by Susan Wolfe
“Then we know you can do it. Keep your head clear, you’re going to need it today. I think you should meditate on the bus.”
“Okay, I will.” She had stopped crying. “I should go. Call you this afternoon.”
Georgia looked at her watch. Four and a half hours to come up with $250 and get it to Katie-Ann in Little Rock. Would their snooty cousin at Apple help, or would he just rat her out to her mother? Probably neither. Just politely ignore her, the way he’d ignore a fart at a fancy dinner party. Useless. Could she reach her father’s lawyer? She rushed into a conference room to make some calls.
“Georgia,” Maggie said, opening the conference room door a couple of hours later. She wore swingy hoop earrings and a salmon-colored bandana in her hair. “Ken would like to see you in his office.”
That’s right, the ITC complaint. Georgia put the phone down and pressed the heels of her hands against her closed eyelids. She still didn’t have the money, and she surely didn’t have those facts. She didn’t even have time to talk to him, but of course that wasn’t optional. She made herself breathe deeply as she walked to his office.
“Georgia,” Ken said, “have a seat.” He came and sat across from her at his conference table. His shirt was yellow, his bow tie was kelly green, and his open face immediately registered that she didn’t look so good. “I’m concerned that something is worrying you.”
“I know you need those last facts for the ITC complaint . . .
He waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll have somebody at the firm do it. But Beatrice thought you sounded worried on a phone call earlier. Something about your sister?”
News travelled fast. Telephone. Telegraph. Tell a Beatrice. She knew she looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, but she couldn’t think of a single response.
“The reason I’m asking, Georgia, is I’m wondering if I can help you. You’re a very important member of our team, and you won’t be able to focus if you’re upset about something personal. Looking out for our team members is looking out for the company.”
Georgia’s skin was flushed with danger. She searched frantically for a way to avoid exposing her private life.
“Ken, you so don’t have time to be thinking about my personal stuff.”
He shrugged. “Looks like I am thinking about it.”
If you can’t say nothing, her father said, try to tell a limited truth. Truth is easier to remember. “My sister’s coming to live with me to go to school.”
“Yes. You told me you have a sister you’ve been worried about. How’s she doing?” Oh right, she thought, staring back into those attentive, green eyes. This was the guy who made you want to tell everything.
“Well, ever since I got here, I’ve been saving up to get us an apartment before school starts. It took every penny I could save for first and last months’ rent, so Katie-Ann was waitressing to get the money for her bus ticket. She called me a little while ago, and her money’s disappeared. School starts next Wednesday, and well . . .” She shrugged, hoping to offset her faltering voice. “I don’t know how to get her here.”
“I see. That really is a problem. Would you mind if I get my wife, Laura, on the line? I don’t mean to broadcast your personal life, but she’s my primary confidante and I’d like to get her help on this. Okay with you?”
He got Laura on the speakerphone, and introduced them. Georgia repeated her story.
“Georgia,” Laura asked, “does Katie-Ann’s mother agree with her plan to come to California?”
Why was she asking that? Were they going to try to stop her? Too late.
“She doesn’t know about it, ma’am. We’re going to call and let her know as soon as my sister gets here. My father’s the one who wants her to be here, but he’s not in a position to help out with the money right now.”
“Does he have custody?”
Did parents in prison have custody? “I’m pretty sure they have joint custody.”
“Can you enroll her in school?”
“I’ve already done that. I just needed the lease and her birth certificate.”
“Georgia, Ken and I would like to contribute the money for your sister’s bus ticket. It sounds like you and your dad have a very good plan to help her, and I don’t see how there’s time to get the money from anywhere else. It isn’t often that a reasonable amount of money can make a difference, but this sounds to me like one of those times. How much is it?”
Dangerous. These people had no idea who they were dealing with, and she wasn’t about to let them find out.
“I appreciate that, I really do,” she said, “but I don’t think it’s good to complicate our professional relationship. I need this job to support Katie-Ann.”
