Page 25 of Thick and Thin

His gentle smile warmed me again. “Lise, I read your weekly reports—and I have a good idea of what all is down there. You would have already been done with that project if you hadn’t started researching the value of many of the items.”

“Okay, but you have a lot of antiques down there that would fetch a pretty penny.”

“If I felt like parting with them.”

“And the Downey painting.”

His grip on my hands tightened momentarily. “You proved your worth as an employee.”

There was one thing we hadn’t said—and I had to know. “What about us?”

A grin cracked his face as his eyes filled with something I’d never seen before—but I couldn’t quite place what it was. “We’ll figure that out down the road.”

On the ride home, the sweet and spicy scent of Chinese food lingered in my nose, even though Sinclair had put the big bag of food in the trunk.

He asked, “Who was that man in front of your house?”

“That was Mr. Sherwood.” I didn’t want to tell Sinclair about the man’s near confession, at least not yet, partly because I wasn’t even sure if I believed him. Although he’d told me the truth about the repair of the lab, I felt like everything he’d said had been to manipulate my emotions. For all I knew, he’d made up everything about having a “crew of students” do his dirty work.

And if he had manipulated students into “revolting” with him, I didn’t know that I wanted to get them in trouble. Over the past year, I’d seen students practically worship the man—which meant they might have been suckered in like cult members. Doing his bidding, if they had, could have ruined their entire lives.

Despite how this whole thing had begun, I no longer regretted it. My future was unclear, especially with Sinclair, but I felt like I was in a better place. Even though I no longer planned to attend DU—if, in fact, Sinclair really was going to let me go after I finished my work—I now knew what I wanted to do with my life.

Sinclair’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “That doesn’t really explain who he is. Although I have no intention of suing him for a hit and run, I like to know who my enemies are.”

How much had Sinclair heard of our conversation before he’d approached? I didn’t know for certain—and I couldn’t remember exactly all we’d said. But I could answer Sinclair’s question regardless. “His name is Alan Sherwood. He teaches history classes at the college.”

“And why was he at your house?”

“I ran into him at the grocery store yesterday. He’s the one who told me about the lab getting finished early.”

Sinclair stopped the car at a red light and turned his focus on me. “But why was he at your house today?”

“I think it was just an excuse to see me.” Although that hadn’t been Sherwood’s stated intention, I knew it was part of it. “He’s kind of a creepy guy and I’ve always gotten an interested vibe from him.”

“Jesus. And I thought I was robbing the cradle.”

My cheeks flushed. “Your advances weren’t unwanted.”

“But his are,” Sinclair said, giving the car gas when the light turned green. “Would you like me to take care of him for you?”

I had no idea what he meant but one part of my mind conjured up plenty of scenarios. My father had always believed Augustus Whittier had found ways to soil his name among Winchester citizens, but he’d never known exactly how the tycoon had done it. Was that what Sinclair meant—or had he simply intended to confront the man himself?

Either way, I didn’t want anything else bad to happen. “No.” And then, as my mind shot back to that scene in the front yard when Sinclair had subtly threatened him, I added, “You already did.”

Chapter 10

When we arrived back at the house moments later, Sinclair and I walked in the house with him carrying the takeout bag. My father was asleep in his chair, the TV playing softly in the background, his coffee cup still mostly full, his breakfast all but untouched.

“Dad?” I asked softly, touching his shoulder. To Sinclair, I said, “Would you please take that in the kitchen?” When he nodded, I turned back to my father. “Dad?”

Taking in a deep breath, my father fluttered his eyes and then looked at me. The exhaustion on his face made me want to cry. Had this miracle infusion somehow made him far worse?

He must have seen the worry in my expression. “I’m all right, princess.”

“Are you hungry?”

At that, he smiled. “I guess I am—a little bit. I appreciate all the trouble you went to with breakfast, but I’m not in the mood for it.”

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