anything.”
“Don’t you have to get back to New York?”
Brophy shook his head, his smile triumphant. “I’m hanging out at the
D.C. office for a while.” He pulled out a slender cassette recorder
from his inner coat pocket. “I’m all set. Already dictated three
letters and a speech I’m giving at a political fund-raiser next month.
All of which means I’m here as long as you need me.” He smiled tenderly,
put the recorder back, reached out and took her hand.
She smiled back, a little embarrassed, while she slowly pulled her hand
free. “I need to go finish up before we leave.”
“Fine, I’ll go make trouble in the kitchen with your parents.”
She walked down the hallway to the bedroom. Brophy watched her go, a
smile appearing on his face as he thought of his future prospects. A
moment later Brophy walked into the large kitchen, where Sidney’s mother
was busily preparing eggs, toast and bacon.
Bill Patterson hovered in the back, tinkering with the coffeemaker.
The phone rang. Patterson took off his glasses and picked it up on the
second ring.
“Hello?” He switched the receiver to his other hand. “Yes, it is.
What? Oh, uh, look, can this wait? Oh, well, hold on just a minute.”
Mrs. Patterson looked at her husband. “Who is it?”
“Henry Wharton.” Patterson looked at Brophy. “He’s the head guy at your
firm, right?”
Brophy nodded. Even though his being an apostle of Goldman was a
well-kept secret, Brophy was still not a favorite of Wharton’s and
Brophy looked forward to the day when Wharton was shoved rudely aside as
the leader of Tyler, Stone. “Wonderful man, very caring of his
colleagues,” Brophy said.
“Yeah, well, his timing’s lousy,” Patterson said. He put the phone
receiver down on the table and walked out of the kitchen. With a
conciliatory smile, Brophy moved over to assist Mrs. Patterson.
Her father gently knocked on the door. “Honey?”
Sidney opened the door to the bedroom. Behind her Patterson could see
the numerous photos of Jason and the rest of the family spread out on
the bed. He took a deep breath and swallowed.
“Sweetie, there’s some guy from your firm on the phone. Says it’s very
important that he talk to you.”
“Did he give a name?”
“Henry Wharton.”
Sidney’s brows plunged together and then her face cleared just as
suddenly. “He’s probably calling to say he can’t make the service.
I’m not really on his top ten list right now. I’ll take it in here,
Dad.
Tell him to give me a minute.”
As her father started to close the door, he again looked at the photos.
He abruptly looked up and caught his daughter staring at him, an almost
ashamed expression on her face, as though she were a teenager just
caught smoking in her room.
Patterson went over and kissed his daughter on the cheek and gave her a
long hug.
In the kitchen Patterson picked up the phone again. “She’ll be with you
in a minute,” he said gruffly. He put the phone back down and was about
to return to the intricacies of the coffeemaker when he was interrupted
by a knock on the door. All three of the kitchen’s occupants looked up.
Patterson looked over at his wife. “Expecting anyone this early?”
She shook her head. “It’s probably just a neighbor with some more food
or something. Go answer it, Bill.”
Patterson obediently headed to the front door.
Brophy trailed the older man into the foyer.
Patterson opened the front door. Two gentlemen in suits stared back at
him.
“Can I help you?” Patterson asked.
Lee Sawyer deliberately exhibited his credentials. The man beside him
did likewise. “I’m FBI Special Agent Lee Sawyer. My partner, Raymond
Jackson.”
Bill Patterson’s confusion was evident as he looked from the official
government credentials to the men holding them. They looked steadily
back at him.
Sidney quickly put the photos away, lingering over only one: from the
day Amy had been born. Jason, dressed in hospital garb, was holding his
minutes-old daughter. The look of absolute pride on the new father’s
face was wonderful to behold. She put that one in her purse. She felt