“Good instincts, Georgia,” Ken agreed. “We definitely won’t make a habit of it. But I believe in this particular instance, it’s in the company’s best interest.”
“And in your sister’s best interest,” Laura added. “I know you’ll take that into account.”
Georgia looked at her watch. Katie-Ann would be calling again in an hour. This was probably her one chance to get the money. She watched the second hand tick for a full ten seconds. “Mrs. Madigan?” Her voice actually sounded sort of timid. “Would you loan me the money, and let me sign a promissory note?”
“Absolutely. I’ll have Ken review it for me to make sure it’s legally binding.”
Well. No going back, even if she did feel slightly dizzy and her hands were cold. “I certainly do appreciate it. My sister’s already on the bus to Little Rock with the money she had in her wallet, and I could sure use a plan for when she calls me in an hour.”
“I see,” Ken said, glancing at his watch. “Then we should probably get started.”
“You need me for this part, Ken?” Laura asked.
“We’ll take care of it from here, Laura. Love you. Bye now.
“Georgia,” he continued, “why don’t we put in a call to Greyhound? Let’s see if we can get this resolved before your sister calls. What’s her name?”
“Katie-Ann.” Saying the name suddenly brought tears to her eyes. Ken seemed not to notice.
“Katie-Ann’s probably a very competent 15-year-old, but let’s try to put her mind at rest as soon as possible.”
An hour later Katie-Ann had boarded her bus for San Francisco, and Georgia was in hot pursuit of that five-year revenue number for the ITC complaint.
Dear Daddy, she wrote that evening, huddled under her sleeping bag with her Itty Bitty Book Light. I have had an unusual day. I hit a fairly serious glitch in our plans to get Katie-Ann out here. I am happy to report that things are all right again, and she is on the bus as I write this letter.
Of course, that is not the unusual part. The unusual part is that a man in my office gave me the money and some other help to solve the problem, and honestly Daddy, I believe he just wanted to help. He involved his wife and had the money come from her, I think just so I wouldn’t worry that he was looking for sexual favors. He already thinks I’m doing a good job, so I don’t think he’s trying to get me to work harder. He has a big job that pays him plenty of money, and anyway, how much could he hope to scam out of somebody who needs to borrow bus fare for her little sister?
Have you ever encountered a similar situation? Do you think I’m being naive? I work with this person on a daily basis, and would benefit from your insight soonest. In any case, the apartment is ready and waiting, and we will inform you promptly when Katie-Ann has safely arrived.
Your loving daughter,
Georgia
She lay holding the sealed envelope, gazing up through her back window. Honestly, it was a relief that Ken was married, which made him even more off-limits than he was already. Well, sort of a relief. Funny, the thing that made Mr. Straight-Edge Upright totally unavailable also made him even more appealing. Thank God he was a million years older than she was. The Anti-Deke. Good to know there was one.
The stars were sure sparkly tonight, like every speck of cosm
ic dust had been washed out of the sky. There was Orion, for example, with his shiny belt and sword, exactly where he belonged, just like he’d always been for at least a billion years.
Up until tonight it would never have occurred to Georgia Griffin, not in those billion years since Orion first appeared, that somebody else might watch her back once her father was in jail. And Katie-Ann’s back, too, just because she was important to Georgia. She closed her eyes and let the unfamiliar sensation of gratitude spread slowly through her whole body.
CHAPTER 12
“Excuse me, are you Georgia?”
Georgia looked up to see a stranger in the entrance to her cube. “Sally would like to see you rather urgently.” Must be Sally’s new admin. Georgia set down her document index and glanced at her watch. Barely 7:15 a.m. Then she remembered: the “dinner” with Archibald and Lucy had been scheduled for the night before. In all the excitement about Katie-Ann, she’d sort of forgotten about Archie. Her word against his, she reminded herself, no matter what he’d told Sally. And his word was—by design—preposterous.
“Lucky I was here this early,” she commented as she followed the woman down the still-empty hallway. “You know what it’s about?”
