Sweet Peas in April (4 page)

“Yeah,” he said, moving to allow Pastor Jack to pass them. “Business and lunch don't mix, unless you want spaghetti sauce all over the paperwork.”

She nodded.

There was an awkward silence, then he indicated the path. “Shall we?”

****

The morning dragged. Sam tried to concentrate, but that wasn't easy with Adam sitting at the other side of her desk, his head bent over the files. She could make out a few grey hairs dotted amongst his blond locks, but his hair showed no signs of thinning.

Memories assailed her, popping unbidden into the forefront of her mind. The way he drank his coffee and loved a full English breakfast. The way that he slept on his side with his feet on top of the covers, even in winter; the sweet peas he'd planted by the front door. Even the smell of them reminded her of him and she tried to keep fresh ones around while she could. As he planted the seeds, he'd told her sweet peas stood for modesty and simplicity, and thus personified her.

She preferred to think of herself as delicate like the petals. They broke easily in the storms which came upon them. Not for the first time she wondered if things would have been different if they'd been Christians back then. Would God have gotten them through things together? Without all the blame they'd thrown at each other? And without love so swiftly turning to intolerance?

Adam cleared his throat and looked up from his watch. “How about we go for that lunch?”

“Sure.” She grabbed her bag. “We could go to the Three-Sixteen café on the High Street.”

“I know it well.” He stood at almost the same time she did. “Shall we take my car or yours?”

Sam glanced out of the window. “It's not raining, so why not walk and save the bother of having to find somewhere to park.”

They reached the Three-Sixteen just as the heavens opened. Huge drops of rain crashed around them as Adam opened the door with a huge grin on his face. “You were saying something about it not raining?”

She laughed. “It's an April shower. It won't last.” She found a table and sat, sliding her coat over the back of her chair. Tucking her bag between her feet, she perused the menu.

The waitress appeared a few minutes later. “What can I get you?”

Sam glanced up. “Cheese salad and jacket spud, I think. With lemonade, please.”

Adam nodded. “I'll have the all-day breakfast and chips. With a cafeteria of coffee, please.”

Sam smiled at him. “Nothing changes.”

He smiled back. “Nope, I could eat breakfast all day.”

“I remember.”

His intense gaze pinned her to the chair, holding her hostage to the memories. “You changed your perfume.”

“The other one reminded me too much of you and Imogen.” She sucked in a deep breath. “It's her birthday next week.”

“I know.”

“She'd have been eleven.”

His gaze flickered and faltered. “I know.”

Sam absently nibbled at her fingernail again. She'd picked up the habit after Imogen died and now found herself biting her nails whenever she got stressed. “I often wonder what she'd look like, what kind of things she'd be into…”

Adam propped his hand on his chin. “Boy bands, dolls, makeup, high heels—usual girl stuff. But I imagine she'd look like you. She had your coloring.”

“I guess.” She paused as the drinks came. “Thank you. I always find this time of year hard.”

Adam nodded. “And September.” He held her gaze. “September tenth is hard, too.”

“Very hard.” Tears blurred her vision. She blinked them away. “If I could un—un—”

Sam broke off, desperate to get control of her voice and emotions. She couldn't cry, not in front of him, not now. She cleared her throat. “If I could undo that last day, do things differently, I would.”

“Me too.” His free hand touched hers for an instant.

She looked at his long fingers. His wedding ring caught the light and a spear shot through her anew. Slowly letting out a deep breath, she forced a light tone into her voice. “Anyway, what have you been doing the last ten years?”

Adam pulled back his hand. “Work, mainly. I did a post grad course and got my masters about eight years ago.”

“Nice. You didn't become a CPS barrister?”

“No. I'm happy doing this. Some family, probate, some cases like this.”

“Family… Do you do divorce cases?”

“Sometimes. Custody battles are the worst though.”

“I can understand that.” She pulled out her serviette and placed it on her lap.

“I moved to Headley Cross after I finished the course and joined the church a year later after my conversion. I became a partner in the firm about a year ago.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks.” He sat back as the food arrived. He shot the waitress one of his dazzling smiles. “Thank you.” As she left, he turned back to Sam. “Shall I say grace?”

She nodded, hoping he wasn't going to take her hand again. She honestly didn't think she could cope with that. Being this close to him was still hard enough.

Adam said the blessing, then picked up the ketchup and dumped what appeared to be half the bottle over his chips. “What about you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I'm not putting ketchup on lettuce, but you can pass the salad crème please.”

Adam grinned. “Sure.” He handed the bottle over. “Actually, I meant what about you the past few years.”

“I went overseas for a year after you left.” She squirted the salad crème over the lettuce. “Then came back, went to uni, and got my degree. After that I worked fundraising for a small company for several years. They provided kids meals to schools in Africa. I got the chance to go out there several times. They do amazing work. Everyone counts, they all work as a team, encouraging the local community to grow the food and cook the meals. Seeing those kids attitudes go from ‘I want to live' to ‘when I grow up I want to be a doctor' is incredible.”

“So why go back to finance?”

“I keep asking myself that a lot. But Paul offered me the job here two years ago, and it was hard to say no to him. Anyway, when he left, I kind of took over as CEO. But this isn't me.”

“You'd rather be back in Africa?” he sounded surprised. “But you hate the heat.”

She nodded. “Ironic I know, but I'd rather be raising money for a cause I believe in than doing this day in and day out. And I wouldn't be in Africa, per se, I'd be based in the head office in London. If I could quit and go back, then I would in a heartbeat.”

“So do it.” He looked down at his food, eating silently.

Sam ate some of hers. Why didn't she just quit? It wasn't as if she needed the money, was it? Surely what mattered was job satisfaction and serving God. And she couldn't do either where she was now.

