by Clare Revell
Sam crossed the room and closed the door quietly, groaning in frustration. Oh, God, grant me the patience to deal with him just long enough to sort out this mess.
****
Adam sat in his office, coffee steaming on the desk. He pressed his fingers to the tip of his nose and exhaled deeply. The last time he’d seen Sam, he’d been packing.
Sam leaned on the door frame, tears falling. “You’re really going?”
“What have I got to stay for?”
“Me? Or don’t I matter either.”
“How can you say that?” He flung the last few shirts into the case.
“I gave up everything for you,” she said. “University, family…”
He scowled. “Family?” he scoffed. “They never approved of me. That’s why we eloped in the first place.”
“Well, your parents didn’t like me either,” she shot back. “Nice white bloke with big ambitions marries trashy black kid from the slums.”
Adam flung the case shut, the slam echoing in the half- empty room. “They never called you trashy, and they didn’t even think that of you. And a block of flats on a council estate is not a slum—it was your home and as good a home as anyone else I know comes from.”
“But they didn’t approve. I wasn’t good enough.”
He raised his hands, tired of the same argument going around in circles. “I’m not doing this. Not now. Not anymore.” He picked up his case.
“Where are you going?”
“That doesn’t concern you.” He strode to the door.
“It does too concern me. You’re my husband.” Sam ran after him and grabbed his arm. “Don’t you walk away from me!”
“There is nothing left.” He looked down at her hand, ignoring the shaft of pain that speared through his arm straight to his heart. That was the first time she’d touched him since Immy’s funeral.
“Immy’s gone.” Adam shook himself free. “It’s over, Sam. Just accept it and move on.” He let the door slam on his way out and didn’t look back.
Adam sucked in a deep breath, looking down at the wedding ring on his left hand. Move on? She’d done that all right. He twisted the ring and pulled it off. He let it spin on the desk, watching it turn, the vows he’d made repeating in his head.
For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others,’til death us do part.
The ring fell and finally stopped.
Death had parted them. But not his death or Sam’s.
Rather the death of their only, much loved daughter.
2
Sam curled her hair around her finger as she waited for the phone call to connect. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. She’d spent a sleepless night trying to come up with an alternative, but there wasn’t one. She had no choice. It was deal with Adam or let her company go under, and that wasn’t going to happen. He’d given her his direct number, but she didn’t feel she had the right to use it. Besides, he could refuse to take the call rather than be railroaded into speaking to her.
Finally, the operator’s voice came on the line: “Jacob’s and Company, Solicitors. How may I direct your call?”
Sam swung her chair to face the window. “Could I speak to Adam West, please? It’s Sam Reece from Wyatt Finance, Inc.”
“One moment, please.”
There was a short burst of holding music before Adam’s voice filled her ears. “Adam West.”
“Hello, Adam, it’s Sam.”
“Ms. Reece, how are you?”
She baulked at his use of her title. Her voice didn’t want to work. “I—I’m fine. You?”
Cups chinked in the background, and Adam’s voice came from further away. “Just leave it there, thank you.”
“Have I called at a bad time?”
“I’m in the middle of something, but you’re not bothering me. I told the receptionist to put your call through. What can I do you for?”
“I’d like you to take the case. If you don’t mind sharing a corner of my desk and using my PA for any secretarial stuff you need doing. I don’t have room for your secretary as well.”
“That’s fine.” Clicking accompanied his voice. “I can come and see you this afternoon at one, if that is convenient.”
“One is fine. I’ll see you then.” She hung up and sucked in a deep breath as she scribbled a note in her diary. She pulled out her hair band and retied her hair. Can I do this?
The question, although rhetorical, got a response. You have to.
She swung back to the desk as the intercom buzzed. She reached over and pressed the button. Her other hand automatically swept the two or three crumbs to the floor. “Yes, Tessa?”
“Your father is here to see you.”
Sam looked at the intercom. Her father was here? “Show him in.” She got up, worry pulsating through her. What could have happened? Her father wouldn’t just turn up for a visit for no reason. Something must be wrong.
The door opened. As always, Vincent Reece’s presence filled the room. Sam moved over to hug him. “Hi, Dad.”
He hugged her back. “It’s good to see you, Sam.”
“You, too. Have a seat.” She nodded to the couch on one side of the room and then glanced at her PA. “Tessa, can you bring us some tea, please?”
Tessa nodded. “Sure.”
Her father sat. Sam could feel his gaze even with her back to him. “You look pale and tired, child.”
Sam sat beside him. “Long hours tend to do that to a person. Some days I don’t get seem to get five minutes to myself.”
“You should take better care of yourself. Are you eating properly?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Are you sleeping OK?”
“Yes, Dad.” Sam grinned. “Did you really drive all the way from Winchester to ask me that? It’s an eighty mile round trip.”
He smiled back. “I came to inquire about your health, yes, and talk about something else.”
Sam held up her hand as Tessa came in with the tray of tea. “Thank you, Tessa. Why don’t you take a long lunch? Come back at two.”
