Shelby Stit slowed his van through the final curve leading into Tahoe City, California, nestled in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Squirming in his seat, he glanced at Joanna McIntire, who rested Alicia’s baby in her lap.
“Janna-girl, we have to find a gas station,” he said in a high-pitched voice that defied his six-foot-nine, 350-pound frame. “We need directions to the Rousseau place, and I need to hurry up and find a bathroom. We’ve been on the road for nearly four hours, and this is the second time I’m about to wet myself. I should have charged more for this trip. Lil hates to renegotiate, but do you think she’ll consider paying me another fifty or so?”
“How much did you charge, Shelby?”
“Seventy-five plus gas money, but I didn’t think it would take this long.”
“Well, why don’t I buy one of your paintings for fifty dollars? Would that make you feel better?”
“And which of my masterpieces would you like, pray tell?”
“Your male nude.”
“Get out of here! You want Philo? Why him?”
“Sweet dreams,” said Joanna, blushing.
“Oh, honey, that’s what I use him for!” Shelby burst into a fit of laughter, which only increased the pressure on his bladder. “But it’s the best of the best, surely worth a Franklin, and even then it’s a steal.”
“Let’s make it seventy-five and call it a deal.”
“Hmm. Well, okay, since you’re my best customer and such a divine lady. I guess I can always paint another. But have no fear,” he giggled, “the next one I’ll circumcise so as to maintain the integrity of your original.”
Shelby spotted a gas station and pulled in. He ducked out of the van and lumbered to the restroom. When he finished, he approached an attendant who appeared to be flirting with a young woman as he pumped her gas. The attendant looked up and froze, then backed away from the car, apparently prepared to flee if Shelby took another step closer.
Shelby smiled affably. “Mister, I’m not here to harm or rob,” he said. “I can’t help being big and black, but you must admit I’m pretty. Now, be good to a brother in need and give me some directions, if you don’t mind.”
The attendant breathed deeply and stood to his full height. “Buddy, you almost scared the pure-D shit out of me!” he said, wiping his brow with oil-stained gloves and providing Shelby with directions. Shelby thanked him and sped off, finding the Rousseau house about ten minutes later. He parked down the street to conceal Joanna, who had tucked the baby into a basket and covered him with Alicia’s blanket.
Shelby climbed out of the van with the basket and a decorative bag filled with diapers, bottles, and formula. Wary of the frigid temperature, he opened his jacket and hugged the basket underneath. He struggled across patches of ice to the front door of the cabin and rang the bell. Then he brought the basket into plain view and waited for an answer.
Madeline Rousseau sat on a couch in her living room, gazing out the window as a fire burned in her fireplace. The doorbell interrupted a gloomy trance. She forced herself up and drifted to the window. A mountain of a black man stood hovering at the door. Home alone, she considered dialing 911 until the man noticed her and responded with a disarming smile.
Madeline cleared her throat. “May I help you?” she called through the closed door.
“Are you Mrs. Rousseau? I have a delivery for you.”
Joe must be trying to cheer me up with another gift, thought Madeline, cracking the door open.
“Mrs. Rousseau, allow me to introduce myself,” said the man, grinning from ear to ear. “My name is Shelby Stit, and this is a gift from a friend.”
“Thank you,” said Madeline, readily taking the basket and the bag. She tried to smile, but she heard a sound and felt something stir within the basket. “Is this a puppy?” she asked as she dropped the bag and peered beneath the blanket. “Oh, no,” she said, recoiling. “Hey, this is a baby!”
“Yes, indeed! Isn’t he absolutely beautiful? This baby is a true gift of love for one in need. He is your gift from God.”
“This must be some kind of joke,” said Madeline. “And if it is, it’s a sick one. Who put you up to this?”
“Mrs. Rousseau, this is no joke. I would never use the Lord’s name in vain. You have a lovely new son.”
“Come on, mister, people don’t give babies away, and I haven’t taken care of one for years. I can’t keep this baby. If you’re trying to get rid of him, take him to an agency that deals with this sort of thing.”
Madeline thrust the basket and the bag back toward Shelby, but he refused to take them. She put the bag back down but continued to hold the basket, unwilling to place the baby on hard, cold ground.
