by Sandi Perry
“That sounds risky.”
“It can be,” she said as they worked their way back into the ballroom after the painting was properly secured and had been left with the concierge. “I spend many hours vetting the candidates, checking the viability of their business, and assessing the character of the applicants.”
“The character of the applicants—that’s an interesting one. How has that worked out for you?”
“I have a decent eye at separating the well-deserving candidates from the snake-oil salesmen. We have a pretty good recovery rate; most of the loans get repaid within ten years. My grandfather always had a soft spot for the simple, hard-working man with a dream. We try to live up to his legacy.”
“I wonder how you would assess my character,” he said as he handed her a flute of champagne.
Flustered by his directness, Allison gulped the drink a bit too quickly. The bubbles tickled her nose, and she half-burped, half-snorted in an attempt to recover her composure. She was mortified.
“I haven’t given it much thought, actually,” she managed to squeak out.
He laughed as he gestured toward her with his empty glass, “You really ought to play poker more often, you could use some practice with your game face.”
“Alexander Coventry, I believe you are out of bounds.”
“Ouch, from hero to zero in under forty seconds. You might as well figure out a way to handle me, because I'm here to stay,” he said.
"You're no hero, Alexander Coventry. Enjoy your evening," Allison said. She grimaced as she watched the crowd swallow him up and was relieved when Jeremy appeared at her side.
"What was that all about?” he asked. “You look upset."
“I think I’ve just been had by a snake-oil salesman.”
Chapter 9
"Scott, what's the holdup?" Bradley Ross stretched out his long legs as he pressed the intercom next to his seat to speak with the pilot.
"We're just waiting for one more passenger, Sir."
"I didn't authorize any other..." Bradley paused mid-sentence as Allison strode onto the plane.
Her briefcase was in her left hand and her phone in her right one, "I look forward to seeing you too, ta, ta." Her voice was buttery-smooth as she hung up, but her icy-blue eyes snapped as she turned her attention toward Bradley. She sat down facing her cousin and buckled her seatbelt with a sharp click. Bradley cringed as if he had been slapped. Allison depressed the intercom button, "We can take off now, Scott."
"What are you doing here, Allison—this is my account."
"You mean this is your mess." She eyed his all-American good looks and wondered how many times he had tried to get by on them alone. His response was to skulk like a teenager that had just been caught reading Penthouse under the covers with a flashlight.
"For the foreseeable future, I am running this company," Allison said. "Don't go rogue on me. You have to clear all travel decisions with me, first."
"Like you care what happens to the company," Bradley finally found his voice.
"I care a great deal," she said. She took a calming breath to prepare herself for take-off and silently cursed Bradley for sitting in a forward-facing seat. Flying backwards only added to her dizziness and nausea. She couldn't move now, Bradley would pounce on any sign of weakness on her part. He still played by schoolyard rules. When his football career hadn't panned out, he traded in his dreams for the victim card. He was woefully out of his league as junior V.P. of marketing. This was his last chance to prove his worth. If he couldn't turn this disaster around with the design team, he would be out—family or not.
*****
The next morning a sliver of sun shone through the room-darkening shade in Allison's hotel bedroom. She turned over to read the digital clock and jumped a mile.
"Shit! How the hell did I oversleep the wake-up call?" Dashing madly around the room, she rifled through her bag for her hose and shoes. She grabbed her make-up bag and threw them into her satchel along with her iPad that had her notes for the meeting. On the way down in the elevator, she called the front desk to secure a cab for her.
Her cab cut through traffic at an impressive rate, and she reached the interior design offices three minutes before nine. She paused for a minute outside the door to compose herself. She had the secretary knock on the conference room door for her to allow her access. The presentation was about to start, and she quietly joined them.
"Gentlemen, forgive my tardiness. The front desk misdirected my wake-up call—good staff is hard to find." She said this lightly, but slid her eyes in Bradley's direction. At least he has the good grace to look guilty, she thought.
The meeting seemed to go smoothly as the design team presented them with an excellent computer mock-up of the new streamlined interiors as well as a sample board of materials. Their price point was still higher than Allison would have liked, but that was an issue that had some built-in flexibility. Everyone shook hands amicably on the new interior specs and Allison breathed a sigh of relief—crisis averted for today. She took the elevator down with Bradley.
"Don't ever pull a stunt like that again," she said as the elevator doors closed. "I'm only letting you keep your job out of deference to your father."
"You can't keep blaming your shortcomings on me, Allison," he said.
She laughed. "Bradley, I went to the best prep school in New York. I was the queen bee there. If you want to play it like you're still in school, be warned—I will crush you."
"Well, I didn't go to prep school, or an Ivy League college. My family missed out on the benefits that you and Jeremy enjoyed."
"I'll remember to cue up the violins next time. Any benefits that came our way were courtesy of hard work and tenacity on my Dad's part. You wouldn't even be standing here with me now, if not for him."
"And you'll use every chance to throw that at me," Bradley said.
The elevator pinged and the doors opened.
