by Maria Milot
“Excuse me!”
She turned to face a small cluster of ladies and a round-faced woman calling to her.
“Would you please take our picture with the Tea House?”
“Of course,” Maddie smiled and took the camera.
The woman who seemed in charge barked through an internal megaphone. “This is where Mrs. Vanderbilt-Belmont held suffragette meetings! Come on girls, get together!” With a wave of her wobbly, wing-like arm the leader directed her flock to stand near the side of the Walk’s tunnel which ran underneath a Chinese pagoda. Maddie handed the camera back.
“Thanks so much, dear. Girls, we’ll get off the Walk up ahead and take a proper tour of The Marble House and this pagoda Tea House! Have a good day, dear.”
Maddie wasn’t sure if the woman was naturally shrill or if the remnants of her hangover were making her overly sensitive. Either way, she decided to stop here and take a break. She looked up at the tourists milling about the Marble House’s extensive lawn as they clicked photos of the unique Tea House above Cliff Walk at the edge of the ocean. Its jade and red colors complemented the Asian architecture, so different from the adjacent Greek revival Marble House. Different cultures, diverse designs, together as a landmark property. Would Winston and I really be able to combine our distinct backgrounds into one relationship? Why the hell am I worried about a relationship? I know at this point we’re just friends.
Right on time, the afternoon prevailing wind rose up to swirl her hair from her face and cool the back of her neck, encouraging her to forge on. The air tasted of summer. She filled her nostrils with the salty smell of the sea mixed with the earthy, sweet scent of seaweed clinging to the craggy rocks below. In the distance, she could just make out the turn where the path began its downward slope and changed from safe cement to a potentially dangerous dance over rugged riprap. Focusing on her footing would help to clear her mind. She realized her headache had subsided and she was ready to embrace the challenge.
EIGHT
Ping. The elevator door opened on the fourth floor. Sarah Byron pulled open the glass door in front of her and stepped into Spinnaker Ventures. Ken kept his eyes on his computer screen as she approached his oversized oak desk.
“Congratulations,” Sarah said as she plopped a Forbes magazine down on top of Ken’s keyboard. “Your friend’s company made the cover of the magazine but your mail made it down to my office again.”
Ken looked at the magazine’s bent pages knowing she had read the article. Nosy freakin’ bitch, he thought. “And how do you know he’s my friend, Sarah?”
“Because I’ve seen you two leaving the building at lunchtime when I’m heading out.”
Ken wanted to smack the smart-ass smirk right off her pasty freckled face. It figures this busy-body bitch wouldn’t miss a trick.
“Besides, he mentions you, and Spinnaker Ventures, as his source of initial capital in the story.”
“So you read my mail, Sarah?” Ken’s icy stare made Sarah look a whole lot less sure of herself.
“Well, it’s just that it came to my office, and I didn’t realize it was your company’s mail until I read the back label.”
“You work for a tee shirt company, Sarah. Why the hell would your company be receiving Forbes magazine in the first place? Didn’t it dawn on you this might be a mistake? Don’t you remember the new mail guy sometimes gets confused between the third and fourth floors of this building and mixes up our mail?”
Ken’s sharp retort caused Sarah to take a step backward, her mouth fell agape and her eyes opened wide. Ken continued to glare at her for another few seconds, to be sure she got the message. Then he turned back to his computer screen. “Thanks for the mail, Sarah, you know the way out.”
Sarah burst into tears in the elevator; thinking, all I wanted to do was flirt a little, maybe get an introduction to his cute friend. Gosh, how could such an attractive man on the outside be so ugly on the inside?
Ken picked up the magazine and thumbed through to the article on Jared Diamond. The piece briefly touched on the fact Ken and Jared had met in college. The truth was they had actually met in Tuscany. Ken was staying at his parents’ home there for the summer and Jared was on a study abroad program. They were the only two English speaking people at a small café and were astounded when they realized they were both entering their sophomore year at Tufts University. Ken was a finance major and Jared was in the engineering program. They spent the summer immersed in Tuscan culture; food, wine, hiking, concerts. Once they returned to school in the fall they were almost inseparable. Ken knew with computers Jared was a visionary; and that his programming skills would lead to something big. However, he also knew with business Jared was pretty much an idiot. After college Ken’s uncle set him up with the funds to create his venture capital company, Spinnaker Ventures. The first startup company Ken invested in belonged to Jared -- Diamond Enterprises. It took six years but now that investment had paid off big time. Jared had written a computer application which he had sold to the military and was now being used at Raytheon Integrated Defense Systems in Newport. The program was very successful and had made Jared millions. It also landed him on the covers of leading industry and money magazines. The article indicated this was just the tip of the iceberg as the computer application had potential to expand to the civilian market.
