“Then I’ll leave you to your calls. Mister Jameson should be returning within the hour.”
Torie waited until Martha left, then stared at the blank page in front of her. She picked up the pen, but couldn’t bring herself to write anything.
It all came crashing in on her. The house, the destroyed hotel rooms, her job at TruStructure, Paul.
She put her head down on the table and wept.
Chapter Twelve
“So, we’re agreed?” Melvin Pratt Sr. said into the silence following his announcement that their consultants were recommending the same course of action the police technical specialist had mentioned. Full back-up on a new system. “We have the capital budget for a secondary system. In order to protect our files from further encroachment, we’ll get it installed immediately. Our technical people and the consulting team will reboot the files from there. In the meantime, utilize the portable hard drives that are being hooked to your computers.”
“Sir?” Declan Dowd spoke up. “I take as read we’ll be prosecuting these scoundrels to the fullest extent of the law once they are apprehended?”
“Yes. We will. To my significant irritation,” Pratt answered in the same pompous tone as his colleague, “the technical specialist employed by the police believes this to have been an inside job.”
Paul hadn’t heard that news and he sat up, hoping for additional information. There were murmurs of interest and disgust amongst the other partners seated around the long, polished conference table.
“Disgraceful that anyone would have instigated this sort of vandalism to the firm’s computers, and that we’ve paid them to do it,” another partner began.
“Indeed,” Pratt cut him off as he looked around the table, catching Paul’s eye and giving him a wink. The man was a windbag, and might have gone on for an hour without being stopped. “We’ll hope that the police gather sufficient evidence, and do it properly, so that they can be prosecuted.”
There were more rumbles of assent and several side conversations, which began in the breach of silence.
Melvin Sr. cleared his throat. “One last item of business.” The room quieted once more. “Although we have officially welcomed Paul Jameson to our ranks here today, we need to discuss the upcoming celebration event for our newest partner.”
People looked his way and smiled, or nodded their approval. He’d been welcomed and congratulated throughout the day, and many of the partners had been amused that he’d been late to the meeting.
“There will be the de rigueur dinner and drinks, with a band at the Bradshaw Mansion in Fairmont Park, since the room we’ve had in the past at the Ritz was unavailable,” Pratt continued. “As usual, any of you who would like to make an evening of it and stay the night are welcome to do so. The adjacent Penn Lodgings hotel has a block of rooms. Just let my assistant know you’ll need a spot.”
Paul saw several people make notes in their PDAs. There were some sly smiles directed around the group as well. He wasn’t privy to their meaning, but having heard the gossip about these dinners, he was sure the stories were fairly infamous.
“Are we finished then?” the senior partner asked, wrapping things up. “Excellent. Thank you for rearranging your schedule to meet on such short notice.”
With that dismissal, everyone rose and began leaving the room. Most continued to discuss the possibility of an employee causing the damage. “A moment, Paul?”
“Yes?”
Melvin Sr. was frowning, and he waited until everyone had left the conference room before he spoke again. “Have you seen today’s
“No, I’ve been a bit overwhelmed with client work.”
“Your most attractive client’s on the front page. Evidently, the press has been digging up more of the former boyfriend’s names and injuries, then interviewing the fellows.” The older man pushed a copy of the paper across the table. “It’s mostly harmless, fortunately. The men sound like whiny Nancy-boys for complaining, and the reporter questions the Philly police and their response to your client’s woes. Of course, the piece about the family of the young man who was killed is a bit more damaging.”
Paul picked up the paper. The story was below the fold, and small, thankfully. That diminished the impact. Then again, given that she was innocent, Torie really wouldn’t be hurt by it. However, in skimming the short section, his anger grew at how her company had attempted to distance itself from her notoriety. The quote they had given deliberately minimized her contribution to the firm, and was an obvious attempt to disassociate themselves from Torie’s situation.
“A tasteless bit of face-saving on the part of her firm.” The words were out of his mouth before he could censor them.
“I noticed that,” Melvin Sr. concurred. “Don’t I remember that your client’s been instrumental in Chamber affairs and the United Way campaigns for them?”
“Yes.” Paul kept the answer short. It wouldn’t do to show just how much her bosses’ defection pissed him off.
“Hmmm, shame they don’t want to speak up about her good qualities, eh?”
“Exactly.” Paul allowed a bit of his ire to creep into his voice.
“Will she be joining you at the partner’s dinner?”
Paul hesitated. “I’ve not asked her yet,” he admitted. He couldn’t think of anyone else he’d rather have be there. Besides, he had to keep an eye on her. “But with what’s going on, if she’s willing to go, I’d like her with me.”
“I’m sure that’s the only reason,” the older man said with a laugh and a wink. Then his demeanor turned a bit sour. “If only my son had such good taste.”
“I’m—” Paul began, then stopped. He was about to say he was sorry for the old man, but that didn’t sound