“I’ll tell you what,” said Shelby. “If you don’t want him, that’s fine, because I do. I would love to keep him myself. But I was instructed to give him to you. Why don’t you think about it for a few days? If it doesn’t work out, just give me a call. Don’t notify the police or take him to a shelter, though. If you don’t want him, I’ll come back and get him on a moment’s notice, I promise.”
Shelby handed Madeline a business card that read “Shelby Stit, Artist.” The card listed no address, but showed a San Francisco telephone number. “Bye, now,” he said, and smiled again before he broke toward a van painted in a patchwork of pastel colors.
“Wait a minute!”
Shelby stopped, and turned to face Madeline.
“Come on, mister, what is really going on here? How do you know me? Why are you trying to leave this baby with me? Do I look like I work for a charity or something? Who in the world would give her baby away, and why is she giving it to me?”
Madeline caught a glimpse of long blond hair snapping back through the passenger window of the van. “I want to talk to that woman!” she yelled, charging forward. “Is she the mother? She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Maybe I can help. She needs counseling or something—or is she on some kind of head trip?”
“She’s not the mother,” said Shelby as he stepped in front of her and raised his palms to signal stop. “She’s my friend and a friend of the mother, and no one is tripping out on anything.”
“Then why me?” asked Madeline as her teeth began to chatter.
“That’s a fair question. It could have been someone else, but you were picked because there are people looking out for you. You just lost a child, you and Mr. Rousseau. You two are good people and deserve another chance, don’t you think?”
Madeline frowned, attempting to figure out the source of Shelby’s information.
“Look, I know this has to be a major shock,” said Shelby, “but there are two ways to think about things. You can view the baby as an unwanted and unnecessary burden, or you can view the baby for what he is: a gift. If after a few days he seems more like a burden than a gift, then like I said, just call me. In the meantime, consider the next few days as a trial period, okay?”
The baby sneezed. Madeline hesitated, shivering. Shelby slipped and slid toward the van.
“You have a true blessing,” he said, glancing back at her. “Watch, you’ll see. But you’d better get him inside, because it is freezing cold out here. And remember, no police and no shelters. Just call me if you decide no, but I already know you’re going to keep him. You’ll fall in love with him before the day is over.”
Madeline watched Shelby climb into the van and drive away. She tried to identify the letters and numbers on his license plate, but without success. Then she scuttled back to her doorstep and snatched the bag off the ground. I can’t believe this, she thought as she huffed inside the cabin. Don’t call the police. Don’t take him to a shelter. Mister, your phone number probably doesn’t even work, and if it does, you’ll be talking to the police!
Madeline lifted the baby out of the basket. “I bet you’re wet,” she said, feeling his bottom underneath the blanket. “Yep, and in all of this cold. But wait a minute, you’re not even crying, and—oh my, you really are beautiful. Who on earth could give you away?”
Madeline unwrapped the baby’s blanket and noticed an envelope pinned to his sleeper. Inside she found a note, dated that day.
Dear Ma’am:
Please accept my baby as a gift. Please do not reject him. Please love him and raise him as your own. May he release you from your sorrow and bring you as much joy as he has brought to me in just a few hours. He was born yesterday evening. When you decide on a name, call Shelby and let him know. Arrangements have been made to issue his birth certificate to you and your husband. We only need his name.
He is healthy and comes from good stock. I promise I shall never interfere.
Sincerely,
Alicia
She sounds so desperate, thought Madeline. Too many unanswered questions; this doesn’t make sense.
The baby began to cry. Madeline changed his diaper and fed him. Then she hummed a lullaby and rocked him to sleep.
Don’t get too attached, she thought, after laying him on the couch. You need to call the police before Joseph comes home.
Madeline walked toward the kitchen, but after a few steps she returned to the baby. Responding to an irresistible urge, she felt his sturdy arms, chest, and legs. She patted his soft, shiny hair. She leaned over in search of the fresh smell of a newborn.
“You’re such a good boy,” she whispered. “And you’re really big to be so new to the world, just like my Todd as a baby.”
