Flawlessly Executed (Dark Horse Guardians Book 3)

by Armstrong, Ava

  As Lara moved through the elegant front entry, Eleanor, the ever-present grandmotherly receptionist, seemed surprised to see her come through the front door.

  “Good morning, Lara,” she spoke in a muted tone. Eleanor came from behind the desk and embraced her momentarily.

  Lara whispered, “Good morning, Eleanor.” Pulling away she noticed tears forming in the older woman’s eyes, and felt the need to comfort her, “Everything will be fine, Eleanor.”

  Lara climbed the grand staircase to the second floor. Eliot’s office was closed and locked. His attorney, John Maxfield, was to meet her there at 9:00 AM to go over the details regarding the firm. Her attention was fixed upon the office she had as an intern, which was now empty. She tried the door and it opened. Slipping inside she felt the eyes of a few employees on her.

  For a moment she was transported back in time as her eyes wandered over her old office. Everything was the same. Her old desk, two chairs and the long wooden table underneath the wall of windows seemed cold and lonely. She closed her eyes and remembered the first time Ben sent her flowers – peonies – and they were sitting in the middle of her desk. That was the day Eliot stood watching as she opened the card and slipped it into her pocket. That alone should have given her the hint that Eliot was in love with her, but she was too naïve to notice it or believe it.

  A tap on the glass window startled her and she turned to see John Maxfield. He gave her a little wave and she opened the door. They were now standing in front of Eliot’s private office and Maxfield declared, “Here’s the key. It’s yours now.”

  Lara opened the door as employees lingered in the hallway. John Maxfield entered the stately office with her and closed the door. Only the soft whir of the central air conditioner and the ticking of a clock could be heard once the door was closed.

  Filled with priceless antiques and rare paintings, Eliot’s office was exactly as he had left it. The attorney informed her, “We are having all of these items appraised, Lara. It’s up to you whether or not you want to keep them or auction them off. You can let me know.” Lara sat on the sofa and John Maxfield sat across from her in an upholstered chair. He opened his expensive leather briefcase and pulled out reams of paper and sorted them on the coffee table in front of her. “Are you ready for this?” he tentatively asked.

  “Yes, I’ve got to start sometime.” Lara exhaled.

  A long conversation ensued and Lara was bombarded with decisions to make. The major focus of today’s meeting was the ownership and day-to-day operation of Stone and Associates. Maxfield wanted to give the employees and contractors a report on the state of the business and inform them of Lara’s plans. The attorney asked her pointedly, “What are your intentions for the firm? Do you want to keep it and run it in the same manner?”

  Lara didn’t hesitate, “Yes. Tell the employees and contractors that nothing will change, except there will be a new contractor that may be joining the group. But please assure them everything will continue as it has for the past thirty years.” Maxfield made notes and laid paperwork in front of her. “These are insurance policies and legal documents relating to your ownership.” He walked her through each document with a thorough explanation.

  After two hours, Maxfield sighed, “Well, that’s it for today. You are in charge here. If you need anything, give me a call.” Lara tapped her phone and added his number to her long list of important people. John Maxfield collected the paperwork and slipped it into his leather briefcase. He shook Lara’s hand and his dark eyes met hers. “I feel that Eliot left this place in good hands with you.” She felt herself blush momentarily, and Maxfield added, “Oh, we need to sit down and talk with Finn Murphy about a long list of items. When are you free?”

  Lara looked at her calendar, “How about Friday at 8 AM here?” Maxfield nodded and added the meeting to his busy schedule. Lara was pleased that Finn would be there to talk with her. She knew he was making the rounds at each project keeping everything afloat; not an easy job.

  After the attorney left, the only sound in Eliot’s office was the ticking of the beautiful antique clock on the fireplace mantle. Lara sat in Eliot’s worn leather chair and wheeled toward the window overlooking the back of the building and the parking lot. An old radio sat on the windowsill and she turned it on. Soft classical music filled the room. She spent the rest of the afternoon setting up her computer and cleaning out Eliot’s desk. A few times she felt tears stinging her eyes. She found a collection of notes she had written to him, just bits and pieces jotted down about projects or clients. He saved everything. A flash of grief ripped through her.

