I Stand With You (Gold Streaks Book 1) Page 4

  “What happened?” Sue asks, her voice aching with concern.

  “Well, they brought a malpractice suit against him. They were working together on a big project...a high-rise block of apartments. The Neumann Building?”

  Sue nods, and Lisa carries on. “They subcontracted to my father...he was supervising the structural framework. All those windows they wanted. They found a fault with his work...said he'd not followed their specifications. He had. He'd just...modified them slightly, when he found that there was something in the plan that wasn't safe. He felt that they cut corners. Took risks; especially where their workers are concerned. So he changed things, to make it safer for construction. My father had integrity; wouldn't have done something that could endanger people. And they ruined him.” Her voice trails off; as she stares into the past. There is silence for a while.

  “What happened?” Sue prompts, her voice gentle.

  “Oh, nothing...” Lisa's voice is bitter. “He started as an entrepreneur. A shoe-importing business; he went into it in partnership with a friend in Taiwan.” She laughs, a bitter sound. “He made enough...nothing like the engineering work; but we could survive. My mum never forgave him, I think. She didn't say it, or not to me; but I think she felt he'd compromised the family. Things were strained after that. I was just a child at the time.”

  “And you?” Sue asks. “What did you do?”

  “I was fine. Studied hard. Followed my dream to become a lawyer. I had always wanted to be...maybe I enjoy arguing?” She smiles, the sadness mixed into it heart-wrenching. “But after that, I had another reason to feel we need good lawyers.” She stops, raises her glass. “..That's in the past, now. To happy futures?”

  “Happy futures.” Sue nods. They clink glasses.

  Lisa smiles.

  “...I'm glad you have your own court nightmares.” Sue says after a moment. “You know about mine, after all.”

  “Yes.”

  “It was good to talk, yesterday. About that. To get all of it...off my chest. I haven't talked to anyone about that before; not really.” Sue adds. She looks up; pale eyes warm with feeling.

  Lisa's eye meet hers and hold their gaze.

  “It was good to talk to you, too.” Her voice is low with the intensity of that. “After all, I don't often talk, either.” She is surprised how true that is.

  “It's good to have...a friend.” Sue; her voice warm. The last word is a question; a statement and, somewhere, an invitation. Lisa feels the blood throb in her ears, loudly.

  “It is.”

  Across the table, their hands meet. Fingertips touching. Lisa feels the shock of that go through her; deliciously. Strange electricity, flowing up her arm from her fingers, and making her head swim.

  They are silent for a moment.

  “The bill?”

  Lisa nods. “It's late...we both have work in the morning.” She is surprised by how reluctant that sounds. She could, she finds, stay here forever; lost in the pale blue eyes across the way.

  The bill arrives, after a gesture to the waiter. They know Sue in this place, it seems. Sue pays, and Lisa pays the tip.

  “Next time is my turn.”

  Sue laughs. Their eyes catch, and the same, slow warmth throbs in the air between them, making Lisa's blood sing.

  “Shall we?” Sue asks, brightly; waving a hand out; towards the centre of the room; towards the door.

  Lisa nods. They leave.

  Outside, the night is warm. The two women stand for a moment on the front terrace. The night is warm and dark around them; far before them the city lights stretch out; winding away into the distance from the foot of the small incline where the hotel sits. The pale evening breeze swirls around them; teasing at Sue's skirts, and making Lisa shiver in her coat.

  They stand, for a moment, looking out. Sue is close; Lisa can feel the heat of her body warm through the light sleeve of her jacket. Neither of them move. Go. A small voice prompts Lisa from the recess of her mind.

  She feels Sue's fingers by her own; soft and warm and slightly sticky with sweat and a little spilled wine. Her fingers twine around them; blindly.

  Sue sighs; a small sound. Leans on Lisa's shoulder. They stand, for a moment; the light of the stars the only break in velvety dark.