Ken closed the magazine and looked at the cover photo. Even when posed, Jared’s smile had a warm, boyish quality that drew you in. Not the picture of Jared I would’ve picked, he thought.
NINE
Maddie dug into the pocket of her jeans trying to extract the ringing cell phone as she stepped inside her house. It was Winston.
“Hello, Madison. What are you up to?”
“I just got back from a long, head-clearing stroll along Cliff Walk.”
“Oh, why did you need to clear your head? Are you okay, Madison?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I mean nothing’s bothering me.” Prompting her to think, actually, a lot seems to be bothering me including worrying about us. Instead, she continued, “It was just a late Friday night with a few too many drinks with my friend Kelly.”
“I remember you telling me about Kelly. Was her fiancé there too?”
“No, no boys allowed. It was just a girls’ night to catch up.”
“No boys, really?” Winston’s tone was not accusatory, but more amused.
“No boys all night, Winston, I would let you know.” Maddie smiled to herself. She welcomed his concern but she was especially pleased with the indication it would be difficult to make a man like him jealous. After Joe, the last thing she wanted to see was the green-eyed monster again. And he was a monster.
“So, what’s going on with you, Mr. Cooper?”
“Well, I called to see if you would like to join me at the New York Yacht Club tomorrow, around seven p.m. for dinner?”
“You want to go to New York for dinner?”
Winston chuckled. “No,” he said. “The club has a Newport location.”
“I had no idea.”
Maddie had never been on a boat, let alone set foot in a yacht club. “Let me check…Sunday… yes, I’m clear. Do you want to meet at my house for a drink first?”
“Actually, I will be on my way back from one of my charity events in Boston. So it would be better to meet at Harbour Court.”
“Wait, where is Harbour Court?”
Winston laughed again. “Sorry, I realize this must sound confusing. Estates here in Newport have names.”
He didn’t sound condescending, so she tried not to sound annoyed. “I know that, Winston, I live on one.”
“Well, Harbour Court is the name of the house which used to belong to John Nicholas Brown. After he died, the Club purchased Harbour Court. So, we now have a waterfront location, as well as the New York City location.”
“Well, I guess it’s just another little bit of history I’ll get to explore. I look forward to seeing you there at seven.”
“You’ve m
ade my day, Madison. See you then.”
Maddie made a mental note to remember to ask Winston about his charitable work. Is it possible to be handsome, rich, caring and compassionate? Well, Prince William exists, she mused, so why not Winston? Maddie wanted to think the best of him, but if Winston was everything she believed…why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? She made another mental note to ask about that too.
She researched the New York Yacht Club at Harbour Court on her computer. She had no inkling about this club, or where it was located, and she sure as heck hoped she didn’t need a secret hand-shake to get in.
TEN
Winston’s mind drifted back to the day he met Madison Marcelle at the law office. He had arrived for his monthly meeting with the partners to go over the trusts when he spotted the most vulnerable looking girl he had ever seen. She was so beautiful and seemed so nervous; sitting on that big leather couch, looking down, picking at her fingernails, never mind that he was not used to seeing anyone under the age of fifty in that office, he was absolutely intrigued. The brief chat he had with her left him yearning for more. He told the partners he didn’t care about rules, he needed to have her cell phone number.
“Hello, son.”
Winston looked up from the Wall Street Journal lying across his lap.
“Am I interrupting your reading?”
“No, not all, Father.”
The tight-fitting white polo shirt and tennis shorts James Cooper wore were swirled with sweat.
“How was your match?” Winston asked.
James shook his head, his strong, toned physique belied his chronological age of sixty-five. “That damn Skipper Johnson bested me.”
“Were you here on our court?”
“No, no we were over at the Tennis Hall of Fame. I just don’t do as well when we play on those grass courts.”
Gargoyles carved into a black walnut sideboard oversaw James as he removed the lid from a gleaming, silver bucket, scooped out a handful of ice and added,
“But I’ll get a chance to redeem myself next week. So are you working on getting me a daughter-in-law?” prodded James.
“As a matter of fact, I am. Remember the girl I told you about from Anderson and Anderson?”
“Yes, the nurse. Inherited Randall Whitmore’s money. She’s young, right, childbearing age?” his father commented holding a cold, dripping monogrammed bar towel up to his neck.
“Yes, Father, Madison is twenty-six, smart, funny-”
“And beautiful, I did a little investigating,” interrupted James.
“Yes, very beautiful and not a gold digger.”
“Good,” approved his father, “but not as important at this point. I need a grandson even if I have to pay her off.”
“Father, might I remind you that you were thirty-five when I was born and I am just over the mark of thirty.”
