THE FALL

by Marie Force

  "Hey, Duff," Parker said when he came on the line. "Where've you been hiding?"

  Ted swallowed hard. "Just been one of those weeks. I got your message, but couldn't call you back before now. What's up?"

  "Jeez, man, did you hear about Smitty? Broke up with Caroline and went to Australia for like a month or something. All of this since we saw him on Sunday!"

  Ted glanced over at Caroline who was looking out the passenger window. "Yeah, I got the gist from your message."

  "Did you talk to him?"

  "No, we never connected."

  "I'm sorry, but the whole thing is so bizarre. He was all over her this weekend, but when he told me they broke up he was so matter-of-fact about it, like it was no big deal."

  "Did you talk to Chip?"

  "Yeah, he thinks it's fucked up, too. But I guess we'll have to wait until Smitty gets back from Sydney to get the full story."

  "I guess so. Did you call Gina?"

  "Two more days. I'm holding out."

  "You're a sadist."

  "I'm beginning to think you're right."

  "How's your week going?"

  "Hideous. I was in depositions all day today, and I'm in court all day tomorrow. Are we riding together on Friday?"

  "I don't know if I'm going. Roger's wife is pregnant and she's had some complications, so I hate to ask him to cover for me right how." Only part of that was true—Roger's wife was pregnant.

  "Oh, man, that sucks. You've hardly gotten to use the house at all this summer, and now with Smitty gone, our gang is dwindling."

  "I know."

  "Well, I've got a meeting. Give me a call on Friday if you can go."

  "I will. Let me know what happens with Gina and if you hear from Smitty."

  "Will do. You do the same."

  Ted flipped his phone closed. "Parker's in Boston tonight."

  "Who's Gina?"

  Ted filled her in on the woman Parker was interested in.

  "So he's waited a year to contact her? That's so romantic."

  "You think so? I told him he was nuts to wait that long."

  "It was the right thing to do. She'll have had time to put the pieces back together."

  "Not only is my lady very beautiful, but she's very wise, too."

  She smiled. "What did he say about Smitty?"

  "Just that the whole thing seems bizarre. Let me call Chip and see what he has to say about it."

  "Fucking crazy," was Dr. Taggert's take. "He spent the whole weekend with us and never says a word about going to Sydney for a month? What's up with that?"

  "I guess he didn't want to put a damper on the party." Ted wondered if Smitty already had the trip planned or if it came up after he figured out what was going on between Ted and Caroline. And how exactly he had figured that out was something that continued to gnaw at Ted.

  "There's something about it that stinks if you ask me," Chip said. "Did you talk to him? What did he say to you?"

  "No, we never hooked up before he left. I was in the clinic all day yesterday, so we missed each other." Ted gritted his teeth to withstand the bout of conscience. He glanced over at Caroline, and just the sight of her was enough to remind him that the lies were worth it. "So how are you? Did you guys set a date yet?"

  "Tonight. Elise's parents are coming in from Massapequa for dinner."

  "That's exciting. Let me know what you decide."

  "You know you're in the wedding, right? I'm going to have to draw straws among the three of you for a best man, but you know you'll be right up there with me."

  "Sure I do. Smitty and I would understand if you asked Parker. We know you go back further with him." The two of them had first met in prep school.

  "That's kind of what I was thinking, too, but I don't want you guys to think—"

  "Chip, we wouldn't think a thing of it. I promise."

  His relief was audible. "Thanks, Duff. I'll call you when I have the date."

  "Give the bride a kiss for me."

  "I'd love to."

  Ted laughed and hung up. "Unless Smitty didn't really go to Sydney, we're good to go in Newport," he said to Caroline.

  "Is there some way you can find that out?"

  Ted nodded and flipped open his phone again to call Smitty's office.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Smith is out of the country. He's checking his voice mail if you'd like to leave a message."

  Ted started to say no but then changed his mind. "Yes, please."

