Flash and Fire

by Marie Ferrarella

  It was an excellent gift for a lawyer.

  Stone’s green eyes, small and deep-set behind wire-rimmed bifocals, were intelligent and alert. He seemed to be dissecting everything and reducing it into terms he could work with. Her father had the same look, except that his was cold. Stone’s eyes had a warmth to them, a humanity that put Amanda instantly at ease.

  The lawyer listened quietly as Amanda told her story, stopping her occasionally to ask a question and taking notes on his legal-sized yellow pad. When she was finished, he studied both sets of the Q status reports she had brought in.

  Setting them aside on his desk, he rocked slowly in his chair, his blue-veined hands folded before him. He worked his lower lip thoughtfully. He didn’t like taking money for no reason.

  “This could be easily resolved without my help.”

  “This particular incident,” she agreed. “But perhaps not the next. And the one after that. I want to be assured that Grimsley will stop trying to find ways of having me fired. Permanently.”

  He studied her face as he worked over the facts she had told him. “I think you have a case, Miss Foster.”

  “A good one?” She began to slip the reports back into her manila envelope, but he placed a hand on the top sheet.

  “I’d like to keep those, if you don’t mind.” Amanda nodded and withdrew her hand. “I wouldn’t be thinking in terms of taking your case if it wasn’t a good one. At my age, I am no longer given to tilting against windmills. That’s for younger men with something to prove and reputations to forge.”

  He leaned and pulled over a large crystal jar filled with jelly beans of a dozen or so colors and flavors. He helped himself to a few, then pushed the jar in Amanda’s direction.

  “No thank you.”

  He smiled. “My secretary helps me indulge my one and only weakness.”

  He neatly replaced the lid on the jar and moved it to its original spot. Everything within the office, Amanda noticed, looked meticulous and precise. There was no clutter.

  Stone glanced down at the notes he’d made. “Discrimination and harassment have been popular causes for years now.”

  Amanda could just see the headlines, both in newspapers and in grocery store tabloids. Though citing harassment had been her initial inclination, she didn’t want to be thought of as someone jumping on a bandwagon just to get a place in the spotlight.

  “Mr. Stone, I’m not looking to capitalize on a ‘popular cause.’”

  An enigmatic smile barely dusted his lips. “Too bad, because you have one.” He flipped to the next page and nodded to himself as he read. “And it’ll work in our favor. We might not even have to go to trial.”

  Amanda leaned back in her chair for the first time and breathed a sigh of relief. It had been what she was hoping for.

  “I’d like that.”

  The accuser in a sexual harassment trial was severely grilled by the defense attorney. It wasn’t something Stone enjoyed seeing his clients subjected to. That was his reason for wanting to avoid going to trial. Her reasons against it piqued his curiosity. He knew whose daughter she was, but little else about her.

  “Would you?”

  She saw the hint of doubt in his gaunt face. Time to set the record straight now. “Mr. Stone, I’m not grandstanding and I’m not looking to cash in on any publicity that’s out there.”

  “Why not?” He flipped the pages back and leaned on the pad, his hands folded again. “It’s there. You might make it work for you.”

  She needed to make him understand. If Stone was going to be her lawyer, he was going to be an extension of her. That meant he had to understand the woman he was representing.

  “All I want to work for me is me. I’m a news reporter, and a good one. I want to do the news and build my career on credibility and good journalism. I don’t want to do it by default, because I got in due to a quota system or because it’s politically correct to espouse something.”

  Getting up steam, Amanda sat on the edge of her chair and looked at Stone. “Here’s the case in a nutshell. For his own reasons, Grimsley doesn’t like me, and because he doesn’t like me, he’s taking away my job. And I don’t want him to. Ever. It’s as simple as that.”

  Stone was silent for a moment, and Amanda began to think that she’d lost him. “Always get on your soapbox so quickly?”

  She had lost him. Amanda began to rise. “Maybe I should rethink this.”

