Adjusting To Normal Ch. 02

"It's a party. Who doesn't like a party?"

"Do you, Eliza?"

"Well, sure, but I'm not attending tonight. But if I were an employee here, I think I would be excited to dress up and attend a banquet."

"Why aren't you attending?" Brooke asked. "I thought attendance was mandatory."

"Of course she is," Michael interrupted from behind them. "Ms. Wallen is apparently confused about her schedule but she will certainly join us tonight. I plan on escorting her."

"Oh," Brooke replied to him and then added, "Oh" with a look at Eliza that held more meaning.

Feeling the blush from her embarrassment heating her cheeks, Eliza barely noticed when Michael escorted her from the room. If anyone spoke to her, she was sure that she had responded like a drooling moron. When they walked into the lab, she realized that his hand was still clasped to her elbow and steering her toward the direction of his choice.

"Let me go," she snapped jerking her arm from his hold. "I'm not going to your banquet tonight. I don't care what your damn schedule says."

"You are, but why wouldn't you want to? I heard you tell Brooke that you'd enjoy it."

"I'm not prepared for a formal event. I didn't even bring Nikes."

"We have stores. Didn't you see them when you arrived...?"

"I'm not buying a dress for one night. In five days, I'm going home. Grad school. A place where Nikes are a luxury. If I bought something now, it would be five years out of style before I had the chance to wear it again."

"We will make some arrangements for you."

"No," she replied. "This is an assignment. Not a shopping spree. Why did you bring me here anyway?"

"You look like you needed some space from everyone."

"And the lab has the perfect space?"

"Away from everyone," he added gently while ushering her through the room. When they had reached the far wall, he led her through a door into an area that appeared to be used for storage. "This corner is the only space hidden from the surveillance monitors," he explained, spinning her around until her back rested against the wall.

Silently, she waited for his next move. When he remained still, she started thinking about what he had said. There was a space in the lab outside of security's view. Security that had been installed by her employer. She looked over his shoulder and realized that the area was large enough for a person to step behind the shelves with something in their hands.

"But wouldn't they be seen?" she asked.

"When?"

"When they left," she said, looking around the area. "We may be hidden now but certainly we'll move in front of the monitors when we leave."

"Sure, just like anyone in this department would do several times a day."

Eliza surveyed the material surrounding them. Boxes, bubble wrap, foam popcorn, and tape were some of the items within easy reach. An item could be brought in, packaged and carried out.

"But the tapes would show someone carrying the item in here," she continued aloud. "How big was that prototype thing?"

"Thing?" he asked with a smile. "In its container, which is also missing and required to charge the unit, it is approximately the size of a shoebox."

"What is it exactly?"

"Simple answer: mechanical automation."

"Who was the last person to have it?"

Michael leaned close, touching his forehead to hers. When he kissed her, she could feel something more than passion in his touch. Reading his desperation, she knew that he was preparing to tell her something he did not want to say. And she was certain that she did not want to hear it. He pulled away and answered her question.

"Me."

***

Waiting for the driver to open the door, Eliza patiently sat in the car. Before she could ask Michael any more questions they had been interrupted by one of his assistants. He had escorted her to the boring staff meeting, and then directed her toward the next appointment on her schedule which had proven to be another waste of time. The security guard had been on duty the night of the theft but had seen nothing out of the ordinary. After offering her a DVD copy of the security film, he escorted her to the door explaining that he was simply following Mr. Michael Westwright's instructions.

Stepping from the car she noticed the various shops that she had admired less than twenty-four hours earlier. As she stood alone on the street, she scanned the schedule trying to determine which appointment would be here.

"Ms. Wallen?" a woman asked from one of the shop doors. "Excuse me but are you Ms. Wallen?"

Turning towards the woman, Eliza nodded and approached the store. "I'm Eliza Wallen with KGA but I'm confused why I'm here."

"Mr. Westwright asked that I assist you in finding something for tonight."

"Something for tonight?"

"Something to wear, my dear. Come in and let's see what we can find."

Desperately wanting to run back to the office and scream at the controlling bastard, Eliza chose to avoid being rude and followed the woman. Once inside she immediately regretted her decision. This place was like nowhere she had ever shopped before and she seriously doubted that she would again. Casually touching one gown, she grimaced when she saw the price. Her entire savings would hardly suffice as a down payment.

"Uh," she hesitated, "Look, I'm sorry for the confusion. I really tried to explain to Mr. Westwright but he apparently did not understand. I'm in no position to purchase anything right now."

"There's no need to explain," the woman replied as she moved around the store. "Everything has been arranged for you."

"Look, Mrs., uh..."

"Please call me Margaret."

"Margaret, I am here for an assignment and not prepared for any social events."

"We have everything that you need right here, my dear."

"Look," she said, moving in front of the woman, "I can't afford this. I can't even afford to rent anything in here. I'm just a student and I refuse to be coerced into spending all of my money for a party that I really don't want to attend."

"Oh," the woman whispered. "My apologies, Ms. Wallen."

