“Happy Birthday,” they said in unison.
“Thanks! And thanks for the beautiful party.”
Wes wagged a finger at Steven. “Stay away from the protege.”
“Just dancing, Dad.” Steven actually blushed.
Wes said to the others, “It’s time I take Della up front.”
Carrie sat next to Henshaw. Della saw her squeeze Phillip’s hand under the table, but she was too dizzy with excitement to pay much attention. Wes pulled her arm through his and threaded them through the crowd to the bandstand.
“Now, you just listen and enjoy yourself, young lady. This is your night.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Wes announced. “We’ve not only gathered here to celebrate a birthday, but we’re here to honor a valuable employee.”
Della’s heart hammered. She glanced around the patio to see that almost everyone was seated and attentive. Carrie and Phillip were huddled together, whispering in each other’s ears. Steven was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished. She didn’t know what she felt about that. Relief, maybe.
Wes squeezed her hand. “As most of you know, Della has been invaluable to me. She’s audited most of your companies, and helped all of us to become more profitable. Our gross for the past two years has nearly doubled in all areas except the three companies she’s had nothing to do with, which tells me something.”
A small chuckle erupted.
“Effective today, Della Garland is a Vice President.”
The applause was deafening. Carrie, her face stricken, rose from her seat and disappeared into the house. Phillip Henshaw left by the side gate, leaving Iris sitting at their table alone, all smiles.
Della was stunned by the announcement. It was the last thing she expected to hear. Wes shook her hand, then hugged her as people gathered around to congratulate her.
Through all the excitement, she couldn’t help wonder where Steven, Carrie, and Henshaw had gone. Were they showing their disapproval by leaving?
11
The guests had gone. The once-pristine patio looked like a disaster area. Wes took a seat and watched the cleanup crew dismantle his extravagant party. He was alone with his guilt, especially tonight, facing the results of his deceit. His health was failing, and his marriage had soured. But through it all, he had managed to keep Gates International skyrocketing on the stock exchange, keep his wife from divorcing him, and creating a successor to carry on his business.
For his time left on the planet, he’d made up his mind to keep his life status quo. He had protected Della from any wrath she might face from Carrie and Steven following his death. His only regret was not having the chance to put an arm around Della’s shoulders, look into her eyes, and tell her she was his daughter.
Still, he had made her happy tonight–the sparkling eyes, her strut as she left the party were enough compensation. Carrie’s, Phillip’s, and Steven’s quick exits following his announcement revealed their disapproval, but when it came down to it, Gates International was Wes’s primary concern in life. He knew Carrie wanted him to sell out, retire and join the country club. As if that were an option. Ha.
Since neither Carrie nor Steven expressed any interest in taking over, he made sure Della would. She was the heir apparent. Carrie and Steven were well taken care of. Neither had to worry about money for as long as they lived. Wes’s legacy, including naming his daughter, was clearly spelled out in his will. Maybe after he died, everyone would understand.
The night air had cooled, leaving a slight trail of perfume from some of the guests. He pulled himself up, lumbered over to the remains of a devoured buffet, managed a small helping of caviar, crackers and cheese, and poured a large glass of sparkling water to wash it down.
Carrie had gone to bed with one of her famous headaches. She had distanced herself from him, gained weight, and formed a strong alliance with Phillip Henshaw, a man Wes stopped trusting when he’d learned of Henshaw’s involvement with Rick Courtney. Not wanting to totally alienate Carrie, he left Phillip Henshaw tucked away to be dealt with another time.
He returned to his seat, spread soft cheese on a cracker, plopped a dollop of caviar on top and ate it, took a sip of water and leaned back in his chair. The cleanup crew finished for the night, and were leaving by the side gate.
“Goodnight, sir,” one of them said.
“Goodnight, fellas. Thanks for a good job.” He handed one of the crew a couple of hundred dollar bills. “You guys go out and have a drink on me.” Wes never forgot his roots. He had managed to slip out of the mold, and the people who worked for him felt his affinity.
Alone with the sound of crickets and a pesky mosquito buzzing around his ear, his eyes misted.
He was indeed alone.
At the far end of the patio, the sliding door to Steven’s bedroom opened. His son stepped out. He strode when he entered a room, always turning heads his way. This kid’s success was guaranteed at anything he undertook. Wes never expected Steven to follow in his footsteps, once the boy took to the law books.
“Hi, Dad. You look lonesome out here all by yourself.”
“Join me? Grab a chair and sit. How about something to drink?”
“No, thanks. I’ll just sit here with you for a while.” He glanced around. “Nice night. Don’t get many of these in New York.”
“Like it there?”
Steven nodded. “It’s the most exciting city in the world. Life has an urgency there.”
“Sounds awful to me,” Wes said. “But to each his own. We can’t all live in L.A.” He chuckled.
They sat in silence for a few moments, listening to night sounds.
“So, why’d you come home, Steven?” He downed another cracker.
Steven jerked, obviously surprised. “To see you and Mom.”
“With all you have on your plate right now, seems downright inconvenient.” He gazed into his son’s eyes. “Your mother put you up to it?”
