Beverly Barton: Grace Under Fire

Jed patted Daisy's shoulders. "I don't own a tie, but I'll see if I can borrow one from Frank or Vic."

"Thank you." Daisy released a sigh.

Jed meandered down the hallway until he came to Frank Latimer's office. Frank was a big guy, tall and muscular, but trim. He was wearing a suit today, as usual; and as usual he looked like he'd slept in it. Frank had the unkempt appearance of TV's Detective Columbo and was every bit as shrewd.

Jed knocked on the open door. Frank glanced up from where he sat behind his desk.

"Come on in."

"You look like you have a fresh haircut," Jed said. "And you even shaved."

"We're supposed to look our best," Frank replied in his thick South Carolina accent. "The big man's on his way in from the airport."

"Yeah, so I hear." Jed glanced at Frank's cheap blue-and-red striped tie, and wondered where the guy bought his clothes. "You wouldn't happen to have an extra tie, would you?"

"I've got two more at home."

"Ms. Efficiency just told me to find myself a tie."

"From the way she's been acting this morning, I'd say Daisy missed her calling. She should have been an army drill sergeant."

Jed chuckled. "So, who around here might have a tie?"

"Other than Mr. Beau Brummell himself?"

"Yeah, Sawyer probably keeps a dozen in his office."

"If Dom were here, he might have one." Frank nodded toward the office next to his. "Try asking Vic."

"I thought Vic was still in Miami."

"Got in late last night and Sawyer requested his presence in the office today."

"Bet he's not too happy about that."

"About as happy as I would have been."

Jed grinned, then headed next door. He found Vic Noble standing by the windows overlooking the street below.

"Got a tie I can borrow?" Jed asked.

"Sorry, I didn't bring a spare." The tall, lanky former CIA operative turned to face Jed. "Have you ever met Dundee?"

"Nope."

"Ellen hired you, didn't she?"

Jed nodded. "And you came on board right before she retired."

"Yeah. I believe Rafe Devlin was the first agent Sawyer hired."

"Never thought I'd say this, but I sure as hell wish I had Devlin's assignment. Overseeing the security for a cotillion ball in Savannah seems preferable to putting on a tie and showing off to the big boss to make Sawyer look good."

"Ah-hem." Standing in the doorway, Sawyer McNamara cleared his throat. The new CEO of Dundee's looked like a damn model straight off the cover of GQ . Tall, physically fit and almost a pretty boy. Almost, but not quite. There was always an expression in McNamara's eyes that issued a warning: Dangerous. Tread lightly. "Heard you were looking for a tie." He held out a beige silk tie that would coordinate perfectly with the long-sleeved brown shirt and brown slacks Jed wore.

"Should I apologize now or should I just wait for my punishment to come later?" Jed asked.

Sawyer's lips twitched, but he didn't smile.

Lucie Evans came up beside Sawyer, who glanced at her briefly, frowned and then replied, "No need to apologize, Tyree. I do want the entire staff, including all agents present today, to look and act like professionals… because I want Sam Dundee to know when he chose me to replace Ellen Denby, he made the right choice."

Lucie expressed herself with a mocking frown and an odd, rumbling groan. Jed couldn't suppress a chuckle. Everybody at Dundee 's knew about the ongoing feud between Sawyer and Lucie, both former FBI agents, who mixed like oil and water. What surprised everyone was the fact that Sawyer didn't ask for Lucie's resignation once he became the head honcho. Then of course, maybe he had. And maybe Lucie-being the stubborn, tenacious Lucie they all knew and loved-had told Sawyer to go… well, to go take a flying leap.

"What is that you're wearing?" Sawyer asked Lucie as he surveyed her from head to toe. Disapprovingly.

"It's a dress."

"Yes, so it is. Don't you think a suit would have been more appropriate?"

"Look, your royal high-muckety-muck, I came in today-on my off day-because you asked me to. I'm attending an afternoon wedding in Smyrna and I won't have time to go home and change."

The six-foot redhead was built like an Amazon. No model-thin, fragile creature was their Lucie. She filled out to perfection the hot-pink and purple floral dress that hugged her every luscious curve. "I think you look lovely," Jed said.

"So do I. You look like a flower garden," Frank added.

"Why, thank you, gentlemen." She smiled at Jed and Frank, then gave Sawyer an eat-dirt-and-die glare.

Daisy came flying down the hall. "They just rang from downstairs. Mr. Dundee has arrived. He's in the elevator."

Jed draped Sawyer's expensive beige silk tie around his neck, tied it quickly and followed the others down the hallway toward the elevators. His mind flashed back to when he'd been a boy and had watched while his uncle Booth inspected his household staff and personal bodyguards. This little show here today to impress Sam Dundee was a minor skirmish compared to the battle Booth Fortier's underlings had fought on a daily basis to keep their boss content. Sawyer McNamara wanted to impress his employer because he admired and respected the man, because to Sawyer doing a good job was a matter of honor. Booth's employees had sought to please him out of fear. No one Jed had ever known could put the fear of God into a person faster than the notorious godfather of the Louisiana Mafia, a man to whom killing came as naturally as breathing.

Frank Latimer jabbed Jed in the ribs, bringing him instantly back to the present moment. A huge, blond man with the build of a football linebacker stood in front of him, his big hand held out in greeting.

"Sam, I want you to meet Jed Tyree," Sawyer said. "He became a Dundee 's agent last year. We're lucky to have him. He's former Delta Force."

"Did you know Hunter Whitelaw?" Dundee asked as he took Jed's hand in a firm, friendly exchange. "He was former Delta Force."

"Yes, sir. I served under him for about a year before he retired. He's the one who recommended me for my job with Dundee 's."

"Fine man. Hated to lose him, but he made the same choice I did. He found a less dangerous type of work when he got married."

One by one Sawyer introduced the office staff and the agents who were present, then the big boss man invited everyone to lunch. He had reserved a private room at Peaches, a local downtown bar and grill that always hosted the crème-de-la-crème of private security agents whenever Sam Dundee was in town.

Grace returned from a festive lunch at Dumon's with a slight buzz. She'd indulged in three margaritas, while she'd done her best to put on a happy face for the others. For Hudson in particular. The dear, sweet man had thought it only appropriate to celebrate the three-year anniversary of her assuming the CEO role at Sheffield Media, Inc. What had never entered his mind was the fact that the only reason she had taken over was that her father had died. And her cousin Joy, who seldom had a serious thought in her head, had rattled on and on about May Beth Chapin's darling twins… little four-year-old boys. Not once had Joy considered the fact that discussing children, especially children who were the same age Emma Lynn would have been if Grace hadn't lost her child before she'd had a chance to live, might not be all that pleasant for Grace. But she suspected that Elsa understood how difficult it had been for her to smile and chitchat. And smile. And smile. And smile. Her young assistant seemed wise beyond her twenty-eight years, which made Grace wonder if some tragedy in her life had gifted her with such sage perception.

Grace slammed the office door behind her, then marched to her desk. Staring down at the stack of mail she'd never gotten a chance to look over this morning, her vision blurred momentarily. Oh, God, why had she drunk that third margarita? And why had she agreed to the celebratory lunch in the first place? She should have known that the memories would return like a tidal wave, washing over her, bringing with them the melancholy she continuously battled.