The Charm Offensive

CHAPTER TWO

BRAD NOTICED SOPHIE push the empty cart into the back room. For such a petite package, the woman remained a study in motion. She hadn’t stopped moving since she’d wedged herself between him and the cart and demanded he stop shelving her dog food.

He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d already found families for those kittens he’d brought inside.

She was efficient, competent and obviously guilty—like her father. There had to be a dark side to balance all that good, and he’d always been fascinated with exposing that shady inner core. And Sophie Callahan was too fascinating.

Matt leaned against his truck and tossed the tape measure at Brad. “Got a case you’re investigating?”

“No.” Brad caught the tape measure and avoided his friend’s stare. He wasn’t working a case. He was doing a favor. A favor for the widow whose late husband should be seated behind the Pacific Hills mayor’s desk, instead of his mother. “Would it matter?”

“If it involved Sophie Callahan, then yes, it’d matter.” Matt came over to stand beside Brad. “It’d matter a lot.”

Despite his experience, and what it had taken to build his company into a high-end forensic accounting and surveillance specialist firm, Brad hadn’t anticipated his friend’s reaction. Brad tapped the toe of his boot against the corner of the plywood-covered window. If he rammed his foot into the adjoining window, he’d shatter the glass. Nothing unexpected about that. Whereas everything was unexpected about Sophie.

His grandmother had dragged him to the symphony when he was thirteen. He’d been struggling to fit into his height, cursing his pimples and praying Sarah Quincy wouldn’t spot his braces. He’d lodged a series of complaints longer than any kid’s Christmas wish list from the back seat of his grandfather’s pickup, and still they’d arrived early to the performance. He’d slouched in his chair, dug his chin into his chest, convinced the evening would be torture.

But the music—the drive of the woodwinds, beat of the percussion and harmony of the strings—collided inside him and shoved out everything until only the sound remained. He’d never confessed to his grandparents, and even now his family didn’t know his contributions put him in the VIP seats of the San Francisco Philharmonic’s Stradivarian Circle, where he escaped to as often as possible.

Sophie Callahan was the first person to pull at him in places he thought only the music could reach. But, unlike the symphony, he wasn’t interested in becoming a patron of Sophie Callahan’s.

“Look, I carried in a box of kittens to her store this morning.” Brad pointed at the counter. Ruthie held a gray kitten while Ella hugged the white runt. Brad’s mother would approve of Sophie’s dedication to animals. That wasn’t Sophie’s first rescue litter and she acted as if she knew it wouldn’t be her last. Still, she remained committed.

Brad’s commitment to his own one-man cause seemed slightly more selfish in the face of Sophie’s passion for animal rescue. But he was doing what was best for him and his family: leaving. “Some jerk just dumped the box outside her place,” he explained.

“Hold on.” Matt yanked open the door and called to Ruthie, who laughed at his admonition to not get too attached to the kittens and lifted one of the kitty’s paws in a tiny wave.

Matt let the door close. “Ruthie’s sister has not one but two Great Danes that split their time between our house and Sophie’s day care. They’ll accidentally step on a kitten without ever noticing.”

Exasperation was thick in Matt’s tone, but he never masked the tenderness in his gaze when Ruthie was in his sights. Brad’s friend would bring that kitten home in an instant if Ruthie asked, and he’d protect it with everything he had. Love suited his friend. But Brad doubted he could ever love like that. He carried too much Harrington DNA. His family put on the show of being loyal, but at their core it was every Harrington for himself.

Brad measured the window and glanced over his shoulder at his friend. “I’ve been told big dogs can be extremely gentle.”

Matt watched Ruthie through the glass and grinned. “Don’t pass that information along to the doctor.”

“I’m sure Sophie already told Ruthie.” Brad typed the measurements into the notepad app on his phone, straightened and handed the tape measure to Matt.

Matt never reached for it and instead stared at Brad. “I meant what I said. It would matter if Sophie were involved.”

“Understood.” Brad tossed the tape measure from one hand to the other. He’d already lied to his friend about not being on a case. Fishing for information couldn’t be a worse offense than that. “Anything else I should know?”

“Sophie and Ruthie have been best friends since high school.” There was a warning in Matt’s tone and caution in his silence.

Brad waited.

Matt added, “Sophie Callahan is what I like to call good people.”

He’d witnessed the darkness that festered inside good people enough times in his career as an investigator that he wondered if true goodness was more myth than reality. Only time would reveal if Sophie’s goodness came from her soul—something he’d yet to witness—or simply camouflaged a more corrupt nature. Something that had become his norm. “And I’m not good people?”

“You’re the bubble buster.” Matt laughed and punched Brad’s shoulder, breaking the tension and putting them back on familiar ground. “The harbinger of truth.”

