Paradise Found (22 page)
Rourke spent the rest of his morning fielding requests for interviews with
Forbes
and
Money
magazine. The completion of his latest project brought both financial and entertainment icons swirling around him, anxious for a photo op and a cover story.
People, GQ, Newsweek
. The headlines read, ‘Mr. Renovator of the Millennium’. It was all so overdone, but if an occasional, well-placed smile and a penguin suit permitted him to forge his legacy, he’d tolerate the absurdities. His aunt said he had a face the public liked to look at, so he’d let them look if it helped the company. After all, it was all he had.
“Mr. Flannigan,” Maxine buzzed him, “it’s Mr. Gregory, sir. He says it’s urgent.”
“Send him in. And Maxine, check on my niece. She hasn’t called in two hours and I want to make sure she hasn’t blown up the house.”
“Very good, sir.”
Miles Gregory entered Rourke’s office carrying a black portfolio and looking every bit the head of RF Renovations, Limited’s legal counsel—mid-fifties, trim, polished, and one of the few people Rourke didn’t second guess.
“We have a bit of a problem.” Miles adjusted his bow tie and stroked his chin. The man had a habit of throwing out his concerns and if the issue were noteworthy, he offered a second, more forceful delivery.
Rourke waited to determine the level of concern.
“A potentially big problem.”
Aha, it was indeed an issue.
“Rather huge, actually.”
Three exponents. This
was
a problem. “What’s the matter, Miles?”
His lawyer cleared his throat and eased open the portfolio. “It’s regarding the property in New York. There’s been an accident.”
“An accident? How bad?” When Miles hesitated, Rourke’s concern escalated. “How bad, Miles?”
“The man died.”
“Died?” The word tumbled from Rourke’s mouth in an unintelligible heap. People on his jobsites suffered back strains or an occasional fracture.
They did not die.
He demanded safety precautions and instructions far past OSHA requirements, so much so that Miles dubbed him “Man of a million precautions.”
“Rourke?”
Dead.
“What happened?”
Miles slid the portfolio across the desk. “He was a demolition subcontractor. Fell fifty feet onto concrete.”
“Did his fall harness malfunction?” Rourke imagined the harness strap breaking and the unknown man’s horror in the millisecond before he hit concrete.
Miles shook his head. “Not that the inspectors can tell.”
“Christ.” Rourke grabbed the portfolio and scanned the report. When he noticed the date of the incident he cursed again. “Why am I just hearing about this if it happened almost five months ago?”
“We tried to insulate you. It’s not good for the head of the company to get dragged down by something like this.”
“Dragged down? The man died, for Christ’s sake. I should have been told.”
“I apologize. You were in the middle of the Chemstrol acquisition.” Miles fiddled with his bow tie and added, “That’s why we brought this to Diana.”
“She knew about this?”
Miles nodded.
He’d deal with his aunt and her subterfuge once he handled this situation. “What problem could be larger than this man’s life?”
“A lawsuit.”
Of course.
“I see.”
“We’ve already begun preliminary work on our end and hired our own investigators.”
“To prove what?” That despite all the precautions people still died?
“We’re trying to determine if we might have some level of responsibility here.” Miles cleared his throat—not a good sign—and added, “The man also had a wife and daughter.”
Rourke stared at the file in front of him. Now there was a widow and a fatherless child involved. “I want to meet the widow. Express my sympathies. It’s the least I can do.” And then, “How old is the child?”
“I have no idea.”
Nothing could replace a father, but he had to do something. “I’ll set up a college fund.”
“If you do that, you might as well wear a banner that says, ‘Guilty’.”
“Do you know what it’s like to lose a father?” Rourke knew. He knew what it was like to lose a mother, too. And inherit an aunt who—
“Thankfully, my father is alive, well, and the Dapper Dan of the Senior Center.”
That provided an interesting picture and a welcome interruption. Dwelling on the past served no purpose. “Give me the woman’s address and I’ll have Maxine make flight reservations.”
Miles hesitated. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Very well.” Miles turned the folder around and searched for an address. “Here it is. Montpelier, New York.”
“Montpelier?” Dread wrapped itself around Rourke’s gut, and squeezed, tighter and tighter as a kernel of possibility exploded. How many demolition contractors were there in a town like Montpelier? He guessed no more than three.
“Yes, Montpelier,” Miles repeated. “It’s a small town west of Syracuse. Quaint. Backward. Less than a half dot on a map.” He rose from his seat and picked up the portfolio Rourke had tossed aside. “Just a minute and I’ll get you the woman’s name.” He rifled through the papers as Rourke’s gut churned with disbelief and panic. “Ah, here it is. Name’s Kathryn. Kathryn Redmond Maden.”
Kate.
Rourke pushed back his chair and moved to the set of windows overlooking Chicago. She was out there, hundreds of miles away, just as she’d always been. But one freak accident was about to erase that distance and demolish the walls between them. He could change his mind and send someone else to visit her. He wouldn’t have to see her, wouldn’t have to remember the taste of her…
“Would you like me to see what I can find out about this Mrs. Maden?” Miles asked. “I could do a bit of poking. Perhaps it would make your visit easier if you knew more about her.”
Fourteen years ago I knew everything about her.
