Chapter 24
When Robyn returned to Sam's place, the rooms that had quickly become familiar to her were empty and still. In her past visits, either Sam or Bethany had been on hand adding that extra bit of energy to the place.
After letting herself in, she carried her things up to the guest bedroom, reminding herself that she was here to a job. There was about a half hour before the security system installers were due to arrive. She would put the time to use doing a little research on her own.
Upon taking the assignment, there had been some required background information, most of which had come from Mark. But now, Robyn knew that more in-depth information was going to be required to help determine who might want to do harm to Sam Wright. She knew that there was a team working on the background information, but they also had other projects as well and this one had dropped into their laps, unexpectedly. Sam and Beth were her entire focus for the time being. Besides, another set of eyes would not be a bad thing.
After thirty minutes of digging, she had gathered an impressive number of files to be culled through later, many of them to do with the project that he'd recently began. There was a wealth of information available on Sauderbrandt and his holdings.
The ringing of the doorbell interrupted. Quickly shutting down her laptop, she went to answer it -- fully expecting to see the security company's van in the driveway. Instead a petite blonde stood on the opposite side of the peephole, waiting to be acknowledged. She recognized Cassandra Wright from the pictures Sam still kept on his refrigerator. She opened the door and stepped outside.
"Hello." She greeted the other woman politely. "Can I help you?"
Cassandra seemed taken aback by her appearance. "Oh, um. I'm Sam's wife. I saw the car in the driveway and thought that he might be here.
Robyn glanced in the direction the woman indicated, refusing to show her surprised at the way the woman had introduced herself. She couldn't decide whether the other woman did it to throw her off guard, or because she really wanted to believe that it was true. "That's my vehicle. Sam isn't here right now. Would you like to leave a message. I'll be sure that he gets it."
Cassandra just nodded, studying her wordlessly. "You're the maid then?" she asked finally, shooting a cutting look over Robyn's dressy casual attire. "Or the babysitter?"
Robyn allowed the baiting words to sail right by. She'd dealt with enough people to know that Cassandra's curiosity had sparked the remark. "No," she shook her head and smiled politely. "Is there a message?"
The blonde released an impatient sigh, ignoring the question. "Well who are you then?"
"I'm Robyn Sommers."
"And you're a . . . "
"Friend." Robyn filed in the blank. She had no obligation to update this woman on the things that were going on currently in Sam's life. But she would answer when directly questioned unless those question could cause danger.
"What kind of friend?" Cassandra seemed disturbed then.
"Ms. Wright . . . . " Robyn needed to end this now.
"Mrs. Wright." Cassandra placed heavy emphasis on the title. "Sam will always be mine. Once he falls in love, he just doesn't know how to let go."
But you taught him how better than you know. The phrase entered Robyn's mind, and she fought it back. She didn't want to spend anymore time arguing with Sam's ex-wife on the front step. The situation could only get worse. But as she looked back at the other woman, something in her expression struck a chord. It was as if Cassandra Wright was realizing for the first time that she had truly lost something of value.
Robyn's tone softened in reluctant sympathy. "Would you like to leave a message? I do promise that he'll get it."
Cassandra blinked up at her, and sighed resignedly. "Could you just tell him that I was here?" she asked. "A relative told me that he was trying to reach me yesterday. Would you tell him to try me at Dee's?"
"I'll tell him," Robyn replied.
~*~
Chapter 24b
Sam was led to a set of double doors at the top of a winding staircase in the Sauderbrandt mansion. A black jacketed man stood to one side of the door awaiting his approach. The opulent surroundings in the large home gave Sam a feeling of being out of time, of having stepped back into a past where the very wealthy were waited on hand and foot by legions of starched and uniformed servants. Used to working with his hands, and doing things on his own, it wasn't an atmosphere that he was comfortable with.
And still he wasn't sure why he had been called here. He liked Sauderbrandt, he thought the old man was very personable and easy to talk to. Not at all what he'd expected. And he was deeply saddened that such an ebullient personality was nearing an end. But he was hardly family, and barely a business associate. He'd known the man only a little over a week.
As he drew closer to the door, the servant pushed the doors open and allowed him entry into the grand bedroom suite. There propped on a bed lay Sauderbrandt, his eyes closed. He didn't look well at all. His, normally pale, skin was pasty looking. A thing clear tube ran beneath the bottom of his nose providing a dose of oxygen. Various machines for which Sam had no clue of there uses sat on a wooden cart at the bedside.
A sound from the right drew Sam's attention to a man in a room off to the right. He was dressed in a suit, and was shoving a stethescope into a black bag. Having completed the task, he picked up his bag and approached.
"Mr. Wright?" His spoke in a low tone, just above a whisper.
"Yes?" Sam followed suit, returning the man's proffered handshake. Why he should be speaking to Sauderbrandt's doctor, he had no idea.
