Evidently, someone had done the deed for her.
"I just got off the phone with your sister." Harrison's voice was as calm and smooth as a frozen pond.
"Oh?"
"Um. She wanted to know if I'd buy a couple of raffle tickets for her school's marching band."
"She's dating the first trumpet player."
"She's too young to date."
"I keep telling her that."
Harrison turned from the window. "She also mentioned that she enjoyed meeting Ethan Maddux."
It was the second time in a decade she'd even heard him mention the name. Abby didn't bother to respond. Harrison gave her a wounded look that made her heart skip a beat, then dropped into his desk chair. "Would you care to explain that?"
She took a fortifying breath. "I went to San Francisco to see him," she confessed. "The day you called him." Storm clouds gathered in Harrison's eyes, so she held up a hand. "I wasn't even sure he'd see me. I didn't see the point in bringing this up until I knew we had something to discuss."
Harrison was silent.
"I didn't do it to hurt you, Harrison. You know I wouldn't."
"For God's sake, Abby, Ethan Maddux? You told him I was about to lose my company."
She didn't have to ask how he knew that. "Isn't that why you called him?"
He gave her a look that said the question was off-limits. Abby knew better than to press. "I asked for his help," she said. "It's true."
"Without consulting me." His voice had taken on a hard edge.
"You would have said no."
"Damn right I would have."
"But you called him yourself, Harrison. You must have known."
"I called to tell him I'd heard a terrible rumor that you might be on your way there. If he—" He stopped. "I wanted to make it perfectly clear that if Ethan has something to say to me, it's best said to me. Not through you."
"You knew I was going—"
"I suspected. Ryan mentioned you were headed for San Francisco."
"I went out there to meet with Doris Claymont about the foundation's direct-mail program. Ethan Maddux was an afterthought."
"I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear that."
"Harrison," she said gently, "I've seen the numbers. Ethan might be your last hope." She let the words hang between them for several seconds. Then she deliberately lowered her voice. "He's the best in the business. If anyone can pull Montgomery Data Systems out of this trench…" She trailed off.
Frustrated, she began to pace the confines of the plush office. She'd been in this room hundreds of times. She had listened while Harrison planned the future of his empire. She had provided research and reports, analysis and input on projects and ventures that had carried the business steadily forward. She had learned more, seen more, and experienced more in this office than she could have imagined the day he'd hired her.
Always, he'd been in control of the conversation. He'd been both mentor and friend, but she couldn't fight the sensation that their roles were changing.
"Look," she said, "I wasn't trying to deceive you." At his skeptical glance, she winced. "No matter what it looked like."
"You knew how I'd feel about this."
"I have reports coming across my desk every day that say there's no bailout in sight. Your field offices are calling in a panic that they aren't going to meet payroll. The stock is sinking, and at the rate we're going, a buyout is inevitable."
"I pay you to run the Montgomery Foundation, Abby. I wasn't aware you'd taken on financial analysis as a sideline."
She winced again. It wasn't like him to be acerbic. In the ten years she'd known him, she could count on one hand the number of times he'd spoken to her out of irritation. His biting sarcasm was one more sign of how deep were the wounds of his conflict with Ethan.
She sat down in her chair with a slight nod. "Point taken."
Harrison tapped the end of a fountain pen on his desk in a sharp staccato. "I ought to fire you for this."
"Probably."
"You had no right—"
"Harrison, can you honestly tell me that you'd rather lose your company than swallow a little pride and ask for Ethan's help?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
Stunned, Abby stared at him. "Oh."
He frowned at her. "You didn't think so?"
"Well, no, I—"
"I've spent my life building and developing this business. We've had some very good years, and I believe we'll continue to have good years."
When she would have interrupted, he held up a hand. "We will probably have those years under someone else's leadership."
"But—"
"Let me finish." He set the pen down and folded his hands on his desk. "Maybe I held on for too long. Maybe I should have started listening earlier."
"There are back taxes—"
"I see you've been talking to Robert."
"People are anxious," Abby admitted. "I've been under pressure to try to reason with you."
He leaned back in his chair and shot her a weary smile. "How many members of my illustrious family have called you in a panic?"
"Several."
He looked tired, as if the burden of his sisters, their husbands and ex-husbands, children and stepchildren, cousins, aunts, uncles, and the scores of in-laws had suddenly become far greater than he wanted to bear. "I'm certain they have."
"They're concerned."
He tapped his finger on the desk in a lazy rhythm. "Last time you counted," he said, "how many members of my family are gainfully employed?"
Abby frowned. "Not counting the ones who work for you?"
"Not counting those."
"Four, including Ethan."
"Hmm. No wonder they're anxious."
"Your board has been asking me to try to reason with you."
"And by 'reason', they mean bring in Ethan to bail us out?"
"It's come up, but I approached him on my own."
"No one believes I can do it by myself."
The defeated sound of his voice struck a nerve. "Harrison—"
"Don't bother to deny it."
"No one's questioning that you've provided excellent leadership for this company."
