Frankie's Back in Town (4 page)

O
NLY ELEVEN O’CLOCK AND
Francesca already knew this day was on its way downhill. Forcing a smile, she slipped the neatly stacked papers back into a folder and said, “Looks like you’ve covered everything with the proposed change to the cable service provider, but I’d like to take some time to consider any hidden overhead before making a decision.”

“I’ve defined all the costs in the budget narrative,” Susanna Adams, chief financial officer, said. “I know the property is new, but now the cable company has installed this far up the mountain, they can offer us a bundled service package that will reduce our overhead considerably. They’re eager for our business and will make the hardware changes without cost to us. Switching only makes sense.”

“I just want to look at the learning curve for a new system. I’m not worried about our staff, but the residents…” She smiled. “It’s phone, TV and Internet. Some can barely work the existing system after six months of living here. I’m sure you’ll have answers to all my questions here, so I’ll make reviewing this a priority.”

“Thank you,” Susanna said politely, but there was no missing that she wasn’t happy with this.

Figuring out ways to streamline costs was part of Susanna’s job. She’d done the research and wanted to act. Francesca understood, but that didn’t change the fact that
she needed to consider the effects of those changes everywhere on the property and the way maintenance could support the services. She would need a little time and a few more brain cells than she had to spare right now to consider those effects.

To Susanna’s credit, she didn’t argue, but disapproval was obvious in her brisk motions as she collected her copies and tucked them neatly away.

In any other situation, Francesca wouldn’t be mentally rationalizing her decision. But Susanna Adams had once been Susanna Griffin and Karan Kowalski’s best friend. So instead of being two professionals who’d spent the past six months learning to work together for the benefit of Greywacke Lodge, Francesca and Susanna had been dancing around the past.

Francesca was all for letting bygones be bygones. She’d come back to Bluestone fully aware the past would have to be dealt with, and she worked hard to keep an open mind and let each day be a new day. A courtesy she hoped would come back to her in time. Truth was, she’d been very impressed with Susanna’s work. But the ugliness of long-ago just wouldn’t allow them to be normal around each other.

Shoulders back, chin up. Ever forward.

A heavy silence followed them to the door of the conference room, where they found a surprise awaiting them.

“Jack.” Susanna greeted the man in the reception area with genuine pleasure.

Jack turned at the sound of his name, that smile transforming his face, proving beyond any doubt that he cared very much for Francesca’s CFO. Susanna tossed her arms around his neck, and he gave her a good-natured squeeze.

He met Francesca’s gaze over Susanna’s head and nodded a greeting before asking Susanna, “How are the kids?”

“Hanging in there, thanks.” She stepped back and gave a shrug. “Brooke’s fifteen. What else can I say?”

His laugh was throaty and low. “What about you? Are you hanging in there?”

“Yeah.” Susanna rose up on tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “And you’re a sweetheart for asking.”

Francesca guessed Jack referred to how Susanna was holding up after her husband’s death. According to her personnel file, he’d only died last year. Skip Adams had been another of the high school “in” crowd. A close friend of Jack’s, if memory served. And since their daughter was in the same grade as Gabrielle, they must have married around the same time Francesca had married Nicky.

“You wouldn’t even recognize the kids, Jack,” Susanna said.

“It’s been too long.”

“Always is.” She laughed. “No one sees you anymore. Not since you became chief.”

Francesca stood in the doorway to avoid intruding upon this blast from the past. Her high school years had been filled with similar meetings, and here she stood, many years later, still on the outside where she’d always been.

Feeling the same uncertainty. Feeling the same need to prove that being on the outside was infinitely better than being on the inside when watching Jack and Susanna really made her feel the urge to step back inside the conference room and close the door.

Francesca inhaled deeply, surprised and annoyed. She’d known what coming back to Bluestone would entail. But apparently knowing didn’t necessarily mean she’d be prepared.

She made a break for her office, but Jack’s smooth voice stopped her before she’d even reached the door.