“Not really. Paul Holder’s in there.”
“The board member? Hope I didn’t mess up the board compensation.” Had Archie gone to the board with this? Holder was Archie’s champion, so she could be in for a difficult discussion. She was pretty sure she was ready.
But when she heard Sally’s office door click shut behind her, she felt a hint of panic. Better not look at those shrunken heads just now.
Paul and Sally were seated at her conference table, and Paul stood to greet her, revealing sage-colored jeans on his stork-like legs. They both looked grim.
“You remember Mr. Holder?” Sally began.
“Absolutely.” Georgia shook his hand, hoping her clammy skin didn’t give her away. “How are you, Mr. Holder?”
“Well, I’m not great at the moment, as a matter of fact. Have a seat. Are you aware of an incident involving Archibald Moss and somebody named Lucy Feiffer?”
Incident. So he’d gone through with it.
“No.” She made her eyes widen with curiosity as her pulse began to thud rhythmically in her ears.
“Well, it’s rather unfortunate,” Paul continued. “Lucy claims Archibald showed up at her mother’s apartment last night, began shouting sexual obscenities, and then tried to kiss her.”
She frowned with feigned confusion. “Archibald tried to kiss Lucy’s mother?”
“No, Lucy. Lucy was there.”
“Oh.” Pause. Still confused. “He shouted sexual obscenities at Lucy in front of her mother?” Kissing wasn’t part of the plan. Had he attacked her? Her pulse began thudding faster.
“It seems surprising for a number of reasons, doesn’t it? But the mother confirms that she heard Lucy shouting, and rushed into the living room in her wheelchair just as Lucy threw her drink at a man who turned out to be Archibald.”
“Wow. And what did he do?”
“Well, he apparently just stood in the doorway looking shocked, Campari running down his face. But then he said . . . well, he said something horribly vulgar that I’m not going to repeat, and then he said, ‘Can I kiss you now?’”
She reared back slightly to register surprise. “So he was asking permission?” Didn’t sound like assault. Good.
Paul spread his hands above the table. “I . . . guess. And then Lucy was so freaked out she started screaming that he was a pervert, and to get out of her mother’s house or they’d call the cops. And he said ‘Mother?,’ apparently noticed her mother for the first time, and then he said, ‘Oh God, not again!’”
Score!
“ ‘Oh God, not again,’” she echoed, musing. “So this had happened before. And then what?”
Paul shrugged. “Then he left. That was it.”
“He just walked away?” So mere lunatic ranting. She exhaled with quiet relief.
“Well, ran actually. I guess the neighbors had opened their door to see what the noise was, and he just . . . ran away.”
“Wow. This is bizarre. And of course you want to find Ken.” She consulted her watch and stood up. “Let me see if he’s here now. My guess is he’ll want to talk to Archie.”
“I already did that. Archie called me this morning.”
“Really. And what does he say?”
“Well, in some ways that’s the most surprising of all. He admits—sheepishly—that he said those repulsive things, and that he was hoping to have sex with Lucy. But he claims he was invited.”
Georgia shrugged. “Well, she might have invited him to dinner, but not to hear that kind of stuff.”
“Actually, Georgia, he claims to have been invited by you.” He’d told them everything. She could hear her pulse picking up speed again.
She sat back down. “Archie says I invited him to dinner with Lucy?”
Paul nodded. “Says you gave him the address and everything.”
“But I didn’t know anything about it. I wasn’t invited to dinner.” She considered a moment, and pointed a forefinger at her own face. “You sure it’s me he’s talking about?”
“Quite sure. He claims you invited him to show up at Lucy’s, gave him her mother’s address, and put him up to the whole thing.”
She folded her right hand over her left fist on top of the table and leaned forward, frowning. “He says I told him to shout obscenities at Lucy? And knew her mother’s address?” Then she shook her head like she was trying to clear it. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a parrot, but I’m a little confused. I don’t even know Lucy Feiffer. I wonder why he wants to involve me in this.”
