But immediately, she stepped back. Away.
It was only an instant, but she thought she could hear Jude's heart, beating, beating on without her as she stood there looking up at him, knowing that this was probably good-bye to their old relationship. She couldn't fool herself into believing she'd be able to go on confiding everything in him, not after he married Rebecca.
Sadly she realized that it was probably for the best, letting him go, distancing herself from him, freeing them both to go on with their lives. Years of old friendship didn't give her a claim on Jude or the right to make him feel obligated in any way—or guilty for cutting her loose. But he was standing so close, and she wished she could put her hands on his chest and lean her head there, just for a moment so she could breathe him in one last time and then freeze that moment in her heart.
No one else could ever take his place, she knew. But if she could remember this moment as years passed, she'd at least have the memory to call it up when she was down.
The effort of stepping back, pulling herself away from Jude, took all of her strength. And it didn't surprise her when Jude let her go. He was Rebecca's now. So she planted a smile on her face, turned, and walked through the door, down the steps, and opened the gate. He still watched as she started the car and drove away, she knew, and she hoped that, to some small extent, he understood.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Monday dawned bleak and gray. Drizzle fell, though not enough for a good, cleansing rain. Just enough to jam up traffic as Amalise drove to work, still half asleep. She'd worked on the purchase agreements for hours after leaving Jude's house the previous night, and there were still plenty left to be completed before the Wednesday closing.
When she walked in at 7:30, Ashley Elizabeth was already at her desk. Amalise managed to hide her surprise. In her office she found the revised wire transfer memorandum that she'd left to be typed and proofed the night before. She took it out to Ashley Elizabeth and asked her to take it to Doug and Preston for their review and to let them know she'd wait to hear from them before sending it on to Bingham and his group.
"And we'd better book someone to work this desk tonight, Ashley Elizabeth. Whoever it is will be working late."
"I'll stay," she replied, handing Amalise a telephone message slip. "It will be easier for you that way. I know this is a big transaction."
Amalise stared. Ashley Elizabeth never worked overtime—that had been their understanding for two years. "Well, thanks," she said, smiling.
"We're a team."
Amalise looked at her and nodded. Gaining her secretary's trust had taken two years. Ashley Elizabeth had never worked for a woman before, and Amalise understood how she felt. She remembered the look on her mother's face the day she announced she wanted to be a lawyer like Dad. That had become Mama's dream as well as hers, for Mama had never had the choice. Not for college. Not for earning her own money. Not to live on her own, independent and free.
An hour later Amalise was in the conference room with Raymond and Rebecca reviewing the status of documents to be signed on Wednesday. There were seventeen principal agreements to be executed, fifteen copies each.
Raymond's eyes ran down the list. "Wire transfer memorandum?" He raised his eyes to Amalise.
"Doug and Preston are reviewing it."
"Investor agreement?"
"Richard Murray's working on that in New York. Haven't heard from him yet this morning."
Raymond looked at her. "Well, they're an hour ahead of us. Get on it. Call and push him. Let him know we're waiting."
Rebecca grinned.
Amalise hid her smile as she made a note on her legal pad.
He turned to Rebecca. "Check those new revisions to the bank loan agreement from our conference call yesterday. It should be ready by now. If so, go ahead and fax it around to the syndicate." Rebecca nodded.
Amalise looked up. Conference call? What call?
Raymond went on, his full attention on Rebecca. "We'll give them time to review the changes, but we need their sign-offs to complete it. Set up another call this afternoon for that purpose—that'll give them a deadline, keep things moving."
Rebecca nodded. She reached across Raymond for a copy of the agreement.
Amalise leaned on her elbows and rested her chin on her hands, watching Raymond and Rebecca. It sounded as though she'd been excluded from something big.
"If we can get that done, we'll have jumped one hurdle."
Rebecca stuck her pencil over her ear. "That would be nice. I'll get on it."
He swiveled back to Amalise. "What about the Cayman banks?"
Cayman Trust was the bank issuing the letter of credit. The other, Banc Franck, was a Swiss bank in Cayman holding the company's offshore account. "They're set. Cayman Trust is ready with the letter of credit."
"Good. Are you comfortable with the language?"
"Yes. The banks have all signed off."
He looked down at his checklist. "I'll handle the rest, here. Go harass Richard Murray." His eyes swung from Amalise to Rebecca. "Both of you, I know the purchase agreements are boring work, and I know you've got a lot on your plate, but don't forget they've got to be finished by tomorrow night. Robert insists on having them on the closing table. I wouldn't put it past him to hold things up if they're not. Understand?"
"Right." Looking at Amalise, Rebecca wrinkled her nose.
She smiled at Rebecca and pushed back from the table. "No problem. I'll go call Richard Murray."
Raymond nodded as he lowered himself into a chair and began reading.
Rebecca looked up at Amalise. "Say hello to Dick for me."
Preston blew into the room and made a beeline for the coffee pot. "Good morning, campers!" he said in a cheery tone.
Amalise waved and headed for her office.
