

He was gone before Sara
could warn him. She wondered what the rumor mill was going to think of his
gathering two place settings and disappearing back down the elevator to the
financial floor. With any luck at all they were all gone for the day. Who was
she kidding?

***

“Bloody hell.” Matthew
glanced down at the sticky spot on his silver tie. “Every time I eat with you I
end up wearing part of my meal. At this rate, I’m going to run out of ties.”

“Here, use some of my
water and this paper napkin. I think you have duck sauce on your chin, too.”
Sara smiled at his charming ineptness. “And for the record, you didn’t ruin
your bow tie at the Starr’s dinner.”

“No, there I tried to
knock you out with a forehead collision and sprinkled my shirt front with rice
pilaf.” He removed the cap from Sara’s water bottle and tipped it over with the
paper napkin as a stopper.

“Matthew, do you know
anyone in the CIA?” She asked, watching him shred his soggy paper napkin across
the front of his ruined tie.

He looked up from the
white flakes of paper now stuck to his shirtfront with a blank stare. “What did
you say?”

“I thought since you work
for the government you might have some contacts in the Agency.”

“Why do you need someone
from the CIA?”

“I have some minor
inconsistencies that keep nagging at me. It may be government related. If I can
talk them over with a federal agent, there might be a logical explanation and I
won’t lose any sleep over it.” She reached over, took the shredded napkin from
his hands, and tossed it into the wastebasket.

“Do you think these
inconsistencies are CIA related? Or would this lowly government worker do?”

“You’re making a mess of
things. Take your tie off and I’ll try to salvage it.”

“Talk to me, Sara.”

“After you hear what I
have to say, if you think it needs to go up a level or to another department,
tell me who and why, first. It’s important to me.”

“All right, tell me what
you know and why it’s important to involve the CIA.”

He loosened his sticky
tie and pulled it over his head just as a night security guard stuck his head
in the door. The guard cleared his throat to get their attention and winked at
her with a suggestive tilt to his head. For God’s sake! News at eleven!

“Can I help you with
anything, Lewis?”

“No ma’am; just checking.
Saw your light on from the corridor and wanted to make sure everything was all
right. Working late again?”

“Yes, we are.” She
pointed to the pile of reports stacked on her desk.

The security guard
paused, then gave a two-finger salute before he backed out the door. She held a
finger up for Matthew to wait before talking. At the click of the outer office
doors, she breathed out and Matthew handed over his sticky tie.

“What was that all
about?” He watched her smooth the tie out on her leg.  “Do they usually check
up on you like that?”

She soaked some water on
a cloth square she used to clean her glasses and blotted at the now
paper-coated sticky spot. “Not usually. Apparently we are a hot item on the
office rumor mill. Louise told me at lunch that all sorts of people have been
plaguing her with tidbits of my supposed lascivious behavior. The latest is
that Jonathon and I had a torrid affair in one night, then a lovers’ quarrel;
he left for California in a huff; then I unleashed my sexual prowess on the B.
I.”

“Dare I ask what a B. I.
is?”

“
You
are the
British Invasion; B. I. in this rumor mill.
And
, I’m sure my reputation
is in shreds between what was already supposed, your late run to the cafeteria
for dining utensils
for two
this evening, and now the
evidence
of
your strip act in my office witnessed by Lewis, the night security guard.”

The room echoed with the
sound of male laughter; Sara scowled at his humorous response to her tattered
rep! “When you are done with your chuckles would you mind telling me what is so
funny about this situation?”

“I’m sorry, it sounds
like a cartoon comedy where the poor schlep is repeatedly trying to get to
first base only to strike out each time at bat. But, the sports channel has
pegged him as the next homerun king. I’m not laughing at you, Sara; we should
be laughing together over the adolescent nature of the male half of the human
species. I humbly apologize for my connection by anatomy.”