Steven broke into an uproarious laugh. “Nothing gets by you, does it?”
“I wouldn’t be here if it did. So tell me, does your mother think the business is going to hell in a hand basket? That I’m getting feeble and don’t know what I’m doing?”
“Something like that. She wants you to sell.”
He folded his arms across his broad chest, leaned his chair back on two legs. “Steven, I never wanted to hurt your mother. Neither of you has ever been truly interested in my business. I understand where she’s coming from. After all, I’m twenty-one years older than she is. When I die, she wants you running the company.”
Wes settled his chair down. “Her greatest fear is Della Garland. But Della is who I want to train to run the company when I’m gone. Help me out, son. Come in, nose around, put your mother at ease. I know you’ll be satisfied everything I’m doing is kosher. Hell, if you want in, you’ve got it. There’s nothing I’d like better than to have my son at my side.”
“You’re all right, Dad. You make me proud to be your son.” He leaned in close to Wes and whispered, as if someone were listening. “I wish I could have been there for you, succeeded you like the good son.”
“You are a good son. Follow your own dream. I sure as hell did. If I’d followed in my dad’s footsteps, I’d be a potato picker in Bakersfield and an alcoholic. Your mother would’ve been in the hardware business. Go figure.
“Your mother is jealous of Della. She needn’t be. The woman is a miracle. She’s everything I could have wished for in a–” He stopped short of saying daughter, quickly added, “–a protégé. That’s exactly what she is. She thinks like I do. You’ll see when you get to know her, watch her work. Our profits have doubled in the past two years. She’s something else.”
Steven rose. “You’re really impressed with her, aren’t you?”
Wes nodded thoughtfully.
Steven pushed the chair under the table, his hands on the back. “I’d like to come in and snoop around. I’d like to relieve Mother’s mind. She’s not herself. I can’t believe she
’s let herself go like she has. It isn’t like her.”
“You can start Monday. Be in my office at nine.”
“Whatever you say.”
“There’s nothing off limits to you, son. I’d appreciate it if you could help put your mother at ease. Lord knows, she won’t listen to me.”
“Good night, Dad. Great party!” Steven strolled back to his room.
Sadness overwhelmed Wes. His jaw slackened once again.
* * *
Della arrived early at the office Monday morning, feeling on top of the world. Instead of her usual power suit, she wore a feminine dress, a summery white and green Valentino with short sleeves, a green suede belt and a full, soft filmy skirt that caressed her legs when she walked.
Using the written instructions Wes had given her on a folded piece of paper as she left the party, she searched for her new space in the parking lot near his. God almighty, he had her name painted in bold black letters with VP at the end, three spots down from Wes’s. There were two other vice presidents ahead of her.
Her heart fluttered. She grabbed the spanking new leather briefcase from the passenger seat, got out of the car, and took the elevator up to her new corner office on the eleventh floor.
She strolled through the secretarial pool, smiling, graciously accepting winks, smiles, and thumbs-up from the women who had rooted for her success. She had one of those glass-topped desks she always thought so elegant, a far cry from the gunmetal gray of yesteryear. It sat in front of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sprawling West Los Angeles area.
Before sitting to enjoy her new surroundings, her secretary, Sarah, who had been with Della since she started at Gates, peeked in to remind her of her meeting with Wes in five minutes. She liked Sarah, because she possessed the quiet, stabilizing force Della needed.
Alone, she spun around to the view. She had made it. She learned the difference between dependence and independence; her life was definitely on an upward swing. At last, she had some sort of control over her life. She learned about control, and being focused. Success centered around money–how to make it, how to spend it. She had the knack, and everyone knew it. And to think that she used to believe her happiness lay in the arms of a man.
Her savvy handling of Steven Gates over the weekend brought a smile to her lips. In the old days, she’d have fallen prey to his charm and persistence. He had sent her yellow roses on Saturday, silver roses on Sunday, and left four messages on her machine. She hadn’t succumbed. His advances troubled her. She was older than he by at least five years. He was the boss’s son. What was he after? In the old days, she’d have fallen for him, but not now.
She entered Wes’s spacious office, eager for an outline of what he expected from her as vice president. She took a seat at the meeting table while he finished up a call.
He hung up and sat back in his chair with a lovely grin on his craggy old face. His shirt sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, his tie loosened. A slash of gray hair fell loosely across his forehead, as if he’d already been hard at work all day, yet it was only nine in the morning. Knowing him as she did, he’d probably been in since dawn. How she loved this man! He couldn’t have meant more to her if he were her father.
“Happy?”
“Extremely. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Believe it, my dear! I have great plans for you.” He pulled a paper from a folder on his desk, walked over and sat next to her.
He handed her the paper, and the door opened. Iris strolled in with Steven next to her. A rush of embarrassment coursed through Della. Her cheeks flushed. Was it the calls, the flowers–or was it all so secretive she felt uncomfortable talking to Wes about it?
“Steven,” Wes sang out. “Glad you made it, son.”
