Beads of Doubt

by Barbara Burnett Smith

  Nate smiled and gestured to the old glider. The pillows are cushy, and I’d vacuumed them just a couple of days earlier. “Perfect,” I said.

  I took a seat and he sat beside me. “Now,” he said, looking square at me. “You are about as distracted as anyone I’ve ever seen. Not only that, you have a line between your eyebrows that has been there before, but it’s getting more prominent.” He used the tip of his finger to smooth it away. “Want to talk about what’s going on?”

  And here I thought I’d been behaving admirably, at least normally. I’d have loved to ask what he saw, other than the wrinkle, that had given me away—the tell as they say in poker.

  I didn’t bother to ask, because I didn’t want to get off track. I needed someone to listen to me. My brother had failed miserably in that role. Beth, Tess, and Rebecca had their own troubles; my mother was the one I was hiding things from, and I didn’t have a therapist.

  Still, I held back. Nate and I had been on only one real date, and that was three months ago. I’m pretty sure it was Helen Gurley Brown who said you’re supposed to hold off on the blue eye shadow and that much honesty until at least the fourth date.

  “Think I could have a little wine first?” I asked, holding out my glass.

  He poured some for both of us, and we touched glasses. “To the view,” he said.

  “The view.”

  Beth makes so much fun of my taste in wine, I wondered what Nate would say. “Well,” I asked. “What do you think?”

  “It’s nice. Sweet, smooth. Definitely a dessert wine. A little like a Riesling, but softer.” He paused. “Did I pass some kind of test?”

  “I didn’t plan it that way, but I suppose I was curious to hear your opinion.”

  He took another sip and didn’t make a face, which made me think he was telling the truth. “Okay,” he said. “Now, tell me what is happening in your life.”

  “You’re sure you want to hear this?”

  “Very sure.”

  I took a breath, opened my mouth, and began. I didn’t just talk—I spewed. I started with Houston’s call for a board meeting that would, he hoped, take the Manse away from me.

  “Nice guy,” Nate said. “And you just made sure the police let him go?”

  Now that my eyes were adjusting to the lack of light, I could see that a lock of Nate’s dark hair had fallen across his forehead. His eyes were watching me closely, and they were sympathetic. Damn. I hadn’t expected that. When people feel sorry for me I’ve been known to cry.

  I said, “I didn’t do that for Houston. I did it for Rebecca. His wife.” And then I told him about Rebecca and that she had ovarian cancer. That cancer was like the thread that ran through all our lives, bringing us together. Houston’s wife had it; my friend, Tess, had it; Bruce’s sister had died from it, as had Nate’s mother. It was why we were all involved in the Bead Tea and why we wanted to make a difference.

  “That was a nice thing for you to do,” he said. His tone was matter of fact, maybe because he didn’t want me to get emotional. Little did he know there was more to come. “So what are your chances of fighting off Houston’s takeover?”

  “I don’t know. It depends on who changed their vote, and if they might change it back. Maybe there’s a loop-hole in the voting process. I’m looking for a really sharp lawyer. The kind who won’t stop until we win.”

  He nodded. “But you haven’t found one yet.”

  “No, so if a name comes to mind, don’t hesitate to say it out loud.”

  “Promise. What’s going to happen to your mother if Houston gets the Manse? Will she be able to stay in the gatehouse?”

  I almost laughed. “No. I’m going to look for some kind of super duplex for the two of us. I don’t mean one that’s huge, but one that will be in this area so she’ll feel comfortable, and with a connecting door between us.”

  “Now that could be bad. I’ll ask around about a lawyer.”

  “Thank you.” Asking didn’t mean finding, but it was nice that someone else was on the hunt. It was especially good that the someone was Nate. In case he did another round-the-world work tour, he’d at least have to call me if he found a lawyer.

  “Besides the lawyer,” he said, “is there anything else you can do?”

  “Well . . .” It was the first time I’d actually stopped to think, something that should have come first. My approach had been ready, fire, aim.

