Sand Dollars Read Online Free Page B

from the table, her mission accomplished. “David’s going back to Berkeley tomorrow, so I want to spend some time with him before he goes. Oh, Mr. Caine.” She turned to me, her dark eyes penetrating. “I know David thanked you for what you did, but I feel I owe you a mother’s appreciation. It was because of that, plus the other things I found out about you, that you’re here. Yes, we have private investigators in California. Good ones, too. But you saved my son. And the way you went back into that ship made me know you are the kind of man Claire needs now. If she trusts you, she will tell you all the facts and”—she faced Claire—“if she knows what’s good for her, she’ll trust you.” She turned back to me. I stood and shook her hand. “I’ll meet you in Joe’s office in the morning. In the meantime here’s my card. If you need anything.”
    We watched her leave, taking the check, the full-service banker. And one hell of a woman. When she left, the room seemed empty. Claire and I sat next to each other in the booth, silently sipping our wine. When she didn’t say anything, I did.
    â€œWhen was the accident?”
    â€œTwo months ago. The Santa Clara, that was our boat,
blew up at a fuel dock in Ensenada, about a hundred miles south of here. It burned to the waterline. They were able to recover only some charred remains they identified as Paul. We buried what was left of him.”
    â€œDeath certificate?”
    â€œOf course. Joe, he’s the family lawyer, he has all that. Tell me again. You’ve never heard of Paul Peters or Petersoft?”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œPetersoft, Limited. My husband wrote software. We started the company in our apartment, then took it public. Now it’s listed on the NASDAQ. We moved the corporate offices to La Jolla two years ago. We bought the property for cash. Paul and I made a lot of money in a very short time. Now that he’s gone, I guess I’m the president.”
    â€œYou guess you’re the president?”
    â€œThat’s part of the problem. Some of the stockholders have filed suit trying to block my appointment. Joe will tell you all the details tomorrow. If you want the job?” She said it with a rising inflection, as if it were a question.
    â€œI don’t understand what you want me to do.”
    She sipped her wine. It was a healthy sip. She set the glass down, patted her lips with her napkin, replaced it in her lap, and adjusted the corners so they matched. “Barbara said to trust you,” she said.
    â€œPaul was the president and CEO of Petersoft. He was a genius. I know that sounds trite, but in his case it was true. He was simply one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. We were married for fifteen years. At first we were very poor and we stayed that way for a long, long time.” She looked me in the eyes. It was a pleasant experience, but disturbing, too. The blue irises were now the color of ice. “Long enough,” she continued, my mind racing to catch up, “to appreciate the difference.
    â€œPaul had a plan. He knew exactly what he wanted. He wrote his first commercial software program soon after we got married. Then he hit it big with his relational database with a graphical interface. He wrote it originally for a Macintosh
platform, but Microsoft Windows made it possible to adapt it to other hardware. One of the biggest software companies picked it up. He never looked back after that.”
    She took another sip, another big one. So did I, unwilling to admit I had no comprehension of what she had just said.
    â€œI know I’m not getting to the point and I appreciate your not pushing me,” she said, looking at the top of the table. She smoothed a wrinkle in the tablecloth with her fingers until it was gone. Behind her, the sky turned orange as the sun hid beyond a band of clouds near the horizon. It