An hour later, the baby twitched and pitched a cry, awakened by the sound of a snowplow buzzing and whining in the driveway next door. Madeline cradled him, his eyes following her every move with unusual alertness. She rubbed her nose against his face and playfully munched on his cheek.
“The man was right,” she said. “You are such a sweetie. Yes, you are. Such a sweet baby.”
As the hours passed, Madeline forgot about the police and the unanswered questions. She waltzed the baby around the living room singing the Christmas songs she had ignored only a couple of months before. Then she heard a thud from outside and glanced at a clock above her fireplace. It’s too soon for Joseph to be home, she thought. I hope that big guy, Shelby something or other, hasn’t come back to get him.
Clutching the baby, Madeline tiptoed to the window and peeked, but she saw no one. Looking around the property, she discovered a block of frozen snow on the driveway and concluded it must have fallen from the roof.
It would be so nice to have a baby again, she thought, returning to the couch, and I think we still have Todd’s old crib in the garage. Joseph will have to reassemble it for me, but what will he say about a new baby, especially under these circumstances? One day we had Todd, and then he was gone. Now we have you? Nothing makes sense.
Madeline shifted her eyes back to the window. It had once provided a peaceful view, but now it merely served as a backdrop for painful memories. Thinking about the tragic loss of Todd, she remembered the neighbor banging on her door and shouting that Todd, only twelve at the time, had been struck by a hit-and-run driver . . . flying to the hospital and waiting through the uncertainty as she prayed—no, begged—for her son’s life . . . watching the doctors approaching and knowing the outcome from the dread on their faces . . . and the unending grief.
Tears formed as Madeline stared at the baby. “You can’t replace Todd,” she said. “Todd is irreplaceable, but you are you, a whole new person, a whole new beginning, and you shall be irreplaceable, too. The man was right. I realize that, now, little one. I need you as much as you need me, and whether he realizes it or not, Joseph needs you, too.”
Madeline wiped away her tears and hugged the baby. “Now what shall we call you?” she said. “Let’s see, Joseph named Todd for a friend who died long before his time, just like Todd. I think I should name you this time. What shall it be?”
She smiled at a picture on the fireplace mantle. “I shall name you Alexi, for my father,” she said. “He lived such a long, full life. Then you can bury Joseph and me, rather than the other way around.”
Madeline stood with the baby and returned to the window. For the first time in over a year, she admired a lake shimmering against the setting sun, a luscious wood beyond, and an even more breathtaking sight: snow-covered mountains breaking through clouds and soaring toward the heavens.
“Thank you, Alicia, whoever you are. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, and please keep your promise never to interfere. Now that I’ve named him, Alexi is my baby, and you can’t have him back.”
Joe Rousseau paused at the sound of music as he approached his front door. His weather-beaten face lit up with a smile. Then he walked inside and saw Madeline holding a baby.
“Whose baby is that?” he asked in his thick Austrian accent.
“Ours,” said Madeline, grinning.
Joe’s smile disappeared. “You’re kidding,” he said. “You must be babysitting for someone.”
“No, Joseph, I’m not kidding. We have a beautiful new son.”
Joe’s eyebrows furrowed. “Maddie, how could this be? We don’t want a baby, not after what has happened, not just any baby. Where did he come from?”
“He’s not just any baby. I want to name him for my father. We’ll call him Alexi Rousseau, such a fine name. Doesn’t that sound nice, honey?”
Honey? She hasn’t called me honey since Todd’s death.
Joe inspected the baby. “Fine name, fine boy, but you didn’t answer my question. Not that it makes a difference. I don’t want a baby. I want my son, and no one can replace him. Did you arrange this without discussing it with me?”
Madeline explained the events of the day as she clung to the baby. She begged Joe to let her keep him. Joe decided to let the issue rest until the next day, when he hoped Madeline’s excitement would subside.
That evening, as Joe lay in bed, Madeline climbed in beside him and rubbed her nude body against him, something that had not happened in over a year. But Madeline was not the type of woman who would bargain with sex to have her way. The baby had already had an impact on Madeline, as though Todd had returned and life was normal again. The choice: Allow Madeline to keep the baby and get his old wife back, or force a return of the child and revert to the new normal.
