Her phone started ringing again. The throbbing in her eye reached out to recruit her left temple to join in the torture. She'd taken two pain pills an hour ago, but they'd done nothing to help. She picked up the phone.
"Abigail Carpenter," she said, putting her elbow on the desk and cradling her forehead in her hand.
"Ab, I'm so sorry. I've been trying to reach you all morning. Are you all right? The Daily Dish is a rag. Don't let anything they print bother you. No one takes them seriously. Oh, God, are you all right?"
"Rach, please, not so loud."
"You're not all right."
"If I can make it through the day without going postal on Billings, I'm afraid I'll survive."
"Has that prick been tormenting you about this?"
Abby rubbed her eyes. "Forget it." She sighed into the phone. "Look, I don't feel like talking right now. I'll be fine, though. Thanks for checking on me."
"Are you sure, honey? Do you want me to come over tonight? We can play Scrabble."
In spite of her head, Abby smiled. Rach wasn't a game person. She needed to be moving, but Abby was a Scrabble nerd. The offer to spend an evening sitting at the kitchen table spelling words was a testimony to their friendship.
"Not tonight. I've got a headache."
"I'm letting that pass because you don't feel good. If you change your mind, let me know; otherwise, I'll talk to you tomorrow. And Ab, it'll blow over; it always does."
Unfortunately, that was part of the problem. She'd weathered the worst of the scandal around her marriage to Dick, and she'd thought it was behind her. Now the press had resurrected it, at first in the guise of a by-the-way when covering the murder investigation. This latest was nothing so innocent. And they weren't just targeting her with their slander; they'd involved Gage.
~~~
"I'll have the stuffed crab." Brett handed the waiter his menu and looked at Gage. "Once we obtain all the approvals, we could have a state-chartered bank up and running in six to nine months."
Gage stroked his chin. "We might have to move some people to Delaware. The feds won't look kindly on it if they think we're operating a ghost entity. I'm not concerned about that, though. We'll hire people if we have to. The Valley's rife with bankers."
"Are you sure this is the way you want to go?"
"Positive," Gage said.
Brett nodded. "If we go with your idea to open a permanent Philadelphia office, we could have some of the corporation's officers split their time between Center City and Delaware."
"Precisely." Gage took a drink of his water. "I'll inform the board about my plans for that on Monday. We're already in agreement an east coast base makes sense, and if we're going to apply for a charter in Delaware, then Philadelphia is a logical choice."
They discussed the logistics of moving some of their operations from Chicago. If everything went according to his plans, Gage would be able to split his time between Chicago and Philadelphia.
When Riv One was completed, he'd purchase one of the four penthouses that would be available for sale. He and Abby could live there when they were in Philly. If she didn't like his place in Chicago, they could buy something in the suburbs. She liked flowers. She might like having a garden.
She might not want to give up her job and shuttle from city to city with him.
He frowned. She'd told him she dreamed of opening her own marketing firm one day. He wouldn't ask her to give that up. Whatever decision she made, they'd find a way to make things work. He'd see to it.
When they left the restaurant, the sidewalks were wet from a recent shower. Warmer weather had moved in, escorting fog along Madison Avenue like a parade of low slung clouds.
They caught a cab for La Guardia a few minutes later. Their flight was scheduled to take off at five forty-five. Gage glanced at his watch. It was three fifteen. By the time they got to the airport, passed through security, and got to their gate, they shouldn't have too long to wait.
Matt would be giving Abby the grand tour right now, piles of dirt and stone, lots of steel girders, and a couple of hundred sweaty men, with a view of the Delaware and Camden waterfront.
He grinned. He'd bet she looked real cute in a hard hat. He pulled out his cell to check in with Grace. She usually called to update him at least once during the day when he was out of the office, but he hadn't heard a peep from her. He flipped open the cover.
"Damn it."
"What's wrong?" Brett asked.
Gage pressed the power button. "I turned my phone off at the restaurant so we wouldn't be interrupted and forgot to turn it back on."
He called up his messages and scrolled through them. There were eleven in total, six from Grace, all marked urgent. He called her first.
"It's Gage," he said by way of a greeting. "I forgot to turn my damn phone back on after Brett and I had our lunch meeting. What's going on there?"
They turned right off of 26th onto East 34th and headed toward the Queens Midtown Tunnel. He glanced out the window at the sea of people, wave after wave frothing with every race, color and creed, and then some.
He listened with half an ear as Grace gave him a brief update, nothing that wouldn't hold until Monday or Tuesday.
"Did you by any chance hear about the article in The Dish?" she asked.
"What's The Dish?"
"I was afraid of that," she said, and her tone made him uneasy. "It's a tabloid."
"Who am I sleeping with now?" he asked, rolling his eyes at Brett.
Grace was quiet for a moment and then she said, "Abigail Carpenter."
"Oh, shit." He switched the phone to his other ear, grinding his back teeth. "Spill it."
She summarized the article. "There are photos, too. The one's not much, just the two of you standing on a city sidewalk. The other shot you're both in the back seat of a cab and you're…" She paused. "It's obvious the two of you are—close."
"How is it obvious?" Anger made his tone curt.
