Here Comes Trouble Page 7

  Between organizing the gala and Chadwick’s art auction, overseeing the construction of the center’s entertainment facility and finalizing Nemesis’ latest job, along with the paintings she needed to copy . . . she was lucky to have time to breathe. But the center . . . a blossom of pride formed within her.

  They were so close to realizing Morgan’s dreams, their mother’s dream. Short of a cure for cancer, the center was going to be the next best thing and for the first time in years, Sheila felt as if she was participating in the process instead of sitting on the sidelines. While Morgan had learned to ask for help, Sheila had learned that she had to stop waiting and act.

  If only what had to be done on her part didn’t terrify her to the point of panic.

  First things first. She picked up the phone and dialed, ready to get her part of the center completed and marked off her list.

  ***

  A few hours later, Sheila climbed out of her car, phone attached to her ear. “No, take the search out nationwide, Liza.” She handed her keys over to the valet in front of Caprianos and scurried around the car to the entrance. The European-inspired bistro was one of the best-kept secrets in Lantano Valley and Sheila took every opportunity to enjoy their spectacular if not calorie-laden meals. That’s what treadmills were for, right? “We need a tech company willing to both supply the hardware and oversee the—”

  Head down, mind askew, she slammed into a semi-solid form and sent her phone flying out of her hand the second she walked inside. “Oh, for the love of—Malcolm.” Christopher Columbus, but the universe was conspiring against her today. “Sorry. Distracted. Didn’t see you there.” But she took a deep breath, found a polite smile. “Hi.”

  “Hello.” Was that humor she heard in his voice? And dammit, did he have to turn that smile of his on so bright?

  “Did you see where my phone—”

  “Miss Tremayne.” A uniformed server, clad in crisp black with a stark white apron tied around his waist, held out her phone. “Your guest is waiting for you at the table your assistant requested.”

  “Thank you, Jeremy.” Sheila shifted into professional mode. “Liza, sorry.” She held up a finger to let Malcolm know she’d be done in a second. “Yeah, just get me that list of tech companies and we’ll go from there. And call Gina in to help us with calls for as long as anyone’s still at their desks. I’ll stop at the office after dinner and go over the list so the two of you can go home.”

  “Problem?” Malcolm asked once she clicked off.

  She tried to wave it off. “The tech company that was supposed to supply the wireless system for the entire Pediatric Cancer Treatment Center bailed on us.” A new bout of anxiety wobbled inside her. She’d promised Morgan she’d have the entertainment complex up and running by the night of the gala. With the deep pockets that would be in attendance, they wanted to show the center off to its greatest potential. Donors couldn’t see the project as a money suck. She’d be damned if she’d let one idiotic company stand in her way of getting it done on time. Tremaynes didn’t give up. Ever.

  “They backed out without any warning?” Malcolm asked.

  “I’d love to chalk it up to it just being business.” She tucked her phone into her purse, wishing she could turn it into a fist and plow it into the rep who had given her the bad news. She’d taken a gamble on the long-established company who had seemed excited at the prospect of supplying everything they needed to make the complex as up to date technology-wise as possible. So much for longevity when reliability went out the window along with responsibility. “I have to remember to go on Yelp and leave a review.”

  “Was Oliver Technologies not interested?”

  “They turned us down, but Ty was the one who recommended Valley, so I’m not inclined to get a second from him. Are you here alone?”

  “I wanted to get Gran out of the house,” Malcolm said. “I was glad to see this place is still here,” Malcolm said once the server had gone. The trompe l’oeil paintings on the walls and arched doorways acted as portals to another place, complete with the aroma of roasting garlic and fresh-baked olive bread. “It’s always been her favorite. Would you like to join us?”

  “Thank you, but I’m meeting someone.”

  “Of course.” Malcolm stepped aside just as his grandmother emerged from the ladies’ room.

  “Sheila. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to speak with you more the other evening. The party was perfect. And that cake. I had a leftover piece for breakfast the next morning.” She reached out and drew Sheila into a gentle hug. “You did a beautiful job.”

