CHAPTER 19

CAROL MACK DIDN’T LIKE TO SIT DOWN. At two P.M. she was pacing the waiting room of Hall Stale, nervously consulting her watch. Her mother had cancer. Her mother had cancer. How could Annie hurt her by making her doubt her own parents like this? Carol hated her best friend and wanted to cry. It had been a long night and a long morning, and now Annie was keeping her waiting in a terrible place.

For more than twenty minutes she’d had to endure a room that had always given her the most terrible creeps. Carol had her sensitivities in this area, and Hall Stale offended every one. The brown and beige Oriental carpet, coffee-colored leather wing chairs, brown and beige tweedy sofas, coffee tables and brass lamps in the reception area—which were copied at every Hall Stale office throughout the country—were anesthetics chosen to subdue and reassure rather than stimulate and encourage.

Carol was a furniture fashionista. Even at a time like this she couldn’t help thinking about the decorations. She knew how to charge a room with accessories so creative and original, they knocked the eyes out. Or pare a room down to elegant Zen. To her, the Hall Stale decorating palette was as chilling as a torture chamber. As her watch ticked away precious minutes of the busy workday, she tried to shut her eyes to her surroundings. All this office meant to her was the loss of friendship and trust. Her mother had cancer. She was sure she did.

“Would you please page Annie again? I’ve been waiting more than half an hour,” she complained to the gray-haired receptionist.

The woman gave her a cheerful smile. “I tried them several times. They’re probably still at lunch.”

They, who they? Carol stiffened at the thought of more treachery. Annie had promised she’d be there with the stocks. What was she up to? Carol felt her whole life twisting out of control as she waited. Every bad thing tumbled around in her mind, worsening the more she thought about it—her crumbling marriage to Matthew, their shattered friendship with Ben and Annie. The decline of her parents. What had happened to them?

It was impossible for her to be at Hall Stale without remembering how the two couples used to be in the good old days when the money had rolled in. Only a few years ago, it had seemed as if nothing could go wrong, nothing could fail, and even an unhappy past could be erased with success and plenty to spend. She was wondering where happiness had gone when Annie got off the elevator.

Annie didn’t see her at first. She was with a handsome young man and turned to smile at him as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Carol was shocked by that intimate smile. Annie looked so comfortable—indeed, so almost happy—that Carol instantly suspected the two of them were a couple. It was a devastating moment for her. Instantly Carol was reminded of her absent husband, Matthew, who showed no signs of loving her, and Annie’s husband, Ben, who no doubt still loved Annie. Treachery on every front! Carol began to hyperventilate with dismay, and simultaneously the couple in question caught sight of her. They suddenly looked grave.

“Carol, I didn’t expect you. Why didn’t you call?” Annie’s eyes seemed full of concern, but Carol was too upset to care.

“I told you I was coming,” she said angrily.

“This is Brian Redfield, our manager.” Annie introduced them.

“Really!” Carol scowled at him as he held out his hand.

“Delighted,” he chirped. “I’ve heard so much about you over the years.” The man gave her a thorough appraisal and seemed to like what he saw.

“You have?”

Carol’s withering look softened. She may have been deeply upset, but she was still a good-looking, elegant woman with a long-term commitment to maintenance. Her shoulder-length hair was a deep and shiny black. Her arresting china blue eyes were carefully made up. For the Hall Stale meeting, she’d chosen a pearl gray Armani pantsuit, a silk blouse that shimmered a blend of subtle pastels, a pink scarf soft as gossamer with a long fringe, a vintage alligator purse, and up-to-the-minute Stuart Weitzman pumps. Suddenly she was glad that the time she’d spent putting herself together this morning had not been wasted. A handsome man can have that effect even on a woman in the middle of a breakdown.

“Yes, I’ve heard you have fabulous taste. But of course, you don’t need to be told that. Please, come into my office where we can talk.” He led the way.

Scowling, Carol turned to her treacherous friend. “He’s the manager? How old is he?”

“Almost as old as you are,” Annie retorted. “Why didn’t you call?”

“Annie, I called you five times. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Carol, I have not. You put me in a shitty position. God knows we’re doing our best.”

Carol wanted to talk about a hundred things. Her mother and the cancer accusation. Everything. But the young manager had distracted her. She couldn’t help herself. “Are you and he . . . ?” She wiggled two fingers.

“Are you crazy? He’s my manager.” Annie edged Carol down the hall.

“Oh yeah, what does he manage?” Carol just couldn’t help getting off the subject. He was that cute.

She entered his office and quickly scanned it for more aesthetic offense. Hmmmm. She was surprised to find the room wholly acceptable except for the fabric on the wing chairs, the same awful plaid as Annie’s. His curved windows were on the downtown side, and his great view was only moderately shrouded in autumnal haze. A TV and computer monitor were on one desk facing the wall. His large glass-topped desk and coffee table were scattered with a valuable collection of obelisks in natural crystal and marble. He also had a number of miniature columns from Roman ruins that had been all the rage as souvenirs at the end of the nineteenth century. Carol lifted an eyebrow. He had a penis fixation. She wondered about that. Amazing how a Tom Cruise look-alike could cause the mind to wander. She planted herself in one of his wing chairs considerably softened.

