On Wednesday morning, Ted Cartwright made a stop at the Cartwright Town Houses Corporation in Madison. At ten thirty, he opened the door into the reception area that led to his office. There, a smiling Amy Stack greeted him by chirping, “How are things at the North Pole, Santa Claus?”
“Amy,” Cartwright said irritably, “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, and I’m not interested in finding out. I’ve got a busy day lined up and I had to take time to come over here and talk to Chris Brown again. He doesn’t seem to be able to get it into his head that I’m not paying any more overtime to that crew of his.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cartwright,” Amy said apologetically. “It’s just that I can’t help thinking how few people would be so generous, even to someone who saved their life.”
Cartwright had been about to pass her desk to go into his office, but stopped suddenly. “What are you talking about?”
Amy looked up at him and swallowed nervously. She liked working for Ted Cartwright, but she was always mentally moving on tiptoe, trying to do everything exactly the way he wanted it. Sometimes he could be relaxed and funny, but she sensed she should have known better than to try to joke with him this morning without first testing his mood. He usually was happy with her work, but the few times she had ever done anything wrong, his biting sarcasm had rattled her.
Now he was demanding an explanation for teasing him about Mr. Willet.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. She sensed that whatever she told Mr. Cartwright, he was not going to be happy. Maybe he wouldn’t have wanted Mr. Willet to talk to her about why he was being given the town house. “Mr. Willet didn’t tell me that it was a secret you were giving him the model town house because he saved your life years ago.”
“He saved my life and I am giving him the model town house! Are you telling me that is what Zach Willet told you?”
“Yes, and if it isn’t true, we may have already lost a sale. The couple from Basking Ridge, who were looking at it, the Matthews, called a little while ago, and I told them it was sold.”
Cartwright continued to stare down at Amy, his normally ruddy complexion draining of all color, his eyes boring into her face.
“Mr. Willet phoned a little while ago. He said that he intended to move in over the weekend,” she went on, gaining courage from the fact that none of this was her fault. “I told him that since that unit is our furnished model, maybe he could wait a few months until we’re sold out, but he said that wouldn’t be possible.”
Ted Cartwright had been leaning forward, looking down at Amy. He straightened up and stood for a moment in perfect silence. “I’ll talk to Mr. Willet,” he said quietly.
In the year she’d been sales agent for the Cartwright Town Houses Corporation, Amy had suffered through her boss’s rages about construction delays and cost overruns. In none of his outbursts had she seen his usually blustery red face become pale with anger.
But then Cartwright unexpectedly smiled. “Amy, I have to tell you that for a few minutes, I was just as taken in as you were. All this is Zach’s idea of a joke. A lousy joke, I admit. We have been friends for many years. Last week we made a bet on the Yankee–Red Sox game. He’s a passionate Red Sox fan. I’m for the Yankees. Our bet was a hundred bucks, but Zach threw in that if the difference in the score was over ten runs, I owed him a town house.” Ted Cartwright chuckled. “I laughed it off, but I guess Zach decided to test the waters. I’m sorry he wasted your time.”
“He did waste it,” Amy agreed resentfully. Taking Zach Willet around last evening had made her late for her date with her new boyfriend, and she’d had to listen to his complaints that they’d have to rush through dinner to make the movie. “I should have known from the way he dressed that he couldn’t afford that unit. But I’ll be honest, Mr. Cartwright, it does make me mad that we may have lost the other sale because of him.”
“Get back to the Matthews right away,” Cartwright ordered. “If they only called this morning, it may not be too late. Charm them for me, and there’ll be a bonus in it for you. As for Zach Willet, let’s keep that story between us, shall we? Falling for it makes the two of us look like fools.”
“Will do,” Amy agreed, immensely cheered at the possibility of a bonus. “But, Mr. Cartwright, when you talk to Mr. Willet, tell him for me that he’s not funny, and he shouldn’t play practical jokes on a good friend like you.”
“No, he shouldn’t, Amy,” Ted Cartwright said softly. “No, he absolutely shouldn’t.”