A Dizzying Balance

by Harriet E Rich

  It was almost time for her autograph-signing hour when Nikki arrived wearing a creation that drew the eyes of every man in the room. The puffed sleeves, cuffed above the elbows, were red satin. The front of the black satin bodice had a deep V-neckline edged in red, and the same red edging continued over her shoulders plunging in another V to the small of her back. The front and rear of the long full skirt had matching V-shaped panels of red that began at her waist and flared out through the black skirt to the hemline. Her hair had been pulled up to hang in lines of black curls at the nape of her neck and nestled among the curls was a small red ostrich feather. A double strand of pearls completed the ensemble.

  She should have looked like the madam of a high-class bordello but didn’t. Jen’s respect for her rose and she moved unobtrusively, drifting over until she was close enough to hear.

  Nikki wore the dramatic outfit with unaffected ease. Her normally extravagant behavior was subdued to sophisticated charm and her walk had changed from wiggle to glide. She greeted Danni quietly, thanking her for the invitation and offering a sincere apology for her late arrival. Allowing herself to be introduced to a mousy woman who appeared miffed at her husband’s obvious appreciation of tantalizing cleavage, Nikki wisely asked if they had children and the three were soon chatting amiably about the importance of art courses in the public schools. When a volunteer interrupted to offer programs, several men sidled up to join the discussion. Nikki asked about one of the items on the list to be auctioned off, and the entire group moved into the other room with Nikki listening attentively to their descriptions of the art on display.

  Jen walked toward the table that Danni had set up for her, impressed by Nikki’s performance but wondering which was the actress: this woman of poise and class or that of the Darling! and Simply Marvelous! Perhaps a better guess would be that the real Nikki was deeply and carefully hidden.

  * * *

  She had thoroughly enjoyed her autograph session. The only moment of flustered embarrassment had come when a guest had said that her name was Henrietta Pepperidge and she’d written Plotnik. But she’d caught it in time and had thrown her mistake under the long drape of the table, saying with an apologetic smile that the ink had smeared, and she’d start over with a fresh program. As the guest had walked away, telling her companion how very nice and friendly Miss Colson was, Jen laughed to herself, knowing that if she confessed it to Danni, she’d never hear the end of it.

  The volunteer was just closing the discreetly decorated cash box and Jen was planning a visit to the buffet when two more guests stepped up to the table.

  “Dr. Smith! I didn’t know you’d be here this evening.” Jen gave him a big smile. “If you’ve come for my autograph, I’m not sure that your whole name will fit on one of my programs.”

  “No, no. I’ve already given my donation to our charming hostess. If you’ve finished here, I promised Dr. Goldstein,” he waved at his friend, “that I would introduce him to the famous Jennette Colson.” Jen stood up, walked around the table to shake hands, and the three went across the room to the buffet.

  “I have been looking longingly at the food for the last twenty minutes,” she said. “I’m famished.”

  Dr. Goldstein handed her a plate. “May I get you a drink, Miss Colson?”

  “Ginger ale, thank you.”

  Dr. Smith smiled at her as Dr. Goldstein moved away. “You are looking well, my dear.”

  “I have recovered completely, thanks to your skill and attention. Reporters and cameras no longer worry me.”

  “As they shouldn’t. You have a face that was made to be photographed.”

  She laughed. “Why, Dr. Smith, you say the sweetest things.”

  “Only the truth, my dear,” he replied with a twinkle. Dr. Goldstein had returned with drinks for all of them. Dr. Smith pointed at him. “Saul here is chairman of a philanthropic foundation and he is forever dragging me to one fundraiser or another. When I learned that you were to attend this evening, I decided to return the favor and insist that he come with me.”

  “There was no insisting needed. I have enjoyed every one of your pictures and was pleased to be presented with the opportunity of meeting you in person, Miss Colson.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Goldstein. It’s always nice to hear that someone likes my movies.”

  “Enough with all this formality. First names are much easier. Jennette, this is Saul. Saul, Jennette. And you can call me Al.”

  Jen grinned. “Yes, Al, first names will be much easier. Let’s eat before I collapse from hunger.”

  “No collapsing. We can’t have you falling on your face, my dear,” he chuckled.

  As they filled their plates with the delicious food that Danni had provided for the evening, Jen asked Saul about his foundation.

  “It’s a substantial fund –”

  “A very substantial fund,” Al put in.

  “– which supports a number of charities, research institutions and various non-profit organizations. Occasionally, we make small grants to individuals if the committee feels that the circumstances warrant it, but normally we work at the corporate level, so to speak.”

  “Let’s sit down while we eat.” She led them to a small table in the corner. “There should be a little time before the auction starts, and my duties for the evening are over so I can relax. I’m not sure I understand what you mean by corporate level.”

  “Jennette,” Al warned, “if you get him started, we’ll be here ‘til sunrise.”

  “But I’m interested. My father used to say that if you’re curious about something and can ask questions about it right away, you learn it better.”

  “That’s right. It sounds like he was a teacher.”

  Jen nodded. “And thus, Saul, shall we bore Al with stuff that he has already heard and will politely listen to again?”