  She meant rethink hiring him. Stone allowed himself a smile. A real one this time. He waved a wide, bony hand at her.

  “Sit, sit, I was just testing you.”

  She didn’t know if she liked his way of operating. “I’m afraid I didn’t come prepared for an exam.”

  He knew better. Amanda Foster was a woman used to being tested, to being challenged.

  “Yes you did. And you passed. I don’t need to take cases, Miss Foster. My needs are simple and I couldn’t outlive my money if God decided to turn me into another Methuselah, which I sincerely hope He doesn’t. Although He has been known to have a quirky sense of humor.” Stone took her completely by surprise when he winked. “Just look at some of our presidents and you’ll understand my meaning.”

  Stone sighed. “But I digress.” A satisfied look creased his face. “At my age, and with my reputation, it’s allowed.”

  Steepling his fingers together, he leaned back and rocked again. “I don’t like people who wield power badly. It makes no difference to me whether it’s a manager in a small fast-food chain or the head of a huge conglomerate. Power, all power, is fleeting, and should be used to benefit people, not make them cringe. I’ll take your case, Amanda Foster, and we will win it. You have my promise.”

  To seal his vow, he leaned over his desk and shook her hand. Amanda noted that his hand felt cold, as if his circulatory system was having trouble reaching it.

  That taken care of, Stone leaned back and glanced at the notes he’d made while she’d told her story. “Now then, about this Pierce Alexander—“

  Amanda immediately felt on edge. “I’d really rather not have him brought into the case if possible.”

  Stone looked up at her sharply, alerted by her tone of voice. “Why?”

  To keep from fidgeting, Amanda rested her hands on the arms of the chair. “He didn’t have anything to do with my losing my job.”

  She believed that part of it. It was the rest she was trying to work out for herself. Did Pierce, once he learned about the possibility of getting her job, try to seduce her so that she wouldn’t be inclined to oppose Grimsley’s decision? And did he lobby the man for her job once he thought it was in jeopardy?

  Amanda had no answers for that. She only knew what she wanted to believe.

  “Yes, but the point is he has it now.” Stone cocked his head, reminding her of a bent Q-Tip. “Are you seeing the man?” When she hesitated with her answer, he pressed on. “I see. Then are you romantically involved with Alexander?”

  She was. Whether romance had anything to do with the way Pierce viewed what they’d had, she didn’t know. But she doubted it.

  Amanda shrugged evasively. “I’ve gone out with him once or twice.”

  Her response brought forth a patient sigh. “I’m your lawyer, Miss Foster. I don’t think I have to explain to you that what’s said here is confidential. At the moment, I am half parent, half father-confessor. I don’t believe that the truth shall always set you free, but I do know that I need the truth in order to effectively do my job.”

  “Yes.” She paused before continuing. It was hard to say the words out loud. “I am romantically involved with Pierce Alexander.”

  It was just as he had surmised. “Well then, stop.”

  Amanda narrowed her brows. “Excuse me?”

  He didn’t bother repeating himself. He knew that she had heard him. After making a few more notes to himself, Stone raised his eyes to hers and continued.

  “I can’t, of course, live your life for you; nor can I dictate its terms. I can only
advise you. My advice is that until the case is resolved to your satisfaction, you have nothing to do with Mr. Alexander.”

  However mildly, Stone was attacking Pierce’s integrity. Amanda found herself in the odd position of feeling defensive on his behalf.

  “Mr. Stone, I don’t think that Alexander—“

  Stone was already one jump ahead of her. “I’m not insinuating that Mr. Alexander is Mr. Grimsley’s spy, although stranger things have happened.” He let the idea sink in before continuing. “What I am saying, however, is that you might inadvertently say something in the man’s presence that could be detrimental to your case.” He spread his hands in an innocent gesture. “A slip of the tongue that Mr. Alexander then passes on without realizing it.”

  Pierce wouldn’t carry stories to Grimsley, even inadvertently. Would he?