“What does a manager do?” she asked.

“Oh, I supervise and deal with all controversy regarding personnel and operations in this office.”

“What does that mean exactly?” She propped her chin in her hand coyly.

“Whenever there’s a question about anything, I’m the person who helps find the answers.” His face was open, his expression just self-deprecating enough to be convincing. His gaze was steady. He looked at Carol as if she were the only person on earth—and also as if she was extremely attractive, which caused her to sit up even straighter in her chair.

“Annie tells me that you’ve been struggling with this problem with your father for a long time,” he went on.

Carol’s eyes misted. She had indeed. Ever since she was a little girl. Brian laced his hands together on the desk and tapped his index fingers.

“I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to talk about this earlier. We’ve had quite a bit of experience dealing with family matters of this nature.”

Matthew never used this soft tone of voice with her. Carol glanced at Annie. Annie gave her an encouraging smile.

“It’s hard to take control from fiercely independent people,” Carol said softly. And liars, she thought.

“I know how it is,” Brian said. “I spoke to your father a little while ago.”

“You did?” Carol was shocked.

“He has some pretty strong opinions. Of course, everybody’s been traumatized by the performance of the market, and I know how much you want your father’s legacy preserved.”

“My mother’s,” Carol corrected.

“Of course.” Brian’s gaze did not waver.

Her eyes misted some more. Yes, she did want to preserve the legacy. She also wanted someone nice to care about her.

“Annie told me your father wants the assets returned to him. Are you certain this is the right thing to do?”

“No,” Carol said flatly. “He’s not rational.”

“Is this what your mother wants?”

“I have no way of knowing what my mother wants. She’s not a communicator.”

“Well, what do you want?” the manager asked.

“Me?” She wanted her husband to be a sweet and loving man who was interested in her. She wanted her mother to be a regular mother. She wanted her father to be a regular father. She wanted Annie to be a good best friend. She wanted to be really close with Annie’s girls again. Her eyes puddled with tears because she knew none of those wishes was going to come true.

Brian tapped his fingers while she composed herself. “Are you dissatisfied with Annie’s performance?”

Carol dabbed at her eyes with an expensive handkerchief and crossed her legs the other way. “It’s not a pleasure to lose my money,” she said angrily.

“I didn’t lose your money, so let’s not go there,” Annie retorted.

Carol held up her hand. “Fine, let’s not talk about it.”

Brian stopped the exchange from going any further. “Look, I’m just trying to facilitate what’s right for you. If you want to move the account to another broker, that’s your prerogative. Of course I’ll do everything I can to help you do that. Is that your plan today?”

Carol flushed, because it was.

“Well, let’s go over the situation. What’s changed since yesterday?”

“My dad is a very controlling man. My guess is he feels naked without his money. He wants it with him.” Carol, however, had no intention of giving it to him.

Brian smiled and laced his fingers up again. “Assets can be quite warming. I understand your father’s feelings, but as your mother’s principal heir, I’m sure you’re aware that there will be more difficulties down the road sorting out the estate if we don’t set up the account properly while she’s able to do it.”

Carol frowned at the thought of probate, lawyers, lawyers’ fees, years of waiting for the government to have its way with her mother’s estate. New York City. New York State. Everybody who could take a piece would take a piece. They’d eat up her inheritance—not that she was waiting for her mother to die. She let out a little sob at the whole situation and studied the manager’s face.

She suspected that he was not just interested in helping her deal with a difficult situation. Hall Stale had lost Matthew as a client. Now they didn’t want to lose her. She wasn’t naÏve about these things. She thought he was a very attractive man, and he seemed sincere. His intense focus on her actually helped her calm down. She glanced at Annie out of the corner of her eye.

Annie tended to make her hysteria level rise. Annie had a husband who loved her no matter what; she had two great children and a whole world that Carol didn’t have. The contents of Carol’s in basket in the life department were two crazy parents (one a zombie and the other a compulsive liar) and a litigating husband who hurt people for a living. She had a moment of stabbing loneliness at the thought of how bitter and self-involved Matthew had become. He hardly ever even bothered to come home. Then she glanced back at Brian. He seemed like a nice man who was truly interested in her problems. She wondered if he liked her.

“I can help you if you’ll let me,” he said earnestly. “I suggest that you let us continue with the plan you had in place yesterday. In a matter of weeks we can get your account properly set up. Whatever happens with your family situation, one thing will be off your plate. You won’t have to worry about this.”

Carol shifted in her chair. It was hard to argue with the proposition. He didn’t push the fact that her father was demented and her mother was badly cared for, as Annie had. He didn’t say she owed it to the firm, which she herself felt she did. He just made sense.

“My dad expects me out there with the stuff now,” she said, checking her watch. “But what the hell. I’ll just tell him it can’t be done.”

“It might be better to tell him the truth, considering his litigious nature,” Brian suggested gently.