Penelope had just cleared the table and was about to serve a lemon torte when the sweetly burned scent of aged tobacco drifted onto the lanai. Knowing who would follow, Lance groaned. Via his cigars Uncle Jimmy always announced his presence long before he actually made a physical appearance.
“Well, looks like I’m just in time for dessert. Howzit going, Penny? Bring me a plate, will ya, hon?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Heart,” she said before disappearing.
Virginia frowned. “Didn’t I tell you about those cigars in my house.”
“Good afternoon to you, too, dear,” Jimmy said and he strolled onto the lanai. A peck on Virginia’s cheek served as greeting. Jimmy then settled his girth in a seat and beamed at Lance.
“Lance, my boy, good to see you again.”
The too-hearty greeting from his great-uncle put Lance even more on edge than he’d already been.
He’d been set up.
This was no innocent little lunch with Grandma.
He wouldn’t put it past his uncle and grandmother to have a bride already picked out and waiting, someone from a family with a large chain of retail stores in her twenty-first-century dowry. He thought about the scene with the arranged royal bride in that old Eddie Murphy film and wanted to run screaming out the door. With all the weird stuff on television these days—women duking it out to marry bachelor strangers—it probably wouldn’t be too difficult for them to find a woman willing for the right money to marry a supposedly eligible bachelor.
Without being conceited, Lance knew he’d qualify as a catch. But Lance was neither eligible nor a bachelor. Not as long as Gayla remained his legal partner.
He eyed his grandmother and uncle. Something was definitely up with these two. It was too much of a coincidence for Uncle Jimmy to just show up the exact afternoon and time when Virginia was putting the screws to him.
As expected, it didn’t take them long to get down to business. Virginia’s piercing glance connected with Lance’s. Coleman and Virginia were estranged, but Cole definitely came by that steely gaze in an honest fashion. While Cole’s didn’t faze Lance, being given that look from his grandmother unnerved him.
It almost seemed as if she could see clear through him, to the tarnished soul that thrived on pleasure and little else.
“What is it?” he finally blurted out.
“I’m concerned about you, Lance.”
“There’s no reason to be,” he assured her. “Everything’s fine with me.”
“Is that so?” Virginia said. “Are you in a committed relationship? Is there someone you’d like us to meet? Have you found a job?”
“Ginny,” Uncle Jimmy said just under his breath.
Lance glanced at his great-uncle, but then turned his gaze back to the woman who held court.
“Grandmother, a gentleman never tells.”
His tilted head and teasing grin, both designed to charm, didn’t move her. Not one bit.
He grimaced, realizing too late he’d sauntered into a well-laid trap. The whole business about getting married was a setup to whatever bomb they were about to drop on him.
He didn’t know from where the missile would come, but knew for certain he was the target of its heat-seeking laser.
Carefully he measured his words. “I don’t need to work right now. Thanks to a certain trust fund.”
“Actually, that’s what I really wanted to speak with you about.”
He hoped he didn’t look as panicked as he suddenly felt.
Never let them see you sweat.
But Lance felt a trickle of something wet on his back.
“That trust carries a fiduciary responsibility,” Virginia said.
Lance looked between his grandmother and his uncle. Jimmy tapped the arms of his chair. He didn’t say anything, but he nodded sagely.
“I worked in the stores,” Lance said in his own defense. “On the floor and later at headquarters. I did my time with Heart Federated.” And that’s what each moment felt like, he thought. A sentence of hard time working on Cole’s corporate chain gang.
Virginia waved away his words. “Those few years could hardly give you the breadth of experience of running a company every day. Besides, that’s not what I meant. You got some of the money Coleman left you.”
Lance knew she referred to his grandfather who’d left in his will a considerable portion for Lance, almost as much as Cole got.
“But as you know,” Virginia continued, “the bulk of it doesn’t convey until you’re thirty.”
Lance distinctly felt a shackle clamp around his ankle. He shifted in his seat, afraid he knew exactly where this was going. Thirty was two years away. Virginia could wreak a lot of havoc in his life in two years.
“There are certain provisions and standards . . .”
“Oh, for the love of God, Ginny,” Jimmy snapped. “Just tell him.”
“I’m doing this in my own way.”
Jimmy snorted, clamped the cigar between two fingers and pointed it at Lance. “Your grandmother thinks you’re a lazy bum, so she’s cutting off the tap.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The second shackle fastened shut.
Lance closed his eyes for a moment, trying to right his world. He’d planned to use that money to launch his own business. Granted, he’d never actually gotten around to planning any of it, but at least he’d had the idea to fall back on. And that idea was one these two knew nothing about.
He tried to tamp down the anger—and the growing fear.
In the back of his mind he’d always known something like this could happen. That’s why he’d handed over a healthy chunk of change to Cole for the long-term.
Would Virginia cut him off without a dime of the millions coming to him? Could she?
