Mourning Dove

by Donna Simmons

“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!”

  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.

  CHAPTER 13

  “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.

  CHAPTER 14

  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 belie
ve 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.