The Ellis Conversation

Author's Note: In the chapters before this one, Neal hadn't planned to return to his hometown. When an offer convinced him to go anyway, he intended to make the point that his childhood experiences there had turned him into a criminal, but instead a new set of experiences convinced him that maybe he didn't want to be a criminal after all.

What was Sara up to at this time? I like to think she was also reflecting on experiences that shaped her and was envisioning a new future.

Winston-Winslow offices, Baltimore. December 3, 2003. Wednesday evening.

Sara Ellis was absorbed in a case file when a pop-up announced a new email. Normally she ignored the reminders from her personal account, but she was tantalized by the title on this one: Sale on trips to Disneyland!

She opened the message from her favorite travel site to see an enticing offer. The images of Disneyland brought a mix of emotions. How many times had her mother used the employee discount to take Sara there? The magic of "the happiest place on Earth" made it okay to laugh and have fun together, no matter what was going on in their lives outside the park.

Sara hadn't been back to California since she was sixteen. Her last memory there was of her mother's funeral. She kept telling herself she'd go back one day to face her ghosts.

The last several New Years she'd resolved to return. Not much time left if she wanted to fulfill that resolution instead of postponing it yet another year. Should she spend Christmas at Disneyland?

As she closed the message, another email alert popped up: Sterling-Bosch is hiring insurance investigators in New York City

Sara opened the message from a recruiter. It was a personalized note, saying that a former Winston-Winslow employee who now worked at Sterling-Bosch had recommended her.

"Still here?"

Sara looked up to see Sofia Winston, the princess of Winston-Winslow. At twenty-seven Sofia was only two years older than Sara, but she had at least two decades more experience at the company, having had the run of the place since her childhood. Rumor had it that Sofia was destined for an executive role one day, and that wasn't only because her father had recently been named CEO. She had a combination of talent, ambition, and style that Sara admired.

"I lost track of time," Sara admitted, finally noticing that it was nearly 6pm. "I thought I'd just glance at the new case I was assigned, and it turned out to be more fascinating than I expected."

"I have a favor to ask," Sofia said. "I volunteered to talk to a group of high school students about careers for women, but I'm having second thoughts. 'Be the CEO's daughter' isn't advice most of them can follow. You'd be more relatable."

"My path wasn't exactly normal," Sara warned.

"That's what everyone says. Last time —" Sofia was interrupted by the sound of a raised voice nearby. Ever since Robert Winslow had been passed over for the CEO role, it had become increasingly common for him to storm into Allen Winston's office to rail at him. It was happening at least twice a week now, with the result that staff members were spending as much time as possible working cases from the field, or finding excuses to telecommute.

Sara locked her laptop and reached for her purse. "Do you want to finish that thought on the way to the parking garage?"

                                                                           ###

Friday afternoon was the first time Sara had returned to her high school since she'd graduated. Honestly, it had never really felt like her school. How could a place she'd attended for two years earn the kind of attachment she'd had to the schools she'd gone to throughout her childhood in California? She'd transferred at the beginning of eleventh grade, when she'd moved in with her Aunt Celeste, and had been in a daze of grief that made her feel out of touch with the world around her.

When she arrived today, Sara experienced a curious mix of the familiar and new. She remembered the way to the room without needing directions, but it felt so different to walk the halls as an adult. No rushing to get to class on time, no crowds of teenagers to push through. The halls felt much wider when she walked them alone, and in her expensive high-heeled shoes she saw everything from several inches higher while also causing an impressive echo of clicks against the floor.

Classes were over when she arrived, and only kids with after-school activities remained on the campus. Today one of those activities was talking to a group of three women about their career paths. Sara was the youngest guest and spoke last. As she listened, Sara realized that Sofia was right. Both of the first two women to speak described their paths as having been unusual. The first had gone from a liberal arts program to a high-tech job thanks to a savvy career counselor who had recognized that the job would be a good fit. The second had lucked into an internship due to a family connection and had leveraged that into a full-time position before graduating, juggling her final semester of college with her dream job.

Two different stories, and yet both storytellers gave exactly the same advice: the path to success was paved with hard work, excellent grades, extracurricular activities, and networking.

"And now we have Sara Ellis, an alum of our school," said the woman coordinating the event. "Sara, tell us about your career."

"I'm a private investigator at Winston-Winslow," Sara said.

It was a cool job, and there were immediately questions from the teens about what it was like. The same had been true with the first two speakers. It was when they'd described their path to those jobs that the questions tapered off. So when the coordinator asked Sara to explain how she'd gotten from high school to her current job, Sara tossed her mental notes into a mental trash can and gave them blunt honesty.