"Straighten yourself up, cousin. I'll share one more piece of advice I learned the hard way. If you don't want to be pitied, stop acting pitiful." She marched off and left Bradley standing alone amidst the moving throngs of people passing through the busy building lobby.
Chapter 10
Allison had hardly slept on the flight home the night before. She was wired for the day and headed out early the next morning for the gallery. Balancing two lattes, her oversized tote bag and a flyaway umbrella, she handed a cup to Emily as she walked in.
"Here," she said as she took a big swallow. "I need a caffeine transfusion." She looked out the expansive windows. "I love fall until it rains, then it's just an awful mess. I got some leaves stuck under my shoes this morning, and I swear I almost slid down the subway steps on my ass," she added. "How were the last couple of days?"
"One thing at a time," Emily said as she fluffed her blonde shaggy bangs. "How did things go at the auction?"
Allison took another large gulp from her hot coffee. Emily sipped, too and waited patiently. “You do know that I will get the information from you eventually, so you might as well tell me before I have to hurt you," Emily said.
Allison smiled, "Well, it turns out that Alex, formerly known as a country bumpkin, is a hot, sexy mess who's brighter than a firefly on a sultry August night."
"I knew something there wasn't adding up," Emily sighed.
"Well gosh darn, Em, you coulda shared that with me. I got snowed—big time."
"Your radar is always up; how did he slip by you?"
"Lack of sleep. My brain is foggy. Tragedy will do that to a person," Allison said.
Emily put down her coffee and put her hands on Allison's, "You're doing an amazing job handling all of this. You're strong and smart and very resilient. Things will start to smooth out soon, you'll see. On another note, did everything get cleared up in L.A.?"
"It was almost a total disaster. I'll be surprised if there's a company to run after I'm done trying to figure out all of the political machinations. I can't get out of this predic
ament fast enough!" Allison said. "And my cousin, Bradley, what a head case. He's bitter and carrying around so much baggage, it's any wonder he can even stand up straight," she finished.
"It just so happens that I thought of a brilliant idea to help get you out of this bind as quickly as possible," Emily said.
Allison threw herself onto a cushioned bench. "Go on, let me have it."
“Since you have to make a decision soon about who will run the company, or you’re just going to collapse, why don’t you do what they do on that show The Bachelorette?”
“What are you talking about? You want me to date twenty-five guys? I’m busy enough,” Allison said.
“No, no, when they're down to three candidates, each guy takes the bachelorette back to their hometown. She gets to meet their families, their old schoolteachers, etc. It helps her get a fuller picture when she sees how he interacts back home.”
“You’ve lost your mind, Emily. That’s ridiculous," she shook her head." Did we get that pair of Yin and Yang vases yet from Maximillian?”
“Customs held it up, but I spoke with our friend there, and she guaranteed that they would be released by week’s end.”
“Thanks, you're a lifesaver—I don't know what I'd do without you."
“You know I’d do anything for you. What's the latest from the police? Heard anything lately?"
“I called my mother about it last week. She said the case has been placed on the back burner while the police investigate some sort of child pornography ring in nearby Haverstraw. I always felt so safe in the suburbs when I was a kid; I guess I was just naïve.”
“Or very sheltered and very much loved,” Emily said.
“But you know, when I called my mother last week to see if there was anything new on the case, Paul Franklin answered the phone. It was strange.”
“Isn’t he one of the choices for CEO?” Emily asked.
“Yes, he said he'd dropped by to fix the back door that sticks sometimes. It sort of made me uneasy, like he was trying to curry favor by sucking up to Mom.”
“But the head honcho decision is yours alone. How did your Mom explain his sudden helpfulness?”
“She said he had come by a couple of weeks after the funeral to check up on her. His wife died a year ago, and he said that it all hit him when things had quieted down and the condolence phone calls stopped. She brushed off my concern,” Allison said.
“It sounds kind of sweet. Does he strike you as manipulative or just sincere?”
“I don’t really know him,” she shrugged.
Emily sighed. “Consider my idea, Ally. Go out to dinner with Paul, then track down his kids and interview them.”
“And what, then I fly down to Buckhead to Alex’s family? I’ve already had dinner with him.”
“Do whatever you need to do to make the best possible choice for the company," Emily said. "Aren’t there two other candidates?”
“They’re so similar they cancel each other out. Maybe you’re onto something, as crazy as it sounds, I think I’ll run it by Jeremy and see what he thinks.”
Chapter 11
First thing the next morning, Allison stopped by Alex’s office. His door was ajar and his feet were propped up on his desk. He made no move to straighten up when she entered. She wondered at his easygoing nature and thought darkly that his lack of manners had most likely been encouraged while he was growing up.
Before she could catch herself, she blurted out, “I’d like to meet your family.”
He shot to his feet in a second and came around to stand in front of her. “Aren’t you moving a little fast? I know we’re on New York time, now, but we only met a month ago.” His eyes sparkled.
“You know that’s not what I mean. It would be helpful to my decision if I knew more about you, how you were brought up.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, “I think you like me.”
“Oh my goodness, I’m being serious here. Don’t you ever take anything seriously?”
“I try not to.”
