Page 101 of Burning Caine
I put a hand on her shoulder. “Keep your mouth shut. I’ve got this.”
“Samantha, Lucy.” Roger smiled as we entered. We were close enough to Cliff’s tirade they would have heard it.
David Scott, without his mother, sat next to Roger at the middle of the large table. Neither of them looked happy.
Roger was in his late sixties, tall, thick, and showing his age. His once-dark hair was entirely gray, but he was as commanding as ever. After Matt and I divorced, he’d blamed me for his son coming out of the closet; apparently, being a ‘bad wife’ did that to a man.
“Mr. Foster, Mr. Scott, good to see you both.” I smiled politely as Lucy and I sat.
“My dear friend Bobby Scott passed away three weeks ago. I’ve done everything in my power to ensure his family receives what our company promised them. Olivia wants to pick up the shattered pieces of her life and move on, not continue to be reminded of her loss. It’s been ten days since we paid out the claim for the damage to their house, and David tells me the repairs are already in progress.”
Lucy and I focused on Roger, but she flicked a look in my direction at the mention of the repairs being in progress. That eliminated the theory Olivia had pocketed the repair money.
“But you—” Roger pointed at me. “You have put up roadblocks at every opportunity. Why shouldn’t I take you off this claim and simply tell Cliff to pay it out?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? If it had been the original, this claim would be closed already. I didn’t have proof it was a fake, and Cliff had been clear enough to stay quiet until I did. I shifted my focus to David. Did he know the truth?
“My apologies, Mr. Foster, Mr. Scott, but confirming this painting as the original is a reinsurance requirement, and it’s taking longer than expected. The conservator has had some unexpected scheduling delays—”
“Perhaps—” Roger’s voice was cold and measured. “—if my adjuster and the man cleaning the painting were spending more time focused on this claim, and less on traipsing about town in pretty clothes, it would be done already.”
My smile faltered for a moment, but I glued it back in place. Fucking Victoria and her newspaper article. At least Lucy was in the clear; this was about me, and it was personal.
“I assure you, the conservator has been spending evenings and weekends working on the painting. I’ve expressed the level of urgency to him several times.”
Roger turned to David, the irritation flipping to empathy.“David, Ms. Caine will have your claim closed within a week, or I’ll contact our reinsurer directly and advise them the authentication was not possible given the damage. Either way, it will be finished and we’ll pay you and your mother any money you are owed. That’s my guarantee.”
Dammit.
David Scott thanked him and walked out, with no more thought to Lucy and me than the smug look he flashed while standing. The whole thing had likely been rehearsed before we arrived.
Roger turned back to me. “Got that? One week.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And keep your profile down. Cliff tells me you’ve done a great job the last couple of months, so I’ll spare you the lecture about how each of us represents Foster Mutual.” He stood, giving me one last scowl at the door. “I shouldn’t have let you come back.”
The door slammed behind him, and Lucy finally exhaled.
“Well, that sucked,” I said, sagging in the chair.
“Why didn’t you tell him your suspicions?”
“We can’t say anything until we have proof. The Scotts are personal friends of Mr. Foster.” I’d kept Lucy out of the red flag discussions and my discomfort with the claim being hurried along. She didn’t need to get caught in the cross fire.
“He doesn’t like you.”
“No kidding.” I rubbed my face and tried to settle myself. Normally, work was a piece of cake, and my personal life was a mess. Things had somehow switched on me, and it was unfamiliar territory.
When I didn’t say anything more, she suggested, “Trip to Ferraro’s?”
Nodding, I pulled out my phone and texted Antonio.You available?
For you, always
Your office?
I have other ideas…