Retribution

Chapter Eight

         The curving wooden staircase creaked noisily in the silence following in the wake of the guests’ departure. Wesley winced slightly at the sound; he didn’t want McNab to know he was headed back upstairs to his closet to move the painting. That man was obsessed about anyone looking at “his” art collection. Sometimes that man took it for granted that since his father had worked for Wesley’s father, he could get away with anything.

         It only took him a few minutes to move the painting from his closet and carry it down the hall to the storage room. When he reached the narrow door that led to the storage room, he opened it slowly. How had he never noticed how badly it squeaked? He waited for an instant, and not hearing anything, he flicked on the small light bulb in the storage room and walked in with the imitation J.M.W. Turner.

         “Can I help you with anything?” McNab’s smooth voice behind him caused him to jump, hitting his head on the low doorsill. He rubbed the small bump on his head and glared at McNab.

         “No! I’m fine. Just putting the “J.M.W. Turner” in the storage room—didn't want it to get ruined in my closet.” He held the painting loosely at his side waiting for McNab to leave him in peace.

         Not getting the hint, McNab looked at the painting in his hand. “Did you want me to put that painting up somewhere?”

         “No. Thank you, McNab. I was just looking at it. There is no need to put it up sooner than you were planning.”

         “If you say, sir.”

         “You’re free to have the rest of the weekend off, after you’ve locked up.”

         “Thank you, sir.” McNab nodded and finally disappeared silently down the stairs.

If it took giving McNab a couple days off to get rid of him for a minute, it was worth it.McNab was so sensitive about the art, it was as though he were the curator of some prestigious museum or something.Wesley rolled his eyes, walked over to a renaissance painting on the south wall, and gently removed it to hang the J.M.W. Turner in its place. As he stepped back and studied the tempestuous landscape again, he thought about the day Philip Drake had brought it to him as a peace offering several months ago.

“Phillip Drake is here to see you,” McNab had announced at Wesley’s office door. Wesley looked up in surprise. “Well, show him in then.” What could Philip have to say to me?Wesley wondered as he waited for McNab to show Drake in. Only two days ago he'd informed Wesley that he was quitting the project, claimed a time crunch issue as an excuse.He must be coming over to apologize and reschedule the meeting with the engineers. Of course, that was it. He admitted to himself he'd begun to worry that if Drake actually quit, he might take Katherine with him, and he was too attached to her for that. She’d just begun to finally warm up to him as well. The last several weeks had been wonderful—he'd finally convinced her that he wasn’t some vicious wolf on the prowl and she'd relaxed and been a ball of fun.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise.” Wesley greeted Phillip, who stood awkwardly in the doorway. His lanky figure was dressed fumblingly in a plaid overcoat paired with blue pants. Must be his attire of choice when he’s not in the office, Wesley decided.

Phillip stepped inside, dragging a huge rectangular package behind him and shut the door behind him. “I realize you're most likely not very happy with me right now.” He took a half step forward, then paused again. “And you have every reason to be so.”

“Okay, Phillip, stop with the dramatics.” Wesley chuckled as he leaned back in his black leather chair. “I've never seen you so awkward, but I’m happy to have you back on board. The project needs you—we  all need you. No apologies necessary. We’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”Confident to have passed that hurdle, Wesley sat up straight and opened his black leather-bound schedule book as he flipped to the current week. “Now, when should we schedule the meeting with the structural department?”