A year ago Lance wouldn’t have thought his tough but sweet grandmother had it in her to play that card. But he’d seen firsthand what she’d done to Cole—her own son. Not only had she voted her large block of stock against Cole, she’d made a show of taunting Cole with the defection. It’s a sad day when a son can’t even count on his mother to have his back. But that day had taught Lance a lot, and he harbored no doubt that given the provocation and enough Bloody Marys, Virginia would and could be just as ruthless with him.
“You can’t do this.”
She laughed. Lance knew then that she’d already made up her mind about him. Arguing—begging in particular—would do no good.
“Frankly, Lance, I’ve seen nothing productive from you since you graduated from college.”
Suddenly, marriage took on a certain appeal. “If this is about getting married . . .”
Virginia held up a hand. “That’s a small part of it, Lance. A very small part. Not at all the total picture.”
“What is the total picture?” he asked, his words carefully measured.
“Well, for starters, if I ordered you to get married, you could wind up with someone unsuitable.” Virginia cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t presume to order you to marry someone, whether I approved of her or not.”
“One thing to be thankful for,” he muttered.
“Nevertheless, it is my duty to ensure that the Heart name and interests are protected.”
“Protected?”
If she’d wanted to protect the Heart name and interests she should have backed Cole’s proposal to keep the Heart stores in the family.
Lance cast a questioning glace toward Jimmy. The old man grinned and chomped down on his cigar. Uncle Jimmy and Cole’s father, Coleman II, had practically run Heart Federated into the ground. Cole did his best to salvage what remained, right before the entire outfit was sold away from them all, thanks in part to Virginia’s efforts.
Through different eyes Lance began to see that Cole’s estimation of Virginia was right on target.
“There are still Heart interests to be protected.”
“Your standing at the country club?”
“Watch your tone, young man.”
Lance stood
, beginning to pace the area behind his chair. “With all due respect, Grandmother, I’m apparently missing the point you’re trying to make.”
“My point is that it’s time you took on some adult responsibility and did something productive with your life.”
“I take issue with that.”
She shrugged. “The facts say otherwise. What have you done in the time since you graduated from college?” she asked. “After five years and six majors I might add. To keep from going to work, you hopped into graduate school.”
“Come on now,” Jimmy intoned. “Be fair, Ginny. The boy did a mighty fine job there. He got good marks in that MBA program. You gotta give him that.”
She barely spared a glance at Jimmy. “And in that time, there was a scandal with that heiress on Martha’s Vineyard. You should have married her. But no, what followed? The resignation of an esteemed professor who reportedly fell in love with you and caught you with another woman.”
Lance grimaced. Virginia would never get past those ancient indiscretions of his.
“When you had the opportunity to marry well, you insulted that lovely Gerard girl and nearly lost Heart Federated the account with our largest supplier.”
Ginger got over it, Lance thought. She hadn’t wasted any time finding a man richer than Lance, someone who didn’t have to wait until he turned thirty to claim the bulk of his inherited fortune.
“And what have you done with the money that came to you at twenty-one?” Virginia asked as if reading his thoughts. “And the money you got when you turned twenty-five?”
“That’s none of your . . .”
Virginia continued as if he hadn’t butted in. “I distinctly remember an ‘investment’ in a stock car that was totaled in its first race. And it cost me—what was that Jimmy, $125,000?—to make good on a certain promise you made to a senate candidate’s wife. Then there was the time . . .”
“All right, Grandmother. I get the picture,” Lance said, his voice a low growl.
“Do you?”
Uncle Jimmy chomped on his cigar, the small grin still at his mouth. “You brought this on yourself, boy.”
“Don’t call me boy.”
Virginia shrugged. “Seems to me, that’s actually a good description. You’ve been nothing but a wastrel, Lance. Just like your grandfather. My God, you two are cut from the same cloth.” Virginia blanched, then blinked several times.
Uncle Jimmy gave Virginia a sharp look then peered at Lance.
Lance didn’t have time to focus on the man. Virginia was toppling his world.
“The only good thing I can see in your entire illustrious career as a ne’er-do-well playboy is that you’ve managed to avoid fathering a string of crumb-snatchers by young women with gold teeth, bad manners and poor grammar.”
He ignored the part about the gold teeth. It wasn’t true. But the other cut dug deep—as it was intended. Lance’s own mother was the product of an affair, one of many, by Virginia’s husband, Coleman II. The fact that his own heritage was clouded was rarely mentioned, but it was something that Lance always resented, a fact Virginia well knew.
“I’m responsible when it comes to zipping up my pants.”
“I’ve never seen the boy with a bad-looking woman,” Jimmy said. “As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind . . .”
“Jimmy, please.” Virginia reached for her drink and took a liberal but dainty sip.
Uncle Jimmy, watching the proceedings, stroked his chin.
“Since you can’t be a good steward of your”—she paused, then cleared her throat—“of your birthright, some things must change. And the best way to get your attention is to cut off the purse strings. As of this week, your allowance it cut off.”
“You can’t do that!”
But even as he said it, Lance vaguely recalled some clause he’d been told about. He well knew the provisions of his grandfather’s will. He’d gotten a million dollars on his twenty-first birthday. And another million when he’d turned twenty-five; two million in carrots to entice him toward the big prize. The remaining millions were held in trust earning fat interest compounded frequently and waiting for Lance to mature.
