By noon the next day, Duncan had uncovered phone records showing multiple calls made from Carl’s line to Joe over the course of the project. Alone, they proved nothing. Sophie had suggested that, as chairman of the zoning board, Adli be pulled into the loop. He’d come up with the idea for tonight’s surprise visit.
Joe motioned with a hand flip to the kitchen table and they sat down.
Adli wasted no time. “Joe, we have some concerns about foul play on the board with regard to RGI’s proposal.”
Jane neatened a pile of opened mail at the counter, but Duncan caught her nervous glances at her husband.
Joe ran a fingertip around the curved edge of the rounded table then shrugged. “Yeah, I remember the rumor.”
Adli reached into his breast pocket and removed the documents Sophie had acquired back in November and unfolded them. “Any idea what this is about?” He handed them to Joe, whose mustache twitched as he took them.
While he read, Jane loaded some dishes from the sink into the dishwasher, but kept glancing over her shoulder and smoothing her hair.
Duncan hadn’t forgotten Sophie’s suspicions about the woman’s possible involvement. “Jane?”
The plump woman fumbled the plate she’d been about to put in the dishwasher but regained control, slipped it in the slot and looked his way. “Yes?”
“Come take a look.” He motioned to the pages Joe held. “Do these mean anything to you?”
Jane stepped over, peeked at the papers. She shook her head, a jumpy gesture making her reddish-brown curls bounce.
Adli glanced at Duncan then turned to Joe. “Back at our December meeting, I found your ‘no’ vote a surprise. You and Buzz having problems?”
Joe’s lips locked zipper-tight, but a peep escaped from Jane.
“This is ridiculous,” she finally blurted out. “They know, Joe. Let’s not drag this out.” Her lower lip quivered as she fought tears. “I left those notes about the Jamiesons at the Gazette.”
Joe’s jaw dropped then his shoulders wilted. “I can’t live like this anymore. Yes, I know what’s behind those notes.”
Joe’s voice choked with tears as he unveiled a plan set in motion by Duncan’s assistant, Carl, to hire Joe to manipulate things behind the scenes in Northbridge. Carl’s plan stemmed from his knowledge of the Jamiesons’ Achilles’ heel in Northbridge and Trent’s prior bribery accusations at RGI. Joe had planted a rumor about bribery, easily exaggerated with the gossip mongers around town. Carl had hoped Trent would be under suspicion because of his past with Lake Simcoe and get fired.
“How could you, Joe?” Adli spoke softly, reminding Duncan how these men had known each other a lifetime.
The zoning board member stared at his folded hands. “Look, I didn’t want the project either so I figured Buzz might back off his interest in RGI’s investment out of fear his wife’s past would rise to the surface. Sophie was a perfect middleman. The press probing into this wouldn’t raise suspicions.”
Adli slowly shook his head. “You never should have taken that man’s money.”
A tear slipped down Joe’s cheek. “I’d lost my job. We almost lost the house. Those damn credit cards were easy cash, but then we had so much debt. More than a man should have at my age.” He slowly lowered his head, his shame obvious. “This was a way out. I’m sorry.”
Duncan felt bad for the guy, the circumstances enough to make anybody take desperate measures. Carl, on the other hand, had no good excuse and would pay for this.
* * * *
“Thanks, Derrick. Everything’s set. You guys did a great job.” Duncan hung up.
Hiring Derrick Martin’s private investigation firm had proven to be worth every cent. In the past, he’d used them when he suspected anything seedy about someone he had to deal with on a new property. Today’s dealing with the PI firm crossed a line between work and personal.
He’d asked Carl to come to his office when the workday ended. Duncan’s nerves pulsed, jittery with aggravation that an employee he’d trusted had worked against him. He suppressed an urge to punch the traitor right in the jaw.
He flipped through the mail to keep busy and a few minutes later, Carl swaggered in. “Hey, Boss.”
“Have a seat.” Duncan put the mail aside and pulled in front of him the neatened pile of damning evidence.