She left several messages for Richard Murray with no response. Once she returned to the conference room, the morning passed quickly, as time always did leading up to a closing. With the exception of Robert, who watched the proceedings as expressionless as the Swiss Guard, the room was a flurry of activity. Clients and lawyers appeared and disappeared, slipping in and out of the fray. Amalise raced between her office and the conference room, with the occasional side trip to the typing pool upstairs, shuttling documents for review, making changes to provisions, and shepherding them through the process.
When the group broke for lunch, she hurried back to her office once more. Ashley Elizabeth waylaid her to say that Mr. Murray's secretary was on the line. She took the armload of documents from Amalise and followed her into the office.
Amalise picked up the telephone and pressed the flashing button. "This is Amalise Catoir."
"Please hold for Mr. Murray."
Amalise frowned and pursed her lips as the phone clicked on hold. She covered the receiver with her hand and made a face at Ashley Elizabeth. "Amalise here, holding for Mister Murray." With raised brows, Ashley Elizabeth put the stack of documents down on Amalise's desk, folded her arms, and stood waiting.
A minute passed, then two. Amalise looked at Ashley Elizabeth and shrugged. Another minute and she glanced at her watch, pressed her lips together, and shifted her weight, leaning back against the credenza. Her eyes roamed past her secretary, over the bookcase, and through the window at the sun's reflection on the glass across the street. A few more minutes passed. At last, with a shake of her head she slammed down the phone.
"I just don't have time for this."
"Whose time is more valuable?"
Amalise smiled.
"Right. Do what you need to do. I'll handle this." Ashley Elizabeth picked up the phone and dialed. She placed the call on the speaker.
Amalise sat at her desk and pulled the documents from the conference room close to her and began drafting provisions to secure the banks'
loans with every dollar in Lone Ranger's U.S. bank accounts. She had to finish this work quickly so she could get back to the purchase agreements.
The sound from the speaker of the phone ringing on the other end jarred her. One ring. Two.
"Mr. Murray's office." The voice came through the speaker like caramel cream.
Ashley Elizabeth modulated her voice to a lower key. Amalise sighed, straightened, put down the pencil, and turned just as her secretary said, with no vestige of that Southern accent at all, "I believe we were cut off. I have Miss Catoir on the line for Dick . . . ah, Richard Murray."
Amalise blinked.
"Excuse me?" The voice took on a combative tone.
Ashley Elizabeth repeated the request. "Mr. Richard Murray, please."
"And who shall I say is calling?"
"Amalise Catoir, Mangen & Morris."
"Oh." Amalise detected some confusion in the voice. "Just one moment please." The call was put on hold.
Ashley Elizabeth perched on the edge of the credenza, examining her newly manicured nails.
Amalise continued working, writing and turning pages. Several minutes passed before Richard finally barked over the phone, "What do you want?"
Ashley Elizabeth's feet hit the floor, but her tone when she answered was casual and cool. "Oh, yes. Richard," she said. "I'll tell Miss Catoir you're on the line. Hold just a moment, please."
"What the—?"
Ashley Elizabeth pressed the hold button. She grinned. "Miss Catoir, Richard Murray's on the line, but if I were you, I'd let him wait."
Amalise smiled, and Ashley Elizabeth's eyes danced. Amalise shook her head sadly and held out her hand. "Gotta do it."
With a frown, Ashley Elizabeth picked up the receiver and handed her the phone.
Amalise pressed down the flashing button. "Richard," she said. "I'm calling about the investor agreement. Everyone's waiting. Your time's up." She winked.
"You'll get it when it's ready."
Ashley Elizabeth circled her thumb and forefinger and left.
Amalise tilted her head back and examined the ceiling. "Well, I'd certainly hate to have to return to the conference room with that message. Bingham, Tom, Robert, the whole group—they're all waiting for it."
"You'll get it when I'm finished."
"And when shall I say that will be?" She stretched one arm out and spread her fingers, thinking of Ashley Elizabeth's shell-pink nails. She really should do something about her own.
Richard Murray went silent, and she remembered how he'd held on all day, pressing her, with that hold light blinking behind her.
"Listen," she said, dropping her hand onto the armrest. "I've been asked to pass on the message that everyone's waiting on you and they're getting irritable. You've now received the message. Call me when you're ready to fax it, so I can pass on the good news."
She pressed the button, and he was gone.
Amalise hung up the phone and swung around to the desk, smiling. For a short time the boxes of trouble jammed in her mental warehouse receded and, focusing instead on the provisions she'd been writing, she picked up the pencil and went back to work.
Richard Murray's investor agreement arrived by fax around 3:00. Amalise had copies made and took them to the conference room where the lawyers were all still at work. Robert and Tom disappeared into the small conference room with their copies. Bingham had returned to the hotel, so Amalise had his copy delivered to his suite, along with the approved wire transfer memorandum.
For an hour she worked with Raymond, Preston, Rebecca, Adam Grayson, and the mostly silent team of Steve Hendrick and Lars Elliot, who had returned for the closing. Steve and Lars paged their way through the investor agreement, parsing through provisions that had elicited the most extensive negotiations. The room was hot and filled with smoke. Tempers were frayed, as everyone was feeling the pressure of the impending deadline. Leftovers from lunch desecrated the credenza, along with crumpled napkins, plastic forks, paper plates with half-eaten sandwiches, cookies, and bags of chips. The cans of Tab in the ice bucket now floated in water, while the few remaining Coca-Colas were submerged.