Instead of having the situation explained, he was surprised when the doctor led him toward the large bed where the doctor leaned down and placed a gentle hand on Sauderbrandt's shoulder. He spoke into the old man's ear, letting him know that Sam had arrived. The doctor then quickly left the room. The big double doors were closed behind him.
A now familiar cackle reached Sam's ears, causing him to return his attention to the bed. "I knew you would come," Sauderbrandt said. A bit more color infused his cheeks as his face became more animated. His dark eyes were as bright as ever with intelligence.
Arthritic fingers reached toward Sam's hand, and he moved closer so that the older man would have easier access. The motion was more automatic than anything else, but as the soft dry skin wrapped around his, he began to wonder just how it was that he came to be in this situation.
"I have something that I must give you," Sauderbrandt said, his eyes taking on an intensity as he continued. "Use it when the time is right."
Sam frowned at the pale features, struggling to understand. "How . . . ?" The was making no sense to him. How would he know when the time was right? And why had he been called her in the first place? Surely if there was some problem with the contract, a lawyer would be in attendance.
"You'll know." The gnarled hand patted his gently, then pointed toward a set of doors in the left corner of the room. They were much smaller than the ones that actually allowed entry into the suite, but were of the same cherry wood.
"Go there," Sauderbrandt said. "There is a set of drawers built into the side wall. Third drawer. In the back. There is a key on a chain. Take it."
Sam did as he was asked, willing to indulge the man's request, despite the oddness of it. The key was exactly where he'd said it would be, amidst many pairs of boxer shorts. Sam took the key, wondering if anyone would believe that on his deathbed, Sauderbrandt had sent him on a mission to riffle through his underwear drawer. He wasn't sure he was believing this himself. He only resisted the urge to pinch himself because the old man was watching his every move.
"I've got it." He held it up and brought it back to him. But Sauderbrandt didn't take it when it was offered.
"Put it in your pocket," he told him. "Remember, you're going to need it. Don't lose it."
Sam couldn't help the smile. For just a moment Sauderbrandt had reminded him of grandfather who after gifting him with a quarter had told him something similar. He slipped the key into his pocket.
"Good. Now sit. Talk to a dying old man."
Sam sat. "Mr. Sauderbrandt. I really appreciate the opportunity you gave my company. It's a real honor, and then --"
"No." The old man waved the words away. "I don't want to talk bout that. You don't have to try to impress me. I'm not going to take the contract away. And if you really want to know why I gave it to you in the first place, it's because you didn't try to. Do you remember what you told me at our initial meeting?"
Sam wasn't given an chance to speak, because the older man kept right on talking even though it seemed as if he was working his way out of breath by doing so. "You told me that you loved art, and you looked keeping art beautiful. That let me know right then and there that you were a workman who cared about his work. If you cared about your work, you would actually do the work, too and you'd only hire people that you trusted. So you got the job."
Sam smiled. "Thank you." He was sure how he should respond to the man's compliment, but he was amused that the conversation that had been forbidden was the very one that they were having.
Sauderbrandt looked at him sharply all of a sudden. A suspicious look came over his face. "Something is different about you." He squinted as he tried to look more closely. "Do you have a girlfriend, Mr. Wright? Did you get lucky?" The old man cackled at his own humor.
Sam nearly choked on the question. "Uh, no. Not really."
The laughter stopped. "What do you mean, not really? That's a yes or no question. You did or you didn't. You do or you don't."
Sam's mind wandered involuntarily to the woman he hadn't been able to get out of his thoughts all day long. Robyn wasn't his girlfriend. And he wasn't ready to admit that nothing had happened -- at least in the emotional sense. He definitely felt something when he thought of her. But the truth of the matter was, there were really only friends.
"I don't have a girlfriend," he admitted. "And lucky is a relative term."
Sauderbrandt smiled at that, almost as if he understood. "Nothing official, then," he stated. "A long, long time ago, in France, I met a girl. Her name was Ana. She helped me to find two gifts of very great value. One I kept locked away, and the other I squandered. I traded it for something that, in the long run, means nothing.
"Someday, you are going to find the same gifts that I did. When you do, use them wisely. Don't squander them, and don't hide them away. Let the whole world know. They deserved to be seen and shared."
Sauderbrandt stopped speaking and look him hard in the eye. "Can you do this for me?"
Though Sam wasn't clear on what the man was talking about, it was obviously very important to him. The old man waited for his response, and Sam had the sudden feeling that every thing hinged on what he said next.
"I'll do my very best," he found himself promising.
Sauderbrandt smiled and sighed with relief. "Thank you, Samuel Wright. I believe that you will. Now leave this old man so that he can go kicking and screaming like a banshee into that good night."
Sam's smile faltered at the reminder of imminent death. He forced the smile to return and bid the old man goodbye, his heart heavier than when he came.