"You're kissing her."
He rubbed his fingers over his eyes. "Have you talked to her?"
"I haven't been able to get through. I left a couple of messages, but she hasn't returned my calls. She may just be busy and hasn't been able to get back to me yet."
Or she's being deluged by the fallout, he thought. This was the last thing she needed right now. If he knew Abby, she'd be putting on a good face, holding her own against the world, and she'd be devastated by this. He had to talk to her.
"Matt Silver's supposed to be giving Abby a site tour this afternoon. Find him and get back to me immediately." He ended the call, fisting his hands with frustration.
"Son of a bitch!"
Brett cleared his throat. "You want to talk about it?"
Gage glanced across the seat, his expression taut. What he wanted was to see Abby. If he could see her, he'd know if she was all right. Tightening his lips, he shook his head and looked out the window. Why the hell did this have to happen when he was out of town?
His phone rang and he snapped it open.
"I've got Matt on the line," Grace said. "I'll patch him through."
~~~
Abby wrapped her arms around her waist and glanced toward the river. She wasn't going back to the office after Matt finished giving her the tour of the site. If she could just hold herself together until then, she'd go home and then she didn't care how sick she got.
Matt had excused himself a moment ago to take a call. She turned her back to him and brought her hand to her mouth, fighting off another wave of nausea.
A construction worker operated a jackhammer about a couple of hundred feet from where she stood. He looked like he was having a seizure as his lumberjack body shook against the hydraulic drill. The concrete slowly gave way, the incessant roar punching her skull with every reluctant inch the old parking lot surrendered.
She closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths. Don't get sick, she commanded herself, and swallowed back the saliva gathering in the back of her mouth.
&n
bsp; "Excuse me," Matt said from behind her.
Abby turned, too quickly, and tiny black dots spun in front of her eyes. She blinked them away.
"I didn't mean to startle you." He held his phone out toward her. "Gage wants to talk to you."
Several questions raced through her head at once. Does he know about the article? Could he have seen the paper at the train station? Was he upset about the repercussion of being publicly linked with her?
She hadn't called Grace back because she hadn't had the luxury of a minute to herself to think about what to do. She was positive the "urgent" in the woman's message meant Grace had seen that morning's Dish. Maybe she hadn't told Gage about the article. She might have decided not to upset him with it until he got back and do whatever damage control she could until then.
"Hello, Mr. Faraday," she said, conscious of Matt's proximity. She looked at the other man with a weak smile. He gave a nod and then ambled over to a group of workmen. His leaving told its own story.
"Are you okay?" Gage sounded upset. Did he know?
"I'm fine. Matt's the perfect tour guide." She winced and tried to force some cheerfulness into her voice. "I took your advice and brought a pair of my old hiking boots with me to put on when I got here. I think they make quite a fashion statement with my suit and the hard hat. Maybe I'll start a new trend."
"How are you, sweetheart?"
"I told you, I'm fine. Norwell said if you were happy with the print ads, so was he. I left a message for Cheryl Stevens to give—"
"Stop being evasive, Abby. I don't give a damn about Norwell or Stevens. Grace told me about the tabloid article. I want to know if you're all right."
She rubbed her forehead. No, she wasn't all right. She was standing in the middle of a construction site with a roaring headache. She was at risk of puking up her guts in front of a couple of hundred men. Her boss had questioned her professional morals, and she was worried her job was on the line.
There were dozens of newspaper boxes on street corners throughout the city with her face plastered on the front page of some rag, swallowing tongue with one of her clients. At the moment, her life sucked.
"I'm handling it," she said. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this mess because of me. You've got enough to worry about without being linked with a murder suspect and having your name smeared across the pages of a tabloid."
"The only thing I'm worried about is you." She could hear the concern in his voice, and it made her wish he were there, holding her, loving her, taking her away from the ugliness for a while.
"And just so we're clear," he said as if stating a fact she should already know, "I was the one who dragged you into my life. And it wasn't the easiest thing I've ever done getting you there. In case no one's ever told you, you can be stubborn."
He had pursued her, that was true, but he couldn't have anticipated the mess he'd gotten himself embroiled in as a result of her acquiescence.
"Well, you don't need to worry about me. Really," she lied, "I've been too busy today to even think about what happened." She wouldn't cry on his shoulder. She wouldn't rely on him to fix her world. Once she got home she'd get some rest, regroup, and find a way to get through it, just as she'd done before.
"Fly to Chicago tonight. I'll have Grace make the arrangements, and I'll meet you at the airport."
Abby bit her lip. "I can't do that, Gage."
"Why? I've got to work tomorrow, but we'll have tomorrow night. I can move my meetings on Sunday back a couple of hours so we can spend the morning together. You can be back in Philly Sunday evening."
"I can't just fly to Chicago. Besides, Detective Simms told me not to leave town."
"I doubt Simms will care if you let him know. I told you I don't think he considers you his prime suspect anymore."
"I can't, Gage. I know what you're doing, but it's not necessary. You need to focus on whatever business required you to be in Chicago. Besides, my mom's been threatening to disown me because I haven't gone for a visit in so long. I thought since I didn't have other plans, I'd soothe my guilt about being such a horrible daughter and have dinner at my parents' tomorrow night."