Joe made love to his wife.
Alicia pinched her nose to avoid the smell of ammonia as she scrubbed the bathroom toilet on the first floor of Lil’s Place, her last chore of the day. She had already cleaned the shower and mopped the floor, and earlier in the day she had helped Mrs. Jefferson in the kitchen. She had nearly finished the toilet when she heard footsteps approaching.
“The maid is cleaning in there,” someone said.
Alicia looked up just as a first-floor girl barreled into the bathroom. The girl slipped and fell, knocking over the water bucket and spilling soapy, dirty water all over the floor.
“You idiot,” screamed the girl as she rose to her knees. “It’s too wet in here. Get out so I can use it.”
Alicia rolled her eyes. She turned the water bucket upright and stepped outside, waiting for the girl to finish.
“I’m going to report you,” said the girl when she came out.
“And who are you going to report her to?” said Mother Lil, appearing from the hallway.
“I was going to report her to you for creating an unsafe condition,” said the girl.
“Done,” said Mother Lil. “Now get the hell out and don’t come back. Alicia, leave everything like it is. If these nasty-ass heifers are going to act like that, they can clean up after themselves.”
Alicia nodded and bolted up the stairway. As she reached the top, she ran into Celia.
“Licia, me and Lindsay don’t have dates tonight,” said Celia, “and we’re headed to the movies. Want to come?”
If only I had the money, thought Alicia. Maybe it’s time to withdraw cash from my account in Chesapeake.
“Oh, I wish I could, but not tonight. I’m sorry.”
Alicia showered and returned to her room, exhausted and humiliated. Wearing only a bra and panties, she inspected her reflection in the full-length mirror behind her closet door. Six weeks had expired since childbirth, and the excess weight had fallen off. She thought her body looked as it had before pregnancy, but her face seemed very different. Suspecting her mood as the cause, she struggled to substitute a smile for the frown she had constantly worn since delivering her son.
Alicia shook her head. I gave my baby away, and I can’t stop thinking about him—his smell, touch, and taste—but I made my decision. Now it’s time to forget about the past and move on. I can’t go on like this, working my hands to the bone, living from paycheck to paycheck.
She considered her possibilities. The jobs that hired eighteen-year-old high-school graduates paid eight to nine thousand dollars per year, if they were lucky. The girls on the second floor averaged thirty-eight thousand dollars, plus room and board. They went to exciting places and met interesting people, and none of them complained of mistreatment, or were called maids.
Alicia closed her eyes. Celia is right, she thought. Life is no longer about principle and appearances. Now it’s about survival, until I figure out something else.
She once again studied her reflection. Never an exact image of either of her parents, she always considered herself a blended child, blessed with certain features from each. But now she saw only her father staring back at her, and a profound light clicked on. She recognized hunger and determination, and the change in her features became clear.
Alicia went nose to nose with her father’s face—her face—and made a promise. I will never in life feel this poor again. Never!
She threw on sweats and a T-shirt and ran downstairs in search of Mother Lil, who sat in her office, engrossed in paperwork.
Alicia knocked softly. “May I speak to you for a minute?”
Mother Lil peered above her reading glasses. “Yes, my dear, come in.”
Alicia closed the door behind her. “How much money do I owe you?” she asked.
Mother Lil turned away. “Alicia, you don’t owe me a dime,” she finally said.
Alicia’s head jolted to the side, her eyebrows furrowed. “But—”
“I know what I said that first day. It’s not that I had no concern for you then—a frightened girl trying to make her way—but you were just like any other pretty face, someone I knew could make me some money. But something happened the day you gave that baby away. My heart broke for you, and you stopped being a potential aid to my pocketbook and became someone I knew I cared about.”
Mother Lil smiled kindly. “And one other thing. Regardless of what you decide to do with yourself, I won’t be making any calls to the Tilmans. That I’ll leave to you.”
Alicia didn’t know what to say. “Mother Lil, I’m speechless. I know you’ve spent a large sum just in doctors’ fees and hospital bills alone. I can never repay you for your kindness, but I would like to at least try by working for you full time.”
