There is no greater revelation than realizing that you can do nothing of yourself.
JEANNE GUYON
ON WEDNESDAY MORNING, while Cass is calling new brokers, I pour myself a cup of decaf. I had my one allotted espresso after getting up this morning. I lift the cup to my nose, sniff, and then take a sip. A definite improvement on the green tea.
I walk back into the office, where Cass sits at my desk talking to a broker. I motion for her to take it into the kitchen, and she gets up and takes the cordless phone and her notes with her.
"This is ridiculous," I say to Sam. "We need space." His disinterest is evidenced by his lack of response. "Yeah, what do you care?" I sit at the desk, reach for my cell phone, and then think better of it. The call I need to make is private. I lean back in my chair and look at Cass through the door leading to the kitchen. I pick up my phone and head for my bedroom, where I can make the call behind a closed door.
I sit on the end of my bed and first dial the Domaine de la Bouvier San Francisco office. I'm told Brigitte is returning from the valley today and won't be in the office until tomorrow. I leave a message with the receptionist, then glance at my watch—maybe she's already home. I dial her home office number and reach her voicemail. I leave a message there too. Then I dial her cell phone, which she answers.
"Andee, I was just thinking about you."
I hear a slight echo and know she's in her car. "I just spoke with your receptionist who said you're on your way in from the valley."
"Yes. I just crossed over the Marin County line. I always feel better once I'm back in civilization."
Her laugh agitates me. "Brigitte, listen, I'd like to set a meeting as soon as you're free."
"Regarding?"
"A proposition that's come up—I think you'll find it interesting. I'll share the details when we meet."
"Fine. I'll be back in the office tomorrow morning. What time works for you?"
"How about 10:00?"
"Very good. I'll look forward to seeing you, Andee."
I hang up the phone and lie back on the bed and look at the ceiling. I spent all day Tuesday, the day I told Cass I was taking off, thinking through the offer I'll make Brigitte.
It will cost me.
A lot.
I ignore the knot in my stomach that forms each time I think of the amount I'll offer her. But I'm determined to right my wrong. So it has to be an offer she can't refuse.
I close my eyes and put my hand on my pounding forehead. Caffeine withdrawal. Great. How will I ever get through a meeting with Brigitte without the benefit of caffeine? "C'mon Andee, you've pushed through more than this to get to where you are. You can push through this." Maybe.
I sit back up on the bed just as Cass taps on my door.
"Andee?"
"Come in, Cass."
She opens the door and takes a step into my bedroom. "You okay?"
"Never better." I pull myself up off the bed and stand.
"Could have fooled me. Are you sure you don't want . . ."
"Cassidy"—I point my finger at her—"I told you. No more. And the next time you offer me a cup, I'll fire you."
She laughs.
"I'm glad you find this so amusing."
"It's just that I always thought drive determined your destiny, not caffeine."
I look at her, eyebrows raised, and then push past her and head back to the office. "Oh my gosh, what if you're right?" I say over my shoulder. "Maybe just one more cup . . ." I bypass the office and head for the kitchen, but Cass cuts me off at the pass.
"No. No more. You can do this." She pushes me back to the office. "It'll be great. Really. It's already helping. You're becoming the kinder, gentler, Andee Bell."
I turn around and glare at her.
"Okay, not really. You're still a—"
"Watch it."
She smiles. "Hey, I'm going to meet with this broker and see some of his inventory. I'll save you another wasted morning." She takes her jacket off the back of my desk chair, and grabs her purse. "Okay?"
"Okay. And . . . thank you."
"Thank you?" She feigns an expression of shock.
"Get out of here!"
THE DOMAINE DE LA Bouvier offices in the city are nondescript—a suite on an upper floor of one of a hundred office buildings in the area. The receptionist shows me to Brigitte's office. As we walk down the hallway, we pass Gerard's office. The door is closed, the light off. It is a somber reminder of the brevity of life and a reminder of my own recent wake-up call.
Which, I remind myself, is why I'm here.
The receptionist seats me across from Brigitte's desk and tells me she'll be right with me.
