43

WHEN NEIL STEPHENS GOT BACK TO PORTSMOUTH, HIS mother knew immediately from the look on his face that he had not been successful in locating the young woman from New York.

“You only had a piece of toast earlier,” she reminded him. “Let me fix you breakfast. After all,” she added, “I don’t get much chance to fuss over you anymore.”

Neil sank into a chair at the kitchen table. “I should think fussing over Dad is a full-time job.”

“It is. But I like it.”

“Where is Dad?”

“In his office. Cora Gebhart, the lady whose table we stopped at last night, called and asked if she could come over and talk to him.”

“I see,” Neil said distractedly, jiggling the cutlery his mother had set in front of him.

Dolores stopped her preparations and turned and looked at him. “When you start fiddling like that, it means you’re worried,” she said.

“I am. If I had called Maggie as I intended last Friday, I would have had her phone number, I would have called, and I would have found out what happened. And I would have been here to help her.” He paused. “Mom, you just don’t know how hungry she was to spend this time with her stepmother. You’d never guess if you met her, but Maggie’s had a pretty bad time of it.”

Over waffles and bacon, he told her all he knew about Maggie. What he didn’t tell her was how angry he was at himself for not knowing more.

“She really does sound lovely,” Dolores Stephens said. “I’m anxious to meet her. But listen, you’ve got to stop driving yourself crazy. She is staying in Newport, and you’ve left her a note, and you have the phone number. You’ll surely reach her or hear from her today. So just relax.”

“I know. It’s just that I have this rotten feeling that there have been times when she needed me and I wasn’t there for her.”

“Afraid of getting involved, right?”

Neil put his fork down. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? You know, Neil, a lot of the smart, successful young men of your generation who didn’t marry in their twenties decided they could play the field indefinitely. And some of them will—they really don’t want to get involved. But some of them also never seem to know when to grow up. I just wonder if this concern on your part doesn’t reflect a sudden realization that you care a lot about Maggie Holloway, something you wouldn’t admit to yourself earlier because you didn’t want to get involved.”

Neil stared at his mother for a long moment. “And I thought Dad was tough.”

Dolores Stephens folded her arms and smiled. “My grandmother had a saying: ‘The husband is the head of the family; the wife is the neck.’ ” She paused. “ ‘And the neck turns the head.’ ”

Seeing Neil’s startled expression, she laughed. “Trust me, I don’t agree with that particular piece of down-home wisdom. I think of a husband and wife as equals, not game players. But sometimes, as in our case, what seems to be is not necessarily what is. Your father’s fussing and complaining is his way of showing concern. I’ve known that since our first date.”

“Speak of the devil,” Neil said, as, through the window, he spotted his father walking down the path from his office.

His mother glanced out. “Uh-oh, he’s bringing Cora in. She looks upset.”

In a very few minutes after his father and Cora Gebhart joined them at the kitchen table, Neil understood why she was upset. On Wednesday she had sold her bonds through the broker who had been so persistent in trying to get her to invest in a venture stock he had recommended, and she had given the transaction a go-ahead.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” she said. “I mean, after what Robert said at the club about not wanting another one of his ladies to lose her shirt . . . I had the awful feeling he was talking about me, and I sensed suddenly that I’d made a terrible mistake.”

“Did you call this broker and cancel the buy?” Neil asked.

“Yes. That may be the one intelligent thing I did. Or tried to do—he said it was too late.” Her voice trailed off and her lip trembled. “And he hasn’t been in his office since then.”

“What is this stock?” Neil asked.

“I’ve got the information,” his father said.

Neil read the prospectus and the fact sheet. It was even worse than he expected. He phoned his office and directed Trish to put him through to one of the senior traders. “Yesterday you bought fifty thousand shares at nine,” he told Mrs. Gebhart. “We’ll find out what’s happening to it today.”

Tersely he appraised his trading associate of the situation. Then he turned again to Mrs. Gebhart. “It’s at seven now. I’m putting in a sell order.”

She nodded her assent.

Neil stayed on the line. “Keep me posted,” he ordered. When he hung up, he said, “There was a rumor a few days ago that the company whose stock you purchased was being bought by Johnson & Johnson. But unfortunately, I’m positive it’s just that—a rumor intended to inflate the value of the stock artificially. I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Gebhart; at least we should be able to save most of your capital. My associate will call us back as soon as he makes a trade.”

“What makes me furious,” Robert Stephens growled, “is that this is the same broker who got Laura Arlington to invest in a fly-by-night company and caused her to lose her savings.”

“He seemed so nice,” Cora Gebhart said. “And he was so knowledgeable about my bonds, explaining how even though they were tax-free, the return didn’t justify all that money being tied up in them. And some were even losing buying power because of inflation.”

The statement caught Neil’s attention. “You must have told him about your bonds, if he was so knowledgeable,” he said sharply.

“But I didn’t. When he phoned to ask me to lunch, I explained I had no interest in discussing investments, but then he talked about the kind of clients he had—like Mrs. Downing. He told me that she had had bonds similar to the ones many older people hold and that he made a fortune for her. Then he talked about exactly the bonds I hold.”

“Who is this Mrs. Downing?” Neil asked.

“Oh, everybody knows her. She’s a pillar of the Providence old guard. I did call her, and she simply raved about Douglas Hansen.”

“I see. Even so, I’d like to run a check on him,” Neil said. “He sounds to me like just the kind of guy our business doesn’t need.”

The phone rang.

Maggie, Neil thought. Let it be Maggie.

Instead, it was his associate at the investment house. Neil listened, then turned to Cora Gebhart. “He got you out at seven. Count yourself lucky. There’s a rumor just starting to circulate that Johnson & Johnson is going to issue a statement saying it has absolutely no interest in taking over that company. Whether the rumor is true or not, it’s enough to send the company’s stock into a tailspin.”

When Cora Gebhart left, Robert Stephens looked at his son affectionately. “Thank God you were here, Neil. Cora has a good head and a big heart, but she’s too trusting. It would have been a damn shame to have her wiped out by one mistake. As it is, this may mean that she’ll have to give up the idea of moving into Latham Manor. She had her eye on a particular apartment there, but maybe she’ll still be able to take a smaller one.”

“Latham Manor,” Neil said. “I’m glad you mentioned it. I need to ask you about that place.”

“What on earth do you want to know about Latham Manor?” his mother asked.

Neil told them about the Van Hillearys, his clients who were looking for a retirement base. “I told them I’d investigate that place for them. I’d almost forgotten. I should have made an appointment to see it.”

“We’re not teeing up until one,” Robert Stephens said, “and Latham isn’t that far from the club. Why don’t you call over and see if you can make an appointment now, or at least pick up some literature about it for your clients.”

“Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today,” Neil said with a grin. “Unless, of course, I can get hold of Maggie first. She must be home by now.”

After six unanswered rings, he replaced the receiver. “She’s still out,” he said glumly. “Okay, where’s the phone book? I’ll call Latham Manor; let’s get it out of the way.”

Dr. William Lane could not have been more pleasant. “You’re calling at a very good time,” he said. “We have one of our best suites available—a two-bedroom unit with a terrace. It’s one of four such apartments, and the other three are occupied by charming couples. Come right over.”