“Would you like a drink?” asked Rob. “The stewardess is coming round. Or rather, the attendant.”
“Yes, thanks.” Candace smiled at him, but her eyes betrayed a distracted mind.
“You’re tense, love.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “And your hand is very cold.”
“Yours is warm.” She exhaled. Despite her earlier resolve, doubts about her decisions regarding her brother began to form. Rather than chase them away, she let them rise to the surface. “It’s this thing with Monty. I just feel that, you know, I do have so much money. Maybe I should just be generous, give him the funds he wants, and be done with it.”
Rob caught the flight attendant’s eye and ordered their cocktails. Turning back to Candace, he said, “Well. That’s an option. But not a very good one, not in the long run.”
“Why, Rob? Tell me why.”
“Candace, you have a lot of money, and so do I. Generosity is something that we both have an obligation to practice. It’s a responsibility that comes with money. But you’ve already been very generous toward your brother and his wife.”
Their drinks arrived, and Candace took a sip of hers before responding. “Is it enough, though?”
“I know you’ll make your own decision, but my opinion is that, while one should be generous, one must also set and enforce boundaries. Especially with relatives.” He sipped his Scotch. “If not, what will be the end, love? If you cosign the larger note, you’ll be liable for it, and when it comes due, you’ll pay it off, if the house hasn’t been sold. They won’t. Trust me.”
“Wouldn’t the bank just renew the loan for me until the house sells?”
Rob lifted her hand and kissed it. “They very well may, but you have no assurance of that. Even if they do, you’ll continue to pay the interest and fees, prolonging the agony of the whole project, for God knows how long. Kicking the can down the road, as they say.”
“True—and I don’t want to do that.”
“I don’t believe you do. Listen, I’ve seen you deal with this for far too long. It would be different if Monty had a profession, or a trade—if he worked for a living. If he were an honest man. Then perhaps you’d see an end in sight, to everything. If he had been open with you and had lived up to his commitments on the project—”
“You’re right,” said Candace, shaking her head slowly. “I thought that when he married and became a father, he would finally grow up. That he’d get it. When I first got into this deal, I expected that he and his wife would behave like normal, responsible people. Not that he would lie and take advantage of me.”
“Well, clearly your expectations weren’t met, and I don’t know how realistic they were, anyway. I hate to stand by and see him using you this way. I know that it’s very hard to separate yourself emotionally. But you’re here, now—we’re here, and we must trudge on. The fact is, Monty isn’t producing an income that we know of. Only his wife is. That’s fine and it’s their decision—we must look at it that way. Perhaps they plan to live solely on her salary while he takes care of the children. If so, then do that they must. It isn’t up to you to finance a lifestyle beyond their income. No matter how large your fortune is.”
“But don’t I have a responsibility to help them, especially now, with the baby? I’ve always focused on making money as a measure of success. What’s successful about watching them struggle in this situation?”
Rob gave her an exasperated look. “Again, their situation is not your doing. Can they not face the consequences of their decisions, as we all must do? Even if it means the house won’t sell for a profit? If it sells at all?”
Candace’s eyes widened. “It must sell, Rob. I wanted to help them in the beginning, but now I just want to be rid of this house—I don’t want this situation to go on forever.”
“Darling, if you really want to help them, then don’t help them with more funds. Let them deal with the disastrous situation they face—let them succeed, or not, without you. It may sound harsh, but in doing so, you would be helping them, in the long run. You must let them go into the crucible, and come out of it, either as dust or as gold. They’ll respect you, and themselves, in the end.”
Candace closed her eyes, opened them, then took another sip of her cocktail as the plane taxied to the runway. She couldn’t help but tighten her grip on Rob’s hand as the plane took off; she clutched the armrest with her other hand. Never fond of flying, she felt most vulnerable during takeoff and landing. Nor did she enjoy the complete lack of control, hurtling through the sky in a metal tube encasing other people’s germs, breathing the same air. She didn’t have time to get sick right now. As usual before traveling, she had hydrated all day and taken antivirus pills along with her vitamins.
Without provocation, her thoughts shifted to two memories she had never been able to shake: the last words she had spoken to her mother, and the promise she had made to her father, never realizing what it would take to fulfill. Were other people haunted by such random flashbacks and recollections? Did moments from the past pop up without warning, invading their lives and wreaking havoc? Or was she different?
As the plane began to level off, she forced her thoughts back to the present. Rob had addressed the situation she was facing with Monty and Helen so well. If only he could just as easily remove the guilt she felt—the guilt she had lived with for over twenty years.