"First of all, I wasn't a straight-A student."

That resulted in some speculative looks.

"After my mom died I struggled to stay motivated. I got through eleventh grade with Bs and Cs, and just went home after classes. I didn't join any clubs or other activities, and didn't even have many friends. Mostly I escaped into books. Especially Nancy Drew stories. I dreamed of being Nancy and solving mysteries. Then in twelfth grade I took Ms. Ahn's drama class."

Smiles. It warmed Sara's heart to see that these girls recognized the name. Ms. Ahn was still a fixture here. Good.

"There was something magical about getting into character as someone else, someone who wasn't sad all of the time. It helped me remember the person I used to be, who had fun and friends. And it let me explore who I could be. I loved set design, costume design, and acting." She grinned. "And so I went to college and majored in history."

"What?" asked one of the girls.

"Not theater?" asked another.

"I took a couple of drama classes for fun," Sara told them, "because it brought me joy, but it wasn't my calling."

"How'd you know?" a teen asked.

"Well, as it happened, I missed the deadlines for college applications."

Gasps.

"I know. I had trouble deciding where to apply, and what to say in my application. I did eventually get an acceptance, but because it was late, it was an offer to join the next year's class. So I took an unplanned gap year. I found a job at a local theater, working in their office and helping to prepare for performances. And yes, one time they did have a member of the chorus out sick and asked me to fill in." Sara cleared her throat. "They asked me to wear the costume and do basic choreography so the other actors and audience would see what the director envisioned, but they specifically asked me NOT to sing. I just mouthed the words."

Laughter.

Sara chuckled along with hem. "Yes, I'm not meant to sing in public. I had fun, and considered staying with the theater and postponing college for another year. But the part of the job I found most exciting was solving mysteries. Why did King Lear's crown keep disappearing from where it belonged? What was causing the weird squeaking noise during the opening act? Who was embezzling from the theater's bank account?"

"Ooo." That wasn't just the teens. The coordinator and other speakers were wrapped up in the story, too.

"You solved all of those?" someone asked.

Sara nodded. "One member of the staff believed the crown was part of the king's costume, and would stow it with the wardrobe items. Another person believed it was a prop and kept moving it to that area. The squeaking was a family of mice that lived under the stage and was disturbed when the play started each evening. The money wasn't embezzled after all; it was a simple accounting error."

"You went from that to majoring in history?"

"I specialized in renaissance history and renaissance art. Not that I'm an artist, but art history is fascinating, and there are so many lost pieces. For a time I pictured myself as a modern-day Indiana Jones, tracking down treasures, uncovering a missing Raphael." She shrugged. "There are a lot of gaps in history. I enjoyed looking for the clues to what's missing in the average textbook, like the achievements of women."

"How did that lead to a career as a private investigator?" the coordinator asked.

"Each summer I returned to the theater where I'd worked during my gap year. They liked me and always found odd jobs they could pay me to do. In the fall semester of my senior year, they called on me to help with their re-imagined, modern version of A Christmas Carol. After one of the performances, a patron left a note saying she wanted to know more about how one actress was transformed into each of the three ghosts. There wasn't a lot of time to pull off those changes in costume and makeup, but we still achieved three distinct looks. I'd helped with the makeup, so the theater manager asked me to answer Sofia Winston's questions about how we accomplished it."

"Sofia Winston. As in Winston-Winslow," said one of the other speakers. "Your current employer."

"That's right," Sara agreed. "She wanted a lesson in how investigators could quickly change their looks so they wouldn't be recognized when tailing a suspect. She was impressed enough to ask me to repeat that lesson to a group of investigators at her company. While I was there I mentioned my love of Nancy Drew and mysteries, and showed an interest in their work. Before I left, they asked me to send my resume. And so I rushed back to the campus career center and looked up every resource they had on building a resume."

"They really hired someone straight out of college as an investigator?" a teen asked.

"Entry-level investigator," Sara said. "I started out doing online research. Not the most exciting work, but they have a good training program, and that's how I moved into my current role."

                                                                          ###

"You told them you got your job because you're good at applying makeup?" asked Celeste. They were at her modest dining room table, eating takeout Sara had picked up after the event at the high school.

Sara grinned at her aunt, pausing to eat another piece of sushi before answering. "It seemed better than saying that given my love of uncovering how people get away with thefts, it was either solve crimes or commit them."

Aunt Celeste worked in the legal department of a nonprofit foundation, and as expected harrumphed over the idea of Sara breaking the law. This had been a long-running joke between them.

With the message from the Sterling-Bosch recruiter in the back of her mind, Sara asked, "Did you ever think about leaving the foundation?"