Carl plunked into his usual chair, comfortable and confident. “What’s up?”
Duncan handed off the small stack of phone records. “These highlighted calls should help answer your question.”
Carl looked at the data, but his face remained unreadable. He looked up.
“Recognize the number?” Duncan spoke firm, in his no-nonsense voice.
Carl blinked several times and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “One of the guys from Northbridge. Joe, I think. He had some questions about the project.
Duncan pushed a manila folder across the desk to Carl. “Why don’t you tell me what this is then?”
Carl hesitantly opened the folder, the way someone would if they expected a hornet to fly out. One by one, he turned each page of the contents. His skin paled from healthy beige to pasty white.
The photos, taken this morning by the PI firm, showed Carl and Joe in their booth at the same diner where Sophie had spotted them. According to Joe, his final payment from Carl would come when RGI formally withdrew from the project, which Duncan had already done. Joe, as part of the agreement to avoid charges against him, set the wheels in motion to meet with Carl for the payoff, done under surveillance.
“Why, Carl?” Duncan’s ire rose. “What’d you stand to gain from this?”
Carl’s posture shrunk and his gaze dimmed. “I left my other job because I wanted to run this place someday. The day you brought Trent into the firm, it changed everything. I wanted him fired.”
It occurred to Duncan how close Carl came to getting his wish when Duncan had a brief loss of faith in his brother. In hindsight, after Trent was handed more responsibility, Carl occasionally grumbled over the way Trent had handled certain work matters. Never would Duncan have dreamed, though, Carl’s hatred for Trent ran so deep.
Duncan recalled the one loose end. “One thing. How’d you get the Courant to write a damning report about Bernadette Felton?”
Carl looked out the window. “My buddy is the reporter who wrote the article. He’d just been hired by them, so I called the paper’s owner on your behalf. Said you wanted the guy to interview her and dig up anything he could to discredit the group.”
Duncan’s jaw clenched tight. Betrayal of this kind would not be tolerated. He lifted the phone handset and dialed. “Earl, you can come in now.” He hung up. “Security is on their way to escort you after you clean your office. It goes without saying you’re fired. I hired an auditor who’s been working with accounting. I know the cash you gave Joe came from our bank account. Expect to hear from the police. Now, get the hell out.”
Chapter 32
April
The sound of bells woke Sophie. She squinted at her nightstand clock. A few minutes before eight. The chimes signaled the early service at St. John’s Lutheran Church, or as Pastor Dave jokingly called them, “the competition.”
Some productive birds chirped outside the window and sun peeked through the tab curtains, leaving the bedroom bright and sunny. Winter had finally left Northbridge. A season change was never more welcomed. The record snowfalls through February were now considered a once in a blue moon event. She rolled over and snuggled closer to Duncan and found him wide awake.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” He pushed a few stray hairs away from her face. “Did the bells wake you?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She stretched her arms above her head and yawned.
Duncan slipped a hand beneath the oversized Patriot’s T-shirt she’d thrown on to sleep in, resting his palm on the dip of her waist.
“You know, my mother said the bells of love chimed when she met Dad.” Sophie rubbed
her sleepy eyes. “That’s how she knew it was the real deal.”
“I thought those were for the church service.”
She laughed. “I’m simply reporting the facts, funny guy. Not analyzing them. What time are we meeting your parents at your uncle’s house?”
“One. Guess we should get up soon.” He showed no signs of leaving the bed. He smoothed his palm along a slow trail from her waist to her lower back. “Mike’s expecting us to pick up the kids in Stamford at twelve thirty. Right?”
“Yup.” Her heart elevated, swept into the tidal wave of longing in his gaze.
In a few short months, her life had taken a hard turn. At the age of forty-four, she finally stood on solid footing with both love and life, all on the same grounds where she’d lived a lifetime of happiness and tragedy. Grounds which held her future too. Plans were well underway with the vineyard. Jay had already checked the current irrigation system, done some soil testing, and ordered some dormant vines to add to the existing lot.
