Tommy and I are still good friends and he makes an effort to call me whenever he’s in town. I grimly told myself that, this time, I’d make an effort. My life had become comfortable with Jay, knowing that he was in the same city, in the same neighbourhood, always there to talk to. Comfortable was good. Comfortable was, well, comforting. I was thirty-four years old, which was practically a spinster by some standards. Not that my aim in life had ever been to catch me a man and marry him. Admittedly, my first stab at marriage had turned out pretty pathetically, but with Jay I felt that we might have a chance for a life together.
My reflection in the car window made me feel sick. Sick at the sight of my morbid face, looking like a dejected puppy. Suck it up girl, I mentally yelled at myself. Get on with it. Self-pity had never been one of my strong suits so I physically pulled myself together, and loaded myself into Jay’s jet-black Saab. Jay had generously offered me the use of his precious vehicle and I jumped at the chance to drive something that wasn’t on the verge of breaking down and that actually had door locks that worked.
Monday morning found me full of dread, if that’s still an expression used in the English language, sitting at my new desk. Cleveland Johnston was due to arrive any minute and I was still working on something cute and sassy to say to him.
Our histories together went way back and it seemed that I had known Cleve most of my professional life. He was a junior associate lawyer and I was a legal secretary at Scapelli’s when we first met. Over the years Cleve gained the experience to make partner and eventually head-up their securities practice. I remained a legal secretary/paralegal. Sure, I had the fancy moniker of corporate securities paralegal, but my job remained the same. Herding the lawyers, supervising the support staff, making things happen. I had a mid-life crisis in my late twenties and quit the law firm and worked temp until I landed at TechniGroup Consulting, a high-tech, public company.
Harold Didrickson, who was the Senior Vice-President, Legal at TGC had hired me to help him set up the legal department when the business was booming. He had retained Scapelli’s to do our corporate and securities work and Cleve Johnston headed up the team at Scapelli’s, so we had remained in contact.
The shit hit the fan at TechniGroup Consulting when my best friend Evelyn was murdered, and Jay was fired because the chief financial officer, Rick Cox, thought Jay had something to do with it. I was privy to certain information that pretty conclusively fingered Rick Cox and when he was eventually fired, the corporate bullshit press release said that he was resigning. Number one rule when dealing with the press: an executive is always allowed to maintain a certain decorum when murder and mayhem happen in the high tech world. In the meantime though the fact remained that Jay had lost his job. When I asked Cleve to help Jay keep his job because the board of directors knew Rick Cox was responsible, he played lawyer with me and stood by the company’s statement that Rick Cox was resigning to pursue other interests. Much yelling and breast-beating ensued, albeit one-sided. Cleve remained the consummate professional and listened calmly to my tirade but I ended up slamming down the phone on him. A few days later he had tried in a backhanded way to apologize but I cut him off, making some typically snide comment about friendship. My mother repeatedly tells me that my smart mouth will get me nowhere, but for some odd reason, I continue to ignore her.
Needless to say, the situation was about to become awkward. I had neither spoken to nor seen Cleve in several months and I believe some people would get great joy out of seeing the beads of sweat that had broken out all over my body.
“What goes around, comes around” was another of my mother’s favourite sayings and when I heard Cleve’s voice several offices down the hall, I knew that it was about to come around. I shook all thoughts of my mother from my head and put my head down and pretended to be busy.
“And this is your office and of course, you know your assistant, Kathleen Monahan,” I heard Linda saying. I sucked in a deep breath and pushed my steno chair away from the desk and stood up. Cleveland Johnston stood there, towering over Linda and grinning at me. Kind of a Cheshire cat grin. I stared up at all six feet, five inches of him and grinned back.
“I’ll leave you two then,” Linda said. “Kate’s been here long enough to be able to show you the ropes. Kate, call me if there’s anything you two need.”
