Maxine (25 page)

He walked the grounds. The house was enormous, like a huge mission, with white stucco walls and a red tile roof. There were balconies with climbing roses and wisteria, porches, patios, a waterfall, rolling lawns that sloped down to the beach, fountains, and pretty flowers everywhere. It was the most beautiful place he’d ever seen.

Although he hadn’t seen Al’s design, Nick knew Cara’s new house in Washington wouldn’t be anything like this. There were gardeners snipping and watering and raking, sprucing up the flower beds. He couldn’t imagine growing up in a place like this. The apartment he grew up in was filthy inside and out, and the moldy refrigerator was always empty. His mother didn’t care if they had food as long as she had her precious scotch.

<>

Ian hung up the phone. “Lance, Ron said he found Cara in the estate offices this morning, talking with the accountant.”

Lance jumped in Jane’s car and sped downtown. If she’d come into the city by herself, it might be the perfect opportunity.

He double-parked across the street from the parking garage and waited for Cara to come out. He had his gun loaded and ready, tucked under the seat within easy reach. Minutes later, she walked out the door with a security guard, her hair blowing in the wind. What in the hell was a stupid bitch like Cara doing there? She didn’t know shit about investments. If she had any sense at all, she’d back away and let Ron handle things for her. Lance chuckled to himself. Of course, Ron couldn’t stand the sight of her. Neither could Ian and Jane.

Cara sat in the back seat of the Bentley. The guard sat in the front with the uniformed driver. Lance followed the shiny silver car, staying a block or so behind, watching and waiting for the right opportunity.

<>

On the way to her lunch meeting with Bill Morrison, Cara reviewed the list of the investments Marge had given her. One company had a plant in South America that spewed filth into the air and sickened thousands of people. Why on earth had Holcomb invested in this stock? Didn’t he know it was socially irresponsible to support a company that ruined the environment and endangered people’s lives? She couldn’t believe she owned such a big chunk of a business like that.

She called Holcomb from the car. “I want you to sell that stock and all shares in any mutual funds that include that company.”

“B-but that stock is supposed to split any day,” sputtered Ron. “It’s not a good time to sell.”

“Did I ask if it was a good time to sell?”

“Well, no, but—”

“I said sell it. Now. Today. Dump it all.”

“But we’ll lose money.”

“No,
I’ll
lose money. Do it!” She snapped the phone closed, angry with the man’s attitude. As soon as she found someone to replace him, Ron Holcomb would be history.

She examined another page Marge had included. It was a list of buildings and property, with notations in Holcomb’s handwriting. She hadn’t seen this list before. Why wasn’t this included on the list of assets she was given on her birthday?

From Ron’s neat script in the margin, it looked like two buildings were scheduled for renovations soon. She made a quick phone call. “Marge, you gave me a list of real estate holdings. Does the estate own all this?”

“Yes, through a separate corporation.”

“Why weren’t they listed with the investments?”

“I believe the RASH Corporation was on the list, Miss Andrews.”

“Are these office buildings, homes, apartments, or what?”

“I know very little about the RASH Corporation. Mr. Holcomb keeps all the files in a separate file cabinet in his office.”

“Marge, I hate to ask you to go behind his back again, but would you mind doing a little digging the next time Mr. Holcomb is out of the office? I want information on every piece of real estate—address, type of property, value, income, and so forth. You can fax it to my home or send a package by courier.”

Nick had been asking for something to do, and this was a perfect project for him. She was especially interested in the buildings scheduled for renovation.

Cara put the paper back in the file folder and set it on the seat beside her. Why hadn’t he told her about the real estate investments the first time they met? Holcomb seemed more interested in confusing her with stock market lingo than in telling her about the investments. What else did he have filed away in that office? Was he deliberately hiding something from her?

<>

Lance followed the Bentley to a restaurant in downtown San Francisco and watched the bodyguard escort Cara inside. He came out a few minutes later carrying two take-out containers. Cara stayed inside. Who was she meeting for lunch? Another lover?

He examined himself in the mirror on the visor. He’d bleached his hair and wore thick, ugly, black-framed sunglasses with a wad of tape around the nose piece. A long-sleeved plaid shirt hid his perfect physique. With any luck, people would stare at the nerdy glasses instead of the man who wore them.

Walking casually toward the door of the restaurant, he glanced at the Bentley. The front windows were down and the men were laughing about something instead of watching the restaurant. They’d be fired the minute he took over. He’d fire all the servants, including the insolent Mr. Pettibone, the man who had refused to obey a direct order and fire the cook. Every one of those fucking bastards would be gone. He’d find people who were loyal to
him
, not to that stupid bitch he married.

Lance strolled into the restaurant and wandered back to the men’s room, scanning the dining area to see where Cara was sitting. He spotted her in the back corner with some old man, her back to the window. It wouldn’t be hard to pick her off through the window, but there were too many people around. Someone would see him or identify Jane’s car and trace it back to him. It was too risky.

<>

For Cara, talking with Bill Morrison seemed almost like talking with her grandfather. He was a wonderful man, warm, kind, and encouraging. As her grandfather’s good friend and confidant for so many years, she felt she could trust him. They spent two pleasant hours talking about her grandfather and the estate. Bill seemed quite fond of Hutch and Bart and Sylvia, but he didn’t have anything positive to say about Ron Holcomb.

Cara played with her coffee cup as she talked about the investments Ron had chosen for her portfolio. “I told Ron to sell one stock. The company is irresponsible, poisoning the environment, making people sick. I don’t care how much money they make, I can’t support that.”

“I completely agree,” said Bill.

