Ring of Truth

by Ciji Ware

  Kerry sat straighter in her chair. “Renato Montisi, if you are suggesting that I am merely withholding my favors, just to strike a good deal—”

  “Absolutely not!” he cut in. “I’m saying I need a partner like you... in my work... and in my life. If that scares you, I’m sorry... but you’ll just have to accept that’s how I feel.”

  “It does scare me a little. It’s only a week on Friday since I put on—”

  Ren looked puzzled at her non sequitur. “Put on what?”

  She hesitated to provide an answer. Did she really know Ren well enough, yet, to talk about the ring on her finger?

  “It’s nearly a week since I left New York,” she amended, “and met you the very same day. I can’t believe I’m living here... in such a beautiful place. I can’t believe... any of it. But here I am,” she said smiling at him with a rush of happiness she couldn’t deny to either of them. “It’s all been pretty amazing, don’t you think?”

  Ren leaned forward and seized both her hands in his, a look of relief spreading across his face.

  “What’s even more amazing is that I feel as if I’ve known you, always.”

  Kerry nodded. “It was if we recognized each other the moment we met. It’s absolutely crazy, isn’t it? No wonder it drove Sara bonkers. She sensed our connection, right from the first.”

  Just at that moment, she glanced out of Ren’s office window and spied his sister-in-law hauling a big suitcase across the gravel parking area. Sara yanked opened the trunk of her car and heaved in the piece of luggage, along with several other cases sitting nearby. Without a pause, she retraced her steps toward the building Kerry assumed was where she slept—and disappeared through its door.

  Clearly, she was leaving the ranch.

  Kerry’s mobile phone pinged. It was a text message from Tony.

  Call me asap

  Meanwhile, Sara had reappeared with another suitcase.

  “So she is actually leaving,” Kerry said, pointing out the window. “What about her family? Has she some place to go?”

  “Tahoe. Her parents grudgingly said she could stay in the house up there for a while and look for work at one of the hotels. I told her if she behaved herself for six months, I might write her a reference about her work here.”

  “You are a very decent man, Renato Montisi,” Kerry said quietly. “I actually feel very sad for her, but I’m glad you’re not giving her your recommendation right away.”

  Sara Lang was a totally confounding person, and before Kerry could detail for him what had been happening overnight on her blog, Ren said, “And, just for the record, I don’t give a flying fig about your stock options. Who knows, if in two years, they’ll even be worth the paper they’re printed on. I’ve seen a few IPOs get bad press right before they’ve gone on sale and then tank, big time. I hope you get that dough, but a lot can happen in the tech world in that time.”

  Kerry’s stomach clenched. What if Sara’s backhanded efforts not only screwed up her potential payday, but also diminished or sabotaged LifestyleXer’s IPO, itself?

  Ren seized her hand once more, forcing her thoughts back to the present.

  “Look, Kerry... who can tell what’s ahead for us after only knowing each other such a short time, but I want to say here and now that I will never, ever ask you for a penny of your money. You and I and the rest of the crew on this ranch are going to get this place onto solid ground by dint of our joint efforts, doing projects like your brilliant idea, just now, of using the second pressing to make olive oil and lavender-based cosmetics and beauty products.”

  “But what if that idea is a bust? There might be too much competition, or we can’t get the distribution, or—”

  “Look! You’re the one who said ‘Keep the faith.’ If we don’t succeed at this or some other idea we think up, I can go back to being a VC and you can run the ranch.”

  Kerry had a sudden thought. “But if Concetta gets wind you’ve gone back to Silicon Valley... she might decide to sell this place.”

  “She can’t.”

  “Of course she can!”

  “She’s already deeded the ranch to me. The week before last.”

  “She has?”

  “Concetta’s turning ninety-two this year. She and I had talked about how to arrange her affairs in her final years so she’d want for nothing. She insisted before the end of the tax year on putting me on the deed as co-owner with the right of survivorship. I told her to do it only on the condition I could make it pay enough to sustain her at the Towers. If I can’t, then we sell the place and put the proceeds to fund her living where she is.”