Duncan eyed her with longing. “Uncle Stan’s house in Westport is about twenty minutes away from Mike’s. My parents are punctual.”
She pressed her hands to his chest. “Are you implying I’m not?”
“Yes.” He grinned. “We don’t want you to be late the first time you meet them.” Duncan’s relaxed face slipped into concern.
“What’s wrong?”
“I haven’t seen Dad since Trent and I had our long talk at lunch almost two months ago.”
She shifted closer, his soft caress of her backside driving her wild. “It’ll be fine. The worst is over.”
“I hope so. Trent called me yesterday when he and Patrick got into the city. He’s taking today’s gathering in stride. My uncle’s place is good neutral territory for us to get together.” He pressed Sophie’s torso against his and warmth flooded her core. “One of the benefits of our time alone is Pat loves hanging out with his uncle on these weekends. He told me the other day ‘Uncle Trent is so cool.’ How come he doesn’t see me that way?”
“Because, Fonzie, Trent would never use a word like cool.” Sophie massaged his shoulders. “I think you’re pretty cool.”
He dipped his head and kissed her throat.
“Speaking of nerves.” She twirled her fingertips in the curls of his sandy chest hair. “Do you think meeting your family is easy for me? The tackle shop owner’s daughter isn’t exactly serious dating material for the son of a prominent New York City lawyer. Plus, your uncle’s a U.S. senator.”
“First off, my uncle is a down-to-earth, great guy. As far as my parents go, who I’m with is my concern. Besides, they’d be crazy to not love you.”
“Says you.” Sophie had her doubts.
“We’re getting sidetracked.” Duncan slid his gaze from her eyes to her mouth then he gave her a quick kiss. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”
She snickered. “I’d have said yes without the really bad come-on line.”
He smirked and wrapped his solid leg over hers in a playful lock position. “I’m serious.”
“Okay. Shoot.” She tried to pull her leg from his pin, but he held her firm and fought a smile.
“I’ve wanted to cut down my office hours and spend more time in Northbridge. The new guy I’ve hired to replace Carl is great. Plus, I’ve been doing some reading on vineyards.”
Sophie stopped her futile struggle.
“With Jay busy planting, I could spread myself between the tackle shop and the vineyard. Now before you get your knickers in a bundle, I don’t intend to take over. I’m asking as someone who can learn from you guys. I’ll work behind the scenes.”
She considered his proposal. The idea of spending more time together sounded wonderful.
“Look at it like this. I’ll be working for you.” He tugged at the bottom of her T-shirt. “Aren’t you getting warm with this on?”
She playfully swatted his hand away. “Now who’s not being serious?”
“So? What about my proposal?”
“Jay is warming up to you these days. Plus, I’d love for us to see more of you.” She paused. “I can’t promise great pay.”
“We’ll negotiate.” The lines of his face relaxed. “Bartering can be a very useful tool.”
“It can be.” Sophie slid her fingers through the curls of his messy hair. “Maybe Jay can give you fishing lessons in exchange for your help.”
“That wasn’t what I had in mind,” he replied, the husky tone igniting her arousal even further.
“You should take it. I drive a harder bargain than my brother.”
His grin disappeared behind the look she now knew spoke to his love. A clear sign the path she’d followed in life kept her in Northbridge for a good reason.
Meet the Author
Sharon Struth is an award-winning author who believes it’s never too late for a second chance in love or life. When she’s not writing, she and her husband happily sip their way through the scenic towns of the Connecticut Wine Trail. Sharon writes from the small town of Bethel, Connecticut, the friendliest place she’s ever lived. For more information, including where to find her other novels and published essays, please visit her at sharonstruth.com, find her on Twitter @sharonstruth, Facebook, or follow her blog at shronstruth.wordpress.com.