James fished his hand back into the ice bucket and popped a cube into his mouth. He stood shoulder to shoulder with his son and slapped a large hand on Winston’s back. “Yes, but I was married to your mother at thirty and you are my one and only child. As it turned out it took more time than we thought to have you. Remember that, even the best plans should have a backup plan, son.”
“So, what was your backup plan if you didn’t have me?” Winston jeered.
James tilted his head, looked Winston in the eye and deadpanned, “Cloning. Now listen to me, if Madison is as she seems you need to get serious about her and move this along. We don’t know how long I will be around.”
Winston stepped aside and turned to face his father with an incredulous look. “Father, you play tennis every week, you swim daily, you still sail the boat around. Hell, you’re in better shape than most men half your age!”
“You just never know, Winston. See those dogs?” James pointed up to a hefty, gold-framed oil painting of an English hunt scene. “That’s like your cousins sniffing around, waiting to pull, tear, attack and take away my money, our money.”
“Father I know you’re concerned. I understand this is about our family legacy. I will do whatever it takes to make this happen.”
His father nodded his head and urged, “Soon.”
“Yes, as I started to tell you earlier, I am meeting Madison tomorrow at Harbour Court.”
“Brilliant!” exclaimed his father. “Now will you be joining your mother and me for dinner tonight or do you have big Saturday night plans?”
“No, no plans. That would be fine. Usual time, Father?”
“Yes, I will have your mother let Cook know. Perhaps we could have Madison join us too?” James gave Winston a hopeful look.
“Father, I promise I will work things out with Madison, but I can’t scare her off, patience, please.”
“Well, your mother will be happy to hear you at least have a serious relationship in your life. I’ll see you at 6:00 p.m. sharp, son.”
Winston smiled at his father. “Yes sir, 6:00 p.m. sharp.” His father turned and left the library.
Winston closed the heavy doors of the mahogany-paneled library. He walked back over to the oil painting depicting the hunt scene, admired it for a second then slid it to the side; revealing a wall safe. He typed in the code, reached inside and retrieved a stack of papers. He scanned through the document and re-read the lines he had almost memorized. Meeting Madison was a stroke of serendipity, perfect timing. A beautiful young girl with no baggage, no ex-husbands, no children yet, no family ties, and her own money to top it off. She’s vulnerable and a little cautious. I can work with that, he thought. He closed the painting back over the safe, poured three fingers of Scotch into a cut crystal glass and sank into a leather club chair. He closed his eyes, he needed to think.
ELEVEN
“So, do you want moo shi or pad Thai tonight?”
Jared looked up from his desk to see Ken waving a paper menu at him. “Sorry, Ken, not tonight. I’ve got a YPO thing to go to.”
“YPO?”
“Yeah, it’s this invitation-only business group, stands for Young Presidents Organization. It’s good for networking, business advice, you know.”
“I do know, that’s why I thought you had me around.”
“And I am grateful to you for coming to my office to check over the books and keep the business stuff running. But it doesn’t hurt to branch out and go to this type of event.”
“So, I guess I’ll just stay at your office, all by myself, and slave over the books alone and hungry.”
Jared walked over to Ken and gave him a placating head tip. “You know I would much rather hang out with you and eat take-out than to try to elbow my way into a room full of egos. But I made a commitment to go.”
“Well, remember, I made a commitment to go too. I am going to be out of the country on Monday,” Ken reminded Jared.
Jared was now milling about his office looking for Bret Tolim’s address, where the event was being held.
“Oh, right. You did tell me you would be away. Well, I think you have access to whatever you need for tonight.”
“What about that new accountant? Can I get into his computer too?” asked Ken.
“Yeah, that would be Shane.” Jared went back to his desk and clicked a few keystrokes on his computer. “Here you go, that’s Shane’s password and these are the codes for the other two accountants in case you forgot them.”
“I don’t forget; for example, I don’t forget when I have plans to spend the evening with a friend,” Ken sneered.
Jared put his arm around Ken’s shoulders. “Come on, you know I’m no good at working out the numbers. Besides, every time we do this you always do all the work and I end up eating more than my share of whatever we’ve ordered. Just make sure we’re still making money, everyone is being paid and I will see you when you get back in town.”
“Yes sir, you’re the boss.”
Jared returned Ken’s smirk and pointed a finger at him. “And don’t you forget it. Now, give me something besides financial advice. Do I need to change this s
hirt or will it do for business casual?”
Ken pulled open the closet where Jared kept a variety of extra clothes. Long hours, often at unusual times, dictated that Jared’s office be his second home. Ken looked Jared over and shook his head. “A polo shirt is too casual. You need one of your button-downs.”