“Thank you, Miles but that won’t be necessary. Let me look over the file and I’ll get back to you.” Such a calm delivery—as though they weren’t speaking about
her
. Rourke waited for Miles to leave before phoning Diana. “Can you spare a few minutes? There’s something we need to discuss.”
“I’m on my way,” she said with the casual self-assuredness that had become her trademark in the business world.
He’d thought about dealing with this over the phone so his aunt couldn’t read his body language or the tiny nuances that might slip through when he referred to his old girlfriend. But if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to study
her
body language. Had she kept this from him for business reasons or had she connected the family ties and discovered who the widow was?
“Rourke?” Diana Flannigan moved toward him, a dynamo of power and authority covered in Bill Blass and pearls. The woman had demolished her share of businessmen who’d been fooled by her tiny stature and casual elegance. She’d never married, never expressed maternal desire or interest in anyone not connected to RF Renovations. “Do you have word from Gamitrond?” Diana asked as she slid into one of the wingbacked chairs opposite his desk.
Always the businesswoman. “Actually, Gamitrond’s on hold right now.” He ignored the raised brow and plowed on, “Why didn’t you tell me we lost a man at the New York site?”
“You were in the middle of a major negotiation. Involving you would have proven too distracting.”
“Since when is a man’s death distracting?”
Her blue eyes flashed. “When you’re in charge of a multimillion dollar corporation you can’t concern yourself with every unfortunate incident that occurs. That’s why you have people to take care of those things for you.”
“Dammit, Diana, the man died.”
“Yes, he did.”
“He was from Montpelier.” There. He’d said it.
She met his gaze head on. Even smiled. “America’s own
Green Acres
. I’m surprised you remember that place.”
How can I ever forget it?
“I knew the man who died. Clay Maden. His family had a demolition business in town.”
“Ah.”
“I’m going there to pay my respects to his widow.”
Kate. Remember her?
That got her attention. So, she did remember. He doubted she’d bring it up. Memories of her eighteen year old nephew crying until he puked were better left alone.
“Do you really think that’s necessary? Miles said there could be litigation. Aren’t we risking exposure?” She must have seen the determination on his face, because she softened her approach. “Can’t you at least send a representative with a check instead of making a personal appearance? Money is all those kind of people want anyway.”
Doubtful, but he wasn’t in the mood to debate the issue with his aunt who insisted everything started and ended with dollar signs. “I’m leaving as soon as Maxine can make arrangements.” Had her complexion shifted from pale to paste? The change was so minute he couldn’t tell but he’d swear it had.
“I see.”
“Just so you know, I’m making provisions to care for the child.”
This time her face downshifted to the color of soot. She coughed and sputtered. “What?”
“There’s a daughter.”
She probably has mud-brown eyes and red hair, just like the rest of the Madens.
“Rourke—”
“It’s time to make things right.” He dreaded the thought of seeing Kate again, but maybe it was time to do that too.
When Diana left, Rourke retrieved the key from his middle desk drawer and fit it in the credenza behind him. He opened the drawer and shuffled through several folders, searching for the most current, which he removed and laid on the desk in front of him. The file tab was marked with his own bold handwriting—Kate E. Redmond. He refused to think of Kate by her married name. There were eight such files, all reports dating back as many years. He drew in a deep breath and buzzed Maxine. “Hold all my calls for the next twenty minutes.”
“Yes, Mr. Flannigan. Even your niece’s?”
“
Especially
my niece’s.”
“Very good, sir.”
Click.
Rourke ran his fingers along the tab, tracing the name on it twice before he slowly opened the folder and began to read.
The Way They Were
is available at all major retailers.
Copyright 2012 by Mary Campisi
PARADISE FOUND is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and situations are all products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to real persons, locales, or events, are purely coincidental.
Mary Campisi should have known she’d become a writer when at age thirteen she began changing the ending to all the books she read. It took several years and a number of jobs, including registered nurse, receptionist in a swanky hair salon, accounts payable clerk, and practice manager in an OB/GYN office, for her to rediscover writing. Enter a mouse-less computer, a floppy disk, and a dream large enough to fill a zip drive. The rest of the story lives on in every book she writes.
When she’s not working on her craft or following the lives of five young adult children, Mary’s digging in the dirt with her flowers and herbs, cooking, reading, walking her rescue lab mix, Cooper, or on the perfect day, riding off into the sunset with her very own ‘hero’ husband on his Electra Glide Classic aka Harley.
Mary has published with Kensington, Carina Press, The Wild Rose Press, and Jocelyn Hollow Romance.
website:
www.marycampisi.com
e-mail:
[email protected]
blog:
http://www.marycampisi.com/blog/
:
Contemporary Romance
A Family Affair
Pulling Home (That Second Chance Series-Book One)
The Way They Were (That Second Chance Series-Book Two)
Simple Riches (That Second Chance Series-Book Three)
Paradise Found (That Second Chance Series-Book Four)
Not Your Everyday Housewife (That Second Chance Series-Book Five)
Pieces of You (The Betrayed Trilogy-Book One)
Begin Again: Short stories from the heart
The Sweetest Deal
Regency Historical
The Redemption of Madeline Munrove (The Model Wife Series-Book One)
The Seduction of Sophie Seacrest (An Unlikely Husband Series-Book One)
Innocent Betrayal
Young Adult
Pretending Normal