"No need. I'm sure poverty isn't something that walks through your door every day. I should return to work."

"No. No, you can't. You see, I didn't explain very well. When I said that everything had been arranged for you, I meant that Mr. Westwright had taken care of the expense. He said that it was a sensitive topic and I should be considerate in explaining it to you. Apparently, I failed."

"So, it's a write-off?" Eliza asked looking around the shop. "Since he owns everything, he gets to decide what goes to charity?"

"Hardly," Margaret answered with a smile. "Oh, they own the building but the business is mine. There is no charity, not even an employee discount, only Mr. Westwright's credit card number waiting to be used. Now, let's find your dress."

"This is unbelievable."

"What's unbelievable is how well he described your body," Margaret replied with a grin.

***

Several hours later Eliza decided to return to her room, exhausted and frustrated. The end of day two and she had yet to speak with anyone who had provided useful information. So far, shrugging shoulders and "I don't know" had been the common answer. With the exception of Michael, most of the staff had little knowledge of the item stolen, when it had actually disappeared and who would have wanted it.

Michael would have the answers to all of those questions and he was the last person to have possession. But why would he steal it? Certainly he could sell the technology but isn't that what his company would do eventually? Was he trying to keep the profit for himself? Then why be so generous with bonuses? Would he betray his brothers so cruelly? Why destroy his family's business?

By the time she reached her room, her head was splitting. In school, questions could be answered by a night of research in the library. Here, she was relying on limited knowledge and no experience. She honestly couldn't remember the questions for which she was trying to find answers.

Opening the door, she turned on the lights and stopped. Dress bag? Check. Shoe box? Check. So what were in the bags on the bed? Apparently, Margaret had taken some liberties with Michael's credit card. Swearing to send everything back in the morning, Eliza pick up the largest of the three bags and peeked inside. Might as well know what needed to be returned.

She found an expensive set of lingerie along with a note explaining that "a dress is not complete without the necessary accessories." With a sigh, she grabbed the next bag which contained a jewel studded clutch and finally the last bag which held two black velvet jeweler's box. Sitting on the bed, she guessed what would be inside the box. Black onyx stones that matched those on the clutch? Maybe sterling silver hoops and a chain? Exactly what jewelry would be appropriate with a dress that cost more than a car?

For a moment Eliza wondered if this was how little children felt on Christmas morning. Trees and presents had been hindered by her mother's holiday parties where decorations were limited to mistletoe over the door and garland strung throughout the house. She shut away those memories as she opened the box.

Diamond drop earrings sparkled against the black fabric. Two large princess-cut diamonds surrounded the chain's smaller round stones. With trembling fingers she lifted one from the box and watched brilliant lights reflect from her hand. Certainly Michael had no idea how much money had been charged to his credit card. Did he? Had he become so successful by being so careless?

If he had approved this purchase, what did he hope to gain? Certainly her responses to his advances had confirmed that she would give herself freely to him. So why would he buy gifts this extravagant?

"No," she said aloud as the answers screamed inside her head. "It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense." She placed the earring back in the box and gently traced her fingers over the soft velvet. "Then I need to find the answers that make sense."

She opened the second box and nearly fainted. The drop necklace had a similar design with small round stones set in platinum that would circle her neck. The jewelry that she would wear tonight was worth several thousand dollars. Add the dress and shoes and the price escalated to more than most annual household incomes. All for one night.

Determined to find her answers, Eliza showered and started dressing. She had just finished drying her hair when she realized that she had absolutely no idea how to style it. Flipping her head up, she shrieked at the wild untamed mess that hung to her waist. She grabbed her brush and roughly pulled through her hair only to create more static and frizz. Defeated, she decided to retreat to the safety of her pins and leave styling to the professionals.

Just as she finished her makeup, she heard the familiar knock at the door. He was early, wasn't he? Certainly she hadn't spent that much time primping. Grabbing her robe, she dashed to the door prepared to offer apologies.

"I can explain," she started as she opened the door.

"What? Why you always answer the door wearing that robe?" Michael interrupted. "Or why your hair is plastered against your skull?"

"I just finished my makeup so I'll be dressed in a minute and I always wear my hair this way," she explained, turning away.

"Not tonight."

Eliza gasped when she felt his fingers touch her scalp and gravity take control. She twisted around to scream at him and ran right into his chest. When she faltered against him he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer.

"Please don't" she whispered. "I don't have time to re-do my makeup. I already need to fix my hair."

"No you don't," he said, moving his fingers through her hair. "I like it better this way."

"I look like I took a shower with an electric toaster," she said stepping away from him. "Have a seat. If we're late it's your fault." Returning to the bathroom, she looked at the mirror to assess the damage. She was a little surprised to find her dark hair waving down to her waist in a decent style. Apparently a mixture of hairspray, bobby pins and Michael's fingers worked some kind of magic.

"Leave it," he said, leaning against the door jamb.

"Only because we'll be late if I try to fix it," she consented. "I'll get dressed. Turn around."