“Why don't you wear your wedding ring?”

Jerked out of her thoughts, Sam looked at her hand. She swallowed her mouthful and wished desperately he hadn't asked.

“Why do you still wear yours?” she shot back, turning the tables. “After all, you're the one who walked out on the marriage.”

He froze. “I—I wear it because I'm still married. You?”

“It's at home somewhere. Not entirely sure where, mind you, but it's in a safe place.”

“I see.” He cut his egg, sending yolk across the plate. “Are you seeing someone else?”

“No. There hasn't been anyone. To start with, I was too grief stricken, then work filled every waking moment, and then once I became a Christian, it just didn't seem appropriate to date someone else when still married. You?”

He shook his head. “No. Again, work took up a lot of my time and still does. Anyway, like you said, I'm married, so dating someone else isn't right.”

Sam studied him as he ate. “Why didn't you file for divorce?”

“Why didn't you?”

“I figured you would. After all, you left me.”

Adam put his knife and fork down. “I know I left you. You do not need to keep rubbing it in and reminding me every chance you get.” His eyes flashed, and he wiped his mouth on his serviette before tossing it to the table. “Do you want a divorce? Is that it?”

“I—I don't know.” She pulled back into herself. She hadn't meant to irritate him. It had been a civil question, a logical one considering the direction the conversation had taken.

“Well, think about it, because if you do, you have sufficient grounds for desertion.” He took a deep breath. “It's not a Biblical reason, and I'm sure Pastor Jack would advise against it if his sermon on divorce last year is anything to go by, but I won't contest it if that's what you want.”

She looked down, a hollow feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. Her salad seemed to wilt as she looked at it, and she no longer had an appetite for anything.

Adam glanced at his watch and sighed. He pushed his chair back. “I'm afraid I have to run. I've got a meeting across town in fifteen minutes.” He pulled out his wallet and dropped thirty quid on the table. “That will pay for lunch. Keep the change or put it in the tip jar by the till. See you in the morning.”

Sam sat stunned as he marched outside, the door swinging shut behind him.

Divorce?

Did he want a divorce? Did she?

He had just walked out on her again. And he wanted her to act like a grown up. The problem was being around Adam reduced her to a teenager, the mere slip of a girl she'd been when she'd fallen for him the first time around.

4

Adam was already settled in her office at her desk when Sam arrived at half past eight. He glanced up at her, acting as if the previous lunchtime hadn't happened. “Morning, Sam.”

She did a double take as she walked in and saw the mess he'd made of her desk. Fat chance of getting anything else done this morning, and she had a pile of year-end reports to finish going through before she could file them. “Morning, Adam. How's it going?”

“It's worse than you think. Shut the door and come see.”

Sam shut the door and hung up her coat, her heart sinking. How much worse could it be? She already stood to lose everything up to and including her reputation. “Oh?” She went around to her side of the desk and put her bag away. She sat in her chair, trying to use the desk between them as a shield from whatever bomb was going to drop on her now. “What did you find?” she asked.

Adam looked at her for a long moment, then got to his feet. He swung the laptop to face her, and moved to stand right behind her. He leaned one arm on the desk to her left, indicating the computer screen in front of her with his right hand. His body pressed against her shoulders.

Sam shivered at his nearness, his familiar sandalwood scent having its usual effect on her. “What am I looking at?”

His shirt sleeve brushed her cheek as he explained. “I took the files from your computer via a USB pen and ran them through a particular piece of software I have. The red line is the account run by Max Holder. The blue is the account run by Troy Branning. This is the amount of money missing, where it went, and so on.”

“What's the yellow line mean? Other than the circle line on the Underground?”

“Cute.” There was a faint smile on his voice before it turned serious again. “The yellow line is a huge problem. It's a vast amount of money that I can't trace.”

“What?” Sam straightened so fast the back of her head collided with Adam's shoulder.

He hissed in pain and stood properly.

“Sorry,” she apologized, as he rubbed his shoulder. “Where did you get that from? Is there a third person involved here?”

He dragged his chair around to her side of the desk and sat. “I've been here since three o'clock this morning extrapolating data and following the money.”

Sam looked at him, dismay coursing through her. “How could I not have seen this?”

“It's well hidden.” Adam massaged his shoulder again, then let his hand fall to his lap. “You probably weren't meant to see it. Or find it until it was too late.”

“I need you to show me exactly where you found this data. I want to build my own model.”

“OK. But I don't want you do it on your work computer.”

Her head jerked up to stare at him. “Why ever not?”

“Because your whole computer system is networked. Anyone can access anything anywhere on the system. As soon as you open a file, someone will be able to read it and see any changes you make to it, especially if they are monitoring the system, which they'd have to be to remain undiscovered this long.”

She pointed to his laptop. “What about yours?”

“It's my work one. It has six firewalls and the password is double encrypted.”

She scowled. “Bet I could guess your password.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Says the woman whose password is always incorrect. That's how I managed to get into your computer and lift the files in the first place.”

“Hey,” she said, defending herself. “At least that way if I forget it, the computer reminds me and says, ‘your password is incorrect.'”

Adam sighed. “Pick a new one. Something no one—including me—will guess.”

“Fine.” She frowned. “Are you bouncing off the router here?”

“No. That way no one can access anything on the laptop.”

Sam nodded. She raised her eyes as the door opened, frowning at the lack of a knock. The tall man, with black hair and glasses stood there.

“Sorry to bother you, Sam.”

“No problem, Peter, come in.”

Adam hissed and shut the laptop. He immediately covered the files in front of him.

Peter noticed, but then he would. Sam had never known anyone for picking up detail like Peter, which was why she'd employed him in the first place. He was her deputy in everything but title. “Am I interrupting?” he asked.

“Yes.” Adam replied.