The Doll Brokers

by Hal Ross

  Her bad leg cramped up. Ann stopped trying to make it move and covered her face with her hands.

  Okay, she thought, the truth. It was all Felicia had wanted. She’d put it out there, to make sure everyone knew how—as Jonathan had said—they’d gotten to the present. It was her parting legacy.

  She could honor that.

  “You didn’t lose me because of Felicia, Jonathan, because of Matt. I don’t know if it would have worked out long-term, anyway.”

  He shrugged. “Because you’re too pretty?”

  She literally felt something seize inside. She stared at him. He knew. How could he know? Then she answered herself. Felicia.

  “She told me about that, too,” he said.

  Ann waited for anger to fill her, for the ultimate sense of betrayal. Nothing happened. She only felt dazed. “Why? When? How long have you known?”

  “She wanted me to know that you’d survive Vincent. It was while he had you. She wanted me to understand what you’re made of. I couldn’t have gotten through it otherwise, Ann.”

  She opened her mouth, closed it again. Things were spinning inside her head.

  “Years ago, Pat and I hounded her about where you came from for the longest time—but she never told us anything because she didn’t want you undermined in our eyes,” Jonathan went on. “She said if you wanted us to know, you’d tell us yourself.”

  Yes, Ann thought, that was Felicia. She shuddered. “That’s that, then. No more secrets.”

  He took her hand like he had some kind of right to and started out of the cemetery. “Wait and fly home with me tomorrow.”

  Ann hesitated. Even after what he knew, he wanted to be with her? “Why?”

  “I want to go back to the beginning and start over again.”

  She let go of his hand. “I’m not going to end up in Toronto with you, just to humor one of your whims.”

  “I meant further back, to the beach. Fifteen years ago.”

  The air went out of her. She remembered that night so well. She remembered the hem of her dress getting soaked, and the way he had looked at her. Suddenly, she felt tired.

  Felicia’s voice popped back into her ears, encouraging her, warning that there might not be another chance. Tell him, she said.

  Ann cleared her throat. “I haven’t told you, but … it wasn’t just the thought of Felicia that kept me alive through the pain of that beating I took … it was you, too, the fact that I knew you were out there somewhere, trying to find me.”

  Her words seemed to catch him by surprise. He hesitated, but only for a moment. “I love you, Ann. I have for a very long time. I even told you that, while you were lying half-dead in Greenspan’s storage facility. I was hoping my words would get through somehow.”

  Something clicked in her subconscious. His expression of love was there. She had sensed it, felt it, but pushed it aside as a fantasy not to be explored. And now it was out in the open. She did not need Felicia to tell her what to say or do next. She took his hand back in hers, squeezed it. “C’mon,” she said. “I’m not making any promises. But, for now, I just want you to take me home …”

  EPILOGUE

  Ann looked at her watch at twenty past four and shot up from her desk. She reached for the mouse and turned off the computer. It was Christmas Eve and there wasn’t an employee left on the floor. She’d let them go at noon.

  She put on her coat and was halfway to the door when her telephone rang. She went back to her desk to answer it. Her breath was a little short. She was impatient.

  It was Charles Ling. “Am I catching you at a bad time?” he asked. “This is your holiday.”

  “It’s okay.” She wasn’t supposed to meet Jonathan for another ten minutes. “Are you in New York?”

  “No. We stayed in Ontario after Mrs. Morhardt’s funeral. I wanted to show my wife and children Niagara Falls.”

  “Oh? How was it?”

  “Lovely. Better than we expected.”

  His English was still fractured so once more Ann had to concentrate on what he was actually trying to say.

  “Look—” he told her now, “—I have something new for you.”

  Her heart clubbed a little. “It’s legitimately yours to sell?”

  He laughed. “Yes, of course. This doll can carry on an intelligent conversation, can acknowledge whomever she’s speaking to.”

  Ann sat down at her desk again. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Lip synchronization makes her very lifelike,” he went on. “Electronics and a memory chip give her an encyclopedic mind. And I think I know a way to keep this project in the popular price range.”

  Ann tucked the phone against her shoulder. Could she do it all again? she wondered.

