When Chaz realized he was pacing, he stalked back to the den and planted his bum in the massive leather chair he was sure Uncle Dab had used when working on the very accounts perplexing him at the moment. Sombra was not due for a few minutes yet, and Chaz would not be caught fretting as if he were anxious. He flipped the ledger open to the final entries and scanned them again, half his attention still focused on sounds outside the room.
He jumped when he heard the sharp rap on the door. Almost a minute passed before he remembered no one was going to answer it except him. Sanders, the cantankerous cook, was the only other person in the big house and he certainly wouldn’t bother. Chaz stood and hurried to the door.
Sombra stood just outside, no hint of impatience in his impassive expressio
