Suzanna's Surrender

Marshall was lean and tanned and had a hint of a Boston accent. He wore his dark hair nearly shoulder length and sported a drooping mustache. His eyes were brown, thanks to contact lenses. His teeth were slightly bucked. The oral device had cost him a pretty penny, but it had also changed the shape of his jaw.

He was very comfortable with Marshall, and delighted to have signed on as a laborer on The Towers renovation. His references had been forged and had added to his overhead. But the emeralds would be worth it. He intended to have them, whatever the price.

Over the past months they had gone from being a job to an obsession. He didn't just want them. He needed them. He found the risk of working so close to the Calhouns only added spice to the game. He had, in fact, passed within three feet of Amanda when she had come into the west wing to talk to Sloan O'Riley. Neither of them, who had known him only as Livingston, had given him a second glance.

He did his job well, hauling equipment, cleaning up debris. And he worked without complaint. He was friendly with his co-workers, even joining them occasionally for a beer after work.

Then he would go back to his rented house across the bay and plan.

The security at The Towers posed no problem – not when it would be so easy for him to disengage it from the inside. By working for the Calhouns, he could stay close, he could be certain he would hear about any new developments in their search for the necklace. And with care and skill, he could do some searching on his own.

The papers he had stolen from them had offered no real clue as yet. Unless it came from the letter he'd discovered. One that had been written to Bianca and signed only “Christian.” A love letter, Marshall mused as he stacked lumber. It was something he had to look into.

“Hey, Bob. Got a minute?”

Marshall looked up and gave his foreman an affable smile. “Sure, nothing but minutes.”

“Well, they need some tables moved into the ballroom for that wedding tomorrow. You and Rick give the ladies a hand.”

“Right.”

Marshall strolled along, fighting back a trembling excitement at being free to walk through the house. He took his instructions from a flustered Coco, then hefted his end of the heavy hunt table to move it up to the next floor.

“Do you think he'll come?” C.C. asked Suzanna as they finished washing down the glass on the mirrored walls.

“I doubt it.”

C.C. brushed back her short cap of black hair as she stood aside to search for streaks. “I don't see why he wouldn't. And maybe if we all gang up on him, he'll break down and join ranks.”

“I don't think he's a joiner.” Suzanna glanced around and saw the two men struggling in with the table. “Oh, it goes against that wall. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Rick managed through gritted teeth. Marshall merely smiled and said nothing.

“Maybe if he sees the picture of Bianca and hears the tape from the interview Max and Lilah had with the maid who used to work here back then, he'll pitch in. He's Christian's only surviving family.”

“Hey!” Rick muffled a curse when Marshall bob-bled the table.

“I don't think he's big on family feeling,” Suzanna put in. “One thing that hasn't changed about Holt Bradford is that he's still a loner.”

Holt Bradford. Marshall committed the name to memory before he called across the room. “Is there anything else we can do for you ladies?”

Suzanna glanced over her shoulder with an absent smile. “No, not right now. Thanks a lot.”

Marshall grinned. “Don't mention it.”

“Some lookers, huh?” Rick muttered as they walked back out. “Oh, yeah.” But Marshall was thinking of the emeralds.

“I tell you, bud, I'd like to –” Rick broke off when two other women and a young boy came to the top of the stairs. He gave them both a big, toothy smile. Lilah gave him a lazy one in return and kept walking.

“Man, oh, man,” Rick said with a hand to his heart. “This place is just full of babes.”

“Pardon the leers,” Lilah said mildly. “Most of them don't bite.”

The slim strawberry blonde gave a weak smile. At the moment a couple of leering carpenters were the least of her worries. “I really don't want to get in the way,” she began in a soft Southwestern drawl. “I know what Sloan said, but I really think it would be best if Kevin and I checked into a hotel for the night.”

“This late in the season, you couldn't check into a tent. And we want you here. All of us. Sloan's family is our family now.” Lilah smiled down at the dark – haired boy who was gawking at everything in sight. “It's a wild place, isn't it? Your uncle's making sure it doesn't come crashing down on our heads.” She walked into the ballroom.

Suzanna was standing on a ladder, polishing glass, while C.C. sat on the floor, hitting the low spots. Lilah bent to the boy. “I was supposed to be in on this,” she whispered. “But I played hooky.”

The idea made him laugh, and the laughter, so much like Alex's, had Suzanna glancing over.