New Money

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New Money Page 6

by Lorraine Zago Rosenthal


  “Why would he?” I asked. “Other than it being the right thing to do, he had everything to gain from exposing that story.”

  “I know … it doesn’t make sense. And he had no connection to Amicus. According to the news, he didn’t even own stock in the company. That’s why the whole mess is under investigation.” Tony reached into the glove compartment, pulled out an iPhone, and handed it to me. “It’s all over the Internet if you want to check it out.”

  He was right. Hatred of Edward Stone and Stone News was everywhere, splattered like sludge on Web sites and blogs. I wouldn’t normally read this sort of thing, but I couldn’t help it now. I also couldn’t stop staring at Edward’s photos. He was handsome and looked much younger than his fifty-seven years. He had a square jaw, a deep cleft in his chin, and dark eyes. And I finally knew for sure where my blond hair had come from.

  Tony looked at me over his shoulder. “I’m not sure if he was guilty of anything, but I’d be surprised if he was. I didn’t know him well, of course … but he was very nice to me. He was a friendly guy.… really thoughtful and generous. He even sent flowers when my grandmother died. How many rich people would care enough to do that?” He parked in front of a soaring tower and twisted around. “Did you ever meet Mr. Stone?”

  “No,” I said, “but he was my father.”

  *

  Tony said he was sorry at least five times as he lifted my bags out of the car in front of 15 Central Park West, but I told him that apologies weren’t necessary.

  “Ms. Stark wouldn’t like that I blabbed all this,” he said.

  “Why?” I asked. “It’s public knowledge.”

  “But you didn’t know about it. My big mouth could cost me my job,” he said as we stood on the sidewalk and a hot wind tousled his auburn hair.

  I shook my head. “Not because of me it won’t.”

  He didn’t seem sure of that. But he nodded, got into the car, and drove away. Then I leaned against the building with my luggage at my feet and took out my cell phone to call Mom.

  “Savannah,” she said in a voice tinged with anger and panic and relief. “Are you okay?”

  My $19.99 shoes pinched my toes. I slumped down and sat on my suitcase. “I think so,” I said. “And I know there was never an Aunt Primrose.”

  I heard nothing. Then there was a long sigh. “Whoever you’ve been talking to sure has done some research.”

  “It was Edward’s lawyer,” I said as I watched a woman walk by, pushing a Pomeranian in a baby carriage. “But she didn’t have to do any research, because he told her everything. She knows what happened between you and Edward. Now I do, too.”

  Mom was quiet again. I waited for her to say something as a town car pulled to the curb in front of the building. A doorman in a black suit with gold trim rushed toward it to greet whoever was inside.

  “And I guess you’re angry with me for keeping you from Edward and everything he could’ve given you … other than the Christmas gifts,” she said finally.

  I looked at someone getting out of the car at the curb—a tall, handsome man with designer shades who carried a gym bag and looked like a top-level executive returning from his workout on a day off. I supposed this building was filled with big-deal people like him, that this whole city was, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to grow up as the daughter of one of them.

  “I don’t know how I feel about that,” I said. “But I understand why you chose not to be with him.”

  She exhaled a relieved breath. “Then get on the next flight home, Savannah.”

  After what I’d been through since last night, the predictability of home was tempting. But it was also miles from perfect. For so long, I’d wanted to do something that mattered, but it would never happen if I went back to Charleston and spent my days as a Library Lady or a clothes-store cashier while I lived in fear of bumping into Jamie and Eva Lee.

  “I can’t,” I said after some thought. Then I let Mom in on everything—the apartment, the job, the money, and its stipulations. I also mentioned what I’d heard and read about what Edward had allegedly done. “I’m not going to run from this.”

  “It wouldn’t be running,” Mom insisted. “You shouldn’t be there … in that city, with those people … especially with this scandal going on. I don’t want you there.”

  “But I want you here, Mom. Move to New York, and I’ll take care of you.”

  She scoffed. “Where have I heard that before? I didn’t want to live off Edward’s money then, and I don’t want to now. The answer is no. I just want you back at home.”

