At the very least, the breach between them had been healed.
But when he asked her to release Shannon from her contract and allow her to quit, Sam grew rigid, formal, toed the party line, said it was not her decision to make, that even though she was manager, she was still required to follow corporate policy.
He didn't fight with her, didn't try to force her to let her sister go, but he didn't tell her that he understood, either. He didn't make her feel that her decision was all right with him. He was not going to put any pressure on her, but he would make it clear that he didn't approve, and he'd let that work on her for a while.
Maybe she'd come around.
Then he'd ask her about Ben and the others.
The important stuff.
They talked for a little while longer, but she was on break and he had to get back to work as well, and she promised to come over for dinner later in the week. He walked back into his office, checked his fax tray and E-mail to see if there was any news from the company or on the off chance that Street had finally decided to send him another message, but as usual there was nothing. He quickly fired off his daily complaint letters to various business regulatory agencies and to The Store's corporate headquarters, then got busy with his documentation.
He'd gotten another assignment last week, this time a human resources package for a midsize Southern California city, and the deadline was just around the corner. Someone somewhere had screwed up, and he'd gotten involved in the project at a very late date, had not been involved in the development or testing phases at all, and now he was expected to crank out a set of instructions, with almost no lead time, on a system he didn't really understand.
He was going to earn his pay on this one.
He wrote until midafternoon, then Ginny finally persuaded him to take a break and have something to eat, and he walked out to the kitchen and wolfed down a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of milk.
The fax was waiting in the tray when he returned to the office.
He read it.
Read it again.
Read it again.
Ginny poked her head in the door. 'Hey --' she began, but she stopped as soon as she saw the look on his face. 'What is it?' she asked, walking up to him. He held up the fax. 'Looks like I finally got a response,' he said dryly.
Ginny looked at him, already a little frightened.
'It's from The Store's corporate headquarters. From Newman King himself.
He's invited me to Dallas. He wants to talk to me.'
They'd debated whether or not to tell the girls and had decided to do so but to downplay it. Now, in bed, they were alone, and the false nonchalance they'd been feigning was gone. The spin they'd put on the situation had not fooled Shannon, but she'd pretended it had, and for that Bill was grateful.
Honesty was nice and communication was important, but sometimes events were too big to be digested at once, and he was glad that she hadn't forced him to talk in detail about this, that she'd allowed him to sidestep the issue. She was a good girl, more sensitive than he gave her credit for, and he was thankful that she'd understood the situation without him having to explain it to her.
He'd pay her back somehow, make it up to her.
If he ever got the chance.
He looked over at Ginny. She'd finished putting on her moisturizer and was fluffing up her pillow before turning off the light.
She sighed, looked over at him. 'Why does he want to talk to you? That's what I don't get. He probably gets a thousand complaint letters a day. Why does he want to see you?'
'Because I'm a persistent pain in the ass?'
She kicked his leg under the covers.
'I don't know,' he answered seriously.
'It frightens me.'
They were both silent for a moment.
'Sam thinks its an honor. I think she has renewed respect for you now.'
'Didn't realize what a bigwig her daddy really is, huh?'
Ginny laughed, but it was a forced laugh and it died too soon. 'Do you think that's all he wants to do?' she asked. 'Talk?'
'I don't know.'
'Maybe you shouldn't go.'
'Maybe that's what he wants. Maybe he's just trying to frighten me and cow me into submission.'
Ginny's voice was quiet. 'Maybe he wants to do more than frighten you.'
'That's a chance I have to take.'
'I don't want you to go.'
'I don't want to go, either. But I have to.'
'Why?'
'Because if I don't, that means he's won. Ben's gone, Street's gone, everyone else has either died, disappeared, or been intimidated into silence.'
'Not me.'
'You weren't invited.'
She kicked him again.
'It sounds paranoid and egotistical and everything else, but it's true.'
'I know,' she said quietly.
'That's why I have to go.'
They made love after that, the first time in several weeks, and though it should have been great, for some reason it wasn't. It was good, though, and they both came, and afterward fell instantly asleep.
In his dream, he flew to Dallas, was picked up by a limo at the airport and driven to The Store's corporate offices, where he was led past desks of secretaries and assistants before finally entering the CEO's office.
There was no one there.
'What -- ?' he started to say. Then he realized the truth. Newman King was a fictional figurehead, a made-up character. There was no CEO. There was no president. There was no leader. There was only the company. It ran itself, and the bureaucracy maintained it, and there was no way on earth to stop it.
Ginny dropped him off at Sky Harbor in Phoenix the next day. Arrangements had been made online, through King's secretary, and he'd been assured that everything was taken care of, but he still wasn't sure what to expect. He assumed there'd be tickets -- coach, probably -- waiting for him at the counter where he was supposed to check in, but instead a tall, straight-backed blond man in a black leather Store uniform met him at the desk and escorted him through a series of doors and hallways until they were outside the terminal and on the tarmac, where a black Lear jet was waiting. Ginny was not allowed to go any farther than the terminal exit, and she pulled him aside, hugged him. 'Be careful,' she said.
'Always.'
'I still don't think you should do this.'
'We've been through all that.'
She hugged him again. 'I'm scared.'
He hugged her back, held her. He was scared, too, but it would do no good to tell her that, would only make her worry more, and he said nothing.
The blond man cleared his throat. 'We have to go, Mr. Davis. Our flight has been cleared.'
He kissed Ginny. 'I love you.'
She was already crying. 'I love you, too.'
It felt too much like permanent parting, a final goodbye, and he was creeped out by it. He wanted to postpone it, wanted to linger, wanted to somehow shake off this feeling of dread that had crept up on him, but instead he waved to her, blew her another kiss, then hurried across the tarmac to the loading ramp of the jet.
The flight itself was uneventful. He was the only passenger, and he had the entire center section of the jet to