  She dismissed the idea. If nothing else, Pierce was too close-mouthed for that to happen. “He’s not that careless,” she insisted.

  Stone had learned not to place odds on the impossible. But he didn’t feel like arguing the matter. His job, as he saw it, was to merely suggest.

  “And neither should we be. I can only give you the benefit of my experience, Miss Foster. It is what you’re paying for.”

  Amanda nodded, conceding the point.

  What Stone was saying to her made sense. Logically. But it was hard to separate her emotions from the situation with Pierce. Far too much had happened between them. She’d shared too much of herself, had felt too much in a very short space of time. If she had been a planet, Pierce would have been the meteor that had collided with her—and thrown her completely out of orbit.

  Amanda raised her eyes to see that Stone was studying her carefully, watching her reaction.

  “All right,” she agreed stiffly, “I’ll take your recommendation under consideration.”

  “That is all I ask. Now then”—he raised his pad before him, glancing over once again at what he’d jotted down—“my first order of business will be to get in contact with the station’s legal department.”

  Amanda nodded, thinking of the people she knew there. A schism had materialized, separating her from the others, transforming them into adversaries. She was now part of “us” while everyone else at K-DAL had joined the ranks of “them.”

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Without her work to keep her mentally and physically occupied, Amanda suddenly had too much time on her hands. Worse, she had too many opportunities to think. Over the course of the next two days, she found herself pacing about her house like a caged tiger, reexamining pieces of her life that were still too raw to face the light of day.

  Growing up beneath her father’s constant criticism and then suffering Jeffs belittling accusations just before the divorce had greatly undermined and shaken her self-esteem. Looking back over those years brought her only grief.

  Maybe Pierce had been right. Maybe she was too angry—not that her father, Jeff, and Grimsley didn’t warrant her anger. But by letting her anger consume her, she was lowering herself to the level of the people she held in contempt. And it was a colossal waste of time and energy.

  Amanda knew that the only way to triumph over anything was to rise above it. Anger had given her the energy, the drive to overcome obstacles, but it had also sapped away the basic core of her being. That part of her which allowed her to feel happy, to be optimistic. To dream dreams and then forge ahead to turn them into reality.

  Dwelling on the past would only turn her into a bitter woman. She had to put a stop to it, to continue to move ahead.

  She closed her eyes. And saw Pierce’s face, as she so often did these days.

  And what about Pierce? Doubts continued to plague her. How could she begin to understand him and the way he figured in her life? Was he a user? Or was the way things had fallen into place just a matter of coincidence?

  Even if it was a coincidence, even if Pierce hadn’t been instrumental in causing any of her problems, what was their future together?

  Was there a future together?

  Her head began to hurt.

  Amanda decided she needed to get out of the house before she exploded. With a few parting words, Amanda left Carla, Christopher, and Mr. Rogers together in the living room and hurried out the door in search of her sanity.

  She went to see Whitney.

  She’d been following his story closely, and knew that bail had been posted for him. Her father had arranged for it so quickly, Whitney hadn’t had to spend any time behind bars. She was relieved that he had been spared the humiliation of having to be incarcerated. At least her father was good for something.

  No, no more bitterness, she thought firmly. Her father was who he was. In a certain light, he was as much a prisoner of his personality as she was. He could no more reach out to her than she could reach in to him. Her mother had proven that to her. She had loved Henry Foster beyond all reason. In return, he had given her his name, his money, and his seed, but not his love.

  A person couldn’t give what he didn’t have to give. For the first time in her life, Amanda felt sorry for her father. How awful it had to be to never have experienced the exhilarating effects of love. She had felt it when she had been swept off her feet by Jeff. It had been a wild, dizzying sensation that made her blood rush and centered the world, however fleetingly, on one person.

  It had been like a madness, perhaps, but it had been a wonderful madness just the same.