“I was hoping for a few moments of your time, Ms. Raffa,” he said.

“Of course.” She didn’t turn around, not sure whether the heat currently suffusing her entire body was making her blush. “I’ll be in my office.”

She beat a hasty retreat to allow Jack and Susanna to finish up their visit, and closed her office door just as Susanna was promising to give Karan Jack’s regards.

Francesca hightailed it toward her desk and sank into her chair, fanning herself to disperse the effects of a hot flash that had zero to do with menopause. She was such an idiot. Why should she care that Jack hadn’t married Karan after all?

She didn’t. Not one way or the other. She’d decided after the divorce that she was putting the “woman” part of her life on hold until after Gabrielle went off to college. She had so little time—with her daughter, who was growing up so quickly, and with Nonna. Add to that her challenging new job, and there simply weren’t enough hours in the day.

Francesca was at peace with that decision. For the time being she was reveling in motherhood, making up for lost time as a granddaughter, too.

A sharp knock signaled the opening door, and Jack appeared.

“Hello again.” He motioned her to remain seated as he sank into a chair before her desk.

He raked his gaze over her, those black eyes taking in everything in a fast glance, and Francesca, idiot that she was, could suddenly feel the heat of the climate-controlled air through the sheer silk of her blouse.

“I received a message to pick up the Hickmans’ list.”

It took Francesca a moment to wrap her brain around that. “Their daughter mentioned she was coming by to help them get it together.”

He was so tall that she could still meet his gaze above the file folders that seemed to have taken up permanent resi
dence on her desk. Edging a pile to the side as nonchalantly as possible, she cleared space between them.

“So what else can I do for you today, Jack?” she asked.

“I’m wondering if you’re having the same problem I am.”

“What’s that?”

“Too much discussion about what happened to Hickman’s wallet.”

“One of the reasons for the meeting you caught me and Susanna leaving.” She gave a dismissive wave. “It’s not really surprising considering the collective nature of our community. Who’s talking on your end?”

“The friends and relatives of your residents. Any attempts at damage control?”

“I believe wholeheartedly that a strong offense is the best defense. We’ve been reassuring residents that we’re doing our part to protect their personal information and offering them tools to protect themselves.”

“Like what?”

She motioned to a folder on top of a stack. “We feature an ongoing lecture series here on Thursdays, so Rachel, my activities director, is putting together talks about today’s electronic climate. Tips to protect against credit card fraud and identify telephone hoaxes. Stuff like that. We’re hoping to get someone in to address phishing scams, too, since a surprising number of our residents are computer literate.” She paused and took a deep breath, not sure why she sounded so breathless. “She’s working with the Identity Theft Resource Center to schedule speakers who’ll gear topics toward seniors.”

“Excellent. I can put in a mention with our crime prevention task leader. He could get someone out here.”

“Wow. That would be great. I’ll tell Rachel. Thanks.”

“No problem. Now before I go see the Hickmans, I’m
hoping to get your authorization for a walk-through of your common areas. I have a list of items and I’d like to see if any turn up around here. It would save me from going to a judge for a subpoena.”

Francesca frowned, concern finally managing to wipe away every shred of her ridiculous reaction to this man. “You promised I’d be the first to know if I needed to worry about my staff. Is it time to start?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. This is just a formality.”

“Then take your walk-through. Would you like an escort?”

“If you’ll do the honors.”

She was surprised when she really shouldn’t have been. Once charming Jack Sloan, always charming Jack Sloan. “Of course.”

She didn’t waste a second, but hopped up and led him from the office, eager to escape his dark gaze. Even if only for the time it took her to get to the door.

She didn’t make it. Jack stood and withdrew a long envelope from an inside jacket pocket.

“I understand you have a vault on the property.” He unfolded the papers and closed the distance between them. “Any possibility of finding out if any of these items are in it?”

Francesca stood her ground until he was close enough for her to read his list. And inhale his aftershave. The same fresh scent she’d noticed before. But the effect dispelled fast when she saw the items on his list. “Whoa.”

