A soft rap sounded at the door.
Thomas sighed. This was the fifth time he'd tried to start this Collins biography. Maybe it was a sign that he should read a different book first. "Come in."
In the narrow opening appeared the bespectacled, prematurely aged head of Linus Larrabee, who looked around uncertainly.
"This is a lot of books."
"My word, Mr. Linus." Thomas hurried to set the volume aside and cross the room so he could open the door the rest of the way. "Begging your pardon, sir, I had no notion of your coming here."
"No, that's okay. I didn't say anything." He put his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. "I heard about the bombing in Manchester. Is Sabrina all right?"
Thomas blinked, taken aback, but not displeased. "Yes indeed. She was on assignment near the police perimeter when the bomb exploded, but she wasn't hurt. She stayed the weekend with her aunts and was back at work as soon as they'd let her in the office."
"Good …" Linus looked around, "… good." He cleared his throat again. "I'm glad she's all right."
Thomas let him stand there in obvious discomfort for a moment.
"Might one inquire how you came to know she was in Manchester?"
"Oh, uh, the Larrabee Corporation has a controlling interest in her paper. Her name came up as a new hire."
Thomas nodded and watched him quizzically.
"I came to say thank you for coming in and finding me when you did."
"I'm very pleased to have been of service, sir."
"Doctor said it wasn't a real heart attack, but it was close. Looks like the board put me on shore leave just in time," he said with a half smile.
"Mr. David was rather concerned for you. As were we all. May I get you some tea, sir?"
"I owe you an apology, Fairchild."
This was new. Thomas paused. "Whatever for?"
Linus looked him square in the eye. "I treated Sabrina like a business tactic. It wasn't fair to her, and it was a presumption on your role as an employee of this family. No one would have blamed you for leaving."
"Well, I can't say it didn't cross my mind." Thomas stepped around the corner into his small kitchen to put the kettle on. "May I speak freely?"
Linus swallowed. "Of course."
"You were a formidable child." He got out a cup and saucer. "You grew to be a shrewd businessman. I watched the number of people who were willing to cross you get smaller and smaller, and I wondered when you would go too far."
He added a dash of milk to the cup and swirled it once, out of long habit, before putting the milk away and looking at Linus again. "I got my answer when I found my daughter weeping in my arms."
Linus didn't lower his gaze. He looked stricken.
"And to tell you the truth, I don't think I ever respected you as much as I do at this moment."
Linus' voice was subdued. "Thank you, Fairchild."
"I don't have to forgive you, you know."
"I know."
His eyes wandered over to the sideboard. A stack of Sabrina's professionally matted photographs was lying there, waiting for frames. Thomas saw them too and moved to pick one up. It was a view down a lamp-lit bridge full of people. He smiled faintly.
"Can't seem to find the time to hang these. Every so often, I flip through them. It's like she's here again, telling me what was happening as she took each one."
"I need her," Linus said quietly.
Thomas sighed. "Took you long enough to say so."
"I was afraid she didn't need me, and never would. So I kept working instead."
"Hmm." The chauffeur laid the photo back down as the kettle began to whistle, found two triangular sachets, deposited them into the teapot, and filled it from the kettle with scientific precision. Linus might not take tea, but he could certainly use some. Extra strong.
"What will you do now, then?" he asked once he'd put the kettle back onto a cool burner.
Chastened or not, Linus Larrabee was still a master of diplomacy. He rested his hand on the wing-backed chair lately occupied by Thomas, his gaze steady, and said, "That's what I came to find out."
"In that case, I have something for you." Thomas stepped out of the sitting room and grunted his way up the outdoor stairs, leaving Linus to peer after him in confusion.
When he returned, he was carrying a small white box.
"Will you take this to her?"
Linus accepted it and was immediately surprised by its heft. "I hope you appreciate what a good transatlantic courier service is charging these days."
"I'm sure you can front the cost long enough to accept a C.O.D.," Thomas said drily.
Linus' face broke out in a real smile. He lifted the box in salute. "Good night, Fairchild."
"Good night, Linus," said Sabrina's father.