“Are you sure?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. Mr. West is due at one and I can get him settled in here and show him the files he needs to see. I don’t have room here for his PA, so there maybe stuff he’ll need you to do for him while he’s here.”
“That’s fine, Ms. Reece, I can do that. See you at two.”
Her father raised an eyebrow.
As the door shut, Sam poured the tea. “I know that look, Dad. What?”
“Mr. West?”
“I need legal advice and my usual lawyer has retired and his firm closed down. This firm comes highly recommended.” OK, that was the short version. Dad didn’t need to know the long, convoluted story of precisely why no other lawyer would touch her with a barge pole.
“West?” Dad repeated.
Sam sighed. “Yes, Dad. Adam West.”
Her father visibly stiffened. “Is that wise?”
“Dad, it is just business and nothing more. A few days and he’ll be gone and then it’ll be over.” I hope.
“Make sure of it.”
“What do you have against Adam?”
“That man wasn’t good enough for you.”
“Why?” Sam held out a cup. “Because he’s white? A couple of years older than me? A lawyer? Would you rather I’d married a black man?”
Her father took the cup. “The color of his skin has nothing to do with my feelings towards him. That man never made you happy. I wanted to give you away at your wedding; to be proud as I walked you up the aisle. Not to find out you’d married some posh ne’er-do-well in a postcard.”
“Dad…”
He raised his free hand. “Hear me out. No one would ever be good enough for you. At least not according to your mother, but you never gave us a chance. We should have met him before you married him. He could have asked permission…”
“Dad, please,” Sam interrupted. “No on
e asks permission to marry someone these days.”
“I asked permission to marry your mother.”
“Yeah, well, that was the dark ages.”
Her father frowned. “You gave up everything for this man—your studies, friends, and for what? To have him walk out on you the instant things got hard.”
“I went back to uni and now have my own firm.” She paused. For now at any rate. “But this is purely business. He’s my lawyer. End of.”
Her father sipped his tea. “And that’s legal? You can do that?”
Sam ran her fingers over her left hand. “Yes.”
“No ring?”
“I haven’t worn it for a couple of years now. It’s at home, somewhere.”
“Have you filed for divorce yet?”
“There’s no point. If Adam wants a divorce, he’s a big boy and more than capable of asking. Besides, he left me, remember? And we didn’t exactly have a Biblical reason for separating, not that either of us were Christians at the time. For all I know, he still isn’t. I mean, neither of us was unfaithful or…” She let out a deep breath. “And it’s not as if I’m ever planning to get married again. Been there, done that, and got the scars to prove it.”
“Never say never.” Her father winked.
Sam sipped her tea. “Why not?” As her father just grinned, she tilted her head and studied him. There was a twinkle in his eye that hadn’t been there in years. Not since her mother died. Something was definitely up. Sam put her cup down. “OK. What aren’t you telling me, Dad?”
“What makes you think I’m hiding anything?”
“Because I know you didn’t drive all the way here just to talk about Adam or discuss my eating and sleeping habits. Or lack thereof. So spill.”
Her father smiled. “I found someone. Actually, I’ve been courting her…”
“Courting her?” She didn’t like where this was going.
“Her name is LaVera. We’ve been seeing each other for six months, and I’d like you to meet her.”
“It’s serious?”
Her father nodded. “We’re getting married.”
It was Sam’s turn to stiffen, her whole body running cold. “Married—at your age?”
“And what’s wrong with marriage at my age?” Hurt tinged his voice.
“Well, aren’t you a bit—you know—old to…” She broke off.
Her father glowered and slammed his cup down. “If you can’t grow up and be civil, Samantha, then we’ll leave.”
“We’ll leave?” Sam asked, getting to her feet. “She’s here?”
“She’s waiting in the car.”
Sam hurried to the window and peered out, his words ringing in her ears. “You’re the second person in two days to tell me to grow up and be civil. Am I that bad?”
“You can be.” Her father stood. “The wedding is in three weeks.”
“Three weeks?” she spluttered, spinning around.
“As you pointed out, I’m old, so we didn’t see the point of waiting.”
“And how old is LaVera? My age? Younger?”
Her father shook his head. “I thought I raised you better than this. For your information, LaVera is seventy-four. She has four children, seven grandchildren, and five great-grandchildren. And they are all happy for us. I’ll send you a wedding invite. It’ll be for you and a plus one. Let me know if you’re going to come and who you’ll be bringing with you as soon as possible, so we can put you on the table seating plan.” He strode to the door, closing it firmly behind him.
“Dad, wait, I’m…” Sam flung open the door to find the hallway empty. “Sorry,” she finished, flatly. She trudged to the window, watching as he left the building and got into his battered green sedan. The figure in the passenger seat hugged him before the car pulled away.
There was a knock on the door and she turned, realizing she’d left the door open. Adam stood there, briefcase in hand, coat over his arm.
Flustered, Sam stood there for a moment, floundering over her words. “Adam. I—is it that time already?”