  She smiled without realizing it and thought of Pierce. Now there was madness. Falling in love with him was like trying to tie a kite to the tail of the wind. Impossible. But exciting.

  Maybe, in time, she’d learn to appreciate the small things, because that was all that life granted. The small things.

  Showing her ID to the guard on Whitney’s estate, Amanda waited until the iron gates parted and then drove through. When she drove up the winding path to the house, she saw a sleek, black Mercedes 560 parked in the driveway. A short, stocky man dressed in a gray driver’s livery was leaning against the hood. He was reading a newspaper and trying not to look impatient.

  Amanda instinctively knew her father was there. Rita always arranged to have a Mercedes and a driver at his disposal wherever he went. Henry Foster demanded only the best.

  For a moment, Amanda thought of turning her car around and going home. But that would be running away, and she had ceased to do that a long time ago. Besides, she’d have to face her father sometime. It might as well be today.

  She parked her Mustang beside the Mercedes. It looked like an impromptu statement contrasting practicality and elegance, she mused, getting out. The driver looked her way. She flashed a smile at him and walked up to the front door.

  When she knocked, a familiar old face opened the door. Hastings, the butler Whitney had told her he’d released, was standing in front of her. The old man smiled broadly when he recognized her.

  “Hastings, you’re back.” She looked at him in total surprise.

  “Indeed I am, Ms. Foster. Indeed I am.” With a little flourish, he ushered her in. “Couldn’t leave Mr. Granger in his time of need, now, could I? He tried to send me off, but as soon as I heard the real reason on the news, I marched myself right back into his life. Loyalty counts for something, even in these days.”

  Hastings shut the door. He towered over Amanda by a good foot, but reduced the distance by the confidential tone he used in addressing her.

  “He’s been more than generous to me through the years, so money’s no problem.” He leaned over, his tone lowering. “Had to talk him into letting me come back, but he needs us, don’t you know?” He winked conspiratorially at her, then straightened, resuming his position as butler. “Mr. Granger’s in the den. With your father. Shall I announce you?”

  Amanda shook her head. “No, I’ll be a surprise.” For her father, at any rate.

  “Very well.” Hastings nodded. “It’s this way.” Turning smartly on his heel, the seventy-two-year-old man led her to the room and then uno
btrusively withdrew, like a white wisp of a shadow.

  Amanda stood in the doorway, looking in. There was only one man in the room, and he had his back to her. The years hadn’t stooped the shoulders any, any more than they had mellowed the man, she thought, looking at her father’s back. He appeared to be perusing a book. Whitney was nowhere in sight.

  She debated waiting outside the den until Whitney appeared. But if her father turned around and saw her, she’d look as if she were hiding. Her pride wouldn’t allow that.

  Bracing herself like one of Tennyson’s riders galloping into the Valley of Death, Amanda entered the room. “Hello, Father.”

  Henry Foster turned his head in the direction of her voice. If he was surprised to see her here, only the slightest flicker in his eyes hinted at it.

  “Amanda.” The gray eyes measured her, assessing his daughter and reducing her to a combination of details. He disapproved of loose hair and tight jeans. She was guilty of both. He noted the flush in her face and wondered absently if it was embarrassment. If it wasn’t, it should be. “You’re looking well, considering.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, “Considering what?” but she wasn’t here to argue. She was here to see Whitney and offer a few words of comfort and support if she could. Arguing with Whitney’s lawyer wouldn’t accomplish that.

  “You too.” She was purposely enigmatic. Two can play, Father.

  They stood there stiffly regarding one another, as if they didn’t share the same blood and hadn’t shared the same house for almost eighteen years, before she had eagerly gone off to college. They had lived together for almost two decades and now they stood looking at one another with nothing to say.

  Amanda viewed it as a great pity, even though she knew her father didn’t.

  She hated silence around her father. She could almost feel his eyes boring into her, judging her. Amanda wanted to say something before the inevitable criticism commenced. “How’s the case coming along?”