  “It was my pleasure and I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  “I know how busy you are, but I hope you’ll humor an old woman all the same and come and see me soon.” Alcina pressed a hand against Sheila’s cheek and gave her an affectionate smile.

  “I don’t see an old woman,” Sheila said, knowing she’d always be grateful to Malcolm’s grandmother for hiring her when she’d first started her event business. Alcina’s butter-yellow silk dress and coifed hairstyle, along with her perfect posture, reminded Sheila of her own mother’s attention to presentation. Regret and guilt mingled into its own special cocktail. “I’ll be stopping by to finalize that guest list, remember.”

  “I’ll hold you to that, young lady.” She bussed a kiss on Sheila’s cheek and patted her hand in that comforting yet determined way she had. “Tea perhaps, or lunch would be divine. Or maybe I’ll pop by your office one day. Maybe you and Morgan would give me a tour of the center?”

  “We’d like that,” Sheila said, her face flushing as she caught Malcolm grinning next to her. She elbowed him as she passed, grinning at his grunt of surprise. “Have a nice dinner.”

  She made it to her table with thirty seconds to spare and greeted her soon-to-be sponsor, but found her gaze pulled to the other side of the room as Malcolm escorted his grandmother to her seat, that lingering what-if hovering like a cloud.

  ***

  “I bet I can guess whose face you’re picturing on that dart board.”

  Malcolm set his last dart to soaring and before he saw where it landed, turned toward Nathan Tremayne. Five years and his one-time best friend looked as good as he had the day they’d donned their caps and gowns.

  “Not hard to.” Malcolm gestured toward the bar a few steps away and signaled the bartender over. The trio of large-screen TVs displayed baseball scores, ESPN commentaries, and the live feed of the NBA draft. Something for everyone, he supposed, but if the San Francisco Giants weren’t playing, what was the point? The dark walnut décor, the muted tones of bagpipes and guitars along with the intoxicating aroma of hops and frying meat enveloped him and eased the tension in his back with each throw of a dart.

  Malcolm grabbed his glass. Now he saw rather than felt the years that had passed. Funny how optimism faded the longer life had a hold of you, but there was still that gleam in Nathan’s eye that told Malcolm his friend hadn’t quite let go of the charm and enthusiasm, not to mention the carefree troublemaking attitude that had bonded them in college.

  “Late-night Mondays at Murphy’s is still the best deal in town.” Nathan ordered his own drink and let the bartender know they’d be taking the booth in the corner by the window. “Made you easy to find.”

  “Is that your way of saying I’m boring or predictable?” Malcolm pointed at Nathan and received the acknowledging nod from the bartender.

  “I’d never call you boring, Malcolm.” Nathan slid into the high back leather seat. “And you being here now wasn’t predictable.”

  “Not so long ago I’d have agreed with you.” But then, life had a way of derailing best-laid plans. “Thanks for calling. I wasn’t sure . . . Given how things went with me and your sister.”

  “She looked positively besotted when I saw her.” Nathan had always seemed uncertain by Malcolm and Sheila’s connection, which was why Malcolm had
expected either a punch to the jaw or a hearty slap on the shoulder when the two finally met up. The fact he got neither was enough to dangle him on the edge of uncertainty.

  “Besotted is not a word I’d ever associate with your sister.” But the idea of Sheila pining for him was far from displeasing. “Or you. You reading up on Jane Austen to get girls again?”

  “Hey, I got at least seven dates by quoting Mr. Darcy.” Nathan cast an inquiring glance at Malcolm’s empty glass as their server brought him his drink. “It’s your own fault you didn’t pick up on the Bingley references. Another?”

  “No, thanks.” One was his limit thanks to those damned pills of his. “Just water, please.”

  “So. What’s new?” Nathan grabbed a handful of pretzels from the bowl on the marred wooden table.

  “You want the five-year rundown or just the highlights?”

