Unexpected Outcome

“I guess most of them would. Noah, though…one of the first things he’ll ask is whether we told you we think the problems are more than simple bad luck, that we’re convinced someone’s behind them. He’ll figure that otherwise we’re just wasting money.”

“But logically, you would have told me. I mean, you’d have at least raised it as a possibility, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, you’re right. So…how would this be? We say that we mentioned it, but didn’t tell you we’re pretty well certain—because we want you starting out with an open mind.”

“Good. That sounds believable.”

Robert nodded, then said, “Okay, that’s how we’ll handle it. And so that I don’t come off looking like an idiot, I guess the next thing we need to talk about is what an organizational design consultant does. I only have a vague idea.”

She gave him a smile. “You and just about everyone else. Which makes it a great cover. I can ask practically anything without raising suspicions.

“But, basically, a real OD person would look at the various structures in your company—reporting relationships, processes and systems, then recommend ways to improve them.

“So I’d be talking to your employees about their jobs. And the business in general. Asking for their input on how to make things work better.”

“And while you’re doing that you’re hoping someone says something…incriminating?”

“I’m not normally that lucky. But if I ask enough questions, sooner or later I usually get a lead.”

“Well…”

“Is there a problem?”

“Just a minor one. Something else with Noah.”

“Uh-huh?”

“You see, Larry and I don’t think much of consultants. We’ve heard about too many cases of them causing more problems than they’ve solved. And Noah’s aware of how we feel, so he’ll figure it’s awfully strange that we’d suddenly decide to…

“But there’s no reason for you to worry about that. Larry and I will come up with an explanation. Which gets us to the question of when you can start.”

“Let’s see,” she said, glancing at her appointment book. “This is Wednesday and I’m tied up tomorrow. But I could meet with you and your partner on Friday morning.”

“Sounds fine.”

“Good. Then I’ll need a small retainer now. And on Friday the two of you can fill me in on the details of these incidents.

“Plus, if you get together an organization chart, a list of your employees and copies of the latest annual reports, I’ll review them on the weekend. And starting Monday, I’ll be able to devote most of my time to you.”

Since Robert seemed surprised, she added, “A lot of my work is for trial lawyers. But half of them spend their summers in the Hamptons, which makes July and August slow.”

“Ah.”

When he said nothing more, she began to grow anxious.

He looked worried that she might have given him the “slow summers” explanation to avoid the truth. And worried the truth was that she didn’t have enough clients to earn a decent living.

However, since New Yorkers who concerned themselves about strangers were an endangered species, he was far more likely reconsidering the wisdom of hiring her—probably wondering if whoever had done the asking around for him had goofed, maybe suspecting she was actually readily available because she wasn’t a particularly good P.I.

Uneasily, she pictured the anemic balance in her bank account. Then, to her relief, Robert Haine reached inside his suit jacket and produced a checkbook.

FOUR YEARS OF LIFE in squad cars had left Dana with absolutely no desire to ever drive in Manhattan again.

Besides, she liked walking, found that immersing herself in the constant rush of the city energized her. And when walking wasn’t feasible she happily relied on cabs and public transit. She didn’t need either, though, to get to Four Corners Imports.

Its head office was on the northern fringe of the Village, not much more than an easy stroll from her Chelsea apartment. And a pleasant one on a sunny July morning, even if the air was a bit too muggy for comfort.

After turning off Ninth onto West Thirteenth, she stopped to take her black pumps out of her briefcase and change into them from her sneakers. Then she tucked those away and started walking again—mentally reviewing the homework she’d done on the company’s key players.

She’d learned, long ago, that checking out new clients often revealed interesting details they’d “forgotten” to mention. But in this instance she hadn’t learned anything even remotely strange or startling.

Robert had begun his working career in sales. Then he’d met Larry Benzer—recently back from fighting in Vietnam and with a little money saved—and the two of them had established their own business.

Noah Haine, the nephew who’d joined the company a few years back, had initially been brought on board to orchestrate the process of taking it public.

With an MBA from Columbia and experience working for an investment banker, he’d been up on what had to be done to make Four Corners comply with all of the Securities and Exchange people’s regulations.

As for the men’s personal lives, Robert was well into his second marriage, no children from either. Larry and his wife had been together for almost twenty-five years. They had two sons and a daughter. Noah was single.

While a few more facts were parading through Dana’s mind she reached her destination, which proved to be an old, but well-maintained, three-story brick office building.

Beyond the bar-protected glass of the front entrance she could see a wide, old-fashioned wooden staircase. To the right was a hallway, to the left a reception area.

It was accented with a variety of interesting-looking collectibles—undoubtedly examples of the sorts of things Four Corners imported. Between those and the numerous paintings on the walls, the space reminded her of a tiny gallery in a museum.

But when her gaze came to rest it wasn’t on any of the objets d’art. It was on the tall, dark-haired man talking to the woman behind the desk.

His back was to the door, so she couldn’t see his face. Given the set of his broad shoulders, though, combined with the relaxed way he was standing, she’d say he was the kind of man who felt comfortable in his own skin.

Hoping the humidity hadn’t done too bad a number on her hair, she combed her fingers through it. Then she pressed the buzzer.

The receptionist glanced over, scrutinized her, then released the lock. Apparently, the woman had been expecting her. The man turned to see who had arrived.

When he did, she felt a quick internal tug—a feeling she so rarely had that she almost didn’t recognize it for what it was. Instantaneous attraction. There was something about him…

She let herself study him for a moment, trying to determine exactly what it was, then finally decided it was a combination of things.

His eyes were the color of rich black coffee, his features strong and regular; his square jaw looked rock hard. All in all, it was hardly surprising that he’d started her pulse stuttering a little.

As she stepped inside he smiled at her—such a high-beam smile she couldn’t have stopped herself from smiling back if she’d tried. Then he glanced at her naked ring finger, and his apparent interest made her face grow warm.

Lord, how long had it been since she’d blushed? Certainly months. Possibly years.

“You must be Dana Mayfield,” he said.

“Yes. And you must be…?”

The receptionist’s phone began to ring.