  My heart deflated. I needed her to stand by me. And how could I live inside a big, fancy building while she stayed in our dumpy little house?

  “Well,” I said, “my answer is no, too. I’m not leaving here. But if you won’t come, and if what that lawyer told me about the inheritance turns out to be true, I’ll send money for your bills and put more aside until I have enough to buy you a gorgeous car and a brand-new house in Mount Pleasant. You won’t have to do hair anymore.”

  “I’m not giving up my job. I can’t sit around watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians all day.”

  I should’ve known. “I’m going to support you anyway. And I wish you’d do the same for me.”

  She let out a sigh. “Savannah,” she said, “keep your life free from the love of money.…”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why are you quoting scripture? You’re not even religious.”

  “… and be content with what you have. That’s what I believe, and it’s one of the reasons I never took a cent from Edward Stone. Don’t let money sway you.”

  I looked at an army of ants inside a jagged sidewalk crack. “It’s not just the money, Mom. This is an opportunity … for both of us. I don’t know why you can’t understand that.”

  “Well,” she said after a moment, “then I suppose we’re done talking.”

  The connection crackled and died. I felt cold in the heat, and everything suddenly looked like it was underwater. I sniffed, wiped my eyes, and stood up. I wasn’t exactly sure if what I was doing was right, but I had to find out for myself.

  I pulled my suitcase into the lobby, which had frosted-glass lighting fixtures and a sleek floor made of ebony marble. I heard the screech of wheels against the floor, which made the lady at the concierge desk shoot me a disapproving stare. I’d probably left scratches and scuffs, but I was too exhausted and embarrassed to check.

  “I’m Savannah Morgan,” I said. “I’m supposed to move into an apartment here.”

  Not a single line creased into her face when she smiled. She had the smooth, shiny complexion that comes from needles at a plastic surgeon’s office. “Edward Stone’s daughter,” she said. “I’ve been expecting you. Let me show you your new home.”

  She brought me to an apartment on the eleventh floor and led me through each fully furnished and decorated room. I was so bowled over by how spacious and classy everything was that nothing she said about the building’s limestone architecture or its fitness center or the seventy-five-foot pool really sunk in.

  When she left, I wandered around in a state of shock. Or maybe it was ecstasy. The apartment was twice the size of my house and just as beautiful as Tina’s. It had two full bathrooms and an office with built-in shelves and a computer on a glass-topped desk. I’d been inside so many places like this in Mount Pleasant, but I never imagined I’d live in one—especially in New York. I never expected to have a sunlight-drenched living room painted the color of lemon cake batter, a big kitchen stocked with state-of-the-art appliances, and two pale-blue bedrooms that had windows with spectacular views of Central Park.

  I lingered outside one of the rooms, my eyes on a king-size canopy bed draped in white fabric. I walked across the hardwood floor, sat on a plush comforter tucked into the mattress, and looked at the phone on the night table beside me, wishing I could share this with Mom and Tina.

  But I couldn’t. And I was drained. I needed t
o rest for a few minutes. So I slipped out of my blazer, dropped my shoes onto the floor, and leaned back into what had to be the softest and most luxurious bed in all of New York City.

  *

  Somebody was banging on the door. I opened my eyes, which wasn’t easy because my lashes were crusted shut with mascara. Never go to sleep without washing off your makeup, Mom had always said. It’s a critical rule of femininity.

  I hadn’t planned to break a cardinal Womanhood Law. I hadn’t expected to fall asleep. I’d just wanted to relax for a while, and now what time was it? I flipped over and squinted at a clock radio on the night table. Its glowing red letters said 7:02 A.M.

  Had I really slept since yesterday afternoon? I lifted my head, looking at morning sunlight and glittery pink lipstick on the white pillow. I was in desperate need of Listerine, and my fingers stuck in a knot when I combed them through my hair. I wanted to brush my teeth, wash my face, and change out of yesterday’s clothes, but whoever was banging on the door wouldn’t give up. It wasn’t a dainty, civil knock, either. It was loud and testy and demanding.