Mother Lil brought a palm to her chin. “If you go to work for me full time,” she said, “you’ll probably repay me faster than you think. But are you sure that’s what you really want?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
The round-faced woman gave a nod of satisfaction. “That’s the only reason that makes sense, and I’m glad it’s your reason. Let me explain something to you, and now I’m talking to you like a daughter. This business pays well, and it can be glamorous, but it’s not your business forever, not the way it is for some of the others, as long as their looks last. Some people get to where they’re going taking a straight line. Others are forced, for one reason or another, to take detours along the way. You’ve taken a detour, but this is not your last stop, Alicia, so don’t make the mistake of swallowing a pill of acceptance. Treat what you’re doing as a means to an end, not the end itself.”
“Yes, Mother Lil,” said Alicia, listening carefully.
“I speak from experience, girl. I’ve been on a detour a good part of my life. I’ve got regrets. Sometimes the only thing that keeps me going is my music. My girl Dinah speaks to me in ways I can’t explain. She eases the pain of the past, her and the jazz I listen to. Say, do you like jazz?”
“It’s not my favorite music. I don’t think I understand it, really.”
“Well, appreciating jazz requires living a little life first. With what you’ve been through, I’d say you’ve lived enough to appreciate it. There’s nothing like listening to someone’s interpretation of the world on pretty-sounding instruments, especially with a little bebop, soul, or high-speed jamming thrown in the mix. I used to love me some Charlie Parker, but now since I’m older I’ve let Bird go and jumped on the Trane. Bird is Charlie Parker, Alicia, and Trane is none other than John Coltrane. Some people think he’s avant-garde, but there’s something about his music that is just downright spiritual to me. One day you’ll have to listen to him play.”
“I look forward to that.”
The two women stood and embraced, and Alicia returned to her room as Alicia Du Bois.
A few days later, Mother Lil summoned her back to the office. “I’m sending you on your first assignment this Friday night,” she said as Alicia leaned forward in her seat. “I’ve got a businessman who needs an escort for a fancy charity ball at one of the hotels over in the Financial District. His name is Fred Patterson, and he’s always been a real gentleman, but you never know what can happen when a man smells fresh meat. The event is in a ballroom. It’s not in a hotel room, so politely decline if he tries to take you to one. Regardless, I’m breaking you in easy. All Freddy ever wants is a pretty girl on his arm, and you should feel free to take it. You won’t have to worry about entertaining him. He’ll be entertained as long as everyone sees you looking good and you act interested. Do you think you can handle this?”
“I will do my best.”
“Good. Now, just so you know, Freddy uses other escort services in town. Whatever you do short of compromising yourself, try not to turn him off to us. And one more thing. They drink liquor at events like this. You stick with water.”
Dressed in a black evening gown she had borrowed from Diana Blake, Alicia adjusted the mirror over Lucy’s desk. Wearing her hair up, she twirled a lock of strands along each side of her face and let them dangle to her ears. She checked her makeup one last time, and grabbed the purse she had borrowed from Diana and admired it against Diana’s matching three-inch pumps.
I’m so glad she and I are about the same size, thought Alicia. Lindsay would have been my only other choice, and she dresses too psychedelic for me. But what difference does it make? Even if it’s temporary, I’m just a date for hire. My, how things have changed.
Alicia turned to Lucy and Celia. “Do I look okay?”
“I’ll just be damned,” said Celia, grinning. “You bad, girl!”
“Let me see you smile,” said Lucy.
Alicia defiantly raised her head in a serious pose, as though Lucy had asked for the impossible. Then she manufactured a smile.
“You came here a schoolgirl,” said Lucy, “but now I see a stunning young woman. You are ready for Freddy. The question is whether he is ready for you. Just remember, it’s okay to act happy on a date, especially for him.”
Danielle burst into the room and announced the arrival of Fred Patterson. She measured Alicia from head to toe, but said nothing.
Alicia breathed deeply and headed for the door. As she walked downstairs, her eyes connected with Mother Lil, who sat waiting in her office.
Mother Lil lit up and mouthed a single word: “Wow!”
Alicia nodded reassuringly, but more for herself than Mother Lil. She reached the ground floor and graciously flowed into the sitting room.
