by Lynne Norris
The Light of Day
Copyright © 2017 by Lynne Norris
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Other Titles from Lynne Norris
About the Author
Visit Us On Line
The Light of Day
by
Lynne Norris
Yellow Rose Books
by Regal Crest
Tennessee
Copyright © 2017 by Lynne Norris
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Print ISBN 978-1-61929-338-0
eBook ISBN 978-1-61929-339-7
First Printing 2017
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Cover design by Acorn Graphics
Published by:
Regal Crest Enterprises
1042 Mount Lebanon Rd
Maryville, TN 37804
Find us on the World Wide Web at http://www.regalcrest.biz
Published in the United States of America
Acknowledgments
Thanks to the great team at Regal Crest Enterprises, especially Patty and Mary, for the time and energy they invested in the editing process.
Dedication
To Catherine and Zach because life has a way of throwing curve balls when you least expect it.
Chapter One
EMMA CHAMBERLAIN STOOD in her fortieth floor office on State Street at the Southern tip of the borough of Manhattan gazing out the window. She looked out at Battery Park and the magnificent waterfront views of the Hudson River. Ferries filled with tourists crossed the water bringing them to the Statue of Liberty. The ships’ passage created wake lines in the shape of rippled V’s. Sunlight cast an orange glow across the feathery wavelets.
She always marveled at the copper statue and found it awe-inspiring even from this distance. Emma didn’t want to turn away from it. If she didn’t, she could pretend for another minute that she would see this view tomorrow and the next day, everything would remain the same, just like it had for the past fifteen years. The power lunches, leveraged market bets that paid out high rewards and legendary Wall Street bonuses would still be the privileged world she lived and traveled in.
Emma recalled graduating from Brown University when she was twenty-two. Her senior year, she landed an internship with SMB Capital and they hired her before she received her diploma, with a double major in economics and business management. Early on it wasn’t lost on her in the overheard snatches of conversation that took place in copy rooms and water coolers that she’d been hired because of her good looks. She was a blend of her father’s Nordic heritage and her mother’s southern Mediterranean looks. She was tall and slender with chestnut hair and hazel eyes. Chameleon eyes her mother called them because the color of her irises changed with her moods.
An occasional voice from the hallway drew her attention away from the water below. She struggled to ignore them wanting only to bask in the sense of peace she found looking out at the scenery. People were leaving and saying goodbye to co-workers. Some were tearful, others defiant and angry at the inexplicable and unexpected turn of events. She didn’t want to take part in any of the farewells. There was nothing good about them at all. Only bad because every one of her colleagues would be competing against the other to find a job, any job to keep their homes, dreams and families intact.
Emma ignored the white cardboard box with the brown lid sitting in the middle of her desk. All of the employees were leaving with one. Today, the box was her scarlet letter. She felt ashamed, yet she’d done nothing wrong.
Fifteen years of her life working at SMB Capital reduced to one cardboard box containing a few personal belongings. The market collapse she witnessed was stunning in its breadth and scope. It made the 2008 market downdraft look like a walk in the park.
The first shot across the bow came on January seventeenth with the Swiss National Bank’s decision to unpeg the franc from the euro. The immediate and volatile strengthening of the Swiss currency had tremendous repercussions, crushing every single hedge fund with a short position against the franc. In April, Greece defaulted on its debt exposing Europe’s massively undercapitalized banks to counter-party risk.
The next domino to fall was BF International. The brokerage house had massive exposure to European sovereign junk debt and was unable to meet its collateral calls when its leveraged bet moved against them. As BFI imploded they made a bad situation worse by freezing customer accounts while the market continued to trade against them. People panicked when they couldn’t access their money. The bull market equity bubble had found its pin.
Still, the overbought and overvalued stock market continued to surge higher. It was driven by speculators and the Fed printing money to sustain the artificially propped up markets. There was a frenzied carnival like atmosphere leading to the market top.
Emma wished she trusted her instincts and pulled her clients’ money out of the markets. As a junior partner, her opinions didn’t carry the weight of her senior counterparts and the word passed down through the ranks was to keep SMB’s clients fully invested. At her own peril she believed Wall Streets’, “this time is different,” hype. Her colleagues laughed at her pessimism telling her it was “preposterous” when in a meeting she questioned whether the market resembled those preceding the 1929 market crash. She allowed herself to be talked out of her convictions and ended up watching the full-blown market collapse, helpless to get her clients’ money out. It was a rapid and brutal descent into financial hell.
Brokerages were laying off employees in droves and some like Emma’s firm had simply lost too much and were closing their doors altogether. The fragile economy, financial and social systems already under stress were cracking under the strain. The biggest transfer of wealth was underway and with it the dreams and aspirations of middle class America were going up in smoke.