Steven was in a suit, tie, and spit-polished shoes. “Nice to see you again.” He grinned one of those Tom Cruise grins that melts the feminine heart.
She started to say “ditto,” but caught herself and murmured, “I’m delighted to see you again, too.”
He sat, as did Iris.
“Good morning, Della.” Iris patted her arm. “Ready for your big day?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Wes shifted in his seat. “Joe and Mike are in New York this morning.” Joe Lasky and Mike Martinez were the other two vice presidents of the company, the two parking spaces before hers. “They’re meeting with attorneys and brokers,” Wes went on. “We’re going to have another stock split.”
Della reached across to Wes and held out her hand. “Congratulations.”
“To you, too,” Wes said. “I know you’ve been taking advantage of our stock option plan.”
“Indeed, I have,” she said with a grin.
Wes glanced down at the paper. “You’ll head these companies, Della. You’ll take full responsibility for all their activities. Mike and Joe are in agreement.” He laughed.” Since it doesn’t change anything for them. These are the companies I take care of. You’ll also have a seat on the board.”
Being an officer came with the position, something she hadn’t given much thought to in the past. The importance of her promotion started setting in.
She glanced down and froze when she saw the first company on the list was Globe Travel. She’d be over Jack Davis, her adversary. Wes had handled him since the takeover two years ago. They had bailed him out with a loan, suggested by her, but he’d failed again, and Wes took ownership. Jack had been devastated, but continued running the company, now in the black. When he found out Della would be his boss, she hated to think what his reaction might be. He had fired her because he didn’t want a woman telling him what to do. Now she would be the woman boss he’d always dreaded.
“Why wasn’t Jack at the party?”
“He was in New York. Got back last night.”
Second on the list, she saw Henshaw and Associates.
Wes had been watching her and said, “Go soft on Phillip for a while. This will be touchy, but we’ve ignored him too long. Once everything is settled down, I want you to go in and audit the hell out of his company.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll expect you to head the initial audit on all your companies. After that, have the auditing division do it and give you reports. Your involvement will give you a better handle on what they’re doing.”
Steven sighed. “Don’t you think Mom will have something to say about this?” he said as casually as if he were talking about going out for a lunch.
“Plenty,” Wes said. “I’m sure her interests are in the overall success of the company, though.” He poured himself another cup of coffee.
Iris put a hand on his. “You should be drinking decaf.”
“Hell, no. No bump.”
She shook her head. “You need a bump like I need another hole in the head.”
“Don’t worry, Iris, I’m fine.”
Della continued scanning the list. Jon Clarin’s Designer Clothes ranked among them. All of these companies were Wes’s pet projects, the ones he took a personal interest in.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Wes said, “but I’d like to do what I do best. Acquisitions. I’ve faxed everyone this morning of the changes.” His arms folded, he leaned on the table. “Steven is going to be snooping around a bit to decide if he wants to join us. I’d like him to shadow you, Della. Let him go everywhere with you, tell him everything he wants to know.”
She gulped. This wasn’t happening. The last thing she needed was this young buck shadowing her. He had the hots for her, then a new and more terrifying thought struck her. Was he spying on her for Carrie? Carrie had always said Steven was a lawyer down to the laces of his shoes. Now the fog cleared a bit. Why would this young man to have any interest in her?
Carrie must have sent for her son when she learned of her promotion. If Wes wanted her to have an interest in this company, he should have kyboshed this interference. Something about this whole promotion bit had an odd air about it that Della didn’t like. Thank God, she had the
good sense not to respond to Steven’s phone calls and flowers.
Wes stood, dismissing them from the meeting. Steven strode down the corridor at Della’s side.
Inside her office, Steven said, “So, are we having lunch today?” He loosened his tie, sat in front of her desk, and threw a leg over one arm of the chair.
“No. That’s my time.” The nerve of this guy, coming into her office, dumping himself in a chair, and suggesting they have lunch together, acting as if he were here to put the make on her instead of doing business.
With a flourish, she plunked herself behind her desk, picked up a pencil, and nervously twirled it between her fingers. She eyed him up and down. “You certainly are full of piss and vinegar.”
“That’s another one of those tired old sayings.”
“Well, I’m old and tired, and don’t you forget it.”
“Not too old,” he said with a wink. “Maybe instead of piss and vinegar, you should have said I was hot and sweet. New sayings, remember? And you said you weren’t going to be around to hear any of them.” He wagged a finger. “Gotcha.”
“Come on, Steven–or do you go by Steve?”
“Steven, please.” He twisted in his seat, crossed his legs at the ankles. “Unless you’d like to be the first lady to call me Steve? It does have an affectionate ring to it. Maybe even Stevie.”
Her intercom buzzed, saving her from further embarrassment. “Excuse me.” She answered with great relief.
“Jack Davis is on Line One,” Sarah said.
Della winced, picked up the phone. “Yes, Jack. How are you?”
“I was fine until I got this fax from the old man this morning.” There was a long pause. “I guess it’s payback time, huh?”
“Nothing to pay back, Jack. It’s business as usual.”
“How about lunch today? I have an interesting proposition to make, for old time’s sake.”
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