Young Lies (Young Series Book 1) (28 page)

I was happier with him than I’d ever been in my life, but at the same time, there was still something missing. It took Matthew suggesting taking college courses to realize that the missing thing was the education I’d been so looking forward to all throughout my high school career. Once I was enrolled in classes to work towards my English Lit degree, life began falling into place. Matthew supported me every step of the way, even paying my tuition despite my insistences that it wasn’t necessary. That had caused another fight, one that had very nearly ended our relationship because both of us were far too stubborn to back down from what we wanted. I didn’t think it was right that he pay for my education for the simple fact that I was his girlfriend and we were living together. I had no income of my own and I wasn’t willing to become one of those women who took advantage of their rich boyfriend. He was hurt that I wouldn’t accept what he could give me, what he wanted to give me to help make me happy.

Eventually I realized I was being ridiculous. It’s not like it was news that Matthew was rich and he told me from the very beginning that he fully intended to spoil me as much as I would let him with his wealth. I wasn’t interested in cars and clothes and jewelry, and he knew that, so he wanted to give me what I was interested in. He told me he knew I would never take advantage of him and that was one of the reasons he loved me and wanted to give me everything I ever desired.

That was the first time either of us brought up the subject of love. I knew what I felt and I thought I knew what he felt, but I was nervous that putting a label on those feelings might scare him away. Looking back, I think I underestimated Matthew’s feelings for me. And I regret that.

“What are you thinking about?”

I’m snapped out of my thoughts by the uncharacteristically gentle voice of my former sister-in-law and look around to find my son has abandoned us in favor of playing in the yard. “Matt,” I tell her, wiping away a few of the tears that have escaped. “Nothing in particular...”

Claire gives me a sympathetic smile. “I’d tell you to think about something else, but it seems futile considering where we are,” she says. I crack a small smile. “So I don’t know if you’ve thought about what you’ll do next, but knowing you, you’re not going to want to sit around all day twiddling your thumbs. And Matt wouldn’t want you to either.”

“I know,” I say with a sigh. “”Once we get settled, I might see if I can’t find a part-time or something to keep me occupied until I figure out a better plan. For now, though, there’s still so much to do—I’ve got to call my job in Omaha and beg their forgiveness for deserting my position. I’ve got to sort things out with my family. Get Ty enrolled in school...” I shake my head, though I’m starting to feel a little better as I rattle off all the things that need to be done. This is good. This will keep my mind occupied so I’m not dwelling on everything going on around me.

Claire smiles her approval and we begin discussing the local school options. She gives me phone numbers and her recommendation for where Tyler should go—even though there’s a local private school, most of the kids in town attend the public one and we both know Matthew would have preferred his son to socialize with the local, more normal children to give him the semblance of being just as normal than they are. I agree with that; Tyler’s only ever attended public school and while the public schools in Omaha weren’t among the best in the nation for an education, there was no way I could have afforded sending him anywhere else. Since I’ve uprooted him so much from his normal life, this is one thing I can’t change in his life. I want Tyler to have friends and I don’t want those friends giving him an inflated sense of importance just because his father had been the richest man in the county.

As the evening wears on, I actually find myself laughing with Claire. I know it’s taking every ounce of energy for her to try to make me feel better while I know she’s hurting as much, if not more, than I am, and it means the world to me that I have such a great friend. This is what it will take if I’m to get through everything that’s happened: allowing people to cheer me up and help me. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay her for what she’s done for me.

-------------o-------------

It’s the middle of the night and I can’t sleep. Claire and Tyler are out cold in their bedrooms, but I’ve been tossing and turning for hours. Eventually I get up and head downstairs for a glass of water. The house is quiet and dark, though when I glance outside, I see lights in the small house where Leo lives. I wonder when he got back and how he’s doing. Last I saw him, he had some work to do at Young Technologies to make sure the transition from Matthew to his replacement goes smoothly.

Leo has been very quiet since he got back from Russia. He was always taciturn, but now he’s closed himself off from everyone. Despite our attempts to get him to open up, he hasn’t said anything more about what happened to Matthew since that first night. I’m still not sure why he called me to ask whether Matthew had left anything in her possession to keep safe. In the middle of the night, my brain is overactive and starts to come up with its reasons, none of which I’m comfortable considering. I’m sure there was a reason behind his call and unless he wants to share, I won’t be the one to bring it up again.

Heading back to my room, I find myself staring at the closed door of Matthew’s bedroom. The last time I was in that room, I was packing all my belongings to return to my family. Against my better judgment, I find myself opening the door and looking in. Everything is almost exactly as it was when I left. The walls are painted light brown. The bed still has the same blankets and pillows. There are still two matching dressers—one that was filled with Matthew’s clothes; the other for my use, before I left. I’m not naïve enough to believe someone else hasn’t used my dresser in my absence, especially since I know Matthew had at least one serious girlfriend after we broke up. I try to bite back the jealousy I feel when I think that he’d been with someone else for an extended period of time and remind myself with whom I spent the last five years of my life.

