Fool Me Once (22 page)

She fixed a cup of black rum tea to fortify herself before opening the package that glared up at her from the table. She stared at it for a while as she sipped her tea. Finally, she ripped at the tab and removed draft documents of the trust agreements. The enclosed letter said she was to read through the documents and get back to O'Brien.

She riffled through the pages. The contents could have been in a foreign language for all she understood. What she did understand was the numbers page that spelled out that all of Gwen's grandchildren's college expenses would be taken care of when it was time for them to go to college. Her son, Timothy, would receive $2000 a month for the rest of his life, while each child would receive $500 a month until he or she reached the age of thirty-five. Cost-of-living increases would be factored in yearly.

Jill's daughter's trust was basically the same in regard to the text, but the numbers were different. Since there were only two children, all college expenses would be paid, and each child would receive $750 a month until the age of thirty-five. Jill's daughter, Mary Louise, would receive $3500 a month for the rest of her life.

The trust booklet for her own unborn children was much thinner, the numbers similar. All college expenses would be paid in full; each child would receive $500 a month until the age of thirty-five. There was no provision for herself.

Everything was in order. All she had to do was sign it, and before long, the trusts would be active.

Olivia reached for the thin, bright red folder and opened it. A single sheet of paper announced that the annual meeting of the board of directors of Adrian's Treasures was scheduled for May 15, a little more than two weeks away. As Adrian Ames's sole heir, she was expected to conduct the meeting. Olivia could feel her eyes start to bulge. No, no, this was all wrong. She wasn't taking control of Adrian's business. No way was she going to the company's headquarters in Baltimore to preside over the annual meeting.

Her back ramrod-straight, her eyes sparking dangerously, Olivia dialed the attorney's private number. She hated it that she was trembling. She didn't bother with amenities when she heard his voice. She went right into her spiel. “No, I am not going to that board meeting. I told you, I don't want any part of Adrian Ames's estate or her business. What do you mean, I have to go? No, no I don't. Obviously, the company is, and has been, doing very well without Adrian at the helm. That has to mean there are some pretty competent people operating the company. Things can continue that way until all the business decisions are made.”

Olivia closed her eyes as she listened to the attorney's words. “And who do you think is going to be making all those decisions? Adrian's Treasures has a great many people on its payroll. Those people have families and depend on the company for their salaries and their medical benefits. They want assurances that their livelihood will not change. I'm told morale is not the greatest at the moment. It's been months since Ms. Ames died. Seeing you presiding over the meeting, telling them things will continue, that their jobs are secure, is crucial. It won't take more than ten minutes of your time. Surely you can see your way clear to attending the meeting.”

Olivia's shoulders slumped. “Since you put it like that, I guess I don't have any other choice. All right, I'll go. This has to be the end of it, though.”

“Ms. Lowell, it isn't that simple. In fact, it's very complicated. I told you that more than once. The firm is working very hard on all matters. As I said, it's extremely complicated. The tax issue alone is mind-boggling. Now, tell me, do the trust documents meet with your approval?”

Olivia drummed her fingers on the countertop. “I didn't read them line for line, if that's what you mean. The numbers meet with my approval. How long will it take before you can start sending money to Gwen and Jill's children?”

“Six weeks, give or take a few weeks either side of it. Do you want me to send out letters ahead of time to apprise them of your intent?”

“No, not yet. I need to come up with something, some story that won't alert them to their mothers'…past history. They don't need that kind of grief. Is there anything else, Mr. O'Brien?”

“No, that covers everything for the moment. It's definite, then, that you will attend the meeting in Baltimore.”

“Yes, Mr. O'Brien, I will attend the meeting.”

Olivia sat down at the table. Her tea was cold, but she drank it anyway. Like it or not, good intentions or bad intentions, she was being sucked into Adrian Ames's world.

And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

O
livia stared at her reflection in the mirror hanging on the bathroom door. She should have bought a new suit. Or at least had the one she was wearing cleaned again, even though it came out of a plastic bag. Well, it would have to do. She continued to study herself with critical interest. The suit was tailored like any other business suit, charcoal gray, and she wore a crisp white blouse with it. No jewelry except her engagement ring on her left hand, her birthstone ring on her right hand, her watch, and her pearl earrings. She'd taken great pains with her hair and makeup, anguishing over the right eye shadow, just the right lipstick. Her hair was in a French twist. She grimaced. She looked trim, neat, and tidy. Olivia was almost ready to leave her bedroom when she trotted back to the bathroom and spritzed herself with perfume. She likened the scent to body armor. Now she was ready to leave to make the long drive to Baltimore.

In the kitchen she put down fresh water and dry dog food for the dogs and pee pads by the door. “I'll be back by afternoon, so behave yourselves. Special treats when I get back.”

The dogs looked up at her, seeming to understand everything she was saying. No dog-sitter today meant all kinds of wonderful things to do. Olivia eyed them suspiciously, knowing they were up to something. Whatever it was, she would deal with it when she got back.

A mighty sigh at the thought of what awaited her escaped Olivia's lips as she headed for the door—just as the bell rang. She opened it to see a chauffeured limo driver staring at her.

