Most people would say Warrick Staunton stayed in the house so long to punish himself. His penance.
They’d probably be right. Though the house and its grounds were gorgeous, he hadn’t felt at home here in a long time. Every piece of artwork, every scrap of polished custom-designed furniture, every square foot carried ghosts.
“We’re almost finished on the first floor, Mr. Staunton.”
Warrick turned toward the voice and found one of the moving men standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The man shifted on his feet, as though he hoped Warrick wouldn’t want to chat. He needn’t worry. Warrick didn’t.
He should have let Charlotte handle all of this. He should be at the office instead of watching them empty the house.
“Fine.” He nodded and moved to the French doors overlooking the patio. The flagstones blended neatly into the lawn, with a small path leading the way to Vicki’s rose garden. He looked to the one rose bush that sat apart from the rest. He’d have to come back for it after the movers left. When the yard and house were quiet and he could dig it up in peace.
“I’m heading into the office, but Charlotte is here if you need anything.” He needed to get out of here before it got any harder to breathe.
His assistant chose that moment to walk in. Her no-nonsense air drew the worker’s attention and Warrick gladly relinquished control of the move to her. Charlotte was one of those assistants who no longer needed to be told what to do or what was a priority. She could all but run his life without him.
“Are you on track to be out of here by four?” she asked, earning a “yes ma’am” in response from the man.
“Good.” She bobbed her head, making the short gray curls bounce. “I’ve got the cleaning crew coming in early this evening, so you’ll have an hour or two buffer in there.” Now she was speaking mostly to Warrick. “We’re on schedule for the walk-through before the closing tomorrow morning.”
Warrick slipped out as she and the mover spoke. Charlotte would take care of things while he focused on saving his company. He looked at his watch. He’d have just enough time to get there to meet with Jack Sutton and his group. He hoped like hell he was doing the right thing.
Warrick scrubbed at the back of his neck as he walked out to his car and tossed his wallet and keys on the center console. Simms Pharmaceutical had been in his family for generations. His great grandfather had started the company and it had always been privately held by his family members.
Now Warrick was on the verge of losing it. He didn’t have any choice but to let Sutton Capital buy in, and hoped like hell all he’d heard about Jack Sutton was right. He was letting Sutton Capital buy an eighteen percent interest in the company. It wasn’t a controlling interest, but since no one outside his family had ever owned any interest, it was significant. It would also mean the trust that held his and his mother’s shares no longer held a majority. If he needed a majority vote on something now, his uncle would have to stand with him.
There was a time when Warrick would have been sure his uncle would always be by his side. That wasn’t a given any more.
He maneuvered through the streets without hitting traffic, not something he normally got to do. Then again, he never went to the office this late. He slid his car into the spot reserved for him and walked toward the building, glancing at the park across the street. In another hour, the walking path he’d had put in for his employees would have people on it, making the lap during their lunch breaks in sneakers they’d swap out for work shoes. A few hours after that, there would be kids and moms at the playground in the park.
Life was moving on for most. For him, it seemed to be crumbling apart. Again. He honestly wasn’t sure how many times he could put the pieces back together, but he’d do it once more, at least. He had to. There were a lot of people employed at his company. In the initial aftermath of the scandal, he’d wondered if he should step aside and let someone else try to rebuild.
None of his cousins were prepared to run the company, but they’d been outspoken about wanting someone else to do it. He knew, if given half the chance, they’d hire someone from the outside. He cringed at the thought of who they might choose. They had no concern for things like loyalty to their employees. When he’d put in childcare, they’d balked and called it a luxury that was coming out of their pockets.
Ultimately, he’d decided against making it easy for them. Simms Pharmaceutical had been started by his mother’s grandfather. It was his responsibility to make sure the company didn’t fail. When he was finished, he’d choose someone suitable to take his role and then—well, then he’d figure out what to do from there. He had a feeling he was finished here, though. Maybe he’d sell out after and move someplace quiet. Start something else.
Or retire. The thought boggled his mind. He was only thirty-five years old. What would he do? Play golf in Florida for the rest of his life? Not likely. He wasn’t the kind of guy to sit around, but a remote cabin in the woods off the grid held a certain amount of appeal. Maybe he could find some new project he could work on remotely so he could take himself out of the world for a while.
He looked up at the Simms name etched in the glass front of the modern building. At least he’d been able to keep all the employees on to date. He knew they were wondering if they’d show up to closed doors one morning. He hoped like hell that never came to pass.
Warrick nodded at people as he made his way through the lobby and took the elevator up to the third floor on the administrative side of the building. The labs, research, and development side of the building was larger, housing five stories rather than three. The building was only a few years old. They’d moved to this space four years before, when things had been flush. Before all the trouble.
Warrick came up short in the employee kitchen, when faced with a woman he didn’t recognize. He knew all the people that worked for him. Of course, it was possible she was a temp secretary—or she could be one of Jack’s people. Sutton’s team should be in the building shortly, but maybe they’d gotten here earlier than he’d thought they would.
As he watched, she went on tip-toes, arm outstretched to reach for a coffee mug. Most of his staff must already have needed a couple of rounds of caffeine. The lower shelf was empty of mugs, and only a few remained on the upper. She came down without a mug in hand. As he watched, he realized she wasn’t reaching with her hand. She’d reached with the prosthesis attached to her hand. And, now, she made a couple of moves and extended the prosthesis with what looked like a telescoping effect of some sort, giving herself another two inches or so.
This time, when she reached, she grasped the mug and brought it down slowly. He heard her gasp as the mug slipped when it was within inches of the counter. It fell with a loud clunk but didn’t break.
“Go-go gadget,” he said, then realized that might be offensive. It had just been what came to mind when he saw her prosthesis. He wanted to see more of it. See what it could do. He wondered who had developed it. It wasn’t anything he’d heard of out in the market. Of course, Simms wasn’t involved in prosthetics or devices, so he didn’t keep tabs on that side of things the way he did the pharmaceutical side, but he was fascinated by what he’d just seen.
She spun, surprise in her eyes, and he realized she hadn’t known he was there. Great. He’d offended and startled her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
She watched him for a minute, then put the coffee mug down and slipped past him without a word.
“Okay,” he said to the empty room, moving forward to fill the mug she’d left behind. He grabbed another off the shelf and filled it for himself, then followed her out and down the hall. As he’d thought, she went into the office he’d set up as a temporary work area for Jack Sutton’s group. It was a small conference room. Warrick’s office manager had arranged three desks on one side, and a small table and chairs on the other, giving them plenty of room to settle in when they were here.
“Morning, Jack.” He nodded at Jack Sutton, then put the coffee in front of the woman.
“Warrick.” Jack rose to shake his hand, then gestured to the woman. “This is Sara Blackburn. She handles anything we take on having to do with electronics, electromagnetics, that kind of thing.”
“Yeah,” Sara said, standing now. It almost seemed as though it pained her to ask the question, and Warrick had the feeling questioning chain-of-command was hard on her. She did it anyway. “I’m not sure why you wanted me here, Jack. I mean, I’ve looked over the company,” she carefully avoided looking Warrick’s way, “and they don’t make any medical devices. There’s no engineering or electronics or anything here. I don’t think I can be of help on this project.”