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‘Yes, please. One sugar.’
‘I’ll get one for you now. And bring some biscuits, as well.’
‘Thank you.’
Sharon quickly rose from her chair and left the office to fetch the offered sustenance. Natalie was relieved to be left to her thoughts. They were too painful and private to share with anyone, and too pressingly urgent to put aside.
Anne Smith. Sharon’s boss, who had ordered Sharon to handle Natalie Hayes by herself. It was sheer accident that Natalie had seen her here. Otherwise they would never have met in this building.
It amazed Natalie that the woman had risked giving her a job at all, regardless of talent. Apart from any unpleasantness that might rise out of the situation, surely the woman wouldn’t want to have any reminder of a tragedy in which she had been involved? Particularly if she was guilty of negligence. Or worse.
On the other hand, guilt could lead to remorse, to the urge to compensate. Natalie remembered Sharon saying that Anne Smith had taken one look at the work Natalie had submitted—or the name attached to that work—and ordered that she be put under contract to the company. Ryan was gone forever, but perhaps a job might help the bereaved mother—was that how her mind had reasoned?
Or did pride in her position as project manager take first place? Perhaps her executive status demanded the attitude that talent was talent, no matter who, what or where. Certainly Sharon was impressed with Natalie’s work.
Natalie felt a burning need to know the truth of what had happened. But would it serve any good purpose to pursue the past when she had so much to look forward to in the future? Did she really want to stir up again all the pain surrounding Ryan’s death? She couldn’t bring her beloved son back. She was going to have another child.
Her thoughts shifted to Damien. She had given him her trust. It would be wrong to start doubting him now. He had sworn that Anne Smith had been with him that weekend, not Brett, and Natalie believed him. Nevertheless, Anne Smith had known both men. She might have accompanied Damien on the trip, but was it Damien she had wanted?
Had Damien believed Anne Smith’s account of events on the clifftop? Did he have any doubts himself? He had said to her that accidents like that happened so quickly. What made him so sure, particularly when he hadn’t been right there to see with his own eyes?
And Anne Smith...what of her? Could she be believed?
Sharon returned with the coffee and a plate of shortbread biscuits. Natalie made the effort to eat one between sips of coffee. Sharon discussed what terms she was prepared to offer on the contract. The thought of Anne Smith simmered in the back of Natalie’s mind. She came to an agreement with Sharon but had no idea what it was. She simply accepted the proposals put to her. Sharon promised to have the typed contract in the mail to Natalie by tomorrow.
‘That’s it, then,’ Sharon said with satisfaction.
‘I guess it is,’ Natalie said heavily.
‘Let me show you out.’
‘No. I’ll be all right,’ Natalie assured her. She knew what she was going to do and she didn’t want Sharon at her side.
Her meeting with Anne Smith would not touch on editorial responsibilities.
She smiled as she stood up to take her leave. ‘Thank you for looking after me. I’ll deliver the best work I can.’
‘I’m sure you will.’
They parted on that mutual note of goodwill, and Natalie walked back along the corridor to the receptionist’s desk.
She expected to be fobbed off. Anne Smith clearly didn’t want any contact with her. Natalie was determined to force it, one way or another. She had a right to know how and why Ryan had died.
‘I wish to see Miss Smith,’ she said with steely resolution.
The receptionist gave an aplogetic smile. ‘Miss Smith has a very busy schedule. You would need to make an appointment to see her. Would you like me to call her secretary?’
‘I want Miss Smith informed directly, right now, immediately, that Mrs Hayes is here to see her. The matter will not wait. It concerns her dead child.’
The receptionist’s eyes widened in surprise and shock. ‘Very well,’ she assented.
Regardless of how busy Anne Smith’s schedule was, the reaction was swift and decisive. A secretary came to collect Natalie. A few minutes later she was ushered into the project manager’s office.
Anne Smith was standing behind her desk. She made no move to come forward to greet Natalie. The two women eyed each other as antagonists with much of personal value lying between them. Natalie took grim satisfaction from the little signs of strain showing on the other woman’s beautiful face: the tightness around her mouth, the wariness in her eyes, the sharp tilt of her chin.
She was wearing a vibrant green suit today, a bright lime-green that accentuated her dark colouring. But Natalie remembered her in black far too well to be impressed or influenced by the other woman’s power dressing.
‘How can I help you, Mrs Hayes?’ The polite question was accompanied by a gestured invitation for Natalie to take a chair.