"Please. Whatever you do, don't placate me. You, of all people, ought to know how I hate that."
"I'm sorry." For everything, she thought. That you're in this place and I can't help you. That your family is more interested in what you can do for them than in who you are. That you've never trusted anyone enough to let them love you. "I didn't know what else to do."
"You shouldn't have brought Ethan into this."
"I wanted to help."
"What did he say when he saw the reports?"
It had pained him to ask the question, she knew. "He confirmed what we already know."
"And?"
"He said he'd get back to me."
"The best thing that could happen would be for him to turn you down."
"Maybe he will."
He shook his head, his expression fierce. "I doubt it."
"I don't think he wants to hurt you, Harrison."
"You could never understand, Abigail. Trust me."
"If you'd only—"
He held up one hand. "Just make sure you keep me in the loop at least, will you?"
Abby sensed the dismissal and rose to go. She hesitated as she studied the haggard lines of his face. "If you tell me to, I'll call him and say I've changed my mind."
He thought it over for a minute, then shook his head. "It's too late for that."
"You're sure?"
"You have no idea what you're asking, Abby." He seemed slightly lost. "Things aren't always what they seem" he said enigmatically. His voice sounded flat and lifeless. "But the wheels are in motion now. There's no sense trying to stop them."
Abby hesitated. "Are you sure there isn't something you want to tell me?"
"I'm absolutely sure." He reached for a manila folder—her signal that the discussion was closed. "Let's
get back to work, Abby. What's done is done."
She was halfway to the door when he interrupted her progress. "Tell Rachel I'll take ten tickets."
"I will." Abby paused, her hand on the doorknob. "Deirdre is coming in this afternoon. She wants to talk about this office issue again." Thus far, Abby had been able to persuade Deirdre that she didn't need an office in the MDS building to conduct her business. As the fund-raiser neared, however, Deirdre was pushing harder. "Do you want to come sit in on the meeting?"
The look he gave her spoke volumes. "Would you want to if you were me?"
"Hell, no," she assured him. "But she's your sister, and I'm only putting up with her because you asked me to."
His expression softened. "And I appreciate it. Deirdre's in a bad place. She needed something."
"So you gave her to me."
"You're the best I've got, Abby."
She felt cheered by the return of their usual banter. "Well, she's driving me nuts—and the rest of the staff along with me. That little scene the other day was just the tip of the iceberg."
"She's determined to have an office?"
"I think she wants mine."
"She does," he admitted. "She told me the other day that she thinks the foundation should be run by a Montgomery."
"If I hadn't heard you complain about how the woman keeps her checking account, I might feel threatened."
Some of the usual sparkle had returned to his gaze. "Believe me, you have nothing to fear. I love my sister, but I'm not stupid."
"Then can I count on you this afternoon?"
"Yes. Check with Joanna and make sure my schedule's cleared."
"Got it." She pulled open the door.
"Abby?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you planning to bring a date to the fundraiser this year?"
Abby managed a small laugh. "Good grief, Harrison, like I have time to think about a date!"
"It's a big night. I'd rather not have any surprises."
Ethan, she thought. He was worried that she would bring Ethan.
"No, I'm not bringing a date. And are you ever going to stop bugging me about my social life?"
"Lack of social life, you mean?" He shook his head. "When you tell me you've developed one, I'll stop asking."
"I'll keep that in mind."
He gave Abby the full impact of his gaze. "Thank you for telling me the truth, Abby," he said quietly.
She didn't have to ask what he meant. As their financial picture had grown bleaker, many of Harrison's advisors had attempted to shield themselves by concealing the more unpleasant facts from him. Since the day he'd inherited the business from his autocratic father, there had been a common misconception that Harrison's less imposing ways and more democratic leadership style meant he lacked his father's charisma and intelligence. Abby knew better. Harrison was a man willing to let others take the credit for his victories, while he alone accepted blame for his defeats.
She understood him very well—with the exception of one missing piece to the puzzle. The tension of his relationship with Ethan seemed starkly out of character. Soon, she vowed, she'd get to the bottom of what put that slightly haunted look in his eyes whenever he thought about his estranged son. And if she were lucky, he'd forgive her for it when it was over. "I'd never lie to you," she told him earnestly.
"I believe that," Harrison assured her.
"What do you think, Jack?" Ethan sat in his San Francisco office on Friday afternoon and regarded the two men across from his desk. Late last night, after looking over the bleak evidence of Harrison Montgomery's financial picture for the third time, he'd decided he needed a second opinion on what he was seeing.
Jack Iverson, Ethan's CFO and longtime friend, glanced up from the reports. "I think your father's got himself a hell of a mess on his hands."
"Hmm." Ethan shifted his gaze toward the other man. "Ted?"
Ted Conner, one of the security consultants Ethan used for special cases, looked up from his copy of the reports. "Either someone's robbing the man blind, or he's deliberately trying to run his company into the ground."
