Chapter 33

          Early afternoon seemed to Robyn to move at a crawl. She had spent the morning in heavy research of Neilson Sauderbrandt and had come to the conclusion that not only was she not learned in the area of sprawling corporations, she didn’t want to be. What she had been able to gather though was that the man had married money and built it into an empire. No one seemed to remember Frankmeyer, the family name behind the popular pickle company which had funded Sauderbrandt’s business savvy. And as the old man had outlived three wives, and the corporation to which he had long ago sold the pickle company, no one had a reason to. She had been able to find nothing which might tell her what, if any, connection there was between the things that were happening to Sam and Sauderbrant Corporation. Which led her back to Sam’s ex.

            Though Cassandra Wright seemed to have every reason to want to harm her former hubby, if only to strengthen any case she might make regarding custody of Beth, Robyn’s gut told her that the scenario didn’t quite fit. There was something that she was missing.

            If Cassandra really wanted Beth, and she was willing to go to great lengths, all she’d have to do is have Sam killed, then both the child and the business would be hers. But this perpetrator didn’t seem to want Sam dead. Robyn’s gut told her that the person or persons responsible were looking for something.

            The big question was: Who was doing the looking, and what were they looking for?

            The traffic light ahead of her switched to green and she inched out into the intersection, again moving toward Renaissance Restorations and Sam. She wasn’t sure who her father had put on Sam, but she knew that he’d trailed him in to work where he had remained all morning. She was going to show up to have lunch with Sam, thus relieving his unseen shadow. And also to ask a few questions that were better asked face to face.

            Something in her stomach fluttered as she pulled into the parking lot. Her reasons for visiting were legitimate, yet she couldn’t deny the flurry of anticipation that tickled through her. It was nuts, really. She was a grown woman who had dealt with many attractive men in her line of work – what was so different about this man? And why had she never had these feelings with Steven, that beneath the surface hum of electricity whenever he was nearby? 

            Deciding that there was no point in trying to figure it out while sitting in the parking lot, she got out of her car and made her way toward the entryway. As she did so, she thought through the series of events that Sam had described.

            She could easily picture him crossing the parking lot at night. Sam’s space was off the main road and didn’t have much for actual lighting around the building itself. She would have to remember to recommend a motion-sensitive lighting arrangement. That might help to alleviate any potential problems in the future.

She pictured a shadowy form rushing her mental image of Sam, sending him sprawling in the grass. Sam was a tall man - which suggested that his attacker had been male or someone with enough physical presence to take out someone Sam’s height. Cassandra Wright didn’t have that presence.

She watched her imagined Sam on the ground, semi-conscious, being worked over by the shadowy form – having his watch removed and his wallet stolen. It was difficult to remain purely analytical which reinforced her decision to ask her dad for backup. Having completed her mental run-thru, she opened the door and stepped into the lobby.

            A middle-aged woman was seated at the reception station eyeing her with polite amusement. “Did you lose something outside?”

            Robyn smiled bemusedly. “Pardon?” Then it occurred to her how odd her actions must have appeared to the woman from the opposite side of the glass-fronted building. The mini-blinds had prevented her from seeing into the office.

“Oh,no.” Robyn hastened to assure the woman. “I was just . . . thinking about something.” Then, putting on her best professional face, she continued, “My name is Robyn Somers. I’m here to see Sam Wright.”

“Would you like to arrange for him to look at some pieces?”

“No. I’m really just a friend. I thought I’d surprise him.”

“Really?” The receptionist’s brows rose in interest. “Just a moment please.” She scooted from behind the reception desk and disappeared around the corner. Sam’s office was near as Robyn heard her tapping lightly a moment later. The sound of the door opening and murmuring voices followed.

The receptionist returned abruptly, dancing amusement clearly visible in her eyes. “He’ll be right --.” Sam appeared before she completed her sentence. “And, here he is.”

“Robyn? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” Worried shadows set off the storms in his gaze. He closed the space between them and grasped her hand.

“Everything is fine,” Robyn told him, acutely conscious of the way the receptionist was looking on. “I just decided to surprise you for lunch. I hope that’s okay.”