“Truth sets people free.” Brad punched back. He was certainly free now that he’d learned the truth about his parents. Free from the manipulation. Free to pursue his own life on his own terms. He’d gained way more than he’d lost. And if he exposed Sophie’s father, George Callahan, for the low-life thief that he was, then he’d set Sophie free as well, if she was innocent.

“And I don’t always expose the full truth.” He knew when to hold back, like now, with his friend. Brad rubbed at his neck. Surely that wasn’t guilt knotting his muscles. Guilt wasn’t standard procedure. “The Nikkos kids will learn the truth about their arms-dealing father when he goes to trial. And that wife of the fraudulent banker hadn’t wanted to accept the facts. But the truth always comes out eventually, whether a person is prepared or not.”

“Your brand of truth alters lives. And you know I agree with you, or I wouldn’t have joined you on those cases or any of the others.” Matt opened the lid on his toolbox. “But there’s an aftermath.”

Brad tossed the tape measure inside and closed the lid. If only that pinch of guilt was as easy to discard.

Matt studied him. “But she isn’t your case.”

“No.” Sophie Callahan was part of the aftermath. He’d skipped breakfast that morning and assumed the gnawing in his stomach was from hunger, not unease about Sophie. He’d never stayed long enough to witness the ramifications or the consequences. He’d always presented his findings, ensured justice was done and moved on.

Except for his last FBI investigation that had resulted in a counterattack explosion, an innocent woman’s death and his resignation. Yet, according to Dr. Florence, he’d resolved his feelings of regret and blame in his yearlong biweekly therapy sessions. Though, now, he wasn’t so sure, and despite leaving the Bureau, there was still always a next case. Still never time to review his emotions or stick around for the aftermath.

Matt squeezed his shoulder. “Besides, in a few weeks you’ll be leaving the corporate embezzlers, cyber criminals and money launderers behind and seeking your own truth with the sharks, stars and open waters.”

“Maybe when I return, I’ll be good people, too.” Brad feared if he stayed in the city, he’d become more like his mother. Matt would never consider Harringtons good people if he knew the full truth about Brad’s family.

“You should at least have a good tan.” Matt laughed before climbing into his truck.

Brad watched Sophie return to the storefront and help Ella into a fuzzy jacket that made her look like a baby polar bear: warm and bundled up and adorable. Sophie slipped into a similar fleece jacket that she zipped up to her chin. Brad decided Sophie looked entirely too huggable and tempting. For that alone, he needed to expose her secrets.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and strode down the sidewalk. Within twenty-four hours, he’d have Sophie’s security system installed; before the end of the long weekend, he’d locate her wayward father and deliver the truth to his client. As for Sophie, she was either innocent or guilty. Right now, he’d bet on the latter. No woman had ever gotten under his skin, or rather sneaked under, until today. Either she practiced witchcraft or had perfected a legitimate cover that only made him all the more suspicious. No one would ever imagine the adorable pet-shop owner who rescued strays to be a master con artist. No one except him.

A forgotten section of the Times tumbled out of the mist as if the fog had printed its own dire headlines. He stomped on the newspaper, stopping its escape, and bent down, crumpling it in his fist. Somewhere he’d lost his ability to believe in good. To see hope. To imagine something better. He smashed the newspaper into an overflowing trash can, wanting to punch through his own cynicism. But he feared no matter how far he dug, he might never discover that missing part of himself. It was like searching for a rare penny in the city dump. An impossible task.

For now, he just needed to finish this case quickly. Then he’d do what he always did—move on. Or in this case, set sail.

CHAPTER THREE

“WE NEED TO HURRY.” Ella pulled her hood over her braids and gripped Sophie’s elbow. “I don’t want to miss the bus.”

“It’s five blocks and the fog delayed the bus’s departure.” Sophie dipped her chin inside her jacket. The unusual chill never cut into Ella’s enthusiasm. But the drizzle edged under Sophie’s collar, and a shiver ran through her. “I remember when it took you over one thousand steps to walk to school.”

“There’s no time for counting today, Auntie.” Ella squeezed Sophie’s arm, the pressure matching the urgency in her tone. “We have to talk about keeping Stormy Cloud.”

“Stormy Cloud,” Sophie repeated.

“The tiny kitten that April told me is most likely deaf,” Ella said. “She’s soft like a summer cloud, but her purr makes her sound like a storm cloud. No one likes storm clouds, Auntie.”

“I do,” Sophie said. The same way she liked the city fog and its changing weather moods, except today, when she needed sun—bright, bold and encouraging.

“That’s why we need to keep her,” Ella said. “She’ll just be an inconvenience to another family.”