  I dragged myself out of bed and through the living room, where I opened the door.

  “Did you even lock up last night?” asked a man standing in the hallway.

  I’d forgotten to, but that was none of his business. “Say what?”

  “You heard me,” he replied as I stared at him. He was tall and handsome with dark, wavy hair, olive-green eyes, a square jaw, and a cleft chin. I guessed he was about thirty-three, and he wore a slick gray suit with a tie made of indigo silk that was pierced with a diamond pin.

  There was a petite woman beside him who seemed to be around thirty. Her irises were the same shade of green as his, she wore cat’s-eye glasses, and she was dressed in ripped jeans and a ratty T-shirt with The United States: Created by geniuses and run by morons printed across her chest. Her hair was dyed as black as shoe polish, and it was cut into a messy shag that reached her shoulders.

  “You can’t sleep with your door unlocked, even in a building like this,” the man went on, brushing past me and into the apartment. He sat on the seashell-shaped couch, stretched out his long legs, and undid a button on his blazer. “You’re not in Tennessee anymore.”

  “I’m not from Tennessee,” I shot back, wondering if every southern state was the same to anybody who lived above the Mason-Dixon Line. My mouth was parched and my voice came out raspy and I was confused and jittery, but I tried not to let it show. “And who are you? You’re acting like you own this place.”

  “We do,” said the woman as she walked by me and took a seat on the couch. “Or at least … our father did. I’m sure you can imagine our surprise when we heard about you.”

  They had to be the legitimate children—Ned and Caroline. I studied them as I stood by the door. Other than their eyes, nothing about them was the same. I wouldn’t have suspected they were brother and sister, since he looked as if he’d stepped off a GQ cover and she resembled a grungy rocker chick. But they both had the same accent as Mercedes Rawlings Stark.

  “Are you planning to stand there all day?” Ned asked. “Or are you going to sit down and talk to us like a nice little hostess?”

  I leaned against the door to shut it. “Hostess implies I asked y’all to come here … but I didn’t,” I said, striding across the room to sit in a chair opposite the couch. “And just so you know, people with manners don’t show up uninvited at other people’s homes at seven in the morning. They also don’t barge in without properly introducing themselves.”

  Caroline propped her elbow against the torn denim on her knee and leaned her face on her palm. I was close enough to see the pockmarks in her cheeks and the dark kohl smudged around her eyes. “I’m Caroline Stone,” she said wearily in a nasal voice. “My brother is Edward Stone, Junior. He goes by Ned. And we know you’re Savannah Morgan. Funny how we’d never heard of you until our father died … and now here you are, living rent-free in one of his apartments and stealing his money.”

  “I’m not stealing,” I said as I dug my nails into the cushion on my chair. I moved my eyes between Caroline and Ned, who was rubbing his cleft chin. “And I understand my existence is a shock. I really do sympathize with how you feel. This whole thing is a surprise for me, too. I never knew until a few days ago that Edward was my father.”

  “How convenient,” she said.

  I’d meant it when I said I sympathized. They’d just lost a parent, and I could only imagine how it must have hurt for some strange girl to come out of nowhere and take what Caroline and Ned thought belonged only to them. So I ignored Caroline’s snottiness and kept trying to be polite.“Look,” I said. “We can be cordial, can’t we?”

  “No,” Caroline said dryly. “We can’t.”

  I sighed. “Like I said, I understand. I know you’re both upset—”

  “Try homicidal,” she cut in.

  “—and I really don’t blame you. Edward’s lawyer told me all about the will.”

  Caroline rolled her eyes. “Did she? How considerate of her to share our misfortune with a total stranger. So I guess you know that although Ned and I have full control of Stone News and the paycheck that comes with it, we’ve otherwise been completely disinherited. Our father left us no money. No real estate. He didn’t even cover Ned’s golf club dues for Shinnecock Hills in Southampton. And I used to have an apartment this size, courtesy of Dad. Except it was downtown and trendier,” she said, glancing around like she wasn’t particularly impressed. “But it was sold … and the money went into your trust fund.”