Stepping further into the room, I reflexively reach over to the wall to switch on the light and feel myself smiling at the familiar surroundings. I set down my water glass and walk to Matthew’s dresser, letting my fingers trail across the wood in an almost reverential manner. One of my favorite ways to wake up in the morning when Matthew and I were together was for me to open my eyes and find him standing right where I am currently, fresh out of his shower, and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Sometimes he’d tease me about drooling over him; sometimes he’d give me a little strip tease; and sometimes he’d risk being late for work because he didn’t want to waste the opportunity to give in to the obvious lust in my eyes.

Those
were good mornings. And now I’m rolling my eyes at the blush that climbs up my neck even though there’s no one here to be embarrassed for.

Moving away from Matthew’s dresser, I approach the one that was once mine. I open one of the small top drawers and find a small wooden jewelry box. Curiosity gets the better of me and I open it, gasping at what I find inside. My engagement ring. My wedding ring. Several pieces of jewelry he bought me over the years. There’s no sign that another woman has touched any of it, though I know Matthew never would have allowed that. I’m not sure what it says that he’s not only kept these things, but placed them where he could easily find them and look at them if he wanted. Still staring into the box, I back up until I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, running my fingers over the engagement ring he picked out for me. It’s simple. The band is white gold. One diamond sits in the middle and on either side is an intricate design of twelve tiny diamonds that wrap around it. I’d been speechless the first time I saw it and spent countless hours staring at it. My wedding ring is simpler in comparison—a white gold band with tiny diamonds set inside it. There are necklaces, bracelets, things I only wore once or twice because I’ve never been the type of girl to wear jewelry. I’m too afraid of losing it or breaking it. My rings, though, I treasured.

I suddenly remember the note I found in Matthew’s jacket the night he died, the one he wrote to go along with the gift he left for me. I still haven’t opened it, mostly because it’s the last thing he’ll ever give me and I want to hang onto it as long as possible. Wiping my eyes yet again, I gently close the lid of the jewelry box and place it back into the drawer. Returning to my room now seems a daunting task and I come to the decision, at least for tonight, to crawl into Matthew’s bed, surround myself with his scent, and take comfort in the knowledge that despite all the hurt we’ve dealt one another over the years, he died loving me.

Over the last couple days, I’ve managed to get settled into Matthew’s house. One day soon, I might even refer to it as
my
house. Not long after Claire returned home to keep her kids from destroying the place, Leo came up to say hello and ended up hanging around most of the day. I think it’s helping both of us and I’m just glad he’s not locking himself up in his house, drinking away his depression. He’s been joining us every evening for dinner and we’ve started getting reacquainted with one another. When I confided in him about my thoughts of getting a part-time job, something to pass the time while Tyler is at school, he immediately came up with a suggestion.

Apparently a travel agency has opened in town since Matthew and I broke up and Leo knows the owner who happens to be looking for a part-time office manager. After making a couple calls, Leo set up an interview for me and I’m currently pulling into the tiny parking lot that’s directly across the street from Bonnie and her bookstore. I grin, planning on popping over once I finish here, and check my reflection in the rearview mirror before getting out of the car and heading inside.

I like the place immediately. It’s small but has a friendly atmosphere. Posters of tropical beaches and foreign destinations cover the wall. Towards the back of the building sits a palm tree with a colorful Hawaiian lei hanging over it. Someone has also placed a large pair of novelty sunglasses above the lei and a beach ball sits in the pot against the trunk. It’s something I could see Matthew coming up with to amuse himself and it makes me smile.

“Good morning,” says a husky male voice from behind me. “And where can we take you today?”

I let out a surprised, slightly offended laugh as I turn around to find a man somewhere around Tom’s build with short brown, curly hair. His eyes are bright gray, his smile sparkling white, and my fellow women would disown me if I said he wasn’t incredibly attractive. He’s even got dimples. Very nice dimples. Shaking myself, I recall his question to me. It takes a moment, but then I realize it wasn’t a pickup line, that he works in a travel agency—or at least I hope he does, since he’s wearing a blue polo shirt with the logo,
East Coast Travel,
  printed in the upper left-hand corner.

He’s looking at me in concern, probably wondering if I’m a mental patient that wandered out of the hospital or something. “Are you okay, Miss?”

Shaking myself again, I force myself to act normally, like I’ve interacted with the human population at least once in my life. “I’m sorry,” I say, smiling. “My name is Samantha Everett. I’m a friend of Leo Hoffman.”