“I’m sorry Ms. Chamberlain. I can’t give you more time,” Andrew said from the doorway of her office. Andrew was lean with freckles and curly red hair. A recent hire into the human resources department, Emma couldn’t help but wonder if he was hired specifically to manage the layoffs that were in process today. Full of impotent anger, Emma whirled around. “Did you know this was coming?”
Andrew’s face blanched. “What? No, I’m just a temp.”
“Right. Sorry. I just want to look out at the scenery one last time. Don’t know if I’ll ever get the opportunity to see it like this again.” Emma turned away from the window fighting back tears. She wanted to pick up something heavy, preferably glass and smash it.
Emma’s computer screen was nothing but a sea of red. It made her nauseous to look at it. She logged out and shut it down for the very last time. Part of her wanted desperately to stay, but there was nothing here for her to do anymore. Nothing she was allowed to do. All her access codes had been deactivated. Only the senior partners would stay on to help wind down the company as it went through the bankruptcy procee
dings.
Emma picked up her cardboard box and, with one last backward glance at the picturesque scene outside the window, left her office. Her stomach did flips as she walked down the hallway acutely aware of Andrew’s presence beside her. She passed by empty offices, some littered with papers. She wished she would wake up from this nightmare. At the elevator she jabbed the button for the lobby.
A tumult of emotions hammered away inside her. The pendulum swung from extremes of shock, anger, and self-recrimination to panic and back again. She’d seen the signs, but somehow managed to convince herself she’d be safe, that this chaos would miraculously pass her by and leave her and her clients unscathed. How arrogant she’d been. She punched the elevator button again wanting nothing more than to escape unseen.
“I’m good from here, Andrew. You don’t have to come with me.”
“It’s company policy, Ms. Chamberlain. I have to.”
“Of course you do.” Emma shook her head at the indignity. “This morning I was a valued employee and this afternoon I’m not trusted to walk out alone.”
“Emma. Wait for me.” Balding, with a paunch at his midriff and wearing round spectacles, Tom Elliot looked older than his thirty-seven years as he approached from down the hall.
Emma’s heart clenched when she saw him. Tom was a junior partner with a wife and two kids. He frequently worked eighty hours a week like Emma and if he was lucky saw his kids on the weekends. He lived across the river in New Jersey. She forgot which town, but knew it was one close to the railroad. Tom took the Midtown direct to Penn Station and hopped on the subway to get to the financial district every day.
“You heading out?” he asked looking disheveled and pale.
Emma wondered if she looked as shell-shocked as he did. She knew in her gut there were layoffs coming. None of them guessed when their CFO called an emergency meeting two o’clock Monday afternoon it was to tell them the company was closing its doors.
“No reason left to stay,” Emma said shifting the box in her arms. “What is taking this elevator so long? I just want to get the hell out of here.”
“The entire commodity index is cratering,” Tom said, his voice sounding panicked. “People are selling everything to get their hands on cash.”
“The brokerage firms have to raise money to make their margin calls. That’s what happened to us. The company couldn’t raise the collateral when the tide turned and they got wiped out.” Emma was aware of Andrew standing off to her left listening intently to their conversation.
“I thought that’s what the circuit breakers were supposed to prevent,” Tom said.
“Ha! When you’re leveraged thirty-to-one on your balance sheets and the only direction the market is moving is down it doesn’t matter how many times the exchanges stopped trading. It’s just like 2008 all over again, only worse.”
“Jesus. I can’t bring myself to tell Cheryl how much we lost in our account.” His hand trembled as he adjusted his glasses.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Cheryl’s frantic. She’s texted me half a dozen times since I called her. One minute she’s talking about putting the house on the market and the next she’s ordering some shit from Amazon for the kids. What about you?”
Emma shrugged. “I’d send out resumes, but I wouldn’t know who the hell to send them to. Everyone’s laying off or closing their doors.”
“Do you have family around?” Tom asked.
Emma always kept her personal and professional life separate. She’d worked hard to keep it that way, but now, as she walked onto the elevator with Tom, those efforts left her feeling isolated and lonely.
“My family is originally from western Massachusetts.”
“No one here?”
“A few friends.” Which was true. Emma’s parents divorced when she was in high school. They’d both gone on with their lives becoming absentee parents through her college days. When her father died a few years ago he left her the small cottage the family vacationed at in western Massachusetts. She had a realtor rent it out for her and had seldom visited the place since his funeral. Until recently it had been a passive stream of income for her. One she’d taken for granted until now.
“It might not be a bad time for you to get out of the city for awhile. Things aren’t likely to get any better soon.”
Ripe with resentment, Emma joked, “It’s not like I have to worry about showing up for work tomorrow.” She tried to sound like everything was all right when it was the farthest thing from the truth.
