The Secret Keeping
Page 30
“Beaumont, I don’t have my glasses. What’s the card say?”
“Oh, Paula,” Lydia replied woefully, her eyes glued to the ceiling, “I’m sure it says something like Dr. Helaine Kristenson, Psychother–”
“OH, SHIT.”
_____
“Beaumont, you gave me your word!”
“I promised to stay put. I’m put.”
“Oh, you stinker, you did, didn’t you? Dr. Kristenson, I wasn’t aware you made house calls.”
“I don’t.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here?”
“I was trying to spend a quiet evening with my–”
“Quiet? You call that racket you were making quiet?”
Helaine smiled. “I was quiet.”
Lydia reddened.
“Tell me, do you charge extra for this kind of service?”
“Paula–” Lydia began.
“No, Ms. Treadwell. It’s on the house. Anything for Soloman-Schmitt.”
“Helaine!”
“Yeah? Well I’m glad to hear that. Soloman-Schmitt would like you to go now.”
Helaine glanced to Lydia. “Are you in further need of my services, Beaumont? Or am I dismissed?”
“Helaine, please–”
“Dr. Kristenson! Don’t you read the papers?”
“Sometimes.”
“Good, because sometimes you’re in them. You and that woman. And now my top girl, here.”
“You forgot to mention Soloman-Schmitt. Isn’t that my fault, too?”
“Are you leaving yet?”
“She is not leaving, Paula. Please don’t go, Helaine.”
Helaine sat.
“Beaumont…you’re in over your head. The end.”
Lydia nodded. “We all are, I think.”
“Did you tell her about the cable man? That was just between you and me.”
“Paula Treadwell, trust me. Your name wasn’t even mentioned.”
Paula downed her martini. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“You would,” Lydia replied.
_____
“Helaine, I don’t want to burst your bubble or anything, but I happen to have it from a reliable source that you spent the night at Soloman-Schmitt’s happy land of ill repute and other corporate pastimes. Care to share your secret strategy for winning this lawsuit? Because, being just a humble attorney, it isn’t at all obvious to me.”
“You’re following me?”
“It’s called following when the bad guys do it. It’s called keeping an eye on you when we do it. How’s she holding up?”
“I want her out of there. Can you talk to Stan about it?”
“I’m making tea,” Kay interrupted. “Any takers?”
“Tea, please. And what can he do, Helaine?”
“She needs to go home, Robert. They’re…they’re…absolute Huns. Including Paula Treadwell, their so called white knight.”
“You met her?”
“I did.”
“Did you joust with the woman?”
“You could say that.”
“Who won?”
“It’s a draw for now. Robert. She’s sending Lydia call-girls posing as room service. Dumb blonds!”
“Spare no luxury, huh? She must really be depending on Ms. Beaumont.”
Kay joined them at the table. “Corruptio optimi pessima. It’s the corporate culture, Helaine. Lydia’s used to it by now. I wouldn’t worry.”
“You call that culture?”
“No, they do,” Robert said. “Kay’s right, don’t worry. Everybody will go home when things are settled.
I’m sure Stan doesn’t mind that Treadwell’s providing his client with a secure location in the meantime. He’s counter claiming you know?”
“For what?” Helaine asked.
“Defamation, slander, the like.”
“What?” Helaine was shocked. Her eyes glistened. “Lydia’s claiming that she’s defamed because Sharon says she’s my lover?”
“Uh, no, that’s a bit literal,” Robert answered nervously.
“Really?” she asked. “Is it?”
Robert had been caught off his guard. He looked to Kay for some assistance.
“Kay? Is Robert right? Am I being too literal?”
“Helaine…it’s just to shake them off. It’s a standard pleading. Have your tea.”
“So she’s denying–”
“Legally speaking there’s nothing else to do right now,” Robert said, apologetically. “He has to get his client out. It’s just posturing, Helaine.”
Helaine grabbed her coat. “Is Lydia aware of this strategy? Because she didn’t mention it last night.”
Robert searched his repertoire of one-liners and, coming up empty-handed, turned to his wife once more.
Kay shook her head. “I don’t know, Helaine. It seems rather unlikely that she wouldn’t. Doesn’t it, Robert? I mean, you would know better than I.”
He sent her a beseeching look but Kay refused to speak. “She must,” he finally answered.
Helaine circled the table. “Has defendant Beaumont sent that answer, would you know?”
“It’s not due yet.”
“Has she sent it?”
“No.”
Helaine was leaving. Robert and Kay followed her with grim faces.
“What are you going to do, Helaine? I wouldn’t do anything drastic,” Robert implored. “Think like a lawyer for a moment and you’ll see you’re overreacting.”
Impossible. She waited for him to open the door.
“Helaine…think it through first.”
“You know…this is all starting to take a toll,” she replied, speaking in a hushed tone. “The reporters, the lawyers. All of it.” She hesitated at the elevator. “I’m very tired,” she added, stepping into it.
Robert stopped the doors from closing. “Hathaway wants a meeting. This is a good sign, Helaine.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please schedule it soon then. I need to get this over with.”
_____
“I’m sorry, Ms. Beaumont, she’s on vacation.”