Cleve silently gestured at the open door to his office, inviting me to lead the way. I heard the door close behind me and I turned around and looked up at him. The silence was deafening and the sweat on my upper lip was probably very visible. I surreptitiously wiped at it and said, “So, how many of the lawyers you met today were shocked to meet a white guy?”
He laughed. “All of the guys I’d met at the partners’ dinner the other night figured it out quickly enough but a few of the associates I was introduced to this morning were surprised to find out that the skin colour didn’t go with the name.” People were always surprised to find out that Cleveland Johnston was a very tall, white man. A very tall, handsome, some would say gorgeous, white man. But I was somewhat biased, having suffered a massive crush on him, way back when.
Cleve walked over to his desk, plunked his large legal briefcase down and snapped open the two locks. He reached inside and pulled out two champagne glasses that were wrapped in navy blue, linen napkins. His massive fingers gently unfurled the napkins and he placed the glasses gingerly on the desktop. He then flourished a champagne bottle and began working the cork, all the time staring at me with a stern look. When the cork blew out of the bottle and missed the side of my head by inches, he smiled widely and ceremoniously poured champagne into two glasses. He held one out to me and I took a few steps towards him to accept the glass.
“To new beginnings, Kate.” He held his glass up and toasted me.
“To new beginnings,” I repeated. I took a sip and knew that no apologies were going to be necessary.
chapter three
Our first week working together at McCallum & Watts was uneventful. Much time was spent doing up the paperwork for Cleve’s clients at Scapelli’s to have their files transferred to his new law firm. I think Cleve was proud of the fact that about three-quarters of his clients chose to follow him to McCallum & Watts. The twenty-five percent of his clients who refused to make the change were mostly those whose families had used the services of Scapelli’s since the birth of their great-grandfathers.
And of course, the one client’s name who popped out and slapped my heart was Phoenix Technologies, Inc. I had worked on the file at Scapelli’s when Phoenix first went public and I remembered the frantic pace at the time. We all worked long hours, especially when the prospectus for the initial public offering of their shares was being finalized. There were all-night sessions at the commercial printers, proofreading the document as changes were being made. I shook my head in amazement thinking about how driven we all were. There were several nights when we finished at the office around two in the morning and then went out to an all-night diner for something to eat. When we were finished there would be a string of limousines parked out front to chauffeur us home. Several times it was so late that I just had the driver wait while I showered and went straight back to the office. Being part of the excitement, part of the team, was what kept me going. And my desire to be around Tommy, the young president of Phoenix.
In between the time of filing the preliminary prospectus with the Ontario Securities Commission and the Securities & Exchange Commission in the U.S., and the countdown to filing the final prospectus, I went on the road with the executives from Phoenix and the underwriters while they sold the stock. I looked after the travel and meeting arrangements as they criss-crossed the country. The frenetic pace, and spending almost twenty-four hours a day with Tommy, led to the inevitable.
At the closing of the public issue, when the lawyers were manhandling all of the documents and the underwriters were breathlessly waiting to hand over their check, Tommy had sidled up to me and whispered a proposal in my ear. Our marriage laste
d a couple of months but the friendship remained to this day. The last time I had heard from Tommy was a couple of months ago when my face was plastered all over the national news. He told me the picture of me being helped into an ambulance had sent waves of panic through him, but I had brushed off his concern. He had left me a couple of messages after that but I hadn’t returned his calls. In hindsight, I wished I had.
As a member of the board of directors and the corporate secretary of Phoenix Technologies, Cleve had to attend all of their board meetings, and the one scheduled for the following week, in New York, was planned to be a regular, run-of-the-mill, quarterly meeting. The agenda he had prepared for the meeting contained all of the standard stuff: approval of the minutes of the last meeting; review and approval of quarterly financial statements and the 10-Q; five-year forecasts; executive bonuses, etc., etc. The meeting was scheduled for early Wednesday morning, so Cleve flew out late Tuesday night. We had booked him a hotel in Manhattan, near the Phoenix offices.