A distinguished-looking middle-aged man, tall and slender, immediately stood to attention, swallowing Alicia in his eyes.
“Mr. Patterson, good evening,” said Alicia, smiling and extending her hand. “I am Alicia Du Bois, and I will be accompanying you this evening.”
“Lucky me!” The man accepted her hand and pressed it between his own. “Please call me Fred or Freddy. Either will do just fine. I must say, you’re extraordinarily exquisite. There are going to be a lot of jealous people tonight, both men and women.” Freddy chuckled. “Quite frankly, my dear, that’s the way I like things. Shall we run? I’ve got a limo waiting.”
The two stepped into the limousine and traveled to the Financial District. At the hotel, they strolled into the main ballroom to join a party already in progress. Freddy led Alicia from group to group, introducing her to various friends and acquaintances, some of whom he described as leading players in San Francisco’s financial community.
As Alicia attempted to mingle with people her parents’ age, she caught men staring; the women snubbed her. I don’t belong here, she thought. I’m too young for this crowd, and what am I going to say if someone wants to know what I do? Maybe I should stop trying to socialize and just deal with Freddy. He’s the one who counts, and he’s acting like he’s in heaven.
“You’re a good fit for this occasion,” said Freddy.
Alicia smiled and took his arm.
Hugh Blackmon and John Jensen, two investment bankers in their late thirties, stood on a flight of stairs across the ballroom floor, surveying the crowd.
“Oh, my goodness, will you look at that,” said Hugh. “There’s Freddy, our Mr. Rhett Butler, and look at what he’s got on his arm this time. She’s absolutely striking. Her features are a little darker than the others. I wonder if she’s Jewish.”
“My, my, my,” said John. “Where he finds them all, I can’t imagine. As busy as he is running his business, one would think he wouldn’t have the time.”
“I don’t know, but there’s always a constant—they’re absolutely gorgeous and as dumb as an ox.”
“Come on, Hugh, just because she’s a looker doesn’t mean she’s dumb. Your sister is quite attractive, and she’s not dumb; otherwise, she wouldn’t have married Jared, the rich twit.”
“Leave Sarah out of this. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll make you a friendly wager, call it one hundred bucks. Why don’t we go say hello to Freddy and pop a couple of questions on her? If she’s as stupid as I think she is, I’m taking your money. If she seems reasonably intelligent, then the loss is on me. Come on, buddy, this shindig is boring. Let’s have a little fun.”
“You want to run the risk of alienating Freddy over a measly one hundred dollars? Make it worthwhile, like a grand, and give me ten-to-one odds because of his track record.”
“You little shit,” said Hugh. “So you want to make it interesting. Okay, my ten thousand dollars to your single grand, but I get to ask the questions.”
Freddy held a glass filled with scotch while Alicia drank what she hoped others would assume to be a gin and tonic. As he engaged in small talk with another couple, she noticed two men approaching, both laughing and ogling her. When they arrived, Freddy separated from the other couple and introduced Alicia to Hugh Blackmon and John Jensen. Each smiled and then turned to Freddy.
“How’s business?” asked Hugh.
“Terrific!” said Freddy, glancing at Alicia like a man hoping to impress.
“Say, John and I were just talking about Doggert Plastics,” said Hugh. “We’re both trying to figure out whether now is a good time to take a position in their stock. What do you think?”
Freddy shrugged. “I don’t pay attention to anyone’s stock other than my own. As long as you guys aren’t putting selling pressure on me, I don’t care what you do.”
“Well, I see Freddy doesn’t want to help,” said Hugh. “What about you, Alicia? What should we do?”
Alicia noticed Hugh’s sudden eye contact with John. Something is up, she thought. These two are trying to embarrass me or Freddy, or perhaps both of us.
“Hold on,” interrupted Freddy. “You guys are in the business, and you’re seeking investment advice from Alicia? Go talk to your brother-in-law, Hugh. He should know.”
Alicia felt her anger swelling. You can avoid the question like Freddy, or you can play their silly game. Come on, Alicia. It’s time to come out of your shell and grow up.