  Lisa feels Sue turn, where she leans on her shoulder. Then they are facing each other. Lisa raises her other hand; rests it on Sue's shoulder. She moves a little forward; leans up. Their lips meet. Sweetness, warmth. The tastes of wine and sugar and after-dinner mint, and the strange, musk-sweet taste of a woman's mouth. Of Sue. Their lips cling for what must be minutes, but what feels like forever. Their bodies lean together; sweet and strong and warm and close.

  Eventually, they break away. Both breathe; their breath uncertain, deep and wavering. Their eyes meet. They smile.

  “Shall we?” Sue asks it. Lisa nods. They join hands and walk together to Sue's car. The night is warm, and they cross the car-park in the darkness, arms linked.

  Chapter 8

  In Sue's bedroom, the shadows are charcoal; the light coming through a single window, set behind filmy curtains; half drawn back. The room is large, airy. The carpet dense; rich and silken, the walls pale. The bed is enormous; stylish, minimalistic. The wardrobe takes up one wall.

  Now, though, all is greys and shadow and dark; and close. Lisa and Sue find their way upstairs; holding hands. They collapse together, Sue first, onto the bed.

  The light is silvered-grey, and shines off Sue's skin, where Lisa gently draws the shift-dress off one shoulder; Sue pressed into her arms; mouths locked. Sue's hand twines in her hair; the wild curls loosened from their French plait. Her own hair is loose, unwinding from the elegant roll she wears; strands of pale gold loose and free about her face; in tumbled disarray. She leans back as Lisa kisses her; moving down her throat, to her shoulder. Her skin is soft, and warm; silken. Lisa bites it, none too gently. Sue laughs; a throaty sound. Lies back.

  Their hands undress each other; slowly. The grey-silver light shines on pale skin; fine limbs twined together on the bed. Lisa lies over Sue; their long legs tangled, spread out across the bed. Their hands join; fingers linked, as their lips meet. Their bodies slip over each other; pale skin sheened. Lisa feels her leg move between Sue's; hears the other woman's breath catch in her throat. Their hands caress each other. Sue's skin is pale; unmarked. Lisa's is more deeply tanned; freckles dusting her shoulders, a trace of the freckles across her nose and cheeks. Lisa kisses her way down the pale, slim body of the woman under her; lingering at the rose-tipped, firm breasts.

  Then they are together; their bodies clinging, meeting, parting. The driving, aching, thrusting, urgent motion fills them both as Lisa's fingers slide and slip in wetness. They are both blind with ecstasy; deafened with the blood rush in their ears; senses whited-out with overloaded passion.

  The night is cool, and they doze in each other's arms.

  Morning. Pale tendrils of early sunshine shine through filmy gauze, half-drawn from the window. The light plays on skin; pale and darker; where the women lie in sated abandon.

  Lisa feels consciousness return; feels Sue come back to wakefulness. A hand – small, slight – strokes her back. She smiles; murmurs without words. Kisses the bare skin of a throat.

  “L?”

  “Yes?” Their voices are both drowsing; warm; lost in shared memory.

  “Is there a law against lawyers sleeping with clients?” The question is asked warmly; mild inquiry.

  Lisa is silent for a moment.

  “Yes.” She concedes; her voice a litte grave. “Yes, there is. Not written; but unspoken. Yes, we shouldn't do it.”

  “Well, then.” Sue's voice is warm with unshed laughter. “I suppose we just broke that rule, didn't we?” She laughs; a lovely sound.

  “We did. As a citizen who upholds the law, I should chastise us both.” Lisa laughs.

  They kiss.

  After a while, Sue murmurs: “I suppose we'll have to keep it secret, then?”r />
  “Well, we shouldn't announce it.” Lisa smiles. “I think we can keep a secret.” She agrees shortly.

  “As long as you don't expect that I'll stop doing it.” Her lips leave a kiss on Sue's pale, unlined cheek.

  Sue laughs. “Well, I for one would not enforce that law.” Her voice is warm. “Never.”

  They smile; a shared moment of warmth on a remarkable morning of new beginnings.

  Chapter 9

  “Ms Montmorency?”