The man’s eyes widen in realization. “Samantha! Right, of course,” he says, grinning. “My apologies. I’m Frank Marone
. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

His voice is low and smooth and he holds my hand a little longer than what is appropriate for a job interview, and when he lets go, I take a subtle step back.

“Please, have a seat,” he gestures politely at the one of the desks and I sit down in a chair. “Can I get you some coffee or water?”

“Water, please,” I say, smiling.

“So tell me about yourself, Samantha,” Frank says, handing me a bottle of water as he sits behind the desk. “Leo didn’t tell me anything other than a friend of his just moved to town and needs a job...”

I smile, taking a quick sip of my water. “I’ve lived in Omaha for the last five years and I was an office manager for a small law firm. I’m familiar with office organization, spreadsheets, and can make a power point presentation in my sleep.”

He chuckles. “Good to know,” he says, sitting back in his chair and cocking his head slightly. “You look familiar. Have we met?”

Shifting in my seat, I realize suddenly that if Leo knows Frank, Matthew probably did as well. He’s probably been to Matthew’s house once or twice, saw the wedding photo of us. “I don’t think so,” I say.

Recognition flashes across his face moments before a look of sadness. “You’re Matt’s ex,” he says softly. I flinch slightly. “Damn. I’m sorry. If Leo had told me...” He looks away shaking his head.

I bristle slightly. What was that supposed to mean? That his decision on whether I get this job would have been based on his knowledge of my relationship with Matthew Young?

I didn’t mean it like that,” he tells me, apparently reading my expression correctly. “I only meant it would have been nice for him to have given me a head’s up.”

“You knew Matt?” I hear myself asking.

Frank nods, his expression grim. “Everyone around here knew him,” he says quietly. “But he and I did a bit of work together occasionally. He was a good guy.” I nod silently. “So you came back after Matt...” Frank’s eyes dart around as though he’s trying to think of the right word.

“Yes,” I say, putting him out of his misery. “My son and I. He left us his house, and we needed a new start, so here we are.”

“Well, while I have no idea why you would want to work in this little hole in the wall, I really am in need of an office manager,” Frank tells me, slipping back into his professional tone. “Mostly what I need is someone to come up with a better organizational system than what we have. I need to be able to pull up client information in seconds and I don’t currently have that. As we’re getting into the holiday travel season soon, our business is going to start picking up some more, and I need someone to field the calls when I’m out of the office or with other clients. Since you’ve got a son, I’ll be happy to work your schedule around his, though there might be days I’ll need you to stay a little later. Will that be an issue?”

Yes, but I’m not going to tell him that. I actually want this job. I’m sure I can arrange something with Leo, or even Bonnie might be willing to keep Tyler for a couple hours if I have to work late. “Not at all,” I tell him with a smile. “When can I start?”

He chuckles. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” he asks rhetorically. “I’m away on business starting tomorrow until Sunday. So shall we say Monday morning after you drop your boy off at school?”

I have to say this has been the easiest job interview I’ve ever been through, but Frank doesn’t seem eager to interview anybody else—from what I can tell, he’s eager to get the position filled so he can get his office on track. He formally offers me the job, I accept; he hands me the paperwork to take home and bring back on Monday. We shake, I tell him to have a good trip, and I turn to leave the building. A very slight movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention and I glance up, finding a tiny surveillance camera in the corner near the door. It’s following me as I walk, but I shake off the uneasiness that suddenly settles in my stomach, and leave. And as I cross the street to Bonnie’s bookstore, I blame the paranoia of the last month or so for that feeling. I do have to wonder, though, why a travel agency needs surveillance that is motion activated and follows customers entering and exiting.

Striking another tick in the paranoia column, I push open the door of the bookstore, smiling at the bell jingling as I do so, and immediately begin searching for Bonnie. Of all the bookshops I’ve seen—and there have been a lot; every time Matthew took me someplace new, I always put local bookstores at the top of my places to visit—this is by far my favorite. Unlike the big chains that are so huge you almost need a map to navigate, this one is simple. There isn’t one inch of wall that doesn’t have books shoved so tightly together on the shelves you can barely slide a piece of paper between them. Large, comfortable armchairs are spread out around the first floor. A staircase on the left side of the store leads to even more books. There’s not much rhyme or reason to the organization, but Bonnie can lead a customer to the book they need within seconds.

“Took you long enough,” says a rather putout voice from above me. I look up and grin at the stout grey-haired woman leaning against the banister glaring at me. “I was starting to wonder if I’d have to drive up to that compound and drag you out myself.”

“Good to see you too,” I tell her, still grinning.

