Expectations - Brenda Novak

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away.

      “When did you learn to do stained glass?”

      “I started about six years ago when I took a course at a community college. But I’m just an amateur, really. I’ve sold a few pieces to the tourists who come through here, nothing more.”

      Did he know what he was looking at? Did he guess Dennis had never been able to replace him?

      “Gram told me you were good. But I never imagined anything like this. You’ve definitely got more than your share of talent.”

      The space heater that hummed a few feet away was making the place unbearably hot. Jenna yanked out the plug, wishing Adam would stop looking at the cove. “Thanks. There’s more over there if you’d like to see them. This one’s actually not my best,” she lied, relinquishing her own hold on the piece as if it meant nothing to her.

      Retrieving a little broom hanging on a hook inside another cupboard, she began to clean up the glass splinters at her worktable.

      He circled the room, carrying the window with him, then paused at the partially finished lake. “They’re nice, really nice.” He held the cove up again for closer inspection. “But I like this one best.” He turned to look at her for the first time since he’d made his presence known.

      Did he know?

      No! How could he? It was sixteen years since they’d been on that beach. And she’d been the one to stare up at the house in a dreamy half doze as he slept facedown on her breast.

      Still, Jenna couldn’t meet his eyes. She finished sweeping up the glass chips, then glanced beyond him to the subject of their conversation. “It’s a fairly good rendition of the coast, I guess.”

      He studied the window, a thoughtful frown on his face. “I think I’ve been there.”

      “Then you know how beautiful it is.”

      “I do.” He smiled at her. “In fact, I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

      Jenna gave a shaky laugh and stepped back to avoid the scent of his cologne. “Sounds like you need to travel more.”

      “Or purchase this window. How much?”

      She shook her head. “It’s not for sale. I’m trying to accumulate some inventory for a spring show. Maybe when that’s finished—” or when hell freezes over “—I’ll let you know.”

      “Sure.” Carefully setting the stained-glass cove on her table, he turned away. “Gram wanted me to tell you dinner’s ready.”

      “Great.” She kept her smile casual, as though Adam hadn’t just reached inside her and cradled her heart in the palm of his hand. “You go on in. I’ll be right there.”

      DURING DINNER Adam received a call from his secretary. Though Pop frowned when he got up from the table to accept the receiver from Gram, he ignored his grandfather’s disapproval. He’d promised them he wouldn’t make any calls, and he hadn’t. But he was a big boy now, and if Cheryl needed him, he wasn’t about to turn her down. Though Pop hated the thought of him living and working anywhere other than Mendocino, he had a life in San Francisco and a practice to run.

      “Cheryl? What are you doing still at the office? It’s past seven on a Friday night.”

      “Adam, I’m so glad I got hold of you! Why haven’t you been checking your voice mail?”

      He could hear her popping her gum as she talked, and pictured her leaning on her desk with both elbows, her glasses and her short blond hair falling forward as she stared at the phone. “What’s the emergency? I’ve only been gone one day.”

      “That’s all it takes with Mr. Whitehead.”

      Recognizing the name of one of his biggest and most difficult clients, Adam took the cordless phone into the living room where he could talk without interrupting the meal. “So what’s new?”

      “He’s frantic, that’s what. The DA has subpoenaed his files, and he’s convinced we have to do something to block it right away.”

      “Monsoto’s going to get the records because they’re evidence. I’ve already explained all this. There’s no legal way to stop him.”

      “I don’t think Whitehead cares about legal. I tried to tell him that, too, but he started swearing and demanded I put him through to Mike.”

      “There’s nothing Mike can do.”

      “Except make your life miserable. He still owns more of this practice than anyone else and he wants this guy mollified.”

      “What does he want me to do? Destroy evidence? Because short of doing that, there’s no way to stop Monsoto, at least no honest way.”

      Cheryl’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Honest isn’t in Mike’s vocabulary, you know that. And I get the impression he’s tired of it being in yours. He’s been giving all the questionable stuff to Roger, who’s more than willing to do whatever it takes. Money is God to that guy.”

      The loyalty in his secretary’s voice felt good, but not good enough to offset Adam’s anger. “Roger’s going to have to learn his own lessons. Whether Mike makes him a partner or not, I won’t risk my reputation for an ambitious developer who’s bribed half the city council.”

      “Don’t you mean allegedly bribed?”

      “We both know the answer to that.”

      “Then maybe you should turn him over to Mike or Roger.”

      “I’ve tried. They want my clean-cut mug to be the one in front of the jury. And I don’t have any problem with that, as long as they let me do things my way.”

      “Uh-oh…”

      “What?” Already feeling the old tension mounting, Adam stretched his neck. Mike was getting greedy in his old age and was starting to make him uncomfortable. The question was, how far would he go? And how far would he push Adam?

      “Mike wants to talk to you.”

      The words had scarcely left Cheryl’s lips when Adam heard Mike’s gruff voice.

      “Where the hell are you, Adam? We’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

      “I’m out of town. Cheryl says we’ve got trouble with Whitehead.”

      “Those records will put him behind bars.” Mike paused to blow his nose. “We’ve got to come up with a way to keep the district attorney from getting his hands on them.”

      “You mean a legal way, don’t you, Mike?”

      Mike cursed. “Adam, you gotta get with the real world, buddy. No one plays fair anymore. You insist on that, you’ll lose every time.”

      “My record is pretty good so far.”

      “Things are changing.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      Mike grunted. “It means we gotta be flexible. I should fire that secretary of yours for trying to start trouble between us. Look, this is a competitive business. You don’t need me to tell you what’ll happen if you fall from the top. It takes money to live the way we’re accustomed to living.”

      “What’s going on, Mike? My stand on this should come as no surprise. I’ve told you before that I’m not willing to bend the rules.”

      “Dammit, do you picture yourself wearing a suit of armor and riding a white horse? Everybody’s entitled to a defense. Who are you to say where that responsibility begins and ends?”

      Adam sighed and rubbed his temple. “Last check, I was your partner. Listen, we’ve been over this before. I’m no saint, Mike, but I don’t break the law. I’ll give Whitehead the best honest defense there is. You can’t ask me for more than that.”

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