In reviewing the estate’s investments, she found Bill didn’t know about several companies on the list, including RASH, and he wasn’t aware that the estate owned any real estate with the exception of the house Cara grew up in and the office building that housed the estate offices. “Doesn’t Ron bring you up to date at the meetings?”

“Not always.” Bill pulled off his reading glasses. “We speak in generalities, Cara. Ron gives us an overview, but he handles the investments his own way. He always has. Oh, we give advice, but the rest of us have no control over what he does. We’re like an advisory panel.”

It seemed to Cara that no one had any real control except Ron Holcomb. “What about Sylvia’s comments about social responsibility?”

“She’s right. It has never been one of Ron’s priorities.”

“I understand he gives himself a bonus based on the percentage of gain.”

“Yes, we authorized that.”

Cara sighed. Ron didn’t care what they did as long as he made money for himself. Nick was right when it came to Ron’s control. Nick had excellent instincts about business and about people, so why was he working in construction?

Bill stood and took her hand. “I’ve enjoyed your company, Cara. Feel free to call any time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morrison.”

<>

Lance perked up when he spotted Cara walking out of the restaurant by herself. She glanced around and walked toward her car, which was parked several feet from the door. Aside from the Bentley, the parking lot was nearly empty. Few cars and no people.

Lance pulled the gun from beneath the seat and took aim, but a big SUV pulled in front of him, blocking his view. By the time it moved out of the way, Cara’s bodyguard was closing the back door of the Bentley, and Lance had lost his opportunity.

“Damn fucking bitch,” he muttered. If she hadn’t left him, she’d be locked away in the loony bin by now and he’d be on his way to Greece.

<>

Aunt Sophia called Nick and they talked about family for several minutes. Maria’s oldest son, a brilliant kid, was going to skip the third grade, Vinnie’s landscaping business had the best April ever, and Gina’s baby was late. Nick missed them all, especially Aunt Sophia. She was his touchstone, his anchor, a never-ending source of love and encouragement.

“Tell Cara that Angelo is coming on Friday. She said she wanted him to come give her a haircut.” Aunt Sophia read off the flight information. “Angelo said Cara doesn’t have to pay for the ticket, but he would like someone to meet him at the airport.”

Nick shoved his feet in his slippers. “Yeah, okay. I’ll tell her.”

“Tony wants to come, too, but he’s still working on the boat.”

“Doing what?”

“Fixing it up like Cara said, so you can live there until you rebuild your house.”

Something else she didn’t tell me
. Did she think taking care of him meant taking over his life? “What about my house? Is there anything left?”

“I’m so sorry, Nicky. Tony said he’d have a dumpster brought down the beach. They’ll clean it up, so you can build again.”

“Tell them not to bother.” He couldn’t afford to build anything good enough for Cara. He’d live on the boat or with Aunt Sophia and use the insurance money to start his business.

<>

Boyd Hutchinson was a big bear of a man with thick gray hair and wrinkles around his hazel eyes, like he smiled all the time. He greeted Cara with a warm handshake and a big smile. He took her through the plant and introduced her to several people. She got the impression that Hutch’s employees loved him. She could see why. She was rather fond of him herself.

When they returned to his office, Cara told him about asking Ron to sell one of the stocks in her portfolio. “I don’t want to own stock in an irresponsible company like that.”

“I advised Ron not to buy that stock two years ago, for the same reason. Sylvia said the same thing.” Hutch poured two cups of coffee. “Cara, has Ron helped you learn about the estate?”

“No, he’s been inconsiderate, uncooperative, and a general pain in the... well, you know what I mean. What would you do if you were me?”

Without hesitation, Hutch said, “I’d replace him.”

They sipped coffee and talked about the different stocks Hutch had recommended to Ron and why, and then Cara ended the meeting. “It’s late and I don’t want to keep you here all night. Thanks for making time for me today and for the tour of the plant.”

“My pleasure.”

As she walked out to the parking lot, Cara caught a glimpse of a blond man backing out of a parking space. Her breath caught when he turned and she saw his face. For a second, she thought it was Lance, but Lance wouldn’t drive an old car or wear a plaid shirt. He wouldn’t be caught dead in plaid. Still, the resemblance was startling. Suddenly apprehensive, she motioned to her bodyguard, who ran toward her.

The man in the car waved to someone and drove away, leaving Cara feeling foolish. Her bodyguard asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Probably just my overactive imagination. Let’s go home.”

She sat in the car breathing deeply to settle her shattered nerves. Had all these efforts to protect her made her paranoid? If Lance had any sense at all, he was in Mexico or Costa Rica by now. But then, he couldn’t get his revenge that way. And he would definitely want to get even with her for spoiling his plans.

As the car pulled away from the plant, Cara thought about last summer and fall. It had been a tough time for her. Her mother’s depression was so deep she picked at her food and wasted away until she weighed only sixty-seven pounds. The anti-depressants she took no longer helped. Cara visited her often, taking her special little goodies that Cassie made for her, but nothing enticed her to eat. And then a virus, a simple cold, spread through the sanitarium. Her mother caught it and it turned into pneumonia. With no strength to fight it, she died. Cara suspected that was what her mother wanted. To die. To be released from her misery.

Lance seemed to understand her grief over losing the last member of her family, but she knew now that it was all an act. The only thing he understood was that she had money and he wanted it. She’d been so distraught over her mother’s death, she hadn’t been thinking clearly, but that was no excuse. Cara let herself get sucked into the dream world created by Lance’s lies because she desperately needed someone to love her. She’d been alone and miserable for such a long time, and her mother’s death brought out all the anguish she’d been holding in since she was thirteen.