  She transferred him to Smitty's extension, and Ted's gut twisted at the sound of his friend's voice.

  "This is John Smith. I'm currently out of the country. Leave a message, and I'll return your call as soon as I can. If you need immediate assistance, please contact Peter Nielson at extension 337."

  At the tone, Ted said, "Hey, it's Duff. Everyone's worried about you. Give me a call when you get a chance." There was more he wanted to say, but Ted decided that was enough for now.

  To Caroline, he said, "Smitty's really gone."

  She reached for his hand. "Then let's go to Newport."

  Chapter 25

  Smitty cleared customs and was met at Sydney Airport by Marjorie Jergenson's personal assistant, Harvey Waddell. A nervous guy with bright red hair and freckles, Harvey was a shrimp next to Smitty.

  "Ms. Jergenson was sorry she couldn't meet you herself," Harvey said in a thick Australian accent sprinkled with a stammer. He had to scurry along to keep up with Smitty as they left the international terminal. "She was called into an early meeting. She said she'll see you later this morning or this afternoon if you wish to sleep after your long journey."

  "I slept on the plane, so this morning's fine."

  Harvey led him to a dark sedan and popped the trunk.

  Smitty was thrown off when he realized the steering wheel was on the passenger side of the car. "We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto," he muttered under his breath.

  "Did you say something, Mr. Smith?"

  "No."

  "Ah, yes, very well then."

  On the way into downtown, Smitty learned Sydney is the capital of New South Wales and was voted the world's friendliest city six years in a row. He also discovered he had left summer behind at home. According to Harvey, while July was not the coolest month of the year in Australia, the average temperature was only nine degrees Celsius or forty-eight degrees Fahrenheit.

  Harvey took the scenic route into downtown along Sydney Harbour where Smitty got his first view of the world-famous Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Sydney Opera House.

  "You can climb the bridge if you're so inclined," Harvey said, clearly trying to make conversation.

  Watching the morning rush hour traffic whiz by on the wrong side of the road made Smitty nauseous. "I'm here to work. I doubt I'll have time."

  Harvey kept quiet until he pulled into an underground parking garage beneath a black glass office building. "Your apartment is on the sixteenth floor." Harvey handed the key and a business card to Smitty. "If there's anything you need, you can contact me day or night. I'm at your disposal."

  "Thank you. I'm sure I'll be fine." For the first time in several hours, he thought of Ted and Caroline, and the sickening surge of pain led him to wonder if he would ever be fine again. He willed himself to not think about it and to focus on the task at hand. He and his partners stood to make a lot of money from this deal, so he vowed to give the review his full attention.

  Harvey helped him with his bags and led him to the elevator. "You'll need your key to access the sixteenth floor."

  The elevator opened into a hallway between two doors, and Harvey went to the door on the left. He stepped aside to allow Smitty to open the door and go ahead of him into the luxurious apartment overlooking Sydney Harbour.

  "The bedroom's right this way. There are two bathrooms, one here in the hallway and the other's in the bedroom. The kitchen has been stocked, but if there's anything you need, just let us know."

  "Thank you very much, Harvey," Smitty said, anxious to be rid o
f the nervous little guy who was so eager to please. "I appreciate you getting up early to meet me."

  "Oh, it was my pleasure, Mr. Smith. When you're ready to work, come down to the twelfth floor and ask for me. I'll show you to the office we've set aside for you."

  "I'll be down in an hour or two after I check in with my New York office."

  "Very good. I'll expect you then."

  They shook hands, and after Harvey left, Smitty strolled over to look at the view through the full-length window. He stood there for a long time without seeing much of anything. The pain lurked just below the surface. He'd put half a world of distance between himself and the source of the pain but was dismayed to discover he hadn't outrun it. He felt like he was wading through quicksand as he made the supreme effort to put one foot in front of the other, to take the next breath, to simply function.