“And how far can you get with that kind of philosophy?” She clicked and un-clicked the pen she was holding, it was better than poking his eye out with it, which was her first choice.
“From where I’m standing, it looks like I’ve gotten pretty far.”
“And if you don’t get the CEO position?”
“I’ll get it.”
“But if you don’t?” she pressed.
“I’ll leave and start my own thing. I’ll outpace you and overtake you in five years time.” His tone wasn't very Alex-like.
“That’s ludicrous—it would take millions to start something that could compete with RossAir,” she said hotly, quickly calculating the devastation to the company should he go off and do that. He shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by her annoyance. She found him so infuriating, she wanted to storm out of his office. Instead, she took a deep breath and looked around, trying to suppress her anger. His office was surprisingly neat. She had to catch herself from smiling as she noticed a mini-basketball hoop suctioned to the wall. Then she noticed her painting up on his wall. Her heart tapped out a double rhythm and she turned back to see him regarding her carefully.
“It, um, it looks great here...,” she stammered. It was unnerving to think a small part of her shared this office with Alex every day. She poured her soul into her paintings—each one felt like a living, breathing entity to her. She fought to get her bearings and smoothed her pencil skirt in a nervous gesture, as if to remind herself that she was still fully clothed despite how exposed she felt.
“So, what were we talking about?” Allison asked, drawing a blank on the earlier thread of the conversation.
“You look spooked—are you okay?” Alex asked.
“I’m fine, really, just exhausted with the extra workload, nothing more,” she turned to leave.
“I’m going home next weekend for my mother’s sixty-fifth birthday party. You’re welcome to join me,” Alex said.
“What?” Oh right—Emily’s brilliant idea, she remembered. She felt panicked and vulnerable and wanted to leave the office at once, but she forced herself to smile. “Yes, of course. I’ll get back to you on that.”
****
She passed by Brian Costello's office and suddenly realized the CFO had sent her an email earlier asking her to stop by when she had a free moment. The door was ajar, and she tentatively poked her head in while knocking.
"Oh, Ms. Ross. I'm so glad you're here," he whispered. "I have an important and rather delicate matter to discuss with you." He said this as he walked around behind her and closed the door firmly. "Please excuse the cloak and dagger routine, but the walls have ears."
Allison wondered if he had any more hackneyed phrases up his sleeve because her patience was worn thin. Alex had her very much on edge.
"Shortly before your father's passing I came across some accounting discrepancies. I never had the opportunity to fully discuss them with him, but in light of the recent events, it seemed prudent to bring them to your attention. The amount didn't add up to anything major, a few thousand here and there, nothing to raise any red flags."
Allison mentally groaned. "What do you mean? Do we need a new accounting program or is someone embezzling money?"
"Well, it seemed as if someone was cooking the books and benefitting from his own largesse. It was trivial stuff; however, the trail did lead directly to Bradley. This frankly strikes me as a little odd, seeing as he made no attempt made to cover his tracks."
"Well, he's not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed," Allison said. As she heard her own words, she feared for her sanity and was anxious to end the conversation. "What steps should we take to look into the matter, Brian?"
"It seems to have stopped with your father's death," he said simply.
"Don't tell me you're implying my father embezzled funds from his own..."
"No, no, of course not. I'm only saying that the amounts were negligible, totaling fifteen thousand dollars in all.
Since it has stopped anyway, I suggest perhaps having a talk with Bradley and seeing if you can shake anything out of him."
"I'd like to shake some sense into him, but I don't think talking to him is going to reveal anything. Are there any other solutions?"
"We could always call in a forensic accountant. But, that means he'd freeze the company's finances and then if anything suspicious would turn up, the police would have to be contacted. They in turn would seize the computers of all the involved parties and in my opinion, that minuscule amount of money in a business this size can easily be chalked up as miscellaneous funds and none the wiser."
"So," she took a deep breath. "You're ultimately suggesting I do nothing."
"Correct."
"Well, Brian, this has been illuminating. I appreciate your having such a strong grip on our fiscal health."
She left his office and didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Chapter 12
“I can’t believe you made me stop on the way over here so you could get that.” Allison pointed to the grease-stained paper bag Alex was unwrapping. “Ella would have fixed you anything you wanted—‘One only has to ask on a RossAir Jet’.” She smiled as she swung her hand around the cabin interior and ended it with a flourish.
“I know; I’ve seen the ad campaign. But I like my burgers extra-greasy,” he said with his mouth full.
His enthusiasm for his meal made her feel nauseated; she couldn’t eat a thing when she flew. She adjusted the pressure-point bands on her wrists that helped with her motion sickness. She saw him smile in amusement at her preparations. I’m glad he finds me so entertaining, she thought, annoyed. The trip to Buckhead was a short hop, and she might as well make efficient use of her time. Normally she was not a nosy person, but it was vital that she find out as much as she could about Alexander Coventry.
Allison cleared her throat and looked sideways across the table at his wrapper. It seemed empty and the loud chewing noises seemed to have abated. She chanced a glance—the coast was clear. But as she turned to him for a full view, Alex opened his mouth wide and showed off the last remnants of masticated beef.