Feelings of deja vu overwhelmed me as I worked on the file before the meeting. They weren’t good feelings but I brushed them aside, trying to re-establish the feelings of excitement I used to have whenever I worked on the file. All I could remember though was feeling like a failure because when my marriage fell apart, I left Scapelli’s for good and had my mid-life crisis, early. I had worked temp for a while, hopping from job to job, trying to overcome the depression.
The day before he left for the board meetings in New York, Cleve had asked me to call Tommy and speak to him about the agenda and any last minute changes. Tommy was in a meeting and I ended up speaking with his secretary, Carrie.
“Tell him it’s Kate Monahan at Cleve Johnston’s office. Cleve needs to know if there have been any last minute changes to the agenda.”
“I’ll give him the message,” she said. “And Kate?” She hesitated for a moment.
“Yeah.”
“He’ll be pleasantly surprised to find out you’re working with Mr. Johnston.”
“Pleasantly surprised?” It was the first time I had spoken to anyone at Phoenix since I started with Cleve.
“He speaks fondly and very highly of you.” Her manner of speech was somewhat stilted, and I pictured an older woman, sitting primly at her desk with her steno pad centered on her blotter with a sharpened pencil at the ready.
“Uh, thank you. Did Mr. Johnston not mention that I was working with him?” I knew this was going to be awkward and when she had said Tommy was in a meeting, I had been glad not to have to speak with him.
“Not that I’m aware of. Thank you for calling and I’ll make sure Mr. Connaught gets the message.”
When I returned from lunch later, there was a message on my voicemail from Tommy. It made me blush.
“Kate, Kate, Kate. Surprise, surprise, surprise. I couldn’t believe it when my secretary told me you were working with Cleve. That’s great news.” There was a long pause in the message and I was about to hang up when he spoke again. “Come to New York for the meeting. We could renew old acquaintances.” He chuckled into the phone. “Call me back.”
He’d finished the message speaking in that soft, sexy voice that I remembered so well. I quickly hung up the phone and buried my head in the filing cabinet while I waited for my face to return to its original colour. I didn’t tell Cleve about the phone call because I had no intention of going to New York.
Cleve called exactly at five the next day.
“Checking up on me?” I teased him.
“Uh no,” he said, sounding distracted.
“Why are you calling? You’re supposed to be on a plane. Did you miss it?” I had booked him on a 4:00 p.m. flight out because the board meeting had been scheduled to finish by 2:00.
“No. I’m still at Phoenix’s offices. Listen, Kate. Are there any messages for me?” I heard voices in the background.
“Nope. Want me to check your voice mail?” I offered.
“No. I already did. Tommy didn’t call?”
“Tommy? Isn’t he there with you?”
“Just a sec.” Muffled sounds came through the phone and then he was back on the phone. “Thanks,” was all he said. Then he hung up the phone.
I couldn’t believe what had just happened and I stared at the receiver when the dial tone started. My fingers flew as I punched in the phone number at Phoenix’s offices. I asked for Tommy’s secretary.
A voice that I didn’t recognize answered the phone. “Mr. Connaught’s office.”
“Carrie?”
“No. She’s not available at the moment. May I take a message?”
“It’s Kate Monahan at McCallum & Watts. Can I speak to Cleveland Johnston?”
“I’m sorry ma’am.” The voice became officious. “I can’t disturb the board meeting in session.”
“I understand. But this is an emergency.”
“I’ve been given strict instructions. Let me have your number and I’ll give Mr. Johnston the message.”
“He has it.” I forgot my manners and didn’t say good-bye as I quickly hung up the phone.
The next hour dragged as I waited for a return call and when my phone didn’t ring, I tried calling Phoenix again. The main switchboard was on voice mail and the electronic voice told me to either dial the extension of the person I was calling, or spell their name into the phone, starting with the last name. I had no idea what Carrie’s last name was so I pressed the sequence of numbers that spelled out Connaught. The phone rang five times and Tommy’s voice mail picked up. I dialed zero hoping that it would bump me to his secretary’s phone but I ended up back at the switchboard. Voice mail hell. I hung up in disgust and went home.
chapter four
When Cleve wasn’t at the office the next morning by 9:15 I called his house. There was no answer.