  “Ah, yes...” Kerry said with a smile, “you told me how she’s queen of the San Francisco Towers. But it’s super deluxe, right?”

  “Very. The Towers is practically next door to the Opera House, and she couldn’t be happier—and neither could I. I have her power-of-attorney and I decided last night that I won’t even tell her if I have to sell.”

  “You are truly a stand-up guy, Renato Montisi... especially given how hard it is to make a living as a rancher.”

  “Well, she raised me, remember. It’s the least I could do for her at this stage of her life. If everything goes south here, I can always carve out ten acres of the eight-hundred for ourselves, build a little house on them, and suit up as a Vulture Capitalist again.”

  Ren paused and pointed out his office window as the two of them watched Sara prepare to get into her car. Kerry hesitated for only a moment and then told Ren about the bizarre raft of negative postings that had suddenly plagued her blog.

  “Do you think I should confront Sara before she drives away?” Kerry said, rising from her chair and preparing to sprint out the door.

  Both Ren and a voice echoed in her head. “No... we need to get the facts before we make a serious accusation like that.”

  Kerry glanced down at the phone in her lap.

  “Oh, my God! I forgot! Tony just texted me. Maybe he has some news.”

  The cellphone only rang once before her call was answered.

  “Kerry? You won’t believe this.” She swiftly put her phone on speaker mode so Ren could hear Tony. “My tech buddies had a hell of a time last night, but guess who they finally think were responsible for those nasty-grams?”

  “Sara Lang,” Kerry pronounced with a sinking heart, watching Sara’s car roll across the parking lot and head down the drive.

  “No!” Tony lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “We think it has to be Charlie Miller and Beverly Silverstein!”

  Kerry could only stare, open-mouthed, at Ren whose expression told her he wasn’t particularly surprised to hear this.

  Tony continued, “My guys traced the IP addresses all back to LifeStyleXer, though the names of the supposed commentators are all bogus.”

  “Then how can we prove it’s Charlie and Beverly?”

  “Well here’s the weird thing. Both of them posted some positive comments from their own email addresses at the company... probably to cover their tracks. With Beverly’s supposedly nice posts, she used the Safari browser to access the Internet... but Miller apparently posted both his real and bogus comments using an obscure browser called ‘Bark.’”

  “You mean he didn’t use Chrome or Safari?” Ren cut in.

  “Right. The nice comments he made under his own name, and the nasty ones you saw on your site, both were posted via the same, weird browser, Bark,” he reiterated.

  Kerry turned to Ren. “Bark was founded by a fellow tech pal of Charlie’s. It’s never really caught on. He’s the only person I know who still uses it.”

  Tony chimed in, “It’s just circumstantial evidence, but it’s pretty strong.”

  “As they say in the crime shows,” Ren commented dryly, “both those two had ‘motive, means, and opportunity,’ plus—apparently—Bark.”

  Tony said, “I had the guys make printouts of what they’d tracked back to Bark, but get your fanny back to town. This is pretty explosive stuff, and
I don’t want any of us to get nicked by the shrapnel.”

  “We’ll be there within the hour,” Ren announced. To Kerry he said, “C’mon... let’s go! I’ll ride shotgun.”

  Kerry nodded, jumping up from her chair. To Tony on her cellphone she said, “You are way more than Salad Man, Mr. Perez... and trust me, I won’t forget this.”

  “How about someday making me a sous chef to your sous chef, as long as it’s not working with that nut job I met yesterday.”

  Kerry glanced out of the window just as Sara Lang’s car disappeared from view.

  “No worries on that score,” she said, pointing silently out the window for Ren’s benefit. “In fact, we need to bring you back with us to help with a bunch of cosmetic tycoons visiting the ranch late this afternoon. See you soon, and please... put those printouts somewhere safe, will you? Meet you in the cafeteria.”

  Chapter Nine

  Forty-five minutes later, Ren nosed the Mercedes into a parking spot in the subterranean garage of LifestyleXer’s office building on Howard Street. He and Kerry sprinted toward the elevators that would take them to the company cafeteria. They froze at the door. Beverly and Charlie were sitting together in front of a laptop at a table for two at the far side of the large room.