  Al threw up his hands with a laugh. “I yield the floor to the chairman.”

  “What I meant by corporate level is simply that we work with organizations at the state or national level, giving them support for the really large things that are needed, capital assets such as very expensive equipment used in medical research or the entire budget of a rural school for handicapped children. We contribute to a group of public television and radio stations, an outreach program for inner-city kids, and missions throughout the state for the homeless, but those are just a few of our many projects.”

  “He’s on a roll, now, Jennette, I told you so.” Al shook his head sadly.

  “Okay, Saul, now comes my part. I have a company.”

  “SailingStar Productions.”

  “Yes, and I was thinking that perhaps SailingStar could help you.”

  “Hmmm. You interest me greatly.”

  “You interest him greatly, Jennette, but I recognize that tone of voice. This is about to turn into a business discussion and I’m going to go look at the paintings.”

  * * *

  She sat on David’s right in the back row watching the auction. Nikki had found her way to his other side and Jen had considered asking him to switch places with her, then decided regretfully that if it caused a scene, neither David nor Danni would forgive her.

  The paintings and sculptures had been lined up behind the small stage. Colleen had arranged for a row of stage lights to be hung from the ceiling and, with Brad and Aaron’s help, had made sure that they were focused on Rick and the black-draped table beside him. The volunteers carried each piece, one by one, from the shadows to the spotlight, putting a short easel up for the paintings, moving it out of the way for the sculptures.

  Rick was doing a good job keeping the pace up and the guests entertained. The first painting had been a large abstract. He’d gotten only three modest bids when he looked back at the painting with an exaggerated turn of his head and stepping down off the stage, mimed an exasperated exchange with the volunteers. Wearing looks of deep chagrin, they’d taken the painting from the easel, given it a quarter-turn and put it back. Rick stepped up to look at
it admiringly.

  “It’s completely different this way, a whole new painting, and much more interesting! Would the gentleman care to reconsider his last offer?” Grinning, the man’s own wife bid fifty dollars more, and the guests began to relax and enjoy themselves.

  Rick joked, laughed, described each piece in glowing terms and encouraged the guests to bid against each other, reminding them of the worthy cause they would be supporting. He praised a lovely garden scene, making up long Latin-sounding names for each of the flowers and suggesting that the apartment-dwellers shouldn’t pass up this golden opportunity to bring a little of nature into their high-rise homes.

  A metal sculpture representing birds in flight was knocked down to a delighted woman who agreed with him that it would look excellent hanging high above her coffee table. And when a boating scene was placed on the easel and it was obvious that one man had decided it was the one he wanted, Rick casually walked down the center aisle to conduct the auction menacingly near Brad’s chair until Brad had raised the bid twice.

  There was quite a bit of interest in the Colby, and Jen was happily surprised when it brought almost a thousand dollars. But the Jefferson was the real crowd-pleaser. The exchange of bids was brisk and ended at thirty-five hundred. Glancing over at Danni, Jen could tell that she was both relieved that the auction was going well and satisfied with the results of the bidding. The last piece was another abstract and the man who had bid on the first one called to Rick. “Let’s see it the other way around before my wife starts bidding against me!”

  When the auction ended and the volunteers had removed the painting and easel, Rick held up his hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, there is another, not on your program. It is one of my own pieces and I have already received an initial bid of three thousand dollars.” A murmur rippled across the room as Rick reached beneath the black drape to lift it onto the table.

  Fashioned from smooth gleaming maple, it was the likeness of a little girl with long hair as she reached one hand to the side of a small truck, its body halfway up, a stream of shining wooden dirt just beginning to slide from its bed. The work was only head, shoulders and truck, but even from where she was sitting, Jen could see the sweet smile that curved the child’s lips. She heard David’s sudden intake of breath and glanced quickly sideways to see the child’s same smile on his face.

  “The bidding will begin at three thousand, do I hear four?”

  David raised his hand.

  “I have four. Do I have five?” Rick was looking at everyone but Jen as she put her hand to her right ear, adjusting the earring.

  “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, I have five. Do I hear six?”

  David lifted his hand again, and Jen casually pushed her hair back.

  “Six it is. Will someone give me seven?” He pointed out over the crowd. “Yes, I have seven.”

  “Eight.” David called, and guests shifted in their chairs to see who was bidding.

  “The bid is eight. Eight, going once …”

  Jen waited a moment, then raised her hand to her diamond pendant.

  “Going twice … I have eighty-five hundred.”

  “Ten thousand!”

  There were delighted gasps all around, but she smiled demurely with her hands folded in her lap.

  “I have a bid of ten thousand dollars. Do I hear more? Ten thousand, going once, going twice …” and his gavel came down. “Sold. To the gentleman in the back row.”

  The crowd broke into spontaneous applause as David rose quickly to collect his prize and the room was suddenly full of voices talking, laughing, discussing the auction and its exciting conclusion. Jen joined Danni to watch as David shook Rick’s hand, congratulating him on his artistic skill and admiring the excellence of the sculpture.

  “Who was bidding against him, could you tell, Jennette?”