Definite possibilities, Ethan mused, along with another, darker scenario he wasn't willing to pursue yet. "Do you think they could face Chapter Eleven before he can negotiate a buyout?"
Jack gave him an affirming nod. "I'd say it's a distinct possibility."
"What's he got to negotiate with?" Ted asked.
Ethan shrugged. "Hard to say. I'd have to look at every division's assets separately, and I haven't put that much time into it yet. I'm not sure I want to."
Jack dropped the stack of papers onto Ethan's desk. "From what I can tell, it started as a trickle about a year and a half ago. Now it's a hemorrhage. I can look a little harder if you want—probably nail down the dates."
"I want to know exactly when the problem started and where. Which divisions started to lose money first, who runs those divisions, and why the problem wasn't addressed." He glanced at Ted. "As far as you can tell, could there be fraud here?"
"Ethan, it can always be fraud."
"But is it likely?"
Ted shook his head. "No. The losses are widespread throughout the company. When you've got an embezzler, they're usually limited to one area of access to the company accounts. If someone's stealing money from MDS, it would have to be someone so high in the organization that he had a practically unlimited run of the place."
"So if it's not extremely bad luck, bad business decisions, and rotten timing on Harrison's part," Ethan said, "then it could be someone with legitimate access to these accounts."
"Or at least someone who knows how to get legitimate access," Ted pointed out. "Still, it doesn't seem likely. Montgomery is an old-school kind of manager. He's got a core of very dedicated people at the top of his pyramid. The rest are isolated in their own departments. That's part of the reason his company is falling apart."
"All right." Ethan placed his palms on the desk. "Ted, see what you can find for me on Harrison's top tier. Put out some feelers and see if anything turns up about his people."
"We've probably got some of that on file already," Ted told him. "When we were considering the stock option last year on Montgomery's Taiwan operation, we pulled a lot of that together. I'll see what else I can find."
"Ethan," Jack said, "are you telling me that we're going to get involved in this?"
"I'm getting involved," Ethan replied. He'd made that decision on his flight back from Chicago. He was definitely and completely involved with Abigail Lee. "I haven't decided yet whether Maddux Consulting is taking the case."
"Is this why you blew off the rest of that meeting in Prague?" Ted demanded.
"I was bored. Next time the President wants a representative at an international economics summit, I'm sending you."
"You were supposed to speak Monday night."
"They probably gave me a medal for being a no-show." He glanced out his window at the dreary May sky. "Is it supposed to stop raining soon?" he asked no one in particular.
"I heard," Jack said, "that they've had nice weather in Chicago lately."
Ethan slanted him a wry look. "I ought to fire you for that."
"Probably. Look, Ethan, it's not that I care if you want to take on this MDS thing—"
"I told you, I haven't decided."
Jack ignored that. "It's just that there will be certain speculations if we do. I'd like your permission to prepare the publicity department. They're already a little overwhelmed dealing with Edward Kinsey's mess. It's not a big deal, but I'd like to give them a heads up."
Ethan scowled. "Speaking of Kinsey, Lewis still hasn't briefed me on that. Are we going to be implicated?"
Ted shook his head. "I doubt it. We've cooperated with the Feds, and it's pretty clear there's no way we could have been involved with that side of Edward's operation."
Jack forged ahead. "Nevertheless, they've got their hands full down there, and if we're going to open a can of worms like MDS, then I think th
e least we could do—"
He stopped abruptly when the door to Ethan's office crashed open. "My God, Ethan!" The woman swept into the room like a ship in full sail. "Tell me it isn't true."
Ethan stifled a groan. "Hello, Pamela."
Both Ted and Jack politely stood. Ethan refused the small courtesy. His former fiancée, clad in a dramatic-looking red suit that had probably cost as much as a small car, advanced into the office and planted her manicured hands on his desk. "Did you really seduce Harrison's lover?"
The fragile rein on his temper snapped. He gave Jack and Ted an unmistakable look that sent them both hurrying from the room with mumbled greetings for Pam as they passed by. Jack pulled the door shut behind him. Ethan rose from his chair and rounded the desk. "Nice to see you, Pam."
She turned to face him. "Are you going to answer me or not?"
"I haven't decided yet," he told her. "But whether or not I do, don't you think that question was a little inappropriate to ask me?"
She frowned at him. "Since when did you start worrying about propriety?" she said with a pout.
This had been one of the most consistently irritating facets of their relationship. Though he had developed a reputation for a somewhat reckless approach to his business ventures, he preferred to keep his private life circumspect. Pamela had never understood the distinction. Initially, she'd felt challenged to bring out that side of him. When he'd refused, she'd pushed harder. When the relationship ended, he'd had the grace not to point out to her that he'd been right all along.
But he had always found her histrionic streak annoying. During their engagement, he'd resigned himself to the fact that this would constitute the "worse" part of the for-better-or-for-worse arrangement of their pending marriage. Now that he was no longer obligated to endure it, he found his patience for it even thinner.
Pamela was watching him through narrowed eyes. "You did, didn't you? I couldn't believe it when I heard—"
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