“Vaca–for how long? When did she leave?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. I’m sorry. She did leave you a message.”
“What is it?”
“She asked that you send word when you return home again. You can direct that to me, of course. I’m Jenny.”
“I don’t understand. Was this a planned vacation? She didn’t mention it the last time we talked.”
“She was feeling overly stressed. Harassed.”
“But I was hoping…when will she be back?”
“I think she’s probably waiting for things to quiet down again. It’s been difficult for her to get around lately, the press constantly following and all. Found her new address, too. I’m sure you can empathize, Ms. Beaumont. I’ll tell her you called, though. She’ll be happy to know that.”
“So she’s checking her messages?”
“Yes. Of course.”
Lydia felt punched. She had not heard from Helaine in a week and her earlier messages to Helaine’s home had not been returned. To make matters worse, Sharon Chambers had emerged from hiding, flaunting a glorious makeover and the front pages were once again being devoted to the nation’s most famous couple of the moment, complete with rumors of private settlement talks between the two women and rampant speculations that they were attempting a reconciliation. Lydia had pooh-poohed it all as nothing more than profit driven gossip, but the news of Helaine’s surreptitious departure was unexpected and alarming.
“Ms. Beaumont? Is that all, or would you care to leave a message?”
“I would care. Yes, please. Tell her that I…uh…I’ll call again. Check back, I mean.”
“I’ll do that, dear. You have a nice day.”
“Thank you, Jenny. You, too.”
_____
“Good job, Beaumont.”
“It’s just a preliminary but it’ll get you through
the proceedings without any surprises.”
“Excellent work. So I suppose I know what you’ve got planned for tonight?”
“Ac-tu-al-ly, no plans.”
“No plans? Why not? All the trouble I went through?”
“Paula...probably the scene here. I’m just guessing.”
“But we’ve cleaned it up. Didn’t you tell her that?”
“I didn’t get the chance.”
“What is this about? That Chambers woman?”
Lydia shrugged.
“Where is the doctor?”
“Vacation.”
“Vacation? Bullshit! She’s not going to snub our hospitality. Get her on the phone, Beaumont. I want to talk to her.”
“I–she’s on vacation, Paula. She doesn’t return my calls.”
“Beaumont, you are a neophyte. She’s not on goddamned vacation, I can assure you.”
“Then she’s somewhere else, like it says in the papers. Forget it.”
“Don’t you believe it! I know a power play when I see one. Pass me that phone.”
“Paula! I forbid you. It will work itself out.”
_____
“Hey! Here’s the reading materials you requested. Suddenly joining the human race?”
“Del, thanks! Just curious. Shaker of martinis over there.”
“Excellent. What are you having?”
“Heroin.”
“Hah! Hey, not too shabby in here, Liddy. You rank.”
“How’s things at my apartment?”
“Crowded again. The girls and I stopped in to clean up a bit. It was like a human car wash just getting in and out of the lobby. Your poor doorman. He’s all but swinging a broom at them to clear them out. Just like cockroaches.”
“What is this, Del?” Lydia asked, pointing at a front page article featuring a photo of Sharon and Helaine, heads bent together, smiling. “Can I believe in this stuff?”
“I wouldn’t.”
Lydia sighed and poured herself a martini.
“And look at glamorous Sharon Chambers, new and improved. She looks like she’s in mourning, a grieving widow, for chrissakes.”
“A grieving executive, more like it. She’s dressing like one of us, Liddy. Gosh, I wonder why?”
“And on the cover everywhere, Del. So who cares about corporate scandal, huh?”
“Paula Treadwell’s kicking ass, fixing it up, Liddy. No one wants to hear good news. Got any by the way?”
“Oh yeah! You?”
“Promotion. Still just a millionaire. Big date tonight. Yum, yum, yum.”
“Good for you. Money’s brought me nothing but trouble I fear, now with Sharon Chambers after it.”
“She’s after you, Liddy, doesn’t need the money. What’s up with your lawyer?”
“We’re not seeing eye to eye. He wants to deny everything and counterclaim for slander.”
“Wow. That ought to do the job.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Oh geesh, Liddy. Why not? She’s not entitled to your dough. Everyone knows that.”
“Money, money, money. Money can’t buy you love.”
“You’re scaring the bejeezus out of me, Marilyn Beaumont. Drink.”
“I scare myself. Cheers.”
“Cheers. Where’s Helaine tonight? What’s actually going on with your blond these days, besides that she’s got no room to breathe anymore?”
“She’s on retreat somewhere. It’s starting to get to her, I guess.”
“Oh…?”
“Del, I can’t send an answer like the one my lawyer’s cooked up. Helaine won’t go for it. It’ll be a real, real, real long vacation if I do.”
“I see.”
_____
“She’s on vacation, Ms. Treadwell. Can I take a message?”
“Yes, please do. You got a pen handy?”
“Yes?”
“Good. You tell your Dr. Kristenson that I’m sending an unmarked limo for her at the corner of Ninth and Vine. It’ll be there in an hour.”
“But–”
“And also inform her that if she fails to show she’ll be reading all about her greatest hits in Sunday’s papers. She’ll get what I’m driving at.”