So close. Thirty was so close. But Virginia had apparently decided that a stick would work better than the carrots.
He lived on the salary he’d drawn while working for Heart Federated and a generous allowance, neither of which would keep him long—not with the mortgage on his penthouse suite, two luxury cars and his appetite for clothes and women.
“That money is mine.”
“Not yet it isn’t.”
“You can’t . . .”
Virginia snapped up a hand and Lance fell quiet, biting back the angry words that threatened to erupt. “There is a clause,” she said.
“You can’t do this.”
“But I can, Lance. I can. And, I will if . . .”
He whirled around and almost collided with Penelope who was entering with a tray of drinks. “Sorry,” he said as he steadied her arm. A moment later, his attention was back on Virginia. “If what?”
She leaned back in her chair regarding him with what appeared to be open disdain. “If you don’t show me some evidence that you’re doing something tangible with your life. Whoring around is . . .”
“My legacy?”
She rose up as if to slap him, but Jimmy moved between the two. “That’s enough, Lance. Go sit down.”
Lance’s nostrils flared, but he said nothing else.
“Ginny, just tell him what you have in mind.”
Jimmy accepted a Bloody Mary from the maid who placed refills before Lance’s and Virginia’s places at the table. They both ignored them. Jimmy took a fortifying sip and pressed close to Lance as he passed by. “True, what you said. But show some respect,” he murmured. “This needs more vodka,” he called to Penelope’s disappearing back.
Lance glanced from his uncle to his grandmother. The two usually worked in cahoots, so he didn’t quite know what to make of the good cop/bad cop routine. Both of them starred in the role of heavy so often they’d perfected the parts.
“And I suppose you have something in mind,” Lance said.
Virginia lifted one elegant brow. “Actually, I don’t. I’ll leave that to your judgment—the lack or merit thereof should tell me all I need to know.”
“I have good judgment.”
She sniffed. “Your track record doesn’t indicate it. It’s the total package that counts, Lance. You look good on paper, but you know and I know it’s all window dressing. You don’t have what it takes to be a true Heart.”
He wouldn’t take the bait this time. “But I am. And that’s what pisses you off so much.”
With that Lance turned on his heel and stalked from the day room.
Virginia reached for her Bloody Mary. “Goddamn it to hell.”
Jimmy just chuckled as he watched her stare after Lance. “I wonder if he knows.”
She took a long, deep drink and studied her brother-in-law. “Why do you defend him?”
Jimmy just smiled.
“Somebody’s gotta look out for blood.”
She scowled at him. Virginia didn’t like to face the truth where Lance was concerned, but the truth was the truth. No getting around it. Jimmy decided to just wait and see how this round played out.
He would have kicked the tire, but he didn’t want to scuff his shoes. So Lance, beside himself, settled for cursing a blue streak. His first thought was to call Cole. But that’s what she’d expect him to do—run to Cole.
He would tell Cole about Virginia’s threat, but not to get his uncle’s advice. Lance had his own idea of how to deal with his grandmother. Cole could, however, tell him if Virginia truly had the authority to do what she threatened. He suspected she did.
Lance spied a branch of his bank. Swinging across two lanes of traffic on Mercury Boulevard, he swerved to avoid hitting a white Volvo. The woman gave him the finger. Lance waved and zipped the Jaguar into the parking lot.
Fifteen minutes later, he felt a little better about his financial situation. He’d never paid much attention to money. He’d had no reason to. But now, with his grandmother putting the screws to him, he needed some idea of what, exactly, he had going on. While standing in line, he put a call in to his broker and one to his accountant.
If nothing else, the meeting with his grandmother had again focused his thinking on the plans he had for his life. Just because his relatives weren’t privy to them didn’t mean Lance didn’t have goals. He’d always dreamed of owning a consulting firm. Lance knew style. He knew what looked good on him. And he knew what looked good on other people. With an image consulting firm he could offer his expertise to business owners, small and large, to early career professionals looking to make a mark on the world and an impression on their managers and firms. He’d dated a makeup artist once and was stunned at the way an appearance could be altered with just a few bottles and tubes of cosmetics and a couple of basic props.
Without realizing it, Lance found himself in Ghent in front of Guilty Pleasures. He assessed the shop with the experienced eye of a retailer. The store definitely had curb appeal. A portico with columns matching the succulent French vanilla of the interior invited customers to enter a place removed from the hustle and bustle of the everyday work world.
Lance drove by once again, this time considering the business from the perspective of a potential investor. Despite his preoccupation while in college and grad school, he’d managed to retain some basic business knowledge. He wasn’t stupid. And his time with Heart Federated had taught him a thing or two.
He wondered if the facade of Guilty Pleasures put people off. It was fancier than most of the nearby businesses. Would the average person just walking down the street on Colley Avenue drift into the store or would she be intimidated by the upscale exterior in the chicly casual neighborhood?
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