The concern washed out of his features which were transformed by a brilliant, full-dimpled smile. “Of course, that’s terrific.” He tugged gently on her hand and gestured her back along the corridor. “Let’s just step into my office for a minute.”

“Sure.” Robyn followed along with a final glance in the curious receptionist’s direction. The woman, not to be outdone, cleared her throat expectantly.

Sam turned back, half resignedly. “Robyn, this is Claire, the woman I’m having serious doubts about having hired. Claire, this is Robyn . . . a friend.”

Robyn had the distinct impression that there was more to that quick muttered conversation between Sam and his receptionist than she’d expected.

Claire, though, was unperturbed. She waved off her employer’s comments and extended a hand in Robyn’s direction. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Robyn. You have no idea. I’d nearly given up hope.” With those provocative words, shot a pointed look in Sam’s direction.

“Pleased to meet you as well.” Robyn didn’t bother to hide her amused confusion as she removed her hand from the warmth of Sam’s and shook the other woman’s hand. There was obviously more than an employer and employee relationship at work here. She was glad that Sam had people who cared enough about him to give him a hard time.

“You say that now . . . .” Sam muttered, and then smiled innocently.

“Ha,” was Claire’s response. Then, “Off with the two of you, then. Wouldn’t want to be accused of lounging on the job.”

“Well talk later, Claire,” Sam promised, and recaptured Robyn’s hand and tugged her once more toward his office.

“I’m absolutely certain of it.” Claire’s voice followed them around the corner to Sam’s office.  

Sam drew her into the room, allowing a quick glimpse of a very functional space containing a desk, a few chairs and pictures along the walls. And then all that she could see and feel was him. He’d pushed the door closed and then maneuvered her into an embrace and captured her in a mind-altering kiss.

“Well, hello,” she said breathlessly when they pulled apart, though they still remained in a loose embrace. “Nice welcome.”

“I wanted to let you know how really happy I am to see you.” Sam smiled, the beloved grooves appearing along the side of his face. Robyn couldn’t resist the urge to reach up and touch them.

“If you keep that up, I’m never going to be able to think straight, and I do have to confess to a three-fold purpose.”

“And what is that?” Sam’s eyes were focused on her lips and his voice took on a sleepy, distracted tone. He was moving closer by micrometers, clearly vying for a repeat performance. It was nearly Robyn’s undoing.

“Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

“Tell me.” Sam halted his motion and met her gaze. The unguarded vulnerability and need in his clear blues trapped her in place. Robyn couldn’t look away.

“Can’t you tell?” she whispered her response. “My heart is pounding in my chest, and my breath, you just take it away by degrees.”

“I do that?” Sam asked, clearly affected by her words.

“You do that – like no one else ever before.”

Sam made no verbal reply, but Robyn was becoming adept at reading the storms that rolled across his gaze. Hope, pleasure, insecurity, others. And then he leaned in and kissed her again and it was like none of the others that they’d shared.

There was tenderness and giving, also a depth of emotion that dragged her along in the wake of its intensity. She felt as though for those precious moments they were connected on some level other than the physical, communion of the heart. When again they separated, she knew that Sam was as shaken as she.

“We should get out of here,” he said.

“Yes. I agree.”

Sam studiously ignored Carrie’s knowing look as he and Robyn passed through the reception area. He already knew that when he returned there would be no end of questions. In some ways, Carrie was worse than Mark. As a happy mother of three adult children, she wasn’t above a little matronly meddling in his personal affairs.

“Your receptionist seems to know you very well.” Robyn’s comment echoed his same wavelength. “You must have known one another for a long time.”

Sam made a face. “She’s usually very professional. I think that perhaps you caught her a bit by surprise.” He gestured in the direction of their vehicles. “I don’t mind driving – there’s a great little restaurant right up the road a ways.”

“That’s fine,” Robyn replied. “And how is it that I surprised her? Surely you have female clients.”

“Oh, we do,” Sam agreed as he hit the remote entry. “Lots of them actually.” He climbed up into the truck and took a moment to think before he continued. He’d made such a sap of himself in his office, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to magnify that by telling her that he’d never reacted to any of those women the way that he did with her.