I spent the better part of the next hour opening boxes of files that had come over from Scapelli’s and putting the contents away in the four-drawer filing cabinets. Mindless work. My mouth had a metallic taste which I knew was from a nervous stomach. And I wanted a cigarette. Bad. What the hell was wrong with me?
When the phone finally rang at 10:30 I knew it was Cleve and a sudden feeling of foreboding came over me. As anxious as I had been to talk to him, I couldn’t pick up the phone. I just stood there and watched it ring. Four rings and then it kicked over to voice mail. I turned my back on the phone and stood in front of the file cabinet, wondering why I had just done something so stupid. My phone rang again and I turned around to look at it. The intercom was flashing.
It was the receptionist on our floor.
“Oh Kate. You’re there. Hang up and I’ll put Mr. Johnston through.”
My finger pushed the red release button and I disconnected her.
“Kathleen Monahan,” I said into the phone, pretending I didn’t know who it was.
“Hi.” That was it. A simple hi. But that one syllable word said so much. Just the way he kind of dragged it out. I pretended to ignore the tone of his voice.
“Hello yourself. Need me to book you a flight back?”
“No. I’ll be here a while. Kate, something’s happened. Can you transfer this call into my office and take it there?”
Linda Beeston, the personnel manager, was standing outside Cleve’s office when I opened the door. The look on her face told me that she knew about the call and that someone had forewarned her.
“We’ve got a driver outside, Kate, to take you home to pack a bag and take you to the Island Airport. Is there anything I can do for you here?”
Like a deaf mute I shook my head.
“Well, please call us if there’s anything you need here in Toronto. And let Mr. Johnston know that we’ll look after things here in his absence.” She was telling me this while I rummaged in the desk drawer for my purse. I was really looking for cigarettes and remembered that I’d quit.
She escorted me down to the front of the building and over to the waiting car. It was a navy blue Lincoln Continental sedan and the dri
ver was standing at the rear door, holding it open.
Linda gave a weak smile and patted my arm before I got in the car.
“I’m sorry Kate.”
“Thanks,” I whispered back to her.
The driver obviously knew my address and we didn’t speak until he pulled up to the curb in front of my house.
“I’ll wait here, ma’am,” he said to me as he held open the back door.
“I won’t be long.”
My bedroom was in a shambles and most of my work clothes were in a heap on the rocking chair beside the bed, waiting to be taken to the dry cleaners. I grabbed a few outfits and jammed them into my suitcase along with my sweat pants and several pairs of socks and underwear. Most of my pantyhose were in sad shape but I managed to find a new pair, still in their package at the back of my dresser drawer. My running shoes and windbreaker were in the front hall closet and they were the last things to go in the suitcase.
I looked sadly at my latest goldfish, Beulah, and said good-bye. Probably for good. By the time I got back from New York, she would no doubt be dead, along with the other twenty or so goldfish I had managed to kill over the last couple of years. I had no luck keeping them alive and with a forced exit from the city and no one to come in and feed her, she was a goner for sure. God forbid the SPCA ever found out about me. I pinched an extra dose of fish food into her bowl and waved.
The driver was smoking a cigarette and lounging beside the car when I came out. He quickly butted it under his shoe and came towards me to take my suitcase.
“Got another one?” I asked him.
His face was a question mark.
“Cigarette.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He dug in his breast pocket and handed me a pack of DuMaurier’s. I greedily took one and dragged a little too deeply when he lit it for me. I held back a cough and put my hand on the side of the car to steady myself. The nicotine shot through my system and I felt my blood tingle. The second drag felt familiar, and the smoke stung my nostrils. I didn’t care.
Monahan 02 Artificial Intentions Page 2