Miss White and the Seventh Heir

Sage gave Louise a strange look. “Why would you want those? Isn’t human resources enough for you? You want to expand into accounting, too?”

“Heavens, no. I ran into Ralph in the hall.”

“Ralph, huh?” Sage had a funny tone in her voice and a goofy smile on her face.

Trey had obviously missed something. But it was better that way. The more he got involved in their lives, the harder it’d be when it came time to close the magazine.

“It’s not like you think.” Louise’s voice lacked its normal tone of conviction. “We’re friends, is all. I’ve been married already. And so has he.”

“And now you’re both widowed. Why not keep each other company?”

Trey chanced a glance at the unusually quiet Louise. For the first time, he witnessed the bold and forthright woman blush. Maybe Sage was on to something.

Avoiding eye contact, Louise said, “Like I’d started to say, Ralph stopped to speak to you and found your door closed. I told him I’d ask you for the documents when I spoke to you.”

“Is this for the upcoming audit?”

Louise shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong person.”

“I wonder why Ralph thinks I’d have those statements,” Sage stated, opening and closing desk drawers as though searching for the missing documents. “You’d think those would be kept in the accounting department.”

“Mr. Rousseau liked to be in control of everything,” Louise supplied. “Have you looked through those file cabinets?” She gestured toward the wall-to-wall line of four-drawer file cabinets.

Trey couldn’t help but think that it sounded like his controlling father—always wanting things his way. And when his mother refused, his father didn’t care to compromise and just up and left them—left him. The man didn’t even give them a backward glance.

Sage turned to Trey. “I hate to give you this task, but could you go through those file cabinets and see if the P&L statements are in there. It’s really important that we do well on this audit.”

He nodded and set to work. The metal file cabinets were old and the papers inside them were even older. Drawer after drawer, file after file, he searched. And then he opened a drawer that lacked any papers. He was about to close it when a photo caught his attention.

Trey was drawn to the image. It was a photo of himself when he was two or three. He reached for it. The fact that his father had it...should it mean something to him? A spark of hope ignited. In the next breath, he acknowledged that it had been discarded in an old file cabinet. That should be all the answer he needed.

“I see you’ve found Mr. Rousseau’s photos,” Sage said from behind him.

Photos? There was more than one? He peered back in the drawer to find his parents’ wedding photo and one of him as a baby.

“They were on his desk when I got here. I think he left them because he thought he’d be back once the lawsuit quieted down. I considered messengering them to him, but I didn’t want him to read anything into the gesture like I was pushing him out—not after everything he’s done for me.”

His father had these photos on his desk? But why? Was it for show? That had to be it. No other answer made sense.

“I thought he was estranged from his family?” Trey returned the photo of himself to the drawer. As he did so, he found himself curious about his parents’ wedding. Had they been happy at the beginning? He withdrew the framed photo. His father had been smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world and Trey’s mother...he’d never seen her look happier.

A lump formed in the back of Trey’s throat. If they’d been this happy at the start, was he the reason the marriage fell apart?

“I don’t know the details.” Sage’s voice reminded him that he wasn’t alone. “I just know that he talked highly of his son.”

Highly? Really? Trey found that so hard to believe. Trey took one last look at the photo. His mother had been so radiant and full of life, nothing like the woman his father had left behind. The broken, lonely woman that Trey had tried to care for.

Trey returned the photo to the drawer. He choked down the rising emotions and closed the drawer, warding off the unhappy memories of his childhood.

“Would you like me to help you search?” Sage offered.

“I’ve got this.” He kept his back to her, not wanting her to read into the expression on his face. “Besides, don’t you have a meeting with circulation in ten minutes?”

Sage glanced at the clock. “You’re right. I totally forgot.”

“No problem. That’s what I’m here for.”

She grabbed her digital tablet and rushed out of the room.