“Paul, may I ask a couple of questions?” Sally asked. “Georgia, you had a conversation with Archibald about Lucy being interested in him, didn’t you?” Leading question. Classic cross-examination technique.
“No,” she answered promptly, shaking her head. “I didn’t know she was interested.”
“Didn’t you tell Archibald that Lucy was very interested in him, and liked her men to talk dirty?”
“Ugh!” She stiffened with surprise and aversion. “How would I know that?”
“Didn’t you give him a line from Henry Miller to recite to her?”
“Who’s Henry Miller? The playwright?”
“Thanks, Georgia,” Paul interrupted, with a meaningful glance at Sally. “We won’t trouble you with this any further. I’m not surprised you’re confused, since the whole thing makes absolutely no sense. But we needed to ask, it was just such a strange story . . .” He frowned at the wall behind her. “Shame, really. Our engineers just love the guy.” Sally was studying her through narrowed eyes.
“Well, let me find Ken for you. He’s the one who can sort it all out.” She stood up again.
“I can probably decide who to involve in the investigation,” Sally said coolly. “In the meantime, you can appreciate this is completely confidential, even from Ken. Close the door on your way out.”
Well, that surely got the old heart pumping, she thought as she briskly retraced her steps along the still-empty, carpeted corridor. Halfway back to her cube, she changed course and sought the privacy of a toilet stall, where she leaned her head against the closed door and took several deep breaths. Was it over? Probably. Better not mention Henry Miller for a while. Sally looked entirely too curious, but what could she or anyone do with such a ridiculous story and no evidence? Talk to Ken about it, maybe. She really would prefer not to repeat this charade with Ken.
She splashed water on her face at the sink, then headed back to her cube. Poor Archie. Even if somebody believed his silly story, did he think for one second it would excuse his behavior? His capacity for terrible judgment was impeccable, right up to the end.
She and Ken were going over the latest diligence results, when Ken’s door flew open and Roy declared, “Need to talk to you.”
Archie. Well, she
could do it again, even with Ken.
“Sure. Georgia, would you . . . ?”
“Don’t bother,” Roy said, raising a palm. He closed the door and assumed his wide boxer’s stance, his neck stuffed into a tight collar. “Just finished my meeting with the Futuresoft bankers and the CEO. Problem solved.” This had nothing to do with Archie. Get a grip.
“Really,” Ken said. “How so? Have a seat.”
“Stupid misunderstanding,” he said, ignoring the invitation to sit. “They did get the prototype, but they knew it was inappropriate and gave it right back again. And the CEO agrees it wasn’t the brightest to set up that alternate email account, but he assures me he never received anything confidential on it. Doesn’t think they even hired the guy.”
Guy? Singular? There had been at least four secret accounts.
“And the document destruction was a misunderstanding, too. Bottom line, they explained very convincingly that they never did anything wrong. And anyway, nobody’s going to find this stuff. We’re boxing with our own shadows here.” Interesting, how Roy’s brain train kept jumping from the ‘did no wrong’ track onto the ‘won’t get caught’ track. Somebody had laid those tracks awfully close together.
“But . . .” Ken said.
Roy held his hand up. “We’re going ahead with the deal.”
“You think the board will agree?”
“I’m sure they will, since we won’t alarm them with this crap.”
“I’ll have to notify the U.S. Attorney.”
“Why is that?”
Ken flicked a glance in Georgia’s direction. “I have the ongoing obligation to tell them about any suspected wrongdoing, my investigation, and the outcome.”
“But this isn’t our wrongdoing in any case. It’s theirs.”
“Ours will be knowing about it, Roy, and buying the company anyway.”
“We don’t know anything, Ken. We know our good friends and business partners say they’ve done nothing.” His mouth was puckered just like he’d sucked a lemon, as he stood over Ken and glared at him. “Don’t make this more complicated than it needs to be. Wrap it up. Now I have to make a call on another matter.”