At five o'clock Raymond's secretary pushed through the conference room door with a cart for the leftover food, and Robert came in behind her. Amalise looked up, and he caught her eye. He stood just inside the door, unsmiling, and crooked his finger. When she didn't move, he jerked his head in the direction of the small conference room and said he'd like to see her down the hall. Before she could catch her breath, he was gone.
"What was that about?" Rebecca asked her with a quizzical look. No one else had seemed to notice.
Amalise's limbs turned liquid. Muscles tightened in her shoulders and the back of her neck. They knew. She placed her hands on the table and pushed up, feeling unsteady. "I don't know," she said, surprised to hear that her voice was steady. She looked about, wondering if this was indeed the end. Had she really been complaining to herself about the disheveled room and the heat and the smoke a few minutes ago? In that moment she hated Robert Black.
Rebecca's tone was caustic. "Now we know where Richard Murray learned his social skills."
"If I'm not back in ten minutes, call the cops." Amalise smoothed the front of her skirt while seconds turned into a minute, and then, tucking her hair back behind her ear, she headed for the door.
"Amalise," Raymond called out, "where are those certificates from Cayman? I've looked everywhere."
Glad for the momentary reprieve, she picked them up from the table. "Right here," she said, handing him the certificates that bore ornate gold seals verifying Lone Ranger's business status in Cayman. As she handed them to Raymond, she wondered if this was the last time she'd be allowed inside this conference room.
Possibilities raced through her mind as she walked out the door, but she could think of no answer to the question. How could they know?
She stood outside the door of the small conference room looking at it. Then she took a deep breath and pushed it open. Robert Black was sitting in a chair on the other side of the oblong table, facing the door, hands in his lap, angled slightly away from the table so that she could see his legs were crossed.
Pulling out a chair, she sat without saying anything.
Robert turned his wrist, checked his watch.
She still said nothing.
He looked at her as a moray eel might watch its prey from a cave on the ocean floor. After a moment he shifted the chair and slowly lifted his hands to the table. He observed his hands for a moment, then lifted his chin and smiled. "You've been a busy girl," he said in that cold, dispassionate tone.
She waited in silence as he rubbed his thumbnail.
"I took a look at your new house yesterday." He nodded. "Very nice."
She shivered but held steady. "Thank you."
"New, I understand. You just closed on it, what, a few days ago?"
"No. One month."
He looked up, brows arched. "Not that one. The other one. The one on Kerlerec Street."
Her heart swooped, and her stomach plunged. She sat very still.
His eyes roamed past her and beyond. "I asked myself why you would buy a second home, a young associate like you. What do you need with two houses, I wondered." His hands stilled. "The one on Broadway's nice. Only one bath though. That's a handicap."
She leaned forward. "How do you know that?"
He smiled. "I know much more than that, Miss Catoir." In the pause the air around him seemed to hiss. "For instance, I know how much you care about that family living in the house you bought on Kerlerec. And the Asian boy." He pursed his lips. "Nice-looking kid. Unique. A kid you'd spot in a crowd."
At times when Phillip had been at his worst, her hands would tremble, and then the trembling would move up into her arms, into her shoulders,
into her jaw so that it was difficult to even talk. The same trembling began now. It started in her fingers and ran up her arms. She sat there silent, gripping the chair. Watching him and waiting.
"And I know how dangerous those old houses can be. Fire hazards, all of them." He shook his head sadly. "Lucky thing the ones in Marigny are coming down. You take an old frame house like that, drafty, with that dried-out wood, and you add one of those space heaters?" His eyes flicked to her, and she fought to veil her thoughts. Had she seen space heaters in the house? Probably.
"And those gas pipes running under the floors." He cocked his head. "Yeah, we looked. They're liable to crack without warning on a cold night." He jabbed out his lower lip. "Fumes hit a space heater, and the whole place goes up in flames. Two-story house?" He spread his hands. "No time to get out."
"Is that a threat?" She half rose from the chair, knees bent, hands on the table to steady her. "How dare you?"
He waved his hand in an airy manner. "Sit down, Miss Catoir. This is a conversation, not a threat." He propped his elbows on the table and linked his hands. Resting his chin on his hands, he studied her for an instant. "But you might want to give some thought to listening, given your attachment to the boy."
Eyes riveted on his, she lowered herself into the chair again.
"Now, I'm just wondering out loud here. Expressing legitimate concerns." He gazed at her, his eyes half closed. "Your house on Broadway's got the same problem. Just like the one on Kerlerec. You've bought yourself a pair of firetraps—they don't seem like good investments to me." His lips stretched across his teeth in a tight smile.
She willed the trembling to stop. Set her jaw, held her eyes on him, and stood. She spoke slowly, carefully. "If you touch so much as a hair on that child's head, or anyone in that family, you'll regret it."
Chasing the Wind Page 26