"I know it's considered old-fashioned to spend your entire career at one place, but it suits me. The foundation itself has evolved over the years. I keep learning and doing new things."

Sara nodded, and selected another sushi roll from the plate on the center of the table.

"But yes, of course I pondered other options, especially when one of my peers would move on. At one point, a former colleague convinced me to interview with her new employer, and they did make me an offer. It was tempting."

"You've never mentioned that before. What happened?"

"The next day I went to work with every intention of accepting the offer and letting my manager know that I was leaving." Celeste shook her head. "All morning long I was confronted with reminders of the support we offer to each other and to the community. I truly do believe in the foundation's mission. When I finally met with Rosa, I told her about the interview and how I'd been feeling overlooked recently. She agreed with my points and suggested steps we could take to give me more opportunities for a promotion."

"You didn't really want to leave."

"No, not really. But being courted by another employer boosted my ego enough for me to bring up issues I should have raised earlier."

"Do you ever think about what it would have been like if you'd taken the other job?" Sara asked.

Celeste looked at her pointedly. "As it happens, the job was with the University of Maryland, so yes, when I found myself looking after a teenager and thinking about sending you to college, I definitely wondered what it would have been like to receive the university's employee benefits."

"Discounted tuition?"

"It would have been almost free," Celeste confirmed. "But in the end we didn't need that." Sara had earned a partial scholarship and used her summer job to pay for books and other fees. Celeste had enough savings to cover the rest, and she had refused Sara's offers to pay her back.

"That reminds me. How is it that someone as ultra-organized as you are let me miss the deadlines for college applications?"

"I wondered if you'd ever realize," Celeste said archly.

"It clicked when I was talking to the students this afternoon. What was your thinking?"

"You weren't ready."

Sara waited, and when her aunt didn't elaborate, said, "I thought I'd made a lot of progress."

Celeste's expression softened. "You'd come so far. There was the literal distance of the relocation from California, combined with getting involved in your classes and finally making friends. You'd accepted that life goes on and that you didn't need anyone's permission to move forward. You also knew the deadlines and still procrastinated until it was too late. It wasn't like you. You'd moved past that type of behavior after your first semester in the new school but reverted in this one instance."

"I was scared," Sara admitted. "But I'm not sure why."

"I could hardly tell you," Celeste said drily. "Suffice it to say, I'd seen you navigate a major upheaval in your life, and if you wanted more time before encountering the next one, I wasn't going to push you out of the nest before you were ready."

Sara reached forward on impulse to hug Celeste. Her aunt wasn't a particularly demonstrative woman, but after a moment she put her arms around Sara and squeezed.

                                                                      ###

When Sara left her aunt's home, she made a last-minute decision to drop by the Winston-Winslow offices. If anyone asked, she'd say it was because she'd left early to attend the event at her high school and wanted to make up the missed time. But her true goal was to see if she experienced the same kind of connection that Celeste felt with her employer.

There were certainly reminders of things Sara appreciated. Few companies offered people at her level actual offices. Everyone at Win-Win had their own space with a door, rather than being in cubicles. Nearly every table and shelf in the office had at least one psychology journal. The company supported continuous learning, especially in the fields of psychology and computer science. Whenever a seminar sounded tempting, there'd never been an issue getting approval to further her education.

"I met my wife here, you know."

Sara stopped in her tracks. That was Robert Winslow's voice. But his office was near the corner, not here in the middle of the building.

"Ex-wife. So you can't say it was entirely successful," said Sofia Winston. "And as I understand it, you met Noelle when she was in college and then convinced her to work here."

"The point is —"

"I know what the point is," Sofia said. "I'm well aware of the hopes and expectations some people have for a marriage between the current CEO's daughter and the previous CEO's grandson. That doesn't change the fact that the last date Henry and I went on together was nearly ten years ago at our high school prom. And I'd like to point out that I'm more than a potential mother for baby CEOs. I'm a damned good investigator."

Henry Winslow, who was Robert's son and also Sara's manager, kept his personal life so private that the nosy investigators at Win-Win couldn't help speculating whether he was in a relationship, especially one with Sofia. He even joked with his team about their attempts to discover if he had a romantic partner. Sara made a vow that she'd change the subject the next time gossip turned in that direction. It wasn't amusing anymore.

And now Sara moved forward, putting her theater training to use as she called out, "Sofia?" When she turned the corner and could see them, Sara continued, "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me." Noticing the folder in Sofia's hands she improvised, "Is that the case file you wanted to discuss?"

Sofia turned around, and with her back to Robert rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sorry to keep you waiting."

Robert gave a huff of annoyance at the interruption, and then strode toward his office.