  I cringed. I felt so guilty that I could barely look at her, so I glanced at the marble fireplace across the room. “Oh,” was all I could say before shifting my eyes toward her again. Her hands were balled into fists, and she and Ned were giving me hateful stares. I wasn’t sure whether I should hate them back or keep feeling sorry for them, but I decided to try to make them feel better by putting a positive spin on things. “I know none of this seems right. But you’re lucky you had a father for so many years … that’s more important than money, and it’s also more than I’ve ever had.”

  Caroline laughed and turned toward Ned. “She’s delusional.”

  “More like ignorant. But she never met him. She doesn’t know any better,” he replied, and then looked at me as he twisted the thick silver ring on his left hand. “Let me enlighten you, Savannah: You didn’t miss out on anything when it comes to Edward Stone.”

  “Based on what he’s done to us through his will,” Caroline said, “we’ve concluded that we didn’t know him at all … especially since he’s also been accused of something that’s beyond unethical.”

  I nodded. “So I’ve read.”

  “Oh,” Caroline said. “You actually learned how to do that in Tennessee?”

  “South Carolina,” I corrected her. “And just because you’re angry with Edward doesn’t mean you have to be so—”

  “Then you know,” Ned interrupted, “that Stone News has been dealing with some serious problems. But what you might not be aware of is that these problems could be related to Dad’s death. We don’t know for a fact … but it’s possible that what happened to him wasn’t an accident. The police have initiated a full investigation.”

  I smoothed my tangled hair. “That’s a good idea.”

  “Here’s another good idea,” Caroline said, adjusting her glasses. “Leave town.”

  I looked at the pricey furniture and the oak floors that had been polished to a glimmering shine. “I’m not going anywhere, Caroline. I like it here.”

  Ned hunched toward me from his seat on the couch. “You like the apartment and all the money coming your way. But are those things worth your life?”

  I had a vision of being shot through the head and rolled up in a carpet that would be dropped into the Hudson River or the East River or wherever the corpses of inconvenient people got dumped.

  “Are you threatening me?” I asked.

  “My, aren’t we dram
atic.”

  “What my brother means,” Caroline said, “is that someone could’ve intentionally killed Dad. That person is on the loose, and Dad’s death might not have been enough revenge. Husbands have lost wives; mothers have buried children … there’s a lot of anger out there. Any member of the Stone family could be next on this person’s hit list … including you.”

  “You’re paranoid,” I said, wavering between laughter and a panic attack. I wondered if Edward knew he might be on a hit list and this was why he changed his will. Maybe he didn’t expect to have as much time as Mercedes thought.

  “We have every right to be. This mess with Amicus Worldwide gave Dad enemies,” Ned added. His hand moved from his wedding band to his Rolex, which he tightened around his wrist. “Unfortunately, Caroline and I are stuck here because we have to run Stone News … but you’re free to leave. If you go back to South Carolina, anybody who hated Dad will never know you exist. If you stay here, you’ll be walking around with a bull’s-eye on your back.”

  I shook my head. “You want to get rid of me. You know if I leave New York, my inheritance is gone.”

  “We only want what’s best for you, Savannah,” Caroline said. “We’re trying to protect you. You are our half sister, after all.”

  She was so phony. I would’ve welcomed the two of them as kin if they weren’t such sleazy schemers. They had no idea how much I’d longed for siblings. I’d spent years wishing for a protective big brother or a sister to share my room and giggle and whisper with until we fell asleep.

  I couldn’t let myself waste another second being disappointed. And I didn’t want to hear more talk about Edward Stone’s enemies and their thirst for vengeance. So I stood up, headed for the door, and held it open.

  “Thanks for the information,” I said. “I hope y’all have a nice day.”

  “I knew it,” Caroline said to Ned like I wasn’t there. “I knew all she cared about was money. She’s greedy enough to risk getting tortured or raped or murdered just so she can live an easy life off a stranger’s hard work.”

 

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