  Another grin. “Eh. Save the long version for another time. Hey, Gage.” Nathan waved over Malcolm’s head as the bell over the door jingled. Nathan shifted closer to the window as a tall man in jeans and a well-worn leather bomber jacket joined them. He took a seat next to Nathan, swiping dark hair out of guarded eyes. “Gage Juliano, Malcolm Oliver. Gage here is marrying Morgan.” Nathan jabbed a thumb in Gage’s direction. “God help him.”

  “And Nathan’s bucking for brother-in-law of the year,” Gage said, offering his hand across the table. “Good to meet you.”

  “You sure?” Malcolm accepted the greeting despite the other man’s guarded tone.

  “Until I decide otherwise.” Gage grabbed a pretzel and tossed it into his mouth. “I’m not one to make judgments about people based on the town rumor mill.”

  “Ex-cop.” Nathan shifted in his seat as if uncomfortable with the descriptor. “Makes for a fun addition to the family, don’t you think?”

  “As I’ve known you to put your toe over a few legal lines, yes, I imagine it is.” Given the almost practiced banter going on between the two men, Malcolm suspected this meeting wasn’t a coincidence. “Something on your mind, guys?”

  “What makes you think—” Nathan almost looked offended.

  “You never could lie worth a damn,” Malcolm said. “You’re stalling. So, Gage. Straight up.” Malcolm focused on the other man, who had turned steely blue eyes on him. One look at this guy’s determined face and Malcolm knew he wouldn’t enjoy being on the other side of the table in an interview room. “Let’s have it.”

  “Did you do it?”

  “Subtle.” Nathan accepted his drink with a modest wince. “I thought we were going to ask him about his intentions toward Sheila.”

  “One question answers the other.” Gage pointed at Nathan’s glass to order his own. “Well?” He angled toward Malcolm once more.

  “You mean did I sell my almost-patented water treatment system out from under the non-profit that planned to disperse the technology to third-world countries, skip town with the obscene profit, and leave my family and family’s company to deal with the legal fallout?”

  Gage didn’t blink. He stared and popped another pretzel into his mouth.

  “No.” Malcolm finished his beer and reached for the water, a grudging respect taking form. “I didn’t.”

  Nathan sputtered and Malcolm shifted out of the sharp spray of Guinness. “What the— What do you mean you didn’t—?”

  Malcolm couldn’t remember seeing his one-time best friend look so flummoxed, but he continued speaking to Gage. “I left town because I was told it was the best thing for the business. And because it was the only chance I had to protect my brother.” And just like that, five years of pressure burst within him. He let out a slow, controlled breath. One dam breached.

  Nathan leaned forward, shock mingling with disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about? What does Ty have to do with what happened?”

  “Not a damned thing as it turns out,” Malcolm said. “But that isn’t what I was told the night I left. Dad got what he wanted. Me out of the company, out of the business.” But he’d found a way back in. “Now it’s time to set things right.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you ever say—” Nathan demanded.

  “You never asked.” Malcolm tried not to sound as if his friend’s lack of faith in him didn’t still burn. “Not that I gave you the chance. None of you did.” The other night Sheila seemed open to the truth, but five years ago, their assumption about his guilt had stung. “But he did, so thanks.” He toasted Gage with his glass.

  “So that is why you’re here?” Nathan asked. “To even the score with your father.”

  Malcolm shrugged.

  “And what about Sheila?” Nathan asked.

  Malcolm’s hand halted half way to his mouth, his water forgotten for the time being. “What about her?”

  “This would be where we ask about your intentions toward her.” Gage stretched out his legs and dug a finger into a notch in the table. “He’s not the only one who’s gaining a brother-in-law.”

  “Because she’d so appreciate you looking out for her,” Malcolm challenged.

  “Oh, she’d stab us each in the eye with her stylus.” Nathan nodded. “But that’s only if she finds out about it.”