  Sure, she thought. Why not?

  “I can’t get to Hong Kong until the week after New Years,” she said. “Will that be too late?”

  “No, of course not. I won’t approach anyone else. I owe you my life.”

  Ann winced at his comment. She didn’t want anyone beholden to her. “You don’t owe me anything,” she said. “Look—I’ll call you with my reservations and let you know what time we can meet.”

  “Have a good holiday, Ms. Lesage.”

  “Thank you very much. Have a safe trip home.”

  This was a crazy, crazy business she was in, she thought. Full of backstabbing, lying and cheating. But not killings. What had happened to her had been an aberration and would never be repeated.

  She hoped.

  Despite it all, the toy industry was in her blood. Yes, kids were forsaking traditional playthings at an earlier and earlier age, choosing cell phones, iPods, and electronic video games instead. But she was in it for the long haul, and no matter what other bastard got in her way, she would never go down without a fight.

  Ann finally left her office and headed up the hall. She rapped her knuckles on Patrick’s door. “Let’s go,” she shouted through the wood. “Time to close up shop.”

  He opened the door, scowling. He would never like her, she thought. There would always be bad blood between them. And she knew she would never trust him. She drew in air through her nose, checking for a whiff of cognac.

  Nothing. So far, so good. For today, at least, they could still be civil enemies.

  They rode down in the elevator and went out the front door. Jonathan was waiting on the sidewalk.

  He turned to his brother. “So where are you going tonight?”

  “Home,” he said shortly. “Verna’s out of town visiting her mother and an aunt from Scotland whom she hasn’t seen in years.”

  “Don’t do that,” Ann said.

  “I won’t drink.” He sounded surly.

  “Why put yourself to the test?” Jonathan countered. “Don’t be stubborn. Come by and have some virgin eggnog with us.”

  Patrick started walking toward Sixth Avenue. “I’ll think about it,” he said over his shoulder.

  They watched until he blended into the crowd. “He won’t do it,” Ann said as they rode a cab toward Jonathan’s place.

  Jonathan took her hand. “Maybe, maybe not. You still expect the worst from him.”

  The taxi dropped them off and he unlocked the door. “Let’s have a toast now,” he said, “in case he does stop by. We’ll do our imbibing by ourselves.”

  “A Christmas toast,” Ann said, taking her coat to the closet. I’ll get the Glenlivet.”

  “I bought champagne.”

  She paused in the process of reaching for a hanger. “Well, then, by all means. We’ll celebrate Baby Talk N Glow.”

  He came toward her. “With all due respect, Ann, I’ve had enough of that doll to last me a lifetime.”

  Now was obviously not the time to tell him about Ling’s new creation. “All right. We’ll celebrate Christmas, then. And Felicia’s memory.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” He purposely prolonged his stroll to the fridge. Then he made a show of removing the champagne, popping the cork and pouring it. “Now,”
he said very seriously as he handed her one of the flutes, “I have an important question for you.” He paused.

  “I’m listening.”

  He clinked glasses with her, then went down on one knee. “Ann Lesage…”

  She stared at him for a number of seconds.

  “…will you marry me?”

  “Marry you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The question hung in the air.

  Suddenly, a fist hammered on the door.

  Ann hesitated, trying to decide if she should answer Jonathan’s question now or keep it for later.

  Another fist on the door made her mind up for her.

  She turned on a heel to open it.

  It was Patrick, after all.

  “Merry Christmas,” she said when he pushed past her. “Can I take your coat?”

  Patrick paused, stunned.

  Somewhere in her heart, Ann was sure she felt Felicia smile.

  If you enjoyed The Doll Brokers, you will be thrilled to read Hal Ross’ novel The Deadliest Game, a harrowing tale of a terrorist plot against U.S. consumers using a toy company and its owner. Blair Mulligan—a thirty-five-year old divorced executive in the toy industry aims to achieve success with a brand new electronic gaming system that has the potential to revolutionize his business. However, a sinister force is at play, one that threatens to wreak havoc across the United States. Blair’s six-year-old daughter becomes the pawn in the scheme, and Blair must make the deadliest decision—to save his own daughter or the lives of thousands of other children.