Mack came to work the next morning a bit lighter of heart than usual. Someone had finally caught her boss's eye — so much so that he'd taken a day off (sort of), followed by a night at the theater and a last-minute vacation. This was a thing unheard of in all the years since he'd taken over the company. Miss Fairchild was very pretty indeed, if a bit young; but Mr. Larrabee would hardly be a proper Wall Street tycoon if he didn't eventually give the papers an affair or an age gap to pounce on.
The sight of that gentleman at his desk, therefore, in a suit with unmistakable sleep wrinkles that matched a series of restless depressions in his office couch, stunned Mack speechless.
He looked up. "You're here." His voice matched his face: haggard and miserable.
"So are you," she answered questioningly.
She knew better to expect an explanation, of course. She didn't get one. Instead she received a set of bewildering instructions that would effectively undo the merger and break off David's engagement in one fell swoop.
Not for the first time that week, Mack privately questioned her boss's soundness of mind and congratulated herself on her ample emergency savings account. She took the plane tickets from him in a daze, wondering if she should call his mother or David to examine him for signs of a crackup, when the furious latter party barreled through the office doors. Mack excused herself.
That didn't mean she was above using her intercom to eavesdrop a little.
Yes, that was definitely the sound of someone getting punched.
…
"… thought there was a limit to how sick you could be! How could you, Linus? How could you do what you did, to me and to her? How could you go that far? What the hell makes you think you have the right?"
"Habit."
Stony silence.
"Listen, David. I tried something, and it didn't work. I mean, it worked, but it didn't really work. I want you to go to Paris today … with Sabrina."
Mack remembered that she was supposed to be transferring Linus' ticket to David and hurriedly wrote a Post-It note to that effect, but didn't ring for the courier.
"Mack has the plane tickets. There's an apartment in Paris in Sabrina's name. She doesn't know yet. She won't accept any of this from me now, but if you take her …"
David tried to interrupt. "Linus …"
"You're what she really wants. You're what she's always wanted. Go with her. It's not too late. Things will work out. She'll make you happy."
A pause.
"What about Patrick and the merger?"
Linus didn't answer.
"You'd blow a billion dollars for this?"
Mack realized she was leaning in closer.
"I see." Now David was the one who sounded older.
"Get going. Go on. Don't miss the plane."
Receding footsteps echoed from the intercom in Mack's left ear as approaching footsteps grew louder in her right. Good thing her own assistant had taken the day off.
David emerged resolutely.
"Miss McArdle, I need to see you in my office right away." He looked around. "Where is it?"
Thomas had to stay on duty in case any of the Larrabees wanted the car, so Sabrina called a cab. Then she went down to the kitchen to say goodbye to the staff (again).
"You sure you can't tell us where you're going?" asked Linda.
Sabrina smiled and shook her head. "Perhaps I will, once I've found my footing. Until then, I don't need any distractions."
"Never realized we were so distracting," muttered Scott as he piled the last suitcase on the stack by the door.
"No, I — oh dear, that's not what I meant. I'll still keep all of you informed, through my father. We've worked out a schedule for phone calls."
Joanna put her arm around Sabrina's shoulders. "You mean, it might be better for your peace of mind if the Larrabees didn't know where you are for a while."
"Yes, I think so," Sabrina replied, blushing. "Sorry, I'm … I'm all nerves."
Linda looked up from the sandwiches she was assembling for a lunch tray. "What did that son of a —"
"Linda," warned Thomas.
"Which one?" asked Scott. He and Linda snickered.
Sabrina gave them a look and went into the pantry, trying to quell the rising lump in her throat. "Goodbye, Rosa," she told the petite housekeeper she found there.
"Ah, goodbye too soon, my Brina." The smaller woman pulled her down for a hug and patted her shoulders. "We will miss you even more this time."
"I'm sorry, Rosa."
"No, no, do not apologize to me. You have a life to live, and we cannot give it to you here. There are others who should apologize, but, who knows if they will." Rosa flapped her hands, as if shooing away small children. "Eh, he has never had to apologize to anyone before. It is not likely."
"Don't say that," whispered Sabrina.
Rosa smiled fondly at her and took her hands. "Those we love, we always want to hear good things about."
"Sabrina, taxi!" yelled Scott.
Sabrina squeezed Rosa's hands before scurrying out to help with her more delicate bags. Thomas was at the cab window, paying the driver in advance. Sabrina gave one last hug to the other two women, who had followed her out, while Scott loaded the trunk.
Thomas opened Sabrina's door. She climbed in, fidgeting with her purse strap and unsure whether to make her last request. The cab started to pull away.
"Oh! Erm … wait, sir, wait, please." She hurriedly cranked down the window. "Dad!"
Thomas appeared at the window and stooped to look inside.
"Dad, uh, listen. There's a little white box up in my bedroom. It's from Paris. You'll know it. If … if Linus ever comes to see you, and if he seems sorry, will you give it to him?"
"Sure, Sabrina."
They clasped hands once more, and the cab pulled out of the gate and away from the Larrabee mansion.