There was that word again. The chill settled deep into her bones as if it intended to become permanent. Sophie tugged Ella closer.

Ella plowed on. “Is Brad an animal rescuer?”

“No, he stumbled upon those kittens accidentally.”

“That’s too bad.” Ella frowned. “I wanted him to rescue another litter so he’d have to come back to the store.”

“You liked him?” Sophie asked. Ella’s answer mattered. She didn’t want it to matter. Brad Harrington had a temporary place in their lives. Still, the mention of Brad brought a welcome warmth inside her.

Ella nodded. “His voice is good like an extra glass of hot chocolate, but sticky, like the laughter is trapped in his throat and he just needs someone to free it.”

“What’s my voice like?” Sophie asked.

“You sound like a mom.”

Before Sophie could ask if that was good or bad, Ella moved on, her conversation covering more ground in the five blocks to the school bus than most people covered in an eight-hour shift. “Papa George promised to take me to a concert.”

Sophie winced. Papa George needed to call his daughter back. Papa George needed to return Sophie’s money. Papa George needed to stop making promises he couldn’t keep.

Giggles and the stomping of boots disrupted Sophie’s irritation. Ella’s friends crowded around, peppering her with questions about her gorgeous braids. Four schools in four years and finally they’d discovered a place where Ella could flourish. Sophie had never considered that the public school less than a mile from their home would be the best fit for her legally blind niece. But the proof embraced Ella on the cement sidewalk in a diverse circle of acceptance and friendship and trust. Moving Ella to yet another school was not an option.

Sophie hugged Ella. “Have fun today.”

Ella gripped Charlotte’s elbow and the group of girls headed toward the buses, a flurry of excited chatter. Sophie waved to Ella’s teacher and Ella’s aide before she rushed down the sidewalk, heading toward her morning appointment. She had to find her money and save their home. And soon.

Her father had to be in serious trouble. She’d always believed she was free from his shady tactics. That she was somehow different to him, and darn it if she didn’t need to feel special, even for a moment, to someone. One time in her life.

No, she didn’t need to feel special anymore. She’d craved that when she was a child. But she’d outgrown the feeling the same way she had outgrown her craving for cereals with marshmallows and stars and good-luck charms.

Sophie stepped inside the law offices of Evans, Hampton, and King, leaving the pigeons on the sidewalk to peck away at her impractical childhood wishes.

Kay Olson waved at Sophie from behind the reception desk and slid off her headset. Kay tweaked her gray hair back into place. She’d been Sophie’s first customer for her dog-walking business a decade earlier. Kay’s hair had been gray even before cancer took Sophie’s grandmother and Kay’s childhood best friend, and before her daughter, April, became pregnant with twins.

Kay’s silver pixie cut was like battle armor, a spiked shield she wore to deflect the mess life seemed content to keep throwing at her. Her shield allowed her to believe in something better. Kay wasn’t expecting a pot of gold at the end of her rainbow—she was more of a realist than that. Sophie wanted some of that same inner-battle armor, though, to forge through her latest roadblock.

“Before you ask, I sent April home to bed.” Sophie unzipped her coat. “If you have the sponsorship check for the gala, I can take it and let you get back to work.”

“Let’s talk in here.” Kay pointed across the hall. “You can sample the pastries from Whisk and Whip Pastry Shop. Everyone agreed last week the Whisk is the city’s best.”

Sophie followed Kay into a small conference room that might have been bright if not for the fog crowding against the wall of windows. “I promised April I’d head over with the laptop and we’d work on the gala table seating so she still feels included.”

“April didn’t want to listen to the doctor.” Kay thrust her fingers through her hair, tightening the spikes. “She never wants to listen to any opinion that differs from her own, including her mother’s.”

“She’ll do what’s right for her babies.” Sophie walked to the windows that looked out over a park, but the gray mist had swallowed the swing set and slides. Mothers had a duty to do what was right for their children. Yet Sophie’s own mother had failed, and her sister struggled to put Ella first. Motherhood for the Callahan women was like standing inside the fog and never seeing the children’s little hands reaching for them. Sophie feared if she became a mother, she’d get lost in the fog, too. And that would be unforgivable.

“Well, the father needs to be told. That’s what’s right.” Kay smacked her palm against the table and released a sigh tinged with frustration. “But we don’t need to have this conversation again.”

“I’ve tried to ask April about the identity of the father, but she refuses to talk about what happened.” Sophie searched the fog for the metal curve of the swing set. She’d wanted to help April, seeing so much of her sister in the lost woman. Even more, she’d wanted to help Kay, to give back to the woman who’d given Sophie direction and purpose so many years ago. “I’m not sure I’ve been much of a good influence on her.”