“Fred, that’s quite all right,” she said as she privately thanked her father, remembering the hours the two had spent together exploring the factors that justified buying and selling stocks. She had been trained to one day manage her own portfolio, but now she recognized the relevance these lessons had to a situation she had never dreamed of confronting as an escort.
She regarded Hugh and John neutrally, like a poker player flush with royalty. She decided to raise the stakes.
“If you profit from my advice, what is my cut?” You’ve got to pay to play, fellas.
Hugh and John grinned, obviously entertained. Freddy’s head jerked back as he gaped at Alicia.
“Ten percent of profit,” offered Hugh, throwing his arms in the air with largesse.
He must think there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell I’ll tell him anything useful.
“You’ve got a deal,” she said, “but I’m not familiar with Doggert Plastics. What exactly do they do?”
“They’re a manufacturing concern,” said John, seemingly anxious to be helpful, “but they’re not exactly a household name. Their proprietary formulas produce lighter and stronger plastic material used in a lot of household products and in the transportation industry, primarily autos and aerospace. Understand?”
“Where are they priced today?” asked Alicia, ignoring the condescending question.
“They closed at twenty-five even,” said Hugh.
“EPS?” asked Alicia, noticing Freddy and John grinning.
“Their fiscal year ended on January 31,” said Hugh, tugging at his shirt collar, “and they reported earnings of $3.75 per share.”
“So they are trading at a multiple of about six and two-thirds,” said Alicia, dividing $25 by $3.75 in a flash. “What’s average in their industry?”
“About ten times earnings,” said John as Hugh’s tugging increased.
“And what has earnings growth been, say, over the past five years?”
Hugh brought a hand to his chin, disappointed, but caught himself and smiled.
“It’s been about twenty percent per year, compounded,” he said.
“Hmm, that’s strange. The company should be a growth stock, but they’re priced low in relationship to their industry. Something is wrong. Any significant debt?”
“The balance sheet is clean,” said Hugh.
“What about management?”
“Their management is good,” said John, “but rumor has it that their CEO is about to retire for health reasons. Say, Alicia, where do you work? Are you in the business?”
“No, but that’s it. Their chief executive officer is unexpectedly stepping down. The company probably doesn’t have an obvious successor, and so the market is discounting stock price. Any information on a replacement?”
“One of the best men in the industry is a good friend of mine,” said John. “We went to business school together, and the company and he are talking.”
“What’s he going to do?”
“Well, um, he’s probably going to accept a deal with Doggert Plastics.”
“You bad, bad boys,” said Alicia, stealing a glance at Freddy. “You guys have known this all along, and you’ve just been testing me. When his hiring is announced, this stock is going to go through the roof and probably settle somewhere between twelve and fourteen times earnings, maybe even more. You’d better buy now at twenty-five, because it should gradually jump to at least forty-five after the announcement is made. When it does, I wouldn’t get greedy and hold too long. Interest rates could be on the rise again at some point.”
Alicia wore a half smile as she nodded to Hugh and John, and then she slipped her arm into Freddy’s. “Let’s go get another drink,” she said, but as they strolled away she turned back and locked eyes with Hugh. “Don’t forget my fee when you sell. Give it to Freddy. He knows how to reach me.”
Freddy grinned like a Cheshire cat as the couple made their way to the bar. “You’re incredible,” he said. “I’ll make sure those bozos pay you.”
When the evening ended, Freddy dropped Alicia back at Lil’s Place. “Thank you for a fantastic evening,” he said. “I don’t suppose you’re interested in a private arrangement? I would make a wonderful, uh, personal sponsor, shall we say.”
Alicia smiled. “Oh, Fred, you are so kind, and your offer is tempting, but I have other promises to keep.”
“I thought that would be your answer. In any event, here, you have earned this.” Freddy pressed a tightly rolled wad of money into Alicia’s hand. “Expect to see me again soon.”
Alicia kissed Freddy on the cheek in much the way she would have acknowledged her father for allowance money. She slid the cash into her purse without so much as a peek until she was in her room. Then her eyes grew large as she counted one thousand dollars.
The next morning Mother Lil snapped her fingers and wriggled her shoulders with delight as Alicia walked into her office. In her multicolored tie-dyed dashiki, she looked like a one-woman celebration.