“Yes?”

“I'm David Lerner, your driver. If you're ready, we can leave now. I have coffee in the car and the morning paper, Ms. Lowell.”

“Oh,” was all Olivia could think of to say. A limo all the way to Baltimore. Well, la-di-da! Coffee and the morning paper. Like she was really going to drink the coffee and take a chance of spilling it down the front of her suit. Like she needed black newsprint all over her hands. She was cranky, there was no doubt about it.

She hadn't slept a wink. Knowing she'd be out of sorts, she'd told Jeff to stay in the District. She'd gone to bed at eleven and tossed and turned till one o'clock, when she got up and pressed her suit. At two o'clock she washed a load of clothes. At three o'clock she cooked bacon and eggs but ended up giving it to the dogs. At four o'clock, she vacuumed the great room, polished the furniture, and folded her laundry. At five o'clock, she took a shower and washed her hair. By seven she was dressed, made-up, and a bundle of nerves.

Here it was, 7:45, and she was in a stretch limo heading for Baltimore, compliments of Adrian's Treasures. She had to admit, it sure beat driving herself.

Olivia did her best to relax in the plush seat of the limo. She tried to think about Jeff and the wedding they were planning for the second week in September, but that didn't work. All she could see in her mind was a long conference table with a group of people eyeballing her, waiting to see what she was going to say about their futures. She wished now that she'd come up with a speech of sorts. Hello and good-bye wasn't going to do it.

Olivia closed her eyes and thought about all the movies she'd seen where the lead actors conducted board meetings. Usually they were men, with secretaries taking notes. Jeff had said she should just be herself. That piece of advice wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear. The board members wouldn't want to see her attitude in regard to Adrian Ames.

She'd called her father before going to bed, but, as had been the case lately, there had been no answer. She was on her own, but for some reason she couldn't get beyond hello and good-bye in her planned speech. Winging it wasn't something she was good at, but that's exactly what she would have to do—wing it. Maybe they'd kick her out. The thought pleased her.

As the miles clicked away, Olivia grew more nervous. She wished she had some chewing gum, something. When she was growing up, her father always gave her a stick of gum when she got nervous over something. Just the act of chewing seemed to calm her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd chewed gum. She wished now that she had left a message for her father to call her back. Maybe he was out on a charter and his cell phone was off. Anything was possible.

The minutes ticked by. Olivia inspected her manicure and cracked her knuckles, a very unladylike thing to do. She spent a few minutes inspecting her shoes, then another few minutes looking to see what exactly was in her purse. Junk.

Finally, the stretch limo slowed and turned into what looked like an industrial area. Tall eight-and ten-floor grimy redbrick buildings could be seen on both sides of the street. The moment the limo stopped, Olivia leaned forward. “Are we here? Is this the corporate headquarters?” There was doubt in her voice with the question.

“Yes, miss. I'll escort you inside. It looks quite different inside than it does out here.” The door opened, and a hand reached in to help her out of the car. Swallowing hard, Olivia followed the chauffeur.

She watched as the man pressed a series of numbers alongside an ugly steel door that opened soundlessly. He was right, the inside was beautiful. An atrium stood smack in the middle, the trees and plants lush and beautiful. Off to the side was a black marble reception desk with a neatly dressed middle-aged woman pecking away at a computer. Cozy sitting areas done in bright rainbow colors were welcoming to any new visitor. On one wall was a glass-enclosed guide to the different floors. She moved closer and studied the board. Floor two was New Products, floor three was Returns, floor four was Human Resources, floor five was Legal Services, floor six simply said Adrian Ames. She didn't get to see what was on floors seven and eight because the chauffeur nudged her elbow to follow him to the elevator.

“We're going to the seventh floor. It's the conference area and dining room,” he said cheerfully. “You have ten minutes if you want to freshen up. The lavatory is to the right, the conference room is the second door on the left.”

Freshen up. Oh yes. You bet she wanted to freshen up. Anything to postpone entering the conference room. Anything. Her stomach churned unbearably. She couldn't throw up, she just couldn't. Olivia looked down at her watch. Two minutes to go. The hell with two minutes. She marched forward and yanked at the door, almost knocking herself out with the wild
swoosh
of air she'd created. Second door on the left. She took a great, deep breath, held it for five seconds, exhaled, and walked down the hall. She didn't hesitate but grasped the knob and opened the door. She didn't blink at the men and women sitting around the table. Waiting for her.

She took everything in at a glance. The gorgeous spring flowers in the center of the polished teak table, the platters of pastries, the huge silver service on the sideboard with a waitress ready to serve everyone. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw linen napkins on the sideboard.

Olivia walked around to the head of the table to the only vacant chair. Twelve people watched her progress. She sat down. Directly in her line of vision was a portrait of Adrian Ames. It startled her. Whoever painted the picture had captured the greed and coldness of the woman. She knew instinctively the portrait was meant to be intimidating. Maybe to other people. Never to her.