_____
“What is this about?”
“It’s about Lydia Beaumont. You remember her fine ass, doctor? The one you put in a sling?”
“Please…call me Kristenson.”
“Drive,” Paula instructed the chauffeur. “Let me look at you, blondie.”
“Ms. Treadwell, I am not one of your girls.”
“And Beaumont is not one of yours. Your hair looks a little wild. Can you comb it?”
“She likes it like this. I presume that’s where we’re going.”
“Okay, leave it then. Now let me tell you something before we get there. Soloman-Schmitt has gone to great lengths to accommodate you, Kristenson, your esteemed snootiness. Please be mindful of that.”
“And let me tell you something, Vice President Paula Treadwell. Soloman-Schmitt does not impress me. I want her out of there. And we have other matters we need to square away that don’t require corporate handlers.”
“Look. I don’t care if you like me or not. I didn’t get where I am trying to be popular. But there’s one thing I don’t tolerate and that’s games, Kristenson. We cleaned up our act for you. I’m sorry if you don’t approve of our culture. I don’t approve of Sharon Chambers, the end.”
Helaine stared out the window without speaking.
“As to when Beaumont can leave, she cannot go back to her penthouse yet with all those reporters there.
That is something I can’t control. Sorry.”
“Oh? Something that escapes your micromanagement, Ms. Treadwell? That must be a painful concession to have to make. Tell me, do you plan on being our chaperone tonight?”
“If necessary. Turn into the garage, driver. You look lovely by the way. Even with the messy hair. Pull up to the elevator, please. Right here’s fine.”
Helaine produced a compact and examined herself in the mirror. “Thank you,” she said tersely, as she left the car.
“Oh, and Kristenson…?”
Helaine turned and raised her eyebrow.
“We never had this conversation, right?”
_____
“I thought you were avoiding me?”
“Darling…I am.”
“Oh.”
“I see Lydia Beaumont’s catching up on her reading.”
“Yesterday’s papers. Why? Avoiding me, I mean.”
Helaine skimmed the stack of newspapers and frowned. “This is ruining us. Oh, and look here, Keeping Mr. Right. You want me to autograph it for you?”
“I was curious, that’s all.”
“Curiosity. About what?”
“They mentioned your book. You hadn’t. I was just curious.”
“You read it?”
“Pretty much.”
“Still curious though?”
Lydia looked away.
“About what, Lydia?”
“It’s all curious, Dr. Kristenson. I don’t know.”
“What can I clarify for you?”
“Putting someone ‘on notice.’ You gave Sharon Chambers notice before–”
“I did.”
“And what about now? Are you ‘working it out’ with her, Helaine?”
Helaine threw her coat on the arm of the couch and sat down wearily. “It’s about settlement, Lydia. The reporters are lying. What else?”
“Settlement? And how’s that going?”
Helaine shrugged. “We’ve offered twenty-five percent net and the deed to my townhouse.”
Lydia nodded. It didn’t surprise her it would take that much. “And? Will she take it or not?”
“Lydia…she wants more. That’s all I’m comfortable saying.”
“Wants what? Something more is what? You, right?”
“Drop it, darling. What else can I clear up for you?”
�
��What else? Okay, are you sleeping with her?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous, is it? She’s only gorgeous, that’s all.”
Helaine sighed. “I’m tired of being photographed with her. Rumor has it I have a lover, but I’ll believe it when I see it. When are you going home, Lydia?”
“As soon as I can. Del says the reporters are living there. I can’t deal with that.”
“Oh, but I can?”
“Helaine…you have more experience with this kind of attention. You and Sharon–” she stopped herself.
“I’m not a public person. I hate all this.”
“I hate all this!” Helaine suddenly said with a sweep of her arm. “I hate you hiding from it while I’m being followed day and night. I hate your Paula Treadwell school of thought. I hate the idea that you’re hoping to sneak out under the cover of darkness. I hate the possibility that you might lie. I hate the possibility you want me only for sex. How do you respond to that charge, Beaumont? Can you take me to bed without fucking me? You can’t!”
“Fuckin–oh, my gosh.” Lydia stood up and walked around the chair, standing behind it as she collected her composure. “Helaine? I’ve fucked you? What on earth is wrong? What have I done?”
It was a poor choice of words. Helaine regretted them. “Not fuck. I didn’t mean that.” She lay her head back and closed her eyes. “You love me?”
“I do.”
“Say it.”
“I love you.”
“How?”
“How?”
“Tell me how you love me. I’d like to know.”
Lydia stepped around the chair again and sat once more. “I’m not good at that. Words aren’t really my specialty.” She took in the long legs, the high-heel shoe that dangled on the tip of a pretty foot. “Numbers.
I’m good at numbers, not words. I love you.”
Helaine sat up. “Numbers? What numbers then? My breasts, my waist, my hips? Those numbers?”
Lydia looked at her own feet. It was not the kind of conversation she excelled at. It was not the kind of evening she had expected. Her mind was racing ahead to scout out the terrain. It was rocky and treacherous and there didn’t appear to be a safe shortcut. She kicked her shoes off and slid them back on again. Pulled at her earrings.