  I looked at it like a senate vote. “I should be polling the family. Find out who is voting which way and who might be swayed in our direction. I need some big guns, too.” Lobbyists were always useful to move a vote in the right direction. They were smart, persuasive, and presentable. Some had large ranches, hunting leases, and great golf club memberships, not that I could see any of those things working with my family. “I need some staff and some lobbyists,” I said.

  “Any family available? Or are they all on Houston’s side of this fight?”

  “That’s what I don’t know, since we’ve never had anything like this before. I’m sure I have a list of everyone with voting shares somewhere in my office upstairs.” My brother would be the perfect one to make the calls since all the relatives love him, and since he usually isn’t busy with anything important. Wouldn’t you know he’d pick this particular time to woo back his ex-wife?

  Obviously Houston wasn’t going to be any help. Aunt Miranda and my mother were out. I mentally went down the list of family members who would be willing to get involved.

  Nate said, “Could you get Lauren to work for you for a couple of days?”

  “I could, except she’s actually employed by Houston, and that’s considered crossing enemy lines.”

  “I forgot about that.”

  “I do have a couple of people who might help. My kids. Katie and Will.” I was looking at the lights like they might form an answer. There was really no way to know what my offspring would say until I talked to them. Katie is always busy, what with three kids, a husband, Junior League, the twins’ soccer, softball, swimming, Spanish lessons, piano, and three-year-old Gabrielle’s lesson of the week. Baby basket weaving or marathons or some such.

  Still, Katie loved the Manse. She might be a perfectionist, but she was very much like my mother. A fighter on the inside, a lady on the outside. Not only would she shop and have tea tomorrow, but she would also be a charming emissary for the Camden clan, despite the fact that her last name was now Spencer.

  Katie had also made it known to me that when the time came, she wanted to live in the Manse. Her husband Mark was a lawyer, and there had been talk of him running for office. The Manse would be perfect for them, but we still had to have possession of it.

  “My daughter Katie will be able to make the phone calls, if she has the time.”

  “Katie?” Nate said, and then he was silent for a moment. “Short for?”

  “Katherine. We’re all Katherines. Actually it only goes back four generations. My mother is Katherine Lillian, and she goes by Lillian. I was initially called Kit, now, of course, Kitzi, and my daughter is Katie.”

  “And her daughter?”

  “Shelby Katherine.”

  “Now that’s a dynasty.”

  Our thighs touched, and the resulting sizzle was so astounding I started babbling. “But the men have had most of the power. So far,” I said. “I mean, I was a senator, but that’s nothing to my father and grandfather.”

  “I think it’s very impressive.”

  I took a few good breaths before I said, “Thank you. Okay, I’ll talk to Katie first thing in the morning. And maybe Will. My son. You haven’t met either of them, have you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “We’ll put that on the list of to-dos.”

  Nate smiled. “First I get to meet your mother and now your children. I’m definitely moving up in the rankings.” He slid an arm around me, and it felt so good I leaned back into him. “Your shoulders and neck are tight,” he said. He moved around until he was able to massage them.


  “That’s wonderful,” I said. “I suppose I didn’t realize quite how much stress I was carrying around.”

  His fingers gently manipulated my shoulder muscles until I was tempted to purr. “George Burns said, ‘If you ask what is the single most important key to longevity, I would have to say it is avoiding worry, stress, and tension. And if you didn’t ask me, I’d still have to say it.’ ”

  “Yes, and do you know what Lily Tomlin said about stress? ‘Reality is the leading cause of stress among those in touch with it.’ ”

  Nate laughed. “You win. And I suspect that right now you’ve got plenty of reasons to be stressed.”

  That’s when I mentioned Beth and her ex-husband, Mo-Ron.

  “Ah,” he said. “The one who was having the affair.” I had met Nate the day after I caught Ron in a tryst with a woman other than Beth.