“Nonsense,” Kay said. “April wants to keep working at your place. This is the longest she has stuck with anything. She claims she needs the Pampered Pooch and the four-legged customers to keep her calm.”

“She’s wonderful with the animals, especially the injured and newborns.” Sophie turned her back on the park and leaned against the window ledge. “She’ll be a great mother.”

Kay remained quiet and eyed the silver pastry platter in the center of the table. She began transferring the pastries back into a medium sized bakery box. “She isn’t you.”

“I’m not that special. I do what needs to be done. April will, too.” Sophie remembered feeling desperate and unsure, but she’d found her way, with the help of Kay and Ruthie. “You raised her right.”

“I raised her.” Kay set a croissant in the center of a napkin. “Did my best. Questioned everything. Second-guessed every decision.”

“Now you can second-guess your decision to be called Gigi or Nana or Grandma.”

Kay smiled. “My grandbabies are coming.”

“They are,” Sophie said. “There’s no second-guessing that.”

April Olson was having twins, ready or not. The pregnancy might have been unexpected, but everything since that test stick turned pink had been expected, even April’s reticence to reveal the father’s name. No one stole away in the middle of the night against the advice of family and friends only to return a year later and reveal all of their secrets. Sophie and Kay had eventually discovered that April had been in LA pursuing her music career. The prescription stuffed inside April’s jacket pocket for rest and hydration for severely bruised vocal cords was from a physician with an East Hollywood address. This was the only clue as to April’s whereabouts during her eleven-month disappearance. Other than that, April had offered few details.

Kay leaned back in her chair and looked at Sophie. “What will you do without April?”

Sophie let April keep her secrets and April never pried into Sophie’s secrets. There was a trust between the women. Now Sophie didn’t have April. She couldn’t hire and train another person fast enough to take her place. Not to mention, a full-time employee would expect health benefits. Employee health care was supposed to be part of Sophie’s plans after she’d paid off the loan. And after the gala happened, which was supposed to help raise awareness for the rescues and fosters at the Pampered Pooch that desperately needed homes. Sophie smiled, but the tension throbbing in her head was hard to ignore. “Make it work.”

“You’ve got the gala to organize.” Kay pulled the end off the croissant. “And Ella to care for.”

“I’ll shift things around. I knew this was coming. It’s my fault for not planning better. Sooner.” But she had planned. Except she’d never planned on her father betraying her and ruining everything. “I didn’t come here to whine. We can do that over Sunday dinner.”

“I didn’t bring you in here to stall, either. It’s not like me.” Kay crumbled the pastry into tiny flaky crumbs.

Kay had never been a stress eater; rather, she destroyed food when she was worried. Sophie eyed the mangled croissant. “Okay. Now I’m nervous.”

“I don’t have the sponsorship check.”

“That’s fine.” And it was fine. Perfect, actually. Kay hadn’t announced something that Sophie couldn’t handle, like she had cancer or was moving out of state. Sophie would need to call her vendors and adjust the payment schedule, but she’d sort it out. She dropped into the high-backed leather chair across from Kay. “I can get it Monday.”

Kay leaned forward and squeezed Sophie’s arm. “I won’t have a check.”

“Won’t. That’s different.” Sophie set her elbows on the table, refusing to wilt into the chair. She was starting to hate expensive soft leather chairs. First the bank. And now here. “What happened?”

“I’m not entirely certain.” Kay crushed another bit of croissant into the napkin.

Sophie struggled to remain positive, but her hope deflated quicker than the crumbs beneath Kay’s fist.

“Pete Hampton called this morning to rescind the sponsorship,” Kay said. “But he wants you to keep the firm on the sponsorship list for next year, so it isn’t a total loss.”

“I have to get through this year before I can even consider next year.” And getting through this year was in jeopardy without one of her largest sponsors. “I appreciate that he’s the senior partner and busy, but can I talk to him directly?”

“Pete’s on the road, heading to Phoenix, then Dallas, and won’t return until the end of next week.”

That’d be too late. Sophie needed to pay the caterer and the audio-visual guy on Tuesday after the holiday weekend. Kay avoided looking at Sophie, and her shoulders dipped forward as if she’d lost her only dog in a blizzard. Sophie asked, “There’s no way to change his mind, is there?”

“That man is a mule—brilliant, but a mule all the same.” Kay tossed the napkin into the trash. “I can bring it up with him when he checks in this afternoon.”

Sophie shook her head. She didn’t want Kay to jeopardize her own position within the company. Kay needed the health insurance that covered her pregnant daughter.

“Pete mentioned that the insurance company and the wellness center have also withdrawn their sponsorship. Is that true?”