  “Yes, Elspeth?” Sue's voice is warm; her eyes, when she looks up from her desk, are soft; melting; distracted. Elspeth frowns.

  “Ms Montmorency? You've seen reports from the bank? From the stock-exchange yesterday? Our shareholders want to call a meeting later today.”

  “Yes, Elspeth.” Sue murmurs. “I've seen them.” Her tone is grave on those last words. She has indeed. Shares have dropped, suddenly, the last few days; plummeting a little more each day, ever since the press release after the protest outside the main building.

  They are still there; whole teams of workers in the parking lot outside the main building. Refusing to go back to work until steps are taken. They moved in three days ago; the day that the attacked Sue's car. And they have been there ever since.

  Since then, each day, shares have dropped a little more. Sue doesn't blame the workers, who only want to see justice done. She doesn't blame the investors; who are wary of a company whose workers are on strike. Not the shareholders; who have every right to know Sue's plans against the crisis. Right now, she doesn't even lay any blame on the people responsible for sabotage; if that is what it is. There will be a day in court, next week. Sue is sure that by then, she and Lisa will have uncovered evidence to support their idea. For the moment, while it is an idea only, she and Lisa will work on it together, so that as few as possible know about their suspicions. That way, there will be less chance that someone will move to stop them. They know this company too well to risk that; know what they are dealing with.

  Right now, though, Sue wants to lose herself in the warmth that she is feeling. Her heart is light; overflowing with warmth. The amazing, entirely unexpected and unimagined warmth between her and Lisa. It has been years, she thinks with some surprise, since she has felt this way. This deep emotion. This bubbling joy. She wants to relish it, and nothing will dampen her mood.

  “Ms Montmorency? What should I tell them?” Elspeth prompts; still waiting at the edge of the room.

  “Sorry? Tell them...Oh. Tell them I'll see them at sixteen-hundred hours. Will they make that?” Elspeth nods. It seems urgent enough to call them at short notice. Sue looks away; a warm, dreamy look in her eyes.

  Elspeth moves off to the door, slowly. She shakes her head to herself. What is going on? She has never seen Ms Montmorency like this. She looks...distant. Distracted. Like her mind is elsewhere. It must be stress. Who would not be stressed; in the face of this? Protests, violence, plummeting shares...and the papers. The latest copy of the Local Independent sits on Elspeth's desk. On the front page is a photograph of the protesters; blocking the way to the main building. Sue's face is inset in the picture; a grim, hard expression, a picture that does nothing to soften the public's opinions.

  Elspeth shakes her head again. Something has to change. Or the mine could go under. The thought makes her shiver. So many jobs at risk!

  She has faith in Ms Montmorency. She might be distracted, but Elspeth knows the strength of the woman; has seen her face harder things and triumph. With any other employer, Elspeth would be worried by the vague look; the strange dreamy unawareness in the face of this difficult situation. But not with Ms Montmorency. She was not here for the divorce, but heard about it, and heard how brave and steadfast her employer was. Her fairness and her loyalty to the company are legendary. Elspeth feels it will be alright. She has to believe it.

  She sits down at her desk; moves the copy of the paper to one side. Lifts the telephone receiver and starts making calls. The shareholders will meet at sixteen-hundred. To discuss the fate of the company; and, hopefully, to save it.

  Chapter 10

  “Lisa?”

  “Mmm?”

  Sue and Lisa are in Sue's bed. The morning light is warm golden, shining through the curtains.

  “Do you have any knowledge of the stock-market?”

  A long pause.

  “I think no useful knowledge.” Lisa concedes, “I know what it is and what it does and the legal ins and outs of shares; but nothing useful from a business point of view.”

  The sun is warm, the bedclothes soft. They drowse for a moment, Sue on Lisa's shoulder.

  “Well, I wish there was a big legal loophole that could make a rise in all their shares.” Sue offers, her voice mild despite the wistful statement.

  “Is it bad?” Lisa asks.

  “Mmm. The worth has dropped about a quarter overnight.”