  It was when Beth and I, along with her daughter Shannan, had been attending a craft retreat near Wimberley. It was held at the same camp where Beth and I used to go as kids, and now it’s owned by Nate’s sister. He was there for a visit. It was actually Shannan and I who caught her dad with another woman, and the following day there had been a murder. It wasn’t the kind of camp experience we were used to, but the good that came out of it was Nate.

  “Beth and Ron are separated?” he asked.

  “Hopefully forever.”

  Beth’s voice came from inside the house. “Kitzi. Kitz. Where are you?”

  I stood up and opened the door. “We’re out here. Did you need me?”

  She poked her head outside and saw Nate. “Oh. Hi. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving for a while.”

  “Oh?” I kept my voice noncommittal. “That’s nice.”

  She dipped her head a little. “Just going to grab some coffee. You know.”

  “In the kitchen?”

  She let out a disgusted sigh, which was directed at me. “No. I’m going out. I’m taking the kitchen-door key, so don’t set the alarm, okay?” she asked.

  “Sure. Have fun,” I said. “Oh, and say good night to Dwayne for me.”

  “No comment.” She waved and went back inside.

  “You know,” Nate said, settling himself back on the cushions, “that might be the beginning of the end of Beth’s marriage.”

  I’m sure my upper lip curled. “You think she’s interested in Dwayne Granger? He’s too macho. I might think Ron is a Mo-Ron, but Dwayne doesn’t seem any better for Beth, just different.”

  Nate gave me a half smile. “I didn’t say she’d end up marrying him, but I think it’s a good sign that she’s at least willing to have coffee with someone other than her husband.”

  I wasn’t sure I was convinced, and if I were, I wasn’t sure I’d have been comforted. Beth was in for some hard times no matter what happened. Divorces hurt, because you’re not just leaving a spouse, you’re leaving behind a piece of yourself as well.

  If for some reason Beth and Ron stayed together now, eventually there would be another split. It wasn’t that Ron would have another affair, but he would still be the dampening factor in Beth’s life and art. At some point she would have to rebel. Lots of people would push her to it, and I might even be one of them.

  I would also be distraught if she ended up seriously dating Dwayne Granger.

  Nate must have seen my look. He touched my arm, and I could feel my hair tingle.

  In the distance the capitol building glowed. It’s an exact replica of the nation’s capitol in Washington DC only ours is a little larger. It’s what you’d expect in Texas. Farther out, the University of Texas tower was lit up to a bright orange against the dark sky. It meant that one of the many UT sports teams had won.

  Farther downtown, to the right, there were so many new buildings along Congress Avenue I couldn’t name them all. Funny how many had sprung up, including the newest, the Frost Bank Building with a shining art deco glass pyramid on top. I could see several huge cranes outlined on the skyline, too, a sure sign that more buildings were on the way. During the height of the building boom, we’d kidded that the state bird of Texas was the crane.

  “How’s your friend doing?” Nate asked. “The one you went to see at the hospital?”

  “I guess you heard that Tess has ovarian cancer,” I said. “She was at a stage IIIc when she was diagnosed. Her gynecologist, a man, wouldn’t take her seriously, and then it was too late.” Stage IV is when they send you home to make out your will.

  “I’m sorry.” He knew what Tess was going through, because he’d watched his mother die of ovarian cancer. He knew about the false hopes and the hurts, and how it almost always ended. “I’ll listen anytime you want to talk about it.”

  I nodded, but I didn’t have anything to say just yet. I didn’t want to explore my fears or my feelings—I only knew that every time I thought of Tess my heart hurt so bad I was afraid it would splinter into pieces.

  “And,” he went on, “if you want to change the subject, we could talk about the murder at your back door. That can’t have been easy.”

  I took in a long breath, focusing my thoughts on the murder, which was just as tragic as Tess’s illness, but not so close and personal. “It wasn’t easy, and it’s gotten harder with my mother and my aunt Miranda involved.”