"May I get you something while you wait? Coffee or tea?"
"Coffee. Black."
"Regular or decaf?"
I hesitate. I've got to get through this meeting. "Regular. Thank you."
I hear Brigitte talking to someone as she approaches her office and I stand to greet her. She stands at the open office door, her back to me, and instructs an admin on an assignment. I notice the cut of her dark suit, and see a flash of the red soles of her signature Louboutin pumps.
When she turns and enters the office, she smiles, but there is no warmth in her eyes, or in her manner.
"Andee, have a seat."
I've requested this meeting and she doesn't know why. It's her territory, but she's still at a disadvantage. Good.
"Nice to see you, Brigitte." Okay, so I'm bluffing, but I'm just warming up.
"And you." She seats herself in the chair behind the mahogany desk. "You mentioned a proposition."
The receptionist returns with my coffee and a cup of tea for Brigitte. I reach for the cup and saucer she offers me and take a needed gulp. If I burn my mouth, oh well. Then I set the saucer on the desk and continue to hold the cup. Once the receptionist is gone, I respond. "Yes." I take another sip of the coffee and then set the cup down too and begin the story I've rehearsed. "I received a call on Monday from an investor I work with, an old friend, it seems, of Duke Whitmore. He said he heard, through the grapevine"—I smile my most charming smile—"no pun intended, that Kelly sold a demand note for Azul."
I see Brigitte bristle.
"Where did he get that information? Kelly assured me the transaction would remain between us."
"He said he was at a bar, sitting next to her attorney. He was—in his words—flapping his lips about Kelly's business. He'd had too much to drink." I hold up my hand as I see the glint of anger in her eyes. "He didn't reveal who purchased the note. Just said another vintner paid a good price for it. He then went on to tell my investor what the note sold for."
She sets her cup and saucer on her desk and leans back in her chair. "And?"
"And . . . he wondered if I could find out who made the purchase and make them an offer. It seems he has a soft spot for Azul." I shrug. "Who knows what his reasons are, but I asked what he's willing to pay and . . . I thought you might find the offer intriguing."
"I'm not interested."
Her icy stare chills me and my heart begins to race. "Fine." I bend to pick up my briefcase.
"Wait."
I set the briefcase back down and lean back in my chair.
"What's he willing to pay?"
"Double." My tone is cool, detached and, I hope, belies the panic I feel at the thought of putting out that much money for anything.
Her eyes narrow and her stare pins me to my seat. Of course, I don't let her know that.
"What will he do with the note? Will he demand Bill pay it?"
"I assume so, but I don't know."
She gets up from her desk, comes around to the front of it, and perches on the edge near me. She looks down at me. "Who is it? Who is the investor?"
I sit still and meet her gaze. "He wishes to remain anonymous."
She stands and walks back to her chair and sits behind the desk again. "I have a simple rule—one I'm sure you'll appreciate: know who you're dealing with. Wise, don't you agree?"
I shrug. "It's your business, Brigitte. As your financial advisor, it's my job to inform you when a deal like that comes across my desk. It is a lot of money—a fantastic return on your investment. Something worth considering, I'd think. But my hands are tied. As I do with you, I maintain a code of confidentiality with all my clients. I have to."
"My reasons for obtaining the note were personal. It wasn't a business transaction, per se. The note is not for sale. At any price. So, as I stated, I'm not interested in your investor's offer. But thank you for notifying me." She looks from me to her watch.
"Well . . . if you change your mind, you know where to find me."
"Oh, I never change my mind." She stands.
I reach for my briefcase again and as I grasp the handle my nails dig into the palm of my hand. I stand and turn for the door.
It's clear the meeting is over.
I step into the elevator and once the doors close, I lean against the back wall and bang my ahead against the wood paneling. I bang. And bang. And bang. All the way to the lobby.
How could she turn down that much money? If money isn't her motivator, what is? How could I have been so wrong?
I step out of the elevator and walk out of the building. What now? If I can't buy the note back, how can I right my wrong? How can I fix things . . . for Jason, for Bill, and—who am I kidding—for myself?
How do I redeem myself?