“This can’t last forever, right?” Tom said as he stepped off the elevator into the lobby on the ground floor. There was an awkward silence between them as the only thing that bound them together, their work, had disintegrated around them in a few short chaotic hours.
“It’ll blow over,” Emma assured him, trying to sound confident even though her world felt like it had fallen off its axis. Emma set her box on the ground and dug her phone out of her shoulder bag. “Put your number in my phone.” Tom obliged and handed it back to her.
Emma typed his name in and rang his number. “There. Now you have mine. Keep in touch with me. Let me know what’s going on.” She had no idea if he would, but the action made her feel connected to him nonetheless.
“I will.” Tom shifted his box over to his left arm and shook Emma’s hand. “Good luck.”
“You too, Tom.” Emma watched him walk toward the subway and wondered briefly if their paths would cross again. Unexpectedly, a well of loneliness and loss opened up inside her. It threatened to swallow her whole. Emma sucked in a ragged breath and fought back tears before she stepped out into the cauldron of bodies barreling past on the sidewalk. Normally immune to the sights and smells of the city, Emma found the scene jarring to her senses.
The smell of burnt pretzels mingled with dirty water dogs from the rat carts and cigarette smoke assaulted her. There was an endless chatter of voices. The cacophony of horns, engines accelerating when the lights changed and deliverymen pedaling by at reckless speeds, overwhelmed her normally hardened impervious attitude.
She ducked and weaved around the throngs of people, got bumped once and jostled aside a second time. Ordinarily, Emma would have made the sixteen-minute walk north on Broadway to her luxury apartment on Ann Street. Today carrying her cardboard box she was clearly off her game and didn’t have the energy or the inclination to make the trek.
Emma staked her claim at the edge of the sidewalk and jammed her arm into the air making eye contact with the first yellow cab that veered in her direction. She jerked open the door and scrambled into the back seat. Her nerves felt on fire like they were dancing on her skin. She barked out the address, leaned back against the vinyl seat and closed her eyes, grateful for the silence and to be heading home. Her phone trilled in her pocket and she pulled it out.
“Oh no, I can’t talk to you now, Mom,” she said when she saw her mother’s name on the display. Emma declined the call and slid the phone back into her pocket and closed her eyes. Right now she wanted nothing other than to be home in the quiet solitude of her apartment.
Chapter Two
EMMA SHARED HER home with Kate McCrory, her partner for the last nine years. Emma met Kate at the Black Hound Bar during one of her client lunches. There was an immediate attraction between the two women and Emma could still remember being captured by those emerald green eyes and the overriding impulse of wanting to know Kate better.
She had no idea what she was going to do now that she lost her job, along with thousands of other employees in the financial industry. Much of her money was tied up in SMB Capital or her 401k, which meant it was essentially gone. Kate wasn’t in any better of a position. She tended bar at one of the upscale restaurants along South Street Seaport. It helped to supplement the proceeds she made from selling her paintings in one of the gallery’s across town. Business at the restaurant would tail off and with it a substantial amount of Kate’s income would too.
Before Emma knew it, the cab driver pulled over in front of her apartment building and stopped the meter. She handed him a ten.
“Change?”
“No,” Emma said as she climbed out and pulled her box with her. She walked toward the front entrance and saw Ralph move to open the door for her.
Ralph was dressed in black tails with gold trim. He said, “Oh Miss Emma, not you too. I’ve lost count of how many people walked into this building today carrying a box like yours.” Emma wasn’t surprised. Her building was filled with young professionals who worked in the financial district.
Ralph was a kindly older gentleman. He was known for checking on people’s pets when they were running late from work, watering plants and even holding packages at the desk for them. He knew everyone by name and always had a smile for Emma when he saw her.
“Hi, Ralph,” Emma said as she stepped into the white and black art deco tiled lobby. “I got my walking papers today.”
“I am sorry, Miss Emma. It’s bad all over. Nothing but bad news everywhere,” Ralph said, following her to the elevator.
“Yes it is, Ralph. Yes...it...is.” And about to get worse, she thought as she punched the button for the elevator. Fighting back tears, Emma resolved to do whatever she had to do to survive the fallout of the market crash.
“Can I carry that up for you?” he asked.
Emma glanced down. Aside from a few personal knickknacks and a couple of pictures, her box was pathetically empty. “I can manage. Thank you, Ralph.”
“You take care of yourself, Miss Emma.”
“You too, Ralph.”
Emma entered the brightly lit apartment. Sunlight was streaming in through sliding glass doors that led to a small balcony. “Kate?” Emma called as she set her carton of belongings onto the white granite countertop. The apartment was too quiet and after a quick check of the rooms she confirmed what she already sensed, Kate wasn’t there.