  Thinking of them together just compounded the misery. I want to go back to Saturday when I was still ignorant of what was going on right in front of me. I want to go back to before I knew my best friend was capable of hurting me this way. With a shake of his head to clear it of unpleasant thoughts, he turned away from the window and went to retrieve his laptop.

  Ninety minutes later, he had caught up on the e-mail that had accumulated during his trip, checked the latest exchange numbers, and sent several messages to his staff in New York, where it was seven o'clock Tuesday night. This fourteen-hour time difference is going to take some getting used to, he thought. Two of his employees replied to his e-mails right away, and he was pleased they were working late even when he was out of the country.

  After he unpacked, showered, and shaved, Smitty dressed in a dark suit, gathered his briefcase containing the Jergenson files, and went out to the hallway to summon the elevator. On the twelfth floor, he opened the double glass doors to Jergenson Investment Company LLC, which apparently occupied the entire floor. At the reception desk, he asked for Harvey who had apparently been standing on the other side of the wall waiting for Smitty.

  He led Smitty down a long hallway, past offices where people were either hard at work or putting on a good show for the potential new owner.

  "Do they know why I'm here?"

  "Yes, sir. Ms. Jergenson is very big on communicating with her employees. She's done an admirable job of putting aside her own grief over the loss of her father to focus on the company and the people who now work for her."

  Smitty wondered if young Harvey wasn't just a little bit in love with the boss lady.

  "Did the employees like her father?"

  "Very much so." Harvey gestured for Smitty to proceed into an office at the end of the hallway. "You'll find there're more than a dozen employees who've been with the company since Mr. Jergenson founded it thirty years ago. I'm sure it goes without saying that people are worried about what to expect once the sale goes through."

  Smitty nodded but said nothing to allay the young man's concerns. There would be time for that later if he and his partners decided to buy the company.

  "I'll leave you to get settled, and I'll let Ms. Jergenson know you're here."

  "Thanks, Harvey." Smitty raised the blinds that covered the windows behind his desk. Like his apartment, the office looked out on Sydney Harbour. He watched a freighter steam through the crisp blue water as two sailboats tacked to get out of its way.

  "Hallo, John. I see you've arrived safely. I trust Harvey took good care of you."

  Smitty turned around to find a young woman in a smart black suit standing in the doorway. The only feature that gave her away as an adult was her height—she was at least five feet, ten inches tall.

  "Um, yes. Yes, he did."

  "Marjorie Jergenson." She extended her hand with a welcoming smile that made the corners of her brown eyes crinkle. Her long auburn curls, which were corralled by a batik headband, seemed better suited to a sixth grader than a chief executive.

  What is she, twelve years old? Smitty wondered.

  He shook her hand. "You're Marjorie? I'm sorry. I was just expecting someone a little … well, older."

  "I'm twenty-eight, and I wasn't expecting my father to die and leave me in charge of an international investment company that employs three hundred people—most of them at least a decade older than me. So I guess that makes us even."

  "Is that why you're so anxious to sell?"

  "It's one reason."

  "I'm sorry about your father."

  "So am I. He was a good man."

  "What happened to him?"

  "He had an aneurism burst at home. By the time they found him, he'd been gone for some time." Her tone was matter of fact, but her eyes gave away her pain.

  "Did you work here before he died?"

  "No, but I've spent the last two months learning everything I need to know to make a good sale. My chief concern is protecting the people who've devoted their lives to my father and his company. Anything else will be secondary to that."

  He nodded. "Duly noted."

  "Well, John," she said. His name came out as "Jawn" with her accent. "Shall I introduce you around?"

  He started to correct her use of his first name but stopped himself. Smitty was dead. He would be John here. "Yes, please."

  * * *

  By early that evening, he had met most of the executive-level employees and was concluding the day in a meeting with Marjorie and David McAvoy, the company's chief financial officer.