“Freddy called me,” said Mother Lil. “In the past, I’ve sent him Joanna, Lindsay, and Diana, but he told me I have an exclusive on his business as long as he gets you. Baby, what on earth did you do?”
“I made him look good in front of his friends, that’s all. He gave me a thousand-dollar tip. I assume I split that with you?”
“He gave you what? Oh, Alicia, my goodness, no. Tips go to the girl, but your rate just got hiked. I charged a two-hundred-dollar minimum for you last night, and now I’m charging three hundred. Men will be glad to pay it. I knew you were going to be my queen. I knew it the first time I saw you! Girl, the means-to-an-end side of this business is going to make us a lot of money.”
Mother Lil reared back in laughter.
Alicia spread five hundred dollars across Mother Lil’s desk. “I want you to have this anyway,” she said. “Please consider this a gift of appreciation for everything you’ve done for me. It’s nothing compared to what I owe you.”
Mother Lil’s mouth dropped open. Alicia kissed her on the cheek and left.
Six months later, Doggert Plastics closed at an all-time high of $49.75 per share. A few days later Freddy sent a messenger to Lil’s Place with two envelopes addressed to Alicia, one from Hugh Blackmon and the other from John Jensen. Hugh’s envelope contained a check for $14,200, while John wrote his check for $1,000 more, explaining that he had made an extra $10,000 with her “special assistance.”
Ben Tilman sat in his study, scrutinizing a bill from his private investigator for time expended without results. Frustrated, he grabbed a Christmas card sent from Alicia and the envelope in which it came, postmarked in Atlanta, but listing no return address. Hearing a knock on the door, he looked up to see his mother, who pulled his wife into the room behind her.
“I would like to have a word with both of you,” said Mama Tilman. “Benton, you’ve aged more in this last year than you have in the past twenty. Your hair is turning gray, and you have dark circles under your eyes. I hear you up half the night, so I know you don’t sleep. And the same is true of you, Sandra. Even Benny hasn’t returned to normal, always so serious now. We’ve all had a lot on our plates, worried sick over Alicia and the criminal mess, but at least they’ve dropped the charges. I feel—”
“They dropped the charges,” interrupted Sandra, “because they had no choice, not because Ben has been exonerated. The Samsons wouldn’t testify, and John Johnson quit the police force, moved out of state, and apparently doesn’t want to be bothered. We’ve had to accept the embarrassment of Ben’s arrest, the embarrassment of the reporters coming to the house and demanding answers in front of Benny and the neighbors, and the embarrassment of the newspaper articles—all to preserve secrets that, if told, might motivate the Samsons to testify. Don’t get me wrong, I will put up with the snubs from so-called friends, the parties we don’t get invited to anymore, and all the boards and social clubs we’ve disassociated from, because I’m thankful my husband has been spared. As to my daughter, I want her home where she belongs.”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” said Mama Tilman. “My spirit has come to the realization that Alicia is fine. I feel it down deep in my bones. We don’t have to worry about her, but she’s not coming home for a long time. She’s just like you were, Benton. You needed to prove yourself worthy to others. Alicia needs to prove herself worthy to you. I’ve read her good-bye letter a thousand times, and she was communicating exactly that. Her Christmas card says the same thing. We’ve all been discounting her words, assuming they came from an emotionally distraught girl. Well, she may have been emotional and she may have been distraught, but she meant what she said about coming back when she could look at herself in the mirror. So now it’s time for the two of you to rest easy and allow things to sort themselves out.”
“Sandy, she’s right,” said Ben. “If this is a game of hide-and-seek, Alicia is winning. The detective has searched all over Georgia and can’t find a trace of her. I’m going to tell him to close the case. He won’t find Alicia as long as she doesn’t want to be found, and when she does, she’ll either let us know or come home.”
“I hope you both are right,” said Sandra, “and now I’m concerned about Benny. His grades have never been better, but Mama Tilman hit the nail on the head. He’s become so serious. I hate to admit this, but I miss his pranks and silly jokes.”
Mama Tilman smiled. “He’ll start telling jokes again when the two of you are ready to laugh.”