"Why?"

She watched him silently wait for her to take the bait. He had seen everything she had to offer so he could challenge her claim of modesty. Shrugging her shoulders, she brushed by him and moved to the closet.

"It's your choice. But I have to warn you. I look pretty damn cute in this black thong you bought me."

"You win," he said with a laugh and walked to the balcony doors. "It's strange but I'm glad that you didn't put up too much of a fight about tonight."

"Let's be honest, Michael. I haven't put up too much of a fight with you period. So I decided to follow the course and maybe I'll find the answers I need to complete this assignment."

"To what end?"

"I need a job."

"Don't we all," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing. So you're planning to work the crowd tonight?"

"Certainly. Every person of interest should be there so I'll just have a simple chat and decide what direction I should take tomorrow."

"Persons of interest?"

"Sure. You. Your brothers. Their wives. Deborah. And oh yeah, there's one I haven't met yet. Uh, Joseph Westwright. Who is he?"

"An interesting choice," he answered quietly. "I can't wait to witness that interview."

"Who says you'll witness it?"

"I do. By law. Joe is my fourteen month old son."

Silence stretched between them for the next several minutes.

"Your son," she finally said. "The reason you had to..."

"Leave you last night? Yeah. Am I mistaken or does the background info you've been given have some serious omissions?"

"You're not mistaken. I've been asking myself the same question. Uh, Michael, you can turn around now."

She watched nervously as he turned and silently moved his gaze over her body. While she hadn't expected any sort of charismatic outburst, she had thought he would say something.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, tracing her fingers over the black, clinging material.

"No," he answered as he moved closer to her. "Almost perfect."

"Almost?" she asked, looking away from his gaze. "What do I need to do to be perfect?"

"Show me the thong."

***

Hours later Eliza collapsed in her chair begging for a break from dancing and cursing herself for choosing stilettos. She had met almost every employee at Arliss-Randall and was fairly certain that she had danced with every man at least twice. Even with her toes screaming in pain, she had agreed to be led around the floor by men of every age, size and color.

Apparently, the company spared no expense when celebrating with their employees. From the linen on the table to the selection of food, they had provided a night of luxury for them. And from what she had gathered, the Westwright brothers considered it a small token of their appreciation for the dedicated service they had received. The announcement of the bonuses had been a real treat as one man, who looked totally uncomfortable in his tuxedo, sobbed like a baby when he received his check.

Eliza watched the large crowd intermingle as though everyone were best friends. And while they resided together on this large campus, they really appeared to be family. So what was wrong? Someone, who was probably in this room, had stolen from them. And if she understood the potential threat, it could cost the company any future celebrations.

"Are you ok?" Michael asked as he sat next to her.

"Yep. Why? Don't I look ok?

"Almost perfect," he replied with a wink. "Actually, your eyes appear a little too bright."

"I think I've had too much to drink."

"You've had one glass of wine."

"And for a non-drinker, it's too much. My lips and nose are numb."

"Just my luck."

"What?"

"Nothing. Hey, I see someone that I need to talk to. Stay here and I'll bring you some coffee."

Eliza watched him disappear into the crowd, thankful that he had allowed her to remain seated. Wishing she could kick off her shoes, she settled for propping them in the vacant seat next to her. Hopefully, the tablecloth and the angle of her chair would hide her unfeminine display.

"Eliza," Brooke said walking towards her table. "I see you made it. Having fun?"

"Actually, I am. I might regret it in the morning but I'm having fun tonight."

"Drink it up. It might be the last party for a while, especially if you don't find our thief. How's the investigation? Anything new?"

"Not really," Eliza confessed. "Actually, I'm realizing that I may not have enough information to ask the right questions."

"Ah, that sucks. So it's been a complete bust?"

"Not really. There's still the usual suspects, but I'm confused on who some of the players really are. Maybe you can help me."

"I'd be glad to," Brooked answered taking a seat at the table. "What do you need?"

"This morning you were about to tell me why they needed this claim to be paid. I understand the value of the research but you said they needed it. Why?"

"Basically with everything else that's happened, all of their remaining eggs were left in that one basket."

"Everything that's happened?" Eliza asked, leaning closer to the woman.

"The other accidents. The claims denied by your company."

"The house fire?"

"Destroyed Jonathan's home and a contract that the other party now denies signing."

"The car accident?"

"Thomas' stupid little hobby but he and Kimberly barely escaped."

"The death?"

"Ah, the worst for us," Brooked explained with a shake of her head. "Especially now that her prototype has been stolen."

"What do you mean?"

"She invented the gizmo and apparently her notes were not complete enough to duplicate the damn thing."

"I had assumed that Michael was the creator. She was the one who committed suicide?"

"That's what your people said but I heard that her body had injuries that couldn't be explained. Anyway, it was a real tragedy and not just because of her value to the company. Everybody loved her."

"Who was she?"

Brooke looked at her for a second before answering, "Michael didn't tell you? It was his wife."