  "You'll see that my father and David began following U.S. generally accepted accounting principles seven years ago in anticipation of an eventual sale to an American company. David has copies of our last seven audit reports, all of them containing unqualified opinions from American auditors."

  David, who was in his late fifties, beamed with pride as Marjorie spoke of accounting principles and audit reports. She had obviously worked hard to familiarize herself with the business in the two months since her father's death.

  "I'll have some questions about the audit reports tomorrow," Smitty said.

  "The staff has been instructed to make themselves available to you as needed," Marjorie said.

  "Thank you."

  "Whatever you need," David said, "just let me know." He stood to shake Smitty's hand. "I'll see you both in the morning."

  After David left Marjorie's office, she turned to Smitty. "Are you interested in dinner, John?"

  Smitty had to think about that. "Since I haven't eaten since breakfast on the plane, I probably should be hungry, but my body has no idea what time it is."

  "It'll take a few days to acclimate." She got up and retrieved a menu from the credenza behind the big desk. "We can order from the restaurant downstairs, and they'll send it up to my apartment."

  "You live in the building?"

  "I'm staying in my father's apartment, across the hall from yours."

  He studied the menu and decided on steak, which seemed like a safe choice, and went to his office to get his briefcase.

  Marjorie appeared at his door ten minutes later. "Ready?"

  Smitty flipped off the light and followed her down the long hallway.

  She stopped to say goodnight to the few people who remained at their desks.

  He noticed she said something personal to each of them about their kids, spouses, or pets. "You've done an admirable job of gaining the support of your employees," he said when they were in the elevator.

  She shrugged. "They loved my father. I'm benefiting from that."

  Smitty thought she was selling herself short, but he kept the opinion to himself.

  On the sixteenth floor, she opened the door to the apartment across the hall from his. Boxes, packing tape, and bubble wrap littered the sprawling space. "Sorry about the mess. I've been packing up my father's things in my spare time."

  "That can't be an easy job."

  "It needs to be done, and there's no one else to do it." She gestured for him to make himself comfortable in the sitting area by the window overlooking the now-dark Sydney Harbour. "Do you mind if I chang
e?"

  "Of course not."

  "Help yourself to a drink." She pointed to the bar. "I'll be right back."

  Smitty took off his suit coat, tugged his tie loose, and opened the top button of his shirt. He poured two fingers of whiskey into a cocktail glass. The heat of the liquor was soothing after the long trip and busy day.

  Marjorie returned wearing jeans and a loose-fitting tunic that made her look even younger than she had in the suit. She fixed herself a glass of white wine and joined him on the sofa. Putting her feet up on the coffee table, she sighed.

  "Long day, huh?"

  "It's been a long two months."

  "Where were you living before your father died?"

  "In Paris. I went to the Sorbonne to study art history and stayed there after school."

  "That's a long way from home."

  "I came home twice a year to see my father, and he visited me whenever he could."

  The far-away look on her face told him she was remembering happier times. "Will you go back to Paris after you sell the company?"

  She shrugged. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I was working in a gallery on the Left Bank, but I gave up the job when I realized I was going to be here a while. I'll have to go back at some point to deal with my apartment there. By the time the sale of the company is final I'll probably need to sit on a beach for six months."

  Bill Kepler had described her as prickly, but Smitty wasn't seeing that. To him, she seemed more overwhelmed than anything after being tossed into a situation she was ill prepared for and was doing her best to handle.

  When their dinner arrived, she got up to answer the door.

  "Good evening, Ms. Jergenson," the uniformed waiter said as he wheeled in a table set for two.

  "Hallo, William."

  William nodded to Smitty. With a flourish, he lit the candles and uncovered the two entrees. "Is everything to your liking, ma'am?"

  "It looks wonderful, thank you." She pressed a bill into his hand.

  "Have a nice evening, Ms. Jergenson," he said on his way out the door.

  "John?" She invited Smitty to join her at the table.

  He realized just how hungry he was when the mouthwatering aroma reached him.