“Lots of women clients,” Robyn’s voice entered his train of thought. “So I must somehow be different from them.”

Sam grinned in her direction. “You are. You’re not a client.”

“Oh that’s very amusing. Ha Ha.” Robyn teased, then, “You’ve led a very quiet life these past few years.” She was looking at him with that look in her eyes. It reminded him of that first day when he’d brought her back to Renaissance and she’d psycho-analyzed him. Her words had fallen unerringly close to the truth.

“It’s what I’ve wanted.” He didn’t feel the same discomfort now as he had then. Of course now he wasn’t try to pretend that the unusual attraction between them didn’t exist. He was content to let their relationship be.

“Quiet isn’t bad,” Robyn commented.

“I know,” Sam said, aloud. But, too quiet can be lonely.

“And, it certainly helps in narrowing the field of suspects.”

“Yeah. I’m sure it does.” Sam shifted in his seat. It had been one thing to have Robyn looking after Beth when he feared that Sandra might try something again; it was quiet another to have someone trailing to work, watching his back.

“Listen, Robyn, I really appreciate your dad assigning someone else to me. That was very generous of him. But, I’m sure he has other jobs that he can use his people for.” He glanced sideways at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Mark’s already paid for two weeks.” Her expression was guarded. She knew that there was more coming.

“For one person. I have you.”

“Actually, the new guy is replacing me.”

Sam frowned. “So who’s paying you?”

“I’m covered, Sam. Don’t worry about it. I want to be there for Beth. And that’s part of the reason I came by for lunch. I’ve been going over everything we know and wanted to ask you some more questions.”

“Okay. But I’m going to feel awfully foolish if we find out all of this is because some guy stole my wallet and from there got a hold of my home address.”

“Wouldn’t you feel even more foolish if it isn’t?”

“Yes, you’re right. I understand that. But . . . .” Sam shook his head. He’d resisted this idea from the beginning. But it was only another week. He pushed aside his uncertainty and smiled. “So, do you do weekends?”

“You mean will I be going home?” Robyn asked.

“Uh, no . . . I actually hadn’t thought about that. Were you planning to?” He was surprised at how he felt about the notion. She hadn’t been there very long, but he liked having her under his roof.

“I hadn’t planned on it, actually. Although I was going to go by home at some point today and get some more clothes, do a few chores, that sort of thing. But if you’d like to have your house back . . . .”

“No, that’s not it. I spoke with Sandra this morning. We set up a visit for tomorrow at the pier. I was hoping you’d come.”

“Of course. Besides, I promised Beth I’d be there. I don’t think Sandra is going to like it though.”

Sam half chuckled. “I can guarantee she won’t.”

There was a weighted pause before Robyn spoke again. “Do you know if she’s still dating Frankie Robinson - the guy who robbed the convenience store?”

Sam felt himself go cold – he hadn’t been expecting that question. “I really wouldn’t know. Why?”

“He was released shortly after Cassandra.”

“Really? I didn’t know that. Do you think he might have something to do with this?”

“We just got the information on his release. Did you ever meet him?”

Sam ran a hand through his hair. Here remembered all right. “I saw him when he and Cassandra were arraigned.” The experience was forever engraved in his mind. There was little more shocking than the one-two punch of learning that not only had his wife been involved in an armed robbery, she’d done it with the man she was cheating on him with. And that had been followed up with figuring his way through bail proceedings. The only things that had kept him sane in those days had been caring for Bethany and his work.

He felt Robyn rest a hand on his arm. “Do you think it’s possible that he could have been the guy at your window either time?”

Sam squinted, going further into his memory of that night. He had an impression of a short, slightly built male with longish mousy hair. Frankie hadn’t been much taller than Cassandra.

“No. The guy at the windows was taller, bigger. I really can’t say for sure that it was the same person because I didn’t get a clear look that first time at Renaissance. But I’d say that their build was about the same.”

“Okay.” Robyn smiled warmly at him. “That’s it for my questions. How about we concentrate on lunch?”

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