Keep reading for a special sneak peek of Sharon Struth’s new Blue Moon Lake novella:
TWELVE NIGHTS
True love waits forever…
For Erik Lindholm, it’s been a long climb to the top of his company. Now, as president he has the power to bring his vision to life and speed his company in bold new directions. If that means a complete staff overhaul, so be it. If that means firing the woman who left his heart in tatters fifteen years earlier, it’s a business decision, not personal…
Beryl Foster is highly competent and respected by everyone at the office. But rumors of a big shake-up are rampant and—surprisingly, scarily—Beryl’s job as CFO is on the line. Fifteen years ago she made a decision to put her career before everything else. It was also the last time she and Erik shared a life together. Every Christmas is a reminder. This one could be a second chance…
A Lyrical e-book on sale November 2015.
Learn more about Sharon at http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31604
Chapter 1
On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me—
A necklace with a heart key.
“If you value your reputation, you’ll get moving.”
Darcy’s clear and calm voice jarred Beryl. Before she could respond, Darcy looped her arm through Beryl’s and pulled her from the doorway into the crowded room.
“Didn’t you see that mistletoe overhead?” Darcy raised her classically thick eyebrows, darker versions of the ones that made Brooke Shields famous years ago. “Chase was on his way over and he had his sights set on you.”
Together, they neared Chase Stockard, VP of Communications for Global Business Solutions. His charisma had landed him the prime role dealing with the firm’s media issues, plus the attention of most women in the office.
His Ken-doll smile turned into a frown. “Aw, ladies.” He arched an eyebrow. “Catch you next time around?”
“Or save the mistletoe moves for outside the office,” Darcy said, her tone stern, her brows lifted. “All due respect.”
Chase laughed it off, and headed for a gaggle of females not far away.
“He really ticks me off.” Darcy tossed back her hair, dark as onyx and always worn to the shoulder with a little flip. “I’m beginning to wonder if anybody listened to me at last summer’s sexual harassment workshop.”
Darcy took her job as director of human resources seriously. She once claimed to view corporate policy with the reverence of the Ten Commandments. Beryl was especially glad her best friend had stopped Chase. A mistletoe kiss might not be a big deal for some women, but in Beryl’s position with the firm, others would talk.
&nbs
p; They blended into a sea of formalwear, mostly black mixed with every imaginable shade of red. Beryl gazed at the Temple of Dendur, just ahead as they moved through her favorite room at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Amber spotlights illuminated the sandstone structure. Around it were tables covered with crisp linens and bowl candle centerpieces, gleaming balls of gold light befitting the royal display. As a backdrop to the temple, a floor-to-ceiling projection screen played a continuous hypnotic loop of cascading snowflakes falling against a dark sky.
Darcy leaned close to Beryl’s ear. “Did you hear the rumor he’s dating a new copywriter?”
“He who?”
“Chase. She’s a subordinate, works in his own department. That’s pretty much the mother of all inter-office dating rule violations.”
“Thank goodness men like that are a rare breed.” Beryl didn’t want to discuss gossip. She had her own worries tonight. “Ready for another drink?”
“Lead the way.” Darcy grabbed a bite-sized quiche from a server passing by them with a tray, and popped it into her mouth.
Beryl moved slower than usual in the satin dress covered by a black lace overlay, a nice change from her usual corporate attire. Leaving her arms bare, the gown showed a peek of skin beneath the satin near the scooped neckline. A fitted silhouette followed the curve of her hip, and gently flared from the knee down. Though most of her immediate peers were men, she refused to dress like one.
“Any idea why they’ve thrown the Christmas party so early this year?” Darcy dodged a waiter holding a tray of fluted champagne glasses. “Thanksgiving was only last weekend.”
“Saul’s choice. I’m pretty sure it’s so he can announce his replacement tonight.”
“And you really don’t know who it is?”
“One, if I did, I wouldn’t tell you standing in this crowd of our coworkers. Second, this is the best kept secret since what was hidden inside Al Capone’s vault.”
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