Olivia let her gaze circle the table. “Please, everyone, relax. I'm Olivia Lowell, Adrian Ames's daughter.” She could hear vague greetings of hello, good morning, nice to meet you.

“I really don't have much to say at this time. I apologize for not coming in sooner but this…It was such a shock. I want you all to know that I do not intend to make any changes. I would like it if you'd notify all the department heads to tell their people that it will continue to be business as usual. I want to assure you that there are no plans to change membership on the board of directors. Nothing is going to change.” Olivia took a deep breath and reached for the coffee cup the waitress was holding out to her. She set it down, looked around, and said, “Well, there is going to be one change. I'm going to implement a bonus program based on years of service to be paid before Christmas. In addition to the bonus program, I noticed that raises fell by the wayside a few years ago, so there will be a ten-percent raise across the board. It will be retroactive to January first of this year. A cost-of-living adjustment will go into effect every six months, January and June.

“If any of you have any questions, ask them now. I probably won't be able to answer them, but I'll try.” Olivia looked around. They all looked so serious, so
suspicious.
Why was that? The bonus program and the raise should have caused some kind of positive reaction.

A woman in a severely cut navy blue suit raised her hand slightly. “Carol Vinter, Human Resources. How do we know you'll do what you
say?
Raises have been promised before but didn't materialize.”

Aha. Adrian Ames was not a beloved boss. “When I say something, Carol, I mean it. I would like the legal department to draw up contracts for all of you. Lifetime contracts with everything spelled out. This might be a good time, ladies and gentlemen, to tell you I am not…I am not…
my mother!
In fact, I didn't even know that Adrian Ames was the woman who gave birth to me until after she died. I had been told my mother died when I was born. This whole”—Olivia waved her arms about—“
thing…
has been a bit of a shock to me. When I give you my word on something, it's sterling. That means you can take it to the bank. I am going to have many meetings with the legal department about turning this company over to the employees. I don't have the foggiest idea of how that can be done, but
it will be done
. Not right away, but soon. You can also take that one to the bank.”

Olivia leaned back and reached for her coffee cup. She waited while her audience digested what she'd just said. After a few seconds, they all started to jabber at once. Some were smiling. She drained her coffee cup and held it up for a refill. Suddenly she was no longer nervous.

A fiftyish lawyer stood up and said, “We accept what you propose.”

Olivia smacked her hands together. “Good! Can I go now?” That got a laugh. She stood up, shook hands with everyone, made small talk, then snatched a cinnamon apple pastry. She munched on it as she made her way down the hall. Her voice boomed before she stepped into the elevator. “Carry on!” Damn, she sounded like General George S. Patton. All she needed was a riding crop. She felt just like the general at that precise moment.

Curled up in the plush burgundy-colored seat, Olivia slept all the way back to Winchester.

The dogs greeted her with enthusiasm. She took a few minutes to play with them before letting them out in the garden. While they played, she popped open a cola and changed into jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers. She carried her cola and her portable phone out to the deck, where she called Prentice O'Brien to report on the meeting. She grinned from ear to ear when she heard the stuffy lawyer gasp and exclaim, “You can't do that!”

“Of course I can do that! I own Adrian's Treasures, Mr. O'Brien.”

“But the tax—”

“Deal with it, Mr. O'Brien, or I will find someone else who will be more than happy to bill Adrian's Treasures all those delicious billable hours. I want you to do that raise-and-bonus thing right away. Right away means right away. Like
now
.”

Power, Olivia thought, was an aphrodisiac all its own. She felt pleased with herself. She leaned back, the golden sun warming her. She dozed off, her dreams full of wedding dresses and lacy veils.

It was four o'clock when pandemonium erupted. The doorbell rang—her four o'clock appointment—and the phone lying beside her shrilled to life. She grabbed the phone on the run, heard Jeff's panic-filled voice, and knew instinctively it had something to do with Cecil. The dogs went wild when they saw the golden retrievers and their owner standing in the doorway to the studio. Playtime.

“Just a minute, Jeff,” Olivia said, putting him on hold as she stuffed the portable into the pocket of her jeans.

“Mr. Donovan, right on time. Oh, you brought Sonia, Stash,
and
the pups! Okay, go on into the studio and put whatever costumes you want on the dogs. I think I might have a bit of an emergency here. I won't be long. There's a basket of dog treats on the shelf. Help yourself.”

Her heart beating extra fast, Olivia clicked back to Jeff. “What? What's wrong?”

“You need to be sitting down for this, Olivia. Are you sitting down?”

“Yes, I'm sitting down. What is it, Jeff?”

“My boss just called me into his office. It seems they found a cousin of Lillian Manning's about twenty-six times removed. He's coming to town as soon as my boss sends him enough money to get his Harley fixed. He's going to move into Lillian's mansion and take care of Cecil. He sounds like one of those biker dudes you see on television all the time.”

Olivia started to sputter. “But…Lillian appointed you as Cecil's handler. She wanted you to take care of Cecil. It said so in her will. They can't switch up now. You're going to fight this, aren't you? Tell them you want to see bona fide proof that he's related to Mrs. Manning.”