  She even found photographs of her in his desk. There were thirty or forty of them taken throughout her internship. In Eliot’s closet was an old pink sweater that she had left in her office. Maybe he had saved the sweater intending to return it to her, but never had the opportunity.

  Disturbing her daydream, Betty knocked on the door, “You ready for something from the deli?”

  Lara smiled and said, “Yes, I’ll have a tuna melt with a big pickle.” The ever-efficient Betty left with Lara’s request. It was business as usual. For a moment she felt like she had never left Stone and Associates.

  Lara spent the rest of the afternoon calling contractors and setting up meetings with each of them although a permanent sorrow seemed to weigh her down. She also called Tony, Ralph and Monique, her employees for Dark Horse Renovations and ran through progress reports on the phone. Her company was now folded into Stone and Associates. She had to get back into the swing of things in a big way. No longer was she managing eight or ten renovation projects. Stone and Associates was managing sixty projects at the moment and some were enormous. Plus, there was more business in the pipeline.

  The phone rang and it was Finn. “Lara, you’re in the office. I’m driving through Portland. Would you like me to stop in?”

  It was a relief to hear his friendly voice. “Yes, please do. I just ordered lunch. I’ll split it with you.”

  Finn laughed, “Great, I’m starving. I’ll be there in five minutes.” The call ended and she disappeared into the private powder room to splash her face with cold water and reapply lipstick.

  Within ten minutes, lunch had been delivered by Betty and Finn was standing in the doorway. “Perfect timing,” Lara smiled.

  Finn embraced her immediately without speaking. She sensed the raw grief flowing through him for a moment as he whispered, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be at the funeral. I was in the hospital with Marcella. I went to the wake, but didn’t see you there.” When he released her, his hazel eyes held hers and he whispered, “It’s good to see you. Really good.” Finn closed the door softly and sat on the couch beside Lara and they made quick business of their lunch. Lara listened as Finn ticked through the list of contracts in play and he knew with great detail the status of each one.

  His black curly hair was unkempt and she detected a few silver strands. Finn’s hazel green eyes were surrounded by creases when he smiled. Although his sturdy build appeared a bit underfed lately, Finn looked the same. He was a man of habit in his way of dressing; she imagined he had five or six suits all made of the finest Donegal wool from Ireland. He was the type of man that looked good in a suit ~ but it was more because of Finn’s personality than his slightly better-than-average looks. He wasn’t handsome, but pleasing to the eye. He always smelled like he just stepped out of the shower and was clean shaven, although his five o’clock shadow was ever present. He looked directly into the eyes of the person he was speaking with, which made them feel like they were the only person in the universe. Lara always teased him saying he had a little of the blarney in him.

  Although he was forty-five, Finn Murphy had the energy of a twenty year old. He was Irish and loyal but most importantly trustworthy. He had his hand in every area of the business and she knew he was a workaholic.

  “How is Marcella?” Lara asked about his wife. Finn was short and sweet with his answer, “She’s doing well for a woman who’s
just given birth to her sixth child! She has a positive attitude, but she’s tired. Her sister came to stay and help for a few days, God bless her heart! And, my older daughters help, too. Hey, when are you coming by?”

  Lara nodded, “Soon, I promise. What’s the new baby’s name?”

  He smiled mischievously from ear to ear, “You’ll never guess.”

  Lara squealed, “Oh, tell me!”

  Finn puffed his chest out and smirked, “Liam Phineas Murphy!”

  Lara slapped him on the back, “Finally, a boy! Oh, I love the name, Liam Murphy, and he has your name, too!”

  Finn rolled his eyes at that; then asked, “How’s Ben doing?”