“Recognize anything?”

“Can’t say I’ve noticed the captain wearing a Rolex that cost more than my Jeep.” She took a discreet step back, found a few inches between her and this man made it easier to think.

“Jack, our residents don’t normally walk around wearing
their Sunday best. I can check the log but anything more won’t be possible without a subpoena, I’m afraid.”

“Good enough.”

Francesca led Jack the short distance down the hall to the vault’s anteroom. He surveyed the small room, no bigger than a standard walk-in closet with the wall vault on the far end.

“Who has access?” he asked.

“Myself. My assistant director. Susanna. Head of Security. Human Resources. That’s it.”

“What about assistants? Do you or any of your managers ever authorize support staff to handle the deposits and withdrawals?”

“Only the paperwork. Otherwise, I’d have to turn over the key and security codes. The vault runs its own security log, so I can always check who accesses.”

Moving in front of the computer, she brought up the program and entered her password. “My staff is well-versed on the protocol, Jack. We can’t offer security if we’re not willing to provide it. And, honestly, it’s not as if overseeing this vault is a full-time job. It’s only a courtesy for residents who haven’t made personal arrangements for security in their own apartments.”

“Some of the residents have their own vaults?”

“All apartment designs offer the personal security feature. Some opt for it before they move in, but it’s available as an add-on afterward, as well.”

Jack nodded and held up the list for her to read. The program had a search function, where Francesca inputted brand names of watches and descriptions of various pieces of jewelry.

No matches.

“Doesn’t look like anyone has us hanging on to any six-carat pink diamonds, either,” she said to break the silence.

Jack looked amused but didn’t get a chance to reply before his cell phone vibrated audibly.

Glancing at the display, he smiled apologetically. “I need to take this.”

Francesca only nodded, relieved for a break from him standing on top of her.

Get a grip, Francesca!
Back in high school, she’d prided herself on being different from the rest of the female student body who drooled every time Jack walked down the hall. She’d thought he was drop-dead gorgeous like the rest of them, true, but as far as she was concerned, something had to be wrong with any guy who dated Karan Kowalski.

Now she had to wonder. Even if she was interested in dating—which she was not at this time of her life, thank you very much—Jack was exactly the sort of man she’d vowed to steer clear of. A charmer. And after thirteen years of marriage to a man who could make the polar ice cap melt with one smile, Francesca could spot a charmer a mile away.

Forcing her fingers to fly, she typed descriptions into the search function even faster, racing against the clock—or his phone conversation as it was.

No matches.

She wanted out of this tiny room, where Jack seemed to steal all the air.

No matches.

Finally, she entered the last one…

“I’m sorry about that, Francesca,” Jack said, flipping his phone shut and stepping back into the room.

No matches.

She smiled and hit Print. “No apology necessary.”

“Any luck?”

“Depends on your interpretation of luck. No matches, so I’d say my luck is holding. Not sure about yours.” Still
not meeting his gaze, she willed the printer to produce quickly, then whisked the report off the tray before the ink was dry. “So, where are we off to next?”

“Housekeeping.” He scanned the document, not appearing in any hurry to move his broad-shouldered self out of her way. “I need to know how you work things here. Do the same staff members regularly service apartments?”

“We assign certain groups to certain quadrants to keep traffic in and out of the apartments to a minimum. Doesn’t always work as we intend, but it’s a pretty solid system.”

“I need to talk to the folks who serviced the Hickmans’ apartment during this time frame.” He finally lifted his gaze from the report and reached into his pocket for another list, which he held out for her.

One quick glance at the list and she saw the possibility for escape. “Let’s go then.”

Jack stepped aside to allow her to precede him, and Francesca resisted the urge to bolt. Leading him down the hallway, she reached for the radio that was a permanent fixture at her waist. “Kath, is Emelina in the laundry today?”

“Yes, Ms. Raffa.”

“Thanks. On my way.” She ended the connection and found Jack staring down at her.