  I’d have explained more but someone else was calling me. “Ms. Camd—I mean, uh, ma’am, uh, hello? Are you here?” It was Lauren.

  I stood up and said to Nate, “Popularity is not all it’s cracked up to be.” Then I opened the door. “Out here.”

  “Oh, great! I did it. I got into Andrew’s computer.” She was holding her laptop, practically running up the stairs. “I couldn’t get into everything of his, but he kept copies of all his bank statements electronically. I have those.” She came out the door and stopped dead when she saw Nate. “Oh. You’ve got company.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Nate said. “I’ve sheltered Ms. Camden from the police before. I love illegal activities.”

  Lauren looked stunned.

  “He’s kidding,” I said. “It was a misunderstanding, that’s all. I was hiding from the police behind a rock and Nate just happened to find me.” I closed the door, just in case she was tempted to run back in the house. “Have a seat and show us what you’ve discovered.” We moved the cheese and glasses so Lauren could put her computer on the small table.

  What she had was interesting, especially since she had decoded most of it already. “This is Andrew’s bank account,” she said, sliding her finger around her touch pad. A long list of numbers came up. She used the cursor to point. “It’s pretty straightforward. I have to assume that this is a car payment, this is for groceries, and this is rent.”

  “That much? You could buy a house for that.”

  “This is Austin,” she reminded me. “Most of these expenses are easy to figure out. Now, here, it appears he put a portion of his money into a 401(k) at a brokerage firm. Some went into his savings account. Nothing really very astounding.” She moved the cursor some more. “By following transactions I could see the money go from his checking to his savings. Then it started getting interesting, because the money didn’t stay in savings all that long. About every three months it moved. I think I know where it is. You see,” she said, clicking around so that an entirely new screen appeared, “this is his business account. Lots of money going in and lots of money coming out.”

  Nate and I both leaned forward for a better look.

  Twelve

  “His business was doing pretty well,” I said, looking at the numbers. Half a million dollars had gone in, then another half million. It looked about $250,000 of Andrew’s personal money was deposited as well, before there was a withdrawal of $400,000.

  That’s the way the numbers went, the dollars piling up and then a large amount coming out. I couldn’t tell where it was going, and neither could Lauren.

  Lauren said, “I don’t have access to his Quicken files just yet, but I’ll bet
I can find them. Then we’ll know where the money is now.”

  “Hello?” Beth’s voice came up the stairs. “Kitzi, I’m back.”

  “Come on up,” I called.

  She appeared in the doorway. “Hi. I won’t stay; I just wanted you to know I was here.”

  “That was fast,” I said.

  “Dwayne got a page and had to go.”

  “Come on out. Lauren found something very interesting. Take a look.”

  She squeezed in beside me, pushing me a little closer to Nate, and scrolled through the numbers in the business bank account.

  “Am I cynical,” Nate asked, “or does this suggest a Ponzi scheme to anyone else?”

  “I was just thinking that,” I said, going over the dollar amounts again.

  Lauren nodded. “Me, too.”

  Beth leaned back. “I am not a numbers person, and I don’t know what a Ponzi is. Can anyone give me the short version?”

  “The name comes from Charles Ponzi,” Lauren said, jumping into an explanation. “In the 1920s he found that by changing foreign stamps for American ones the exchange rate made him a profit. Something like 400 percent initially. He began telling people that he could double their money in ninety days.”

  Beth looked puzzled. “Very creative, but there was obviously some flaw.”

  “Several,” Lauren said. “He had to get things through customs, and there were delays, but that didn’t stop him. There were people literally lined up around the block to give him money, and the average was three hundred dollars. That was a lot of money back then. He had to hire staff to keep up with the demand, and of course he was spending money like mad, too. He bought a mansion, jewels for his wife—things that people do with newfound wealth.

  “At first, he paid the early investors off, with the funds that came in from the second and third tier. This made everything look legitimate. Then a Boston newspaper ran a story about him, questioning whether his company and the money were legitimate. Quite a few people demanded their money back.”