  “Looks like they’re still at it,” Ren said in a low, angry voice. He whipped out his cellphone and snapped a picture of them huddled over the portable computer, instant messaging the image to Kerry’s phone.

  “Yeah, busy trying to torpedo yours truly, her blog posts, and—ultimately—her payday,” she whispered back.

  Fortunately, the pair was so absorbed in what they were doing that they never looked up. Behind his salad-making station, Tony glanced in both directions before he handed Kerry a file folder.

  “It’s all in there,” he said in a hoarse whisper, handing her the evidence which Kerry clutched to her bosom.

  “Let’s get out of here before they see us!” Ren urged, and soon the two were back in the elevator riding up to the CEO’s floor.

  When they arrived at Harry Chapman’s office, his administrative assistant’s chair was empty but, fortunately, Kerry’s boss was at his desk, a plate with a sandwich and potato chips sitting beside his computer screen. Ren waited just outside the door as Kerry gave a quick knock and apologized for the interruption. As succinctly as she could, she described what had been happening to her blog posts.

  Chapman’s expression grew grave as he studied the printout detailing the raft of negative, damaging comments on her site, along with the circumstantial evidence tracing them back to the company’s email server. Kerry explained Charlie’s connection to the founder of the obscure browser called Bark.

  “Mr. Chapman, you can bet not many people here use that browser to access the Internet or LifeStyleXer email accounts,” she pointed out, handing him her cellphone. “Here’s a picture taken of them huddled over Charlie’s laptop in the cafeteria less than ten minutes ago. Since both the complimentary posts Charlie made—as well as the derogatory comments I think he and Beverly conspired together to make—used Bark to access the Internet, we can check the time codes on this picture of Beverly and Charlie and compare it to the time codes of the latest nasty-grams sent ten minutes ago and see if they match up. It’s got to be them!”

  Kerry could tell LifeStyleXer’s CEO had begun to do a slow burn.

  “This pre-IPO period is a highly sensitive time. If it got out that company insiders were sabotaging your success as one of our most popular bloggers, the media blow-back could possibly diminish our chances for having a successful public offering—to say nothing of damaging you professionally and financially.”

  Kerry merely nodded, wondering what he would—or could—do about it. Chapman once again flipped through the pages that Tony’s team of techies had provided.

  “Isn’t this at least some sort of professional malfeasance?” she asked. “I agree... it would be terrible if your board or the public knew that one of your vice presidents was doing something like this.”

  “What I don’t understand is why would two of our own employees stoop to this?”

  The previous, sleepless night, Kerry had closely compared her previous contract with her revised version Chapman had approved.

  “My new contract with you merely changed the terms of my service, but all other paragraphs regarding Charlie’s redefined deal remained the same, except for the fact Charlie was to assume responsibility for managing the team of bloggers you plan to hire.” She gave a shrug. “I hate to say it, Mr. Chapman... but keeping track of ten bloggers, their twice-daily posts, and the paperwork involved in shepherding and paying so many independent contractors was going to be a lot of work—-and from my experience, actual daily assignments are not for our Charlie Boy. I think he was totally pissed off that I renegotiated my deal and he got stuck with more work than he bargained for... and I think wanted to punish me.” She hesitated and then added, “And since my contract still says if my supervisor—who, right now, is Beverly Silverstein—doesn’t find my work up to par, I can be fired at any time.” She pointed to herself. “I was the old girlfriend, so why wouldn’t she want to be in on this, too?”

  It was plain from the scowl on Harry Chapman’s face that he agreed that the circumstantial evidence against the two was convincing. “Neither Ms. Silverstein nor Mr. Miller apparently bothered to consider that hurting the CookChic blog could impact the overall health of our company,” he fumed.

  “So what happens next?”

  “Well, I won’t even ask how you came by these persuasive printouts, Ms. Hannigan, but the deal between you and me still stands. I will order the site administrator to remove all spurious comments from your blog site immediately and post a disclosure that those entries were bogus and apologize to you publicly. As long as you keep up your fine work, I’m certain that you’ll meet the requirements of our recent arrangement.”