  She felt her smile dissipate, “He just returned from a seven week job. I missed him….a lot.”

  Finn paused and winked at her, “You know what they say: absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  Back to business, Finn peppered her with questions, “What do you want to change at the firm? You’re in charge now. Are you happy with the way things are? How can I help?”

  Lara was caught off guard by his eagerness to get her input. She slowly tossed an idea out, “I was thinking of taking on a new contractor…a landscape designer. We have a ton of requests for landscape renovations and that’s an area Stone and Associates has never explored.”

  Finn smiled and immediately guessed, “Someone you know?”

  Lara replied, “Yes, he did an enormous renovation on one of my projects and he’s installing my garden at Clearwater Farm as we speak.”

  Finn took on a somber air, “Let’s draw up a contract for him, then. What’s this guy’s name?”

  When she said “Grant Hawkins,” recognition registered on Finn’s face, “He’s the guy who did Eliot’s botanical garden. Yes, he’s a genius. Let’s put together a contract and John Maxfield can review it.”

  The pair sat together going back and forth until they had crafted a fair contract. Lara was adamant about protecting Hawk’s best interests.

  After going over some other business quickly, Finn scooped up his leather case and disappeared through the door to his next appointment in Southern Maine. “Call me if you need anything…and you know I mean that,” he said it with a sincere tone as he flashed a perfect smile. And, just like that, the tornado that was Finn Murphy was gone. He was back on the road. Lara silently promised herself to stop by to see the new baby. She enjoyed Marcella and all five of Finn’s lovely daughters. He seemed so excited to have a son.

  For a long moment after eating lunch Lara thought about Grant Hawkins. He had done such a magnificent job on the Henderson place, producing a $90,000 Victorian garden the likes of which she had never seen. The two of them were compatible in so many ways, especially in the realm of design. She wanted Hawk to work for Stone and Associates, but didn’t want him to feel pressured if she asked him. She just had to know his answer and there was no time like the present. She dialed his number and heard his cheerful masculine voice, “Hawk”.

  She took a deep breath and spoke in her professional voice, “Hello, Hawk. How are you?”

  ~ Grant Hawkins ~

  He recognized her cell number the moment he glanced down and felt the phone vibrate. He answered on the second ring even though he was running the excavator on a landscaping project. He was just about to stop for his lunch break anyway, as he shut off the engine. “How are you?” he asked back, hoping she was doing well since the funeral.

  He ceased moving as he listened to her sweet feminine tone, “Hawk, I have a proposition for you. I want you to work for Stone and Associates. I’ve been sorting through the projects here at the firm and there are many requests for landscaping renovations. I don’t know exactly how many guys you have on your crew, but I’d like to meet with you to discuss the possibilities...are you there?”

  Hawk couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He pinched himself to make sure he was awake and not having a wonderful dream. He uttered eagerly, “Sure, when and where. I’ll be there.” Lara gave him the directions to Stone and Associates and asked him to meet with her the next day.

  “Morning is best if you can do it. How about 8:00?” She proposed.

  Hawk’s brain went into overdrive. He would put another guy on the excavator, and instantly replied, “Yes, I’ll be there at 8:00…and, thank you.”

  He listened to her laugh as she said, “Well, don’t thank me just yet. You don’t know what I’m going to ask you to do!”

  He responded, “I’m ready, willing and able to do whatever you want.” He enjoyed her giggle. Then she said, “Well, that’s very kind of you.” She ended the call and Hawk couldn’t stop the silly smile that spread over his face.

  The rest of the day he couldn’t stop thinking: she wants me to work for her! A bit of panic set in. He didn’t know if he was up to the task. He was a bit rusty on his social skills, had few decent pieces of clothing and considered her his best friend. Not a good beginning for a business relationship, this much he knew.

  But, he respected Lara on so many levels, especially since she had taken him as a confidante. Lara single-handedly brought him out of the deep depression he had been suffering since the death of his wife two years ago. Working with her on the Victorian garden for Henderson and now making visits to Clearwater Farm to install her garden, he was actually interested in living once again.