A pleasure boat cruised past the site. She heard Gage sigh. Come back, she thought, tempted to shout into the phone. I need you so badly. I'm not really all right. Come back. She closed her eyes again and wrapped her free arm around her waist.
"Listen, sweetheart, we just pulled up to the terminal. Since it's obvious I'm not going to win this one, I'll call you when I get to Chicago."
"You don't have to call. I told you I'm fine, and I'll probably go to bed early tonight. We can catch up when you get back to Philly."
He was silent a moment. "Give me back to Matt," he said briskly, and she wondered at his ability to switch back to business mode so abruptly.
"Okay, good luck with your meetings this weekend." She walked over to where Matt stood talking to the foreman and extended the phone.
"Mr. Faraday wants to talk to you again." After handing it over, she wasn't sure whether to stay where she was or if Matt would prefer she give him some privacy. She glanced at him and was surprised to see him studying her.
He looked away and started to pace. He moved further from her, his conversation with Gage low and muffled. He glanced in her direction several times. She reached up to make sure her hardhat wasn't on crooked. She glanced down, but didn't see anything obviously wrong with her suit.
Matt ended the call and walked back toward her, clipping the cell on his belt.
"I'm afraid we'll have to cut the tour short," he said with a casual air that made her wonder if she'd imagined he'd been scrutinizing her for the last several minutes. "Gage needs me to look into a security problem."
"Nothing serious, I hope."
"No," he assured her. "I've got to run over to see Grace so I'll drop you off at your office on the way."
"Oh, thanks, that's sweet, but I'm not going back to the office. I've got a bit of a headache, and I thought I'd just go home from here. I can grab a cab."
He hesitated. "No problem. I'll drop you off at your place."
Abby managed a smile. "You don't have to do that, Matt. It's out of your way."
He stuck his tongue in the corner of his mouth and glanced away. With a sigh he turned back to her. "Gage told me to make sure you got wherever you were going from here. If that means home, then that's the way I'm going."
She thought about protesting, but if she refused a ride, Gage would probably ream Matt out for not following orders. She put her hands on her hips and frowned.
"What about having to go see Grace?" she asked with an arched brow.
He smiled sheepishly. "I will be stopping by the office, but Gage asked me not to make it obvious he wanted me to look after you."
"I don't need looking after." She started to walk toward the site entrance. Matt caught up to her, and she glanced sideways at him. "You can tell him I said that."
He nodded. "You got it." She doubted it. His boss wanted him to babysit her, he'd babysit her. She felt too miserable to argue.
Between the cops, the reporters, and GFI's security team, there wouldn't be a parking spot to be had within three blocks of
Delancey Street this weekend. ~~~
"Do you have any idea what a spectacle you're making of yourself? Have you stopped once to think about the effect your behavior is having on your mother and me?"
Abby set her glass of water down and stared at her father across the kitchen table. She should have known better than to accept her mother's invitation to dinner with everything that was happening.
"Stop it, Walter. You're upsetting her."
"I'm upsetting her! I can't even hold my goddamn head up when I go into town. It was bad enough she caused a public scandal by driving Dick away. Now the police think she killed him. You'd think she'd have enough sense to lie low, but no, not our daughter."
Abby's father glared at her. "She has to jump into bed with that playboy and show all the world what a tramp
she is."
"I'm not a tramp." Abby shot back, coming out of her chair.
"Of course you're not," her mother said, rising as well. "Your father didn't mean that, He's just—"
"And I didn't drive Dick away!" Abby said, wanting to scream at him. "He cheated on me, Dad. He cheated on me!" She poked her chest.
"He wouldn't have strayed if you'd put a little effort into your marriage."
"Oh, is that what he told you? I can't believe this!" She pushed her hands through her hair. "He humiliated me. Doesn't that bother you? He was sleeping with other women even when we were together. He was the tramp."
Her mother put an arm around Abby's shoulder. She took a slow breath. "I can't believe you're defending him. Or are you more upset because you can no longer claim the senator's son for a son-in-law?" she asked, afraid she already knew the answer.
Her father narrowed his eyes. They'd never been close. Still, she'd convinced herself deep down he must care about her. Had she been fooling herself all along? Was his social standing really more important to him than she was? Please prove me wrong, Dad, she thought. Don't destroy what little love I've tried to salvage for you.
"I told that detective who called that you'd made up all that smut in your diary. Damn it girl, your husband hasn't even been dead a month, and you're creating another scandal throwing yourself at that bastard Faraday again. I should have pressed charges against him when I had the chance."
Abby started to shake. Her entire body vibrated with anger and disappointment.
"Walter, please," her mother said, "she's been through enough the last few weeks." She squeezed Abby's shoulder. "Why don't you sit back down and eat your dinner, sweetheart." She shot Abby's father a warning glance. "Walter, sit down and let's have dinner as a family."
"It's okay, mom," Abby said, "I have to go. I've got some work to catch up on tonight."
"But you only got here an hour ago, and you haven't eaten anything yet."
"Let her go. That's what she always does when she doesn't want to face up to things."
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