  They are both silent for a while; thinking.

  “It's the case next week.” Lisa offers, a while later. “When we've got this cleared, they will go up. They have to.”

  “Hope so.” Sue murmurs. They drowse together, content in the silence.

  “Sue?”

  “Yes?”

  “Any idea what time it is?”

  Sue reaches over, to the bedside clock. Draws a breath. “Eight-twenty-five.”

  Suddenly, the room is a hive of activity. Lisa sits up; Sue rolls off the bed, and both are up; drawing up the covers of the bed, opening curtains, gathering clothes. They have thirty-five minutes to shower, dress, do makeup and have something for breakfast.

  Ten minutes later, they are helpless with laughter; tumbled out of the shower and dressing faster than either had imagined possible.

  A pause. Lisa smiles.

  “You look...lovely.” And it is true. With her hair rolled back, a linen suit and bright yellow blouse in silk, Sue is a picture of elegant chic beauty. The clock says eight-fifty. Lisa has brought a small bag with a few changes of clothes. Her work-wear of corduroy trousers, corduroy jacket and fine cotton blouse in deep red offset the warm brown of her eyes and ginger-red curls. They kiss.

  Then, there is a race down the stairs; for coffee, toast and butter in the kitchen.

  “Beat you to it!” Lisa; breathless, as she sets out cups. The kitchen is filled with the scents of burning toast, of butter and coffee and the clash of perfumes. The air is fresh; the day warm.

  They sneak out of the house; Lisa first; then Sue. Lisa has brought her car this time; and she leaves first. Two minutes later, Sue follows. Just in case. They cannot risk anything underminding this case. The drive to work was shorter than it could have been; the worst of the traffic already clear by the time Sue reaches the highway.

  “Morning, Elspeth.”

  Sue says it, her voice a bright, sing-song melody, as she passes the front desk.

  Nothing can bother Sue right now – not the protesters, not the case, the share-prices or shareholders. Not even the news.

  The latest papers sit across her desk. The top one – the Local Independent – carries a picture of the crane that malfunctioned. The story, all about the accident, with interviews with the workers – one new-discharged out of the hospital – is detailed. Sue shudders. No investor will want to read that. Not and invest his money in this mine, anyway. Something has to be done.

  “Bloody Independent.” She mutters to herself. It is her ex-husband's paper. “Bastard must be enjoying this.”

  She brushes a strand of hair from her temple; puts the newspapers to one side. Her irritation vanishes, as quickly as it rose. There is nothing she does not feel she could face, right now.

  “Elspeth?” She speaks into the intercom. “Put the Mining Times on the line, will you? I think it's time we had a feature about this new vein we're going to mine.”

  That should do it. Put something positive out there. That will counter all this terrible bad press.

  In her office, Elspeth smiles. Sue is fighting back.

  Sue
glances over the papers again, then at her daily planner. One big meeting later that day; to discuss the plans with a surveyor, and the engineers in charge of the new tunnels being dug. She can prepare for that an hour before...nothing too different from the last time they met.

  That leaves her with a rare leisurely morning. Sue stretches, enjoying the freedom.

  Her fingers slide over the keys of her computer; checking emails. It is rare for her to have the time to read personal mails.

  Her eyes scan the list. Something from a cousin; an invitation to a family reunion next year. Something from her hairdresser – an appointment scheduled for next week. Something from the bank; from a business associate, asking her to lunch; an invitation to a gala event.

  On the desk beside her, the phone rings.

  “Yes?” Sue answers. Probably the Mining Times.

  There is a momentary pause.

  “We know you're sleeping with your lawyer. Who is going to believe anything either of you say? You can't win”.

  There is a click as the handset is replaced, then silence from the other side of the line.

  Sue feels a pain, somewhere in the centre of her heart, aching. Who would say that? Who could know? Who would threaten her like that?

  Her mind is reeling. What can she do? Any enquiries that she makes about it could jeopardize her, too. And how could anyone know? Who has been following her? Sue feels cold. Her hand is shaking.