He checked his watch. “Dead on one o’clock. There was no one at the desk.”
“Tessa is at lunch. Come in. Shut the door.” Sam sucked in a deep breath in a pointless attempt to calm herself as she eased back behind her desk.
Adam did as she asked before he crossed the room and set his briefcase on the floor. “Are you OK?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t look it. What’s up?”
“I’m fine, really.” Sam pressed her nails into her hands. He knew her too well. He always had. “It’s just been rather a stressful morning. So, how do you want to do this?”
“I just need some place to work, read the files, sit…”
“I’ll get them. You can use my desk.” She rose and pointed to her chair.
Adam shook his head. “That’s your seat. This side of the desk is fine, or one end or the other. Either works.”
“OK.” Sam cleared off part of the desk for him. “Make yourself at home, while I go get those files.”
****
Adam watched her leave and slid his left hand into his trouser pocket. He’d passed Sam’s father in the car park. Mr. Reece hadn’t acknowledged him, but then why should he? No doubt he blamed Adam for what happened the same way Sam did. He took a deep breath.
His phone chimed. He pulled it from his jacket and checked the email. He frowned and sat down, replying quickly.
“Here you go.”
He glanced up at the huge pile of files Sam placed in front of him. “Thank you. Is that all of them?”
“I wish. Not even half. I figured we’d start at the beginning.”
He nodded. “Makes sense.”
“If you want, I can call Tessa and get her back from lunch to help.”
Adam shook his head. “It’s fine. I can make my own notes. Besides, the fewer people that know about this, the better it is for your company, right?”
Sam raised an eyebrow.
“All it takes is one leak, and this will be plastered all over the papers and the news before we even get as far as a courtroom.”
“Oh, right.” She sat down on her side of the desk and tapped on her keyboard. “If you need anything else, just ask.”
“OK.” He sent the email and slid his phone into his pocket. Then he opened the first file. “I passed your father in the car park as I came in.”
“He dropped by for a visit,” came the short, tight response.
“How is he?”
Sam tapped quicker and harder. “He’s fine. And he’s getting married, apparently.”
Adam looked at her, surprise filling him. “Oh?”
“That’s what I thought. Mum died five years ago. Dad’s been seeing this woman six months. And they get married in three weeks.”
“Are you going?”
Sam scoffed. “I don’t even know the woman. Until an hour ago, I didn’t even know she existed.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t your father deserve to be happy?”
“No.”
Adam put the file down and sat upright in his chair. “That’s not like you.”
“When Mum died, he said he’d mourn her forever. He hasn’t.”
“What happened to you?” Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “You were young and in love once upon a time.”
“I grew up,” she snapped. “Love doesn’t guarantee a happy-ever-after. You should know that better than most. You left me, remember?”
He jerked his head upright. The woman in front of him was transforming once again into the one he knew so well—the cold, hard person he’d walked out on.
“Besides,” Sam continued her voice spitting fire. “Dad’s not young, and he hasn’t known her anywhere near long enough to be in love.”
Adam shook his head and turned back to the file. She was working herself up into a full blown rant. He’d used the time-honored tactic of drop-and-ignore before that happened.
“What?” she demand
ed.
He stayed silent, drumming his fingers on the desk and pretending to read. He wasn’t going to point out that they’d only known each other two months before he’d proposed and barely three months before they’d married.
But look how that had turned out. Maybe she had a point.
3
Five thirty came. Adam glanced up as Sam pushed her chair back. They’d spent the afternoon in almost complete silence, unless he’d asked something about the file he was reading. “You OK?”
Sam stretched and gazed at him. “I’m going home. You’re welcome to stay if you want.”
He shook his head. “I can’t. It’s the church AGM tonight, and I ought to go.”
The look on her face was almost comical. “Church? You?”
A tiny part of him thrilled at the thought he still had the ability to take her by surprise. He closed the file. “Don’t sound so flabbergasted. Things change. So do people.”
“I know.” She pulled her bag from the bottom drawer of her desk. “I would just never have put you and church in the same sentence. Not in a million years.”
“Yeah, well, perhaps I’m not the man you once knew.” He snapped the fastenings on his briefcase shut, wishing someone would invent a silent catch. “I will see you in the morning. G’night.” He headed out of the office, praying the rest of the time spent working this case wasn’t going to be like this. He wasn’t sure he could handle being that close to her.
His shoes clicked on the tiled flooring as he walked. A light shone from one of the other offices. A man sitting at a desk looked up as he passed. Adam glanced at him, taking in the dark suit, black hair and glasses. The man glowered, the look almost evil. Adam glanced at the name on the door, mentally noting to ask Sam about him in the morning.
Adam was home long enough to eat and change his shirt before heading out to church. He parked and walked around to the chapel in the fading light.
He loved April. It had to be one of his favorite months. The days were warmer, the evenings a little longer, and the world was springing to life around him. And he loved church even more. Because there he could be himself, rather than a lawyer and nothing else. He relished the prospect.