  “I think it was Dr. Goldstein, but I’m not sure.” She would have to find Saul and ask him to back her up before Danni got the chance to question him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Despite the lateness of the previous evening, Jen was in the office early the next morning. Searching in the supply closet, she found the bird seed and went out to replenish the feeders. She’d just put the container away and was coming out of the kitchen when Rick came through the open door. With a happy grin, he threw his arms around her, picked her up and swung her around. “You were marvelous! So discreet, so butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-your-mouth. It was all I could do to keep a straight face.”

  “Put me down, you idiot,” she laughed, “before someone sees. It was fun but if David ever finds out, he’ll make us pay him back all that money.”

  Rick perched on the edge of Aaron’s desk as she made coffee. “Jen, I can’t thank you enough. I’ve been planning it ever since Danni told me she was going to do the auction again this year. Rob was going to be my co-conspirator, but he couldn’t get here in time.”

  “Why didn’t you simply make up the opposing bids yourself?”

  “That wouldn’t have been honest!”

  “An interesting point of ethics,” her voice held a touch of sarcasm, “and if David had stopped bidding, I’d have had to sign Jennette Colson on a rather large check.”

  “I knew he wouldn’t stop so that bank account was never in danger. I made the piece just for him and I’d have given it to him as a present if it hadn’t been more satisfying this way. Besides, the money is going to the museum.”

  “Which he would support anyway. It’s the only reason I agreed to do it, as you will recall when you twisted my arm in that cajoling yet determined fashion.”

  “And such a lovely arm,” he grinned as she reached up to the cupboard for cups in order to hide a small smile. She had just handed him his coffee when Colleen came in.

  “Good morning, Jennette. Good morning, Mr. Jameson.”

  “Good morning, Miss Williams, soon to be Mrs. Manelli,” he said very formally, then pleaded, “won’t you call me Rick since you’re almost married to a man who is practically a member of my family?”

  Colleen blushed. “Yes, of course, sir.”

  “Sir? That’s even worse!” He clutched his head in despair and Jen laughed.

  “Rick, don’t tease.” She went to the kitchen, put coffee, milk and sweetener into a cup, then gave it to Rick. He offered it to Colleen, and she took it with a shy smile.

  “Thank you … Rick.”

  “And thank you, Colleen.” He stood up. “I’ve got to get back to the house, Jen. I’m expecting a call from my gallery. There’s an art dealer in Mexico City who’s interested in my work and he is supposed to be back from Majorca. Yesterday, I hope.”

  “You mean a show? Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, but no vendo la piel del oso ‘til I’ve had the chance to talk with him.” He laughed at her confused look and headed for the door. “It’s equivalent to don’t count your chickens for those who studied French in high school instead of Spanish.”

  “Actually, it was Russian,” Jen said seriously, “and it was after school with one of my mother’s friends.”

  On the threshold, he turned to grin. “Oil-change neighbor?”

  “Yes, if you must know.” She chuckled as he walked out.

  “What did he mean?”

  Jen shook her head. “Never mind him, Colleen, he turns everything into a joke. I’ll be leaving at eleven for a meeting and won’t be back until almost three, but I’ll keep my cell phone on in case you need to get in touch with me. Can you and Tony come up for lunch on Sunday? We should have another discussion about the wedding plans.”

  “Sunday will be fine. And Aaron, too. Shall I give him a call to see if he can make it?”

  “We can’t do it without him. Tell him eleven.” Jen got herself a cup of coffee and settled down to get some work done.

  When Miguel came in with the mail, Colleen flipped through it. “Jennette, the official ownership papers for your new car are finally here. We’d better put them away in the safe.”

&
nbsp; Jen swiveled to the small safe on the floor behind her, reached for the dial, then stopped. “I hope you know the combination, because I don’t.”

  Colleen came hurrying down the room with an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. I forgot that we haven’t opened it since the accident. I wrote it for you here.” She opened Jen’s appointment book to a back page that had a number written neatly in each corner. “Start at the top. Left, right,” she pointed, “then left, right at the bottom.”

  “Very clever,” Jen smiled. She worked the combination as Colleen handed her the mail and walked back to her desk.

  When she was tucking the papers into one slot, she noticed two long blue envelopes in another. Pulling them out and leaning back in her chair, she read their contents. One was a copy of Anna’s trust documents and, as she had thought, the other was a copy of a will. Her will.

  For a woman of wealth, it was a surprisingly simple document. There were a number of bequests, some small and some large, to various individuals and charities, including a substantial amount to the museum. Her Kenting stock was to go to David and the balance of her estate would be put into Anna’s trust. The will had been drawn up by Brad who was to be its unpaid executor. She had signed it at the same time that she’d created the trust for her daughter.

  But attached were two codicils. One had been signed a year previously and provided that her ownership of SailingStar Productions be divided among all of the company’s employees, based on experience and seniority. The other, signed six months ago, altered the original will by authorizing payments to Brad for his services as executor.

  Attached to the will itself was a list of her assets. She did some rapid calculations in her mind, then sat back to stare out the window. According to the terms of the second codicil, Brad’s fee would be based on the value of her estate. He would not be merely paid, he would be highly paid and the list, three years out of date, considerably understated her present worth.