  “And what about Charlie and—?”

  “They’re history.” He gathered the paper evidence into a neat stack. “HR will let them know they have to be out of the building within the hour.”

  “But even if you fire them,” Kerry protested, “they can still try more dirty cyber tricks from outside the company if they have the right tech connections.”

  The CEO slowly shook his head.

  “I think that reminding them I will personally set up an electronic watch system over your blog from here on out will greatly discourage them from making any more mischief for the rest of their miserable lives!”

  “I hope so,” Kerry replied, doubtfully.

  Harry Chapman chuckled. “I’ll also tell them that one more wrong move might open them to federal prosecution for playing nasty little games like this on the World Wide Web. Maybe they’ll believe it.”

  ***

  Ren and Kerry—with Tony due to arrive after his shift at the cafeteria—returned to the ranch later than they’d hoped, by which time Jeremy looked as if he were about to keel over.

  “Rest right there!” Ren commanded, pointing to the leather couch.

  Kerry apologized for their tardy arrival, especially considering the fact that the cosmetic contingent was due in less than an hour.

  “Jeremy, you’ve done the lion’s share of the prep, so why don’t you just supervise from right there and tell me what to do next,” she urged.

  The chef nodded gratefully and stretched out, sipping water with a slice of lemon floating in it. After a half hour, he admitted he still wasn’t feeling particularly well, and Ren insisted he retire to his room.

  Between those assembled in the kitchen, including the faithful José, along with Tony Perez, the four worked together as a well-coordinated team. Fortunately, the visitors were fifteen minutes late in arriving and Kerry was relieved that the spread of tapas-like hors d’oeuvres—where every dish made use of Montisi olive oil in some fashion—was both simple to make and a tremendous success. Ren served both as wait staff and the gracious host, insisting that Kerry accom
pany him to receive kudos from their guests.

  After the group had departed for their dinner in Healdsburg, Tony returned to the city and José tackled the few cleanup chores left. Ren untied Kerry’s chef’s apron from behind her back and hung it on a hook next to several others. He took her by the hand and opened the screen door, leading her into the chilly December air, his arm firmly slung around her shoulders as they made their way up the slope to her cottage.

  When they reached the front step, Ren turned and pulled her hard against him. The temperatures were dropping and Kerry burrowed into his chest.

  “Mmmm... you feel wonderful,” she murmured.

  Ren’s arms tightened around her. “I like this: pleasure and business! You’ll be pleased to know that the president of the Organic Cosmetic and Beauty Products Association was intrigued by what he saw here and told me tonight that he’d make introductions, once we have our prototype products ready.”

  “That’s wonderful...” Kerry murmured, reveling in the feel of Ren’s chin resting on the top of her head. She heard him chuckle.

  “All day long, I couldn’t get the vision out of my mind of you in a bathtub full of Montisi lavender bubble bath.” He began to kiss a path from her ear down to her neck, whispering, “When we make some of this stuff, I hope you’ll let me rub—”

  Kerry glanced at her right hand, her palms flat against Ren’s chest. The ring’s stone glowed like a strong and steady beacon. Then she wrapped her arms around Ren’s torso and snuggled, again, against his shoulder. An amazing sense of the rightness in every single aspect of her life settled over her.

  Ren seized her hands from behind his back.

  “Let’s go inside or the staff will be gossiping, big time, if they see us making out like this on your front porch.”

  “Oh, I expect it’s far too late to worry about that.”

  He turned and opened the front door, pulling her gently inside. “Even so... this is better,” he said, replacing her arms where they’d been around his waist.

  “Oh, yes...”

  The cottage’s front room was in shadow, with the drapes only half open and to Kerry, it felt as if they were wrapped in their own private cocoon. His hands roamed her back, pressing the length of her body against his, offering clear evidence of his rising ardor. Then he bent down and seized her lips as Kerry felt her ring finger begin to throb, along with other parts of her anatomy.