Sara's tiny office was nearby, and she stepped inside expecting Sofia to follow, but the sarcasm and bravado had been replaced with shaking. Sara walked back to her. "Are you okay? Should I call HR? Or your dad?"

"No. I'm fine. I just... I don't want to deal with it right now. Can you take care of this?" She handed the file to Sara. "I was chatting with Julia and she asked me to deliver it. I'm not... I can't. Not now."

"Of course," Sara promised. With that reassurance, Sofia hurried toward the elevators, not even bothering to pick up her coat before heading home.

A sticky note on the folder indicated it was to be delivered to Henry. Yeah, Sofia wouldn't want to meet with him right now, especially with Robert still lurking around.

Naturally Sara opened the folder. She was a nosy investigator, after all. Snooping was part of the job description. Inside were copies of receipts for a car rental and hotel room in St. Louis, both dated this week, in the name of Henry Winslow. Another sticky note had Please explain scrawled on it.

Henry had a significantly larger office than Sara's, with a wall of windows overlooking the harbor, and a glass wall facing the corridor. He was sitting on his desk, feet swinging like he was a kid, talking on his cell phone and laughing. Sara waved to get his attention, and he stood up. As he walked toward her, she could hear him say, "You owe me one, Neal." That was followed by, "Yeah, right." Then he slipped the phone into a pocket and opened the door. "What's up?" he asked Sara.

She handed over the folder.

He opened it and glanced at the contents. "Took them long enough." He tossed the file onto his desk and then must have noticed something different in her expression. "Anything wrong?"

"Could I get you to escort me down to my car?"

He raised a brow. The parking garage was secure, and all employees were trained in self-defense. But he simply said, "Of course."

And that was what gave Sara pause. She liked Henry. He was a generous and supportive boss. It wasn't his fault that his father was creating a toxic atmosphere. But Robert had tipped the balance in Sara's mind toward responding to the recruiter. There was no guarantee she'd get the job, but if that one didn't work out, she'd keep looking. Moving to New York had been a goal for a while now, and this felt like the right time to pursue it. "Your dad was hassling Sofia a few minutes ago, pressuring her to date you."

He froze. "Thanks for telling me. I'll take care of it."

"We can take care of it together," Sara offered. "By walking past his office on our way out and looking like we're heading on a date. He probably won't be thrilled by the idea that you're interested in me instead of Sofia, but at least..." She trailed off. "He seems to like the idea of you dating someone who works here."

"He wants me tied to the company."

"Then let's play the adoring couple and he'll stop bothering Sofia."

Henry shook his head. "I appreciate your offer, but I don't want to cause that kind of speculation. I know what the rumor mill is like."

"Fortunately it's so late that only Robert is around to notice. He's not exactly considered a reliable witness, if you know what I mean."

Henry looked lost in thought for a moment, before replying, "I could use that to my advantage."

"He starts spreading rumors about us, and you convince everyone he's lying because we're clearly no more than friends?"

"Something like that."

They put on a convincing act. Standing where they could barely be seen from Robert's office, Henry helped her put on her coat. "Do you see him?" he murmured.

Sara looked at one of the glass walls, catching a reflection of Robert watching them. "We have his attention."

Henry glanced around, as if trying to confirm no one was nearby, and then placed his arms around her. She turned in his embrace to face him, straightening his tie and giving her best version of a besotted smile. Then they walked hand-in-hand to the elevator, deep in conversation. Once inside, he said, "Thanks for that. Chances are if he gets upset at the thought of us together he'll take that up with me, but if he hassles you, let me know."

"Of course." But Sara wasn't worried about it. Now that she'd made the decision to look for a job in New York, she didn't care as much what Robert or anyone else at Winston-Winslow thought of her. "I don't suppose you're grateful enough to explain what I saw in that file? I mean, you've been in Baltimore all week, so it wasn't you signing those receipts in St. Louis, even though it looked like your signature."

Henry grinned at her. "Sorry. I can't give that one away. It's one of my best tricks."

When Sara got home, she opened her personal laptop. First she responded to the Sterling-Bosch recruiter with times she'd be available to chat. Next she updated her resume.

And then she reread the travel site's email about deals on trips to California. Tempting, but it was time to look forward, rather than dwelling on the past. She hit delete.

"New York City, here I come."

Author's Note: Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek at how Sara started her journey to NYC where she would meet Neal. If you recognized Henry Winslow as one of Neal's aliases in St. Louis, they are both waving at you. Henry became the most popular OC in the Caffrey Conversation AU when it was published on AO3, and he couldn't resist making a cameo appearance.

Coming up next I'll post the second story in the series: Choirboy Caffrey