She rolls her eyes and pushes away from the banister before making her way downstairs. I meet her at the bottom and she wraps me in a tight hug. “How are you, sweetheart?” she asks, pulling away and examining me with a critical, concerned eye. “I can’t tell you how devastated we all were to hear about...” She trails off, shaking her head sadly. “Well, you know.”

I nod. “I’m okay,” I say quietly. “And I had planned on coming to see you; I’ve just had a lot on plate.”

Giving me a sympathetic smile, she leaves on arm around my shoulders and leads me to a chair. “I’m sure you have,” she says gently. “How long are you in town?”

Shrugging, I sit down. “At this point, indefinitely,” I tell her. “Matt left everything to Tyler and me, and we decided to use what he gave us.” Saying these words to anyone else might show me in an unfavorable light, but I know Bonnie understands me and my relationship with Matthew. Unlike so many other people, she knows what I felt for him wasn’t based on his net worth and she knows Matthew would have given me the entire world tied up with a bow if I asked him for it.

“Well, it’s good to have you back,” Bonnie tells me gently. “Is that boyfriend of yours here as well?”

I snort a laugh. “No,” I say. “Tom and I broke up.”

“I’d say I’m sorry to hear that...”

“But you’re not?” I finish, grinning.

Bonnie winks. “He seemed nice enough, but you know me—I’m a big believer in soul mates. And you and Matty—” She stops suddenly, realizing what she’s saying and gives me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Samantha.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her honestly. “I agree. Tom and I wouldn’t have been happy ten years or so down the line. I couldn’t be what he deserved—which is a woman who’s utterly devoted him—and he couldn’t be what I wanted—which was Matt. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of us.”

She pats my hand and changes the subject. “Did I see you talking to Frank Marone earlier?” she asks curiously.

“Oh, yeah,” I say. “I was looking for a part-time job and Leo told me Frank needed an office manager. I start Monday.” I’m not sure what to make of the expression on her face. “What?”

“Nothing,” she says quickly. “Frank’s a nice young man. He’s just got a bit of a reputation in town.”

My brow furrows. “What sort of reputation?” I ask cautiously. The last thing I need is to get involved in anything that might bring more drama into my already overly dramatized life.

“Nothing like you’re thinking,” Bonnie scolds, though I have no clue how she knows what I’m thinking. “It just seems like he’s got a new girlfriend every other week.”

“Ah,” I say in realization. “Well, I don’t think that’s going to be an issue for me. I’m there to work, not date.”

I remain in the bookstore with Bonnie for another hour or so until an afternoon rush comes in and takes all her attention. As I leave, I assure her I’ll pop back in next week to let her know how the new job is going, and I head back to the car feeling lighter than I have in months. And for once, I can actually see myself getting through what had seemed only a couple days ago an insurmountable situation.

-------------o-------------

Being dead has its perks. For years, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to keep my phone from ringing constantly; now, even if my phone was turned on, I doubt it would ring at all. It gives me a chance to observe people and things around me knowing nobody will interrupt me for a sign off on whatever project they need approved. I notice things about my peers at Young Technologies that I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise—I now know which ones were playing the ass-kissing yes-man; which ones were fake from the very beginning; which ones were truly my friends. Once this mess is over and done with, there will be some serious reconstruction of the hierarchy in my company.

Currently I’m approaching the place that for so long was considered my second home. Built from the ground up specifically for my use, the building that houses my company is as impenetrable as any federal building. When it was designed, we took into account the possibility of break-ins, fires, and even hostage situations. Below the building is a maze of tunnels we modeled after the ones in use by the Pentagon. Secret doors, some of which lead nowhere, line the tunnels. It started out as a joke between Leo and me about how to best confuse a person who found themselves down there. The mouth of the tunnel is nearly a mile and a half from the building itself, and in case of hostile takeover, any possible intended targets can make a safe escape. One of the doors opens directly into my office, a trapdoor beneath my desk.

Aside from the tunnels, we’ve got invisible electric fencing. Anyone who tries to cross that line will get one hell of a shock. Literally. If a car tries to bypass the main gates without scanning their company ID, spikes will rise from the cement and shred the tires. We’ve got armed guards doing searches through the grounds and they are not afraid to shoot on sight. To even enter the building through the ground level doors, one will have to produce their ID card, submit to a retinal scan, and enter an employee number before even accessing the elevators.

In the beginning of my company, these things seemed rather unnecessary to me. I was well aware that we needed security and I helped develop and program the different systems in place around the building. None of it really came into play before the bombing on my building five years ago. Despite our intense investigations, we still don’t know who was behind it or how they got through security. All I really remember was walking down a hallway with a couple of my senior lab techs, passing a few windows, a flash of light, a deafening crack, then nothing. The only clear thought in my head after the blast was that I wouldn’t be going home to my wife and son that night and worrying about who would take care of them and keep them safe.