  In fact, he made excuses to visit the project at Clearwater Farm even though he was supposed to be starting another client’s installation. He assigned a few guys on his crew to the other project and they had it underway. For the past week he was wrapped up in listening to Lara play on the beach with Einstein in the morning and talking with her as she lounged on the porch for an hour or so before starting her day. He recognized Lara’s deep depression with the recent death of her friend, and was genuinely concerned about her. He wanted to be a sounding board for her, a compassionate listener. And he was.

  For the first time she really opened up and confided in him. She told him about the brutal rape and beating she suffered in middle school and how it altered her life. She talked about the death of her father and meeting Rusty and Don Henderson. The mystery of her obsession with weapons was solved. She wasn’t paranoid; she was ready to kill the next bastard that pushed her around. Hawk began to understand her anxieties and compulsions. She had finally let him in. He admired her strength, persistence and optimism.

  Hawk felt the one-on-one conversations with Lara were helping her; she talked and he listened. It was as if she had to say things aloud to sort it all out in her head. The last few days he noticed her depression was lifting. Meanwhile, he felt honored that she could have private discussions with him. He had to tear himself away from early morning chats with her. And there were times he could not pull himself away.

  He was sure she felt the same bond, but they never spoke of it and he wanted to keep it that way. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, she wanted him to work for her. He would meet with her in the morning and listen to any proposal she had. No one had ever given him an opportunity like this, except for Ellen. He valued and cherished Lara’s friendship, trust and loyalty and made a silent promise not to screw that up. He stopped by a men’s clothing store to purchase a real suit and tie, something missing from his closet for too many years. He even picked up cologne, which he spent way too much for, and mouthwash.

  ~ Ben ~

  At the university the first weeks of the semester were always filled with turmoil and confusion and Ben took it in stride. Other professors were stressed out and mumbling obscenities, but he knew it was no big deal. Every student’s schedule seemed to change and the whole school shifted a bit, then settled into a predictable routine. He only had one year under his belt, but could see the pattern clearly, making him wonder why some of these tenured professors were running around pulling their hair out. Was it really that important in the grand scheme of things if their lunch break was early or late? For Ben, his teaching job was all about the students.

  Som
ething of more concern to him was Lucy Adams and her annoying habit of probing into his business on a daily basis. She was making excuses to drop by his office and he did all that he could to discourage her little visits. But she was persistent. When in his office it was his custom to keep the door open so new students would feel comfortable dropping by. However, today it was Lucy Adams dropping by again.

  “Hello Professor Keegan,” she drew the words out as she lingered in his doorway.

  Ben did not look up, hoping his body language would discourage her. However, she didn’t seem to get the hint. She was wearing a tight black mini-skirt with a matching jacket and a bright pink T-shirt underneath. Ben could never figure out why she wore so much make-up and crazy jewelry. The aroma of her cheap perfume hit his nostrils before she was even in the room.

  “Why, Professor Keegan, if I didn’t know better…I’d say you’re ignoring me!” She drawled.

  Ben felt compelled to look up and she was now halfway across the room perched on his office sofa.

  He finally caved in, “How can I help you, Miss Adams?”

  Her big brown eyes met his and he sensed she was there for a long visit. She flicked her long red hair away from her face with a well-manicured hand. “I’ve missed your handsome face around here all summer, that’s all I wanted to say, blue eyes.”

  Ben felt his jaw clench when she called him that. He wasn’t about to engage in a conversation with Lucy Adams or any young woman in his office unless it was university business.

  “Thank you, Miss Adams, but I must say I did not miss the university. My summer was busy and filled with work.” There, he thought, that should get her to move on. His head was now back down and his eyes glued to paperwork on his desk.

  Without warning, Lucy Adams was now sitting in the chair next to his desk and she placed her hand with long red fingernails on the papers obscuring the material.