“First he loses his wife, then his daughter, now a grandchild? What a tragedy,” Christie said. “It sounds like his golden years are far from golden.”
“Elliot is a good man, but he is stubborn and he has allowed emotion to cloud his thinking. Truthfully, I expect you will find that the broker’s letter is genuine.”
Cash became quiet, turning his gaze to the bay and a fleet of boats gliding across the water, sails billowing as they heeled in the wind. For the first time since they’d met, he appeared relaxed. The only indication that he was not completely at ease was a muscle throbbing at his neck.
“If the results of your examination show that Elliot, indeed, ordered the transaction, I’ll fly to Arizona and break the news to Hal and Margo.”
An hour later, Christie was back at her desk. She had agreed to have a report on Elliot’s signature by midmorning the following day. She spent the rest of the afternoon studying the Parker documents. Using a precision microscope, she carefully examined the handwriting, measuring a sampling of letters on each page to an invisible but arbitrary line. In the correspondence to the stockbroker, she noted, some words drifted above the imaginary line. She studied and compared the shadings, angles, and loops that formed the words, and the pressure exerted by the pen. Finished, she pushed the microscope away and rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. The examination indicated that Elliot’s letter was genuine.
Her eyes were tearing from the close work and she decided to call it a day. Two blocks from the office, she swung onto a cable car. It was already filled nearly to capacity. Like a child, Christie reveled in being allotted an outer slot in the open-air vehicle. Hanging onto a handgrip, she leaned her body slightly outward. She smiled at a passenger seated in front of her—cradled in the woman’s arms, like a newborn baby, was a loaf of sourdough bread, bundled in a blanket of white paper.
The conductor yanked the car’s bell cord rhythmically as they crossed an intersection. Christie suspected that he had a love affair with the clanging melody, breaking into a rambunctious tune at the slightest provocation.
She held her breath on a steep downhill run. The cable car ground along its track stoically, bell clanging loudly, proclaiming success in the alpine descent. Reaching her drop-off point, Christie walked the few blocks to her apartment.
Her living room was cozy, furnished casually and comfortably in blue and yellow, her favorite colors. She walked to the fireplace and switched on the gas log to chase away the early-spring evening’s chill. After checking the cat’s dish, she put the teakettle on the stove and waited for its shrill whistle.
A few minutes later, she brewed a cup of peppermint tea and returned to the living room. Tosha danced in front of her until Christie sat down and spread a blue afghan that her mother had crocheted across her lap. The cat jumped up and snuggled into the ripples of wool.
Warm and content, Christie was planning to feast on leftover Chinese takeout. Before she had a chance to retrieve and microwave the carton, the phone rang. She lifted the receiver and Cash’s voice boomed across the line. Startled by the sound, Tosha scurried off her lap.
Thinking Cash had called about the Parker documents, she said, “I told you I would have the report to your office tomorrow morning, Cash. I can tell you now, though, that I’m ninety-nine percent sure the request sent to the broker is genuine.”
“Hmm. Hal isn’t going to like that. But that isn’t why I called. I need a favor. I have to attend a bar association meeting tonight. One of those obligatory dinners with a boring speaker. I thought if you would accompany me, I might not fall asleep in my soup.”
“I don’t think I can be ready on such short notice.”
“If you’re worried about what to wear, it’s definitely not black tie. And it will be an opportunity for you to make some business contacts. How about it? Can I pick you up at seven?”
Christie sensed that it would be useless to protest. Besides, a few new contacts would be good for business. She gave him her address.
She slid the afghan from her lap, folded it, and placed it on the back of the couch. She stood and stretched, shaking her hands over her head in an attempt to loosen the muscles that had suddenly bunched tightly across her shoulders. She tried to blame the physical tension on a busy day at work, but knew that wasn’t true.
A brisk shower drove away a portion of her nervousness. An evening out with Cash! What had she been thinking to have accepted the invitation? Business dinner or not, the thought of being with him left her frazzled. He kept intruding on her thoughts, and she could not shake the attraction that drew her to him in a far from businesslike way.
She slipped on a soft blue knit dress that invariably boosted her self-confidence and stepped into strappy black heels, a splurge that her friend Kathleen had talked her into. She checked her reflection in the mirror and was satisfied with her appearance. Her honey-colored hair had not resisted the urgings of the hot brush and fell in soft waves. The dress accented her slender five-foot-four frame, and the color complemented her azure eyes. Glancing at her watch, she was relieved to see that she had twenty minutes to compose herself before Cash arrived.
Five minutes later the doorbell rang. He was early; she had underestimated his vibrant energy and impatience. A momentary sense of panic engulfed her and she fought to slow her racing heartbeat. She tried to convince herself that her reaction was ridiculous. She was a mature woman capable of dining with an associate. But why did it feel as though a swarm of butterflies was fluttering in her stomach?
She opened the door and Cash walked into the apartment, somehow filling it with his presence. He looked handsome in a slate-gray suit accented by a frost-colored shirt and contrasting dark-blue tie. Christie realized that no matter what she tried to tell herself, this was not going to be a simple business dinner. Cash’s glance assessed the apartment, observing Christie’s preference for country oak. A large oil painting of two children on a park swing created a focal point in the room.
He switched his attention to Christie, his gaze touching and appraising every inch of her body. She had the dizzying feeling that she was on the witness stand and was about to say something outrageous and discredit herself.
“Do I pass?” she asked curtly, annoyed that he could make her uncomfortable.
“If I were handing out grades, you would get an A for your excellent taste in decorating.” He moved a step closer. “And you would definitely go to the head of the class for the way you look.”
“You look rather nice yourself,” she said.
He met her words with apparent nonchalance and Christie perceived that he was accustomed to compliments and took it in stride.
Tosha appeared to be appraising Cash. She wasn’t accustomed to having men invade her domain. Finally, she turned away, and with her tail straight in the air, the tip fluttering slightly, she haughtily padded into the bedroom.
“I don’t think your cat likes me.”
“Tosha doesn’t warm up to strangers too quickly.”
“I hope I won’t be a stranger for long,” he said.
She wondered how much truth was in his words.
Once they were outside, Christie looked up and down the street for his car, but no expensive vehicles were parked at the curb.
“Here we are.” Cash took her elbow and swung open the door of a gunmetal-gray SUV. “Surprised?” he asked, his mouth curving into a crooked grin.
“I’ll admit I expected a flashy sports car. You know, something bearing the name of a trendy town in Italy or a fast racecourse in France.”
Cash slid behind the wheel and turned to face her. “Does an SUV tarnish my image?”
“Not at all. A vehicle named after a town in the Old West goes with your cowboy boots.”