  “Sheila wasn’t—isn’t—part of the plan,” Malcolm admitted, but the way his statement dangled in the air caught both men’s attention as they glanced at each other. “As far as I knew she was married with a house full of kids.” Liar. Liar, liar, liar.

  “She’s not,” Nathan said, his tone proving he didn’t believe Malcolm for one second.

  “No, she’s not.” Malcolm nodded. “That everything?”

  “For now.” Gage pulled out his phone and dialed, quirking his fingers toward the laminated card at the edge of the table. “Hey, Morgan. Yeah, I’m going to stay for a late dinner after all.”

  Malcolm watched the cop disappear under a dazed smile that spoke of soon-to-be-married man.

  “No, your brother hasn’t challenged me to a drink-off, don’t worry. We’re sticking around to watch the game.” When Gage cringed, Malcolm knew this was a guy who valued honesty and didn’t like being the least bit untruthful with his soon-to-be bride. “Yes, I’ll wake you up when I get home. Yeah, love you too.”

  “Now that’s besotted,” Nathan said.

  “Shut up and order,” Gage muttered.

  Chapter Seven

  “Good morning, Liza, Gina.” Sheila poked her head into her assistant’s office a little after nine on Tuesday morning and found the twins with their heads bent over Liza’s desktop arguing over the best terms to use for a Google search. “Extra large double-shot caramel macchiato for each of you. Thanks for staying late last night.”

  Gina all but dived over the desk to grab her cup, dark curly hair bouncing around her round face that was split into a caffeine-starved grin. “Thank you.”

  “Ladies sip, they don’t gulp,” Liza said as she rose to her feet and accepted her own. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Sheila said.

  “Suck-up,” Gina muttered in a way that reminded Sheila so much of her own sister she hid a smile behind her nearly empty cup.

  “Troglodyte.” Liza elbowed her sister in the ribs.

  “Spell it,” Gina challenged.

  “So, where are we on the responses for replacing Valley Wireless?” Sheila asked and verbally dodged their insults. The way these two went at each other made her grateful she and Morgan were friends.

  “That’s what we were just talking about.” Gina was all but bouncing on her Crocs-encased toes. As practical a dresser as Liza was a fashionista, Gina somehow managed to make jeans and button-down shirts look businesslike. “There was a voice mail when we got in this morning—”

  “Only one?” Sheila couldn’t hide her disappointment. They’d made at least a dozen calls to tech companies well into the night before she’d gone ho
me for a whole four hours of sleep and not one minute spent painting. She could feel the auction—and Nemesis’ next appearance—creeping up on her like a psychotic stalker.

  “It’s the one, Sheila.” Liza tapped a window open. “TIN Consolidated has requested a meeting with you at one this afternoon.”

  “TIN as in TechInter Network?” Sheila locked gazes with each of the girls. “Wait, I don’t remember them being on our list . . .” She scanned down the scribble sitting on Liza’s desk, the result of their brainstorming session last night. “They contacted us?”

  “Uh-huh.” Gina’s brown eyes may as well have been UFOs for all the spinning they were doing. “They have a VP in town on business. Sheila, do you know what this means?”

  “Word got out we were screwed by Valley Wireless and that we’re scrambling to replace them?” Nothing could kill a project faster than the rumor of falling behind schedule or losing contractors. Which reminded her, she had to get ahead on damage control.

  “Since when are you the glass-half-empty one around here?” Liza asked. “TIN is the up-and-coming tech company.”

  “Time magazine named them as a natural successor to Apple,” Gina said. “Their stock went onto the NASDAQ within three years. Their inventions are being used all over the world and they’ve recently started funding research grants and college scholarships.”

  “TIN is serious money, not to mention an incredible opportunity if we can lock them in with the center.” Liza clicked Print and handed the pages over to Sheila. “I also might have emailed her information on our sponsorship packages for the gala.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?” Sheila warned, but even as she tried to calm the sisters, joining forces with TIN could solve most if not all of their issues when it came to completing the center and its entertainment complex well ahead of schedule.