With Helen and Adele asleep in the bedroom, Monty unlocked his desk drawer and reached for his iPhone to check for missed calls. The private, second number was essential, but he had only given it out to a select few individuals. She was the only woman who knew it at the moment. His short contact list on this device identified her as RB. Good—she hadn’t tried to contact him after his visit to her this afternoon. He put the phone back in the drawer and locked it.
He hadn’t told her today about this morning’s news at the doctor’s office. She didn’t even know his wife was pregnant—that by the end of November, unless something happened, he’d be the father of three. It was incredible. Candace had gifted each member of his family twelve grand a year for the past three years, the maximum amount she could give an individual with no tax penalty, and he had come to count on those funds. Now the total would increase from thirty-six to sixty thousand dollars. Sixty grand! It was a lot of money, but he wasn’t sure it was worth the extreme hassle of what lay ahead for him during the next seven months, or thereafter.
He pulled up the email he had received today from Shepherd, ordering him to show up at that bastard’s office on Monday morning with Helen. Maybe he should relent and accompany her after all. If she went alone, she might turn into a loose cannon, spewing information and possibly even bashing him. If he was there, he could control the narrative. He’d have to keep a cool head and not let Shepherd push him over the edge, and he’d insist that Candace sign the note.
Whether he went or not, he’d have to clue his wife in ahead of time about the new loan he had worked out with the banker. Since she was determined to talk about their finances this weekend, he would do it then. He’d tell her that he had proposed the new loan only to take pressure off their cash flow, since it would eliminate their mortgage payment. That the reason they’d fallen behind on that was because Candace hadn’t come forth with the funds he needed to finish the renovation. That he’d had to use their mortgage money to pay vendors and suppliers. That Candace had left him no choice.
Of course, he’d have to promise Helen that he would use the money that would be freed up by the lack of a mortgage payment to finish the renovation. And that together with the rest of the funds they had available to draw on the HELOC, it would be enough to get everything done, despite his sister’s stinginess. He would tell Helen that Candace had roped him into doing it this way—that she had lied to him. That he—they—couldn’t let her keep manipulating them.
No matter what, he couldn’t let his wife cut him off from access to the b
ank account and to her income. He had to get her to trust him again. He would say that he would show her their project budget anytime she asked. He’d also emphasize that it was imperative that Candace sign the new note, that since she was co-borrower on the HELOC, she’d have to—because if she didn’t and then they defaulted, the bank would come after her for payment. With Candace’s millions, it was the very least she could do for them. They were the only family she had.
He scrolled through Shepherd’s email, grimacing at the list of questions, and saved it to a file he kept of all of his and Candace’s messages. It was just the latest piece of bullshit, not worthy of any more of his attention. But he might need it, for the record.
9
Nonnegotiable
Helen stretched her legs before getting out of bed early Monday morning and yawned. The bleeding had stopped late Friday night and hadn’t come back. She felt relieved but very tired. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, and every nerve in her body tingled. Veins in her scarred left shoulder pulsated, her neck muscles ached, and her temples throbbed. She hadn’t slept well.
A hot shower would help. Adele was still asleep, thank goodness. Monty lay on his side, facing the opposite wall.
Just before eleven o’clock, Helen walked into the lobby of Elite Financial Planning on Capstone Road and glanced around. There was no sign of her husband yet.
David Shepherd appeared from around a corner. “Good morning, Helen. How are you feeling?”
“Hello, David. I’ve been better, I guess.” She gave a weak smile.
He returned her expression, then dropped his eyes. “Is Monty on his way?”
Helen nodded. “He’s never on time to anything, though.” She swallowed and looked away, regretting the statement.
“Congratulations about the baby.”
Her eyes traveled back to David, meeting his. “Babies.”
“Yes, Adele’s still very young—”
“No,” she corrected him, “I mean, we’re expecting two babies. Twins.”
David’s eyes widened. “Really? My goodness! When did you find out?”
“Friday morning. I had a small emergency and had to see the doctor. Nothing was wrong, except—well, I had a sonogram, and there they were.”
“No fertility drugs or anything?” David bit his lip.
“No! It just—happened.”
David nodded. “Well, that’s wonderful. Let’s go into my office and sit down, shall we? Perhaps Monty will join us in a few.”
Helen followed him down a corridor and into a spacious private office, one wall of which was a glass window affording a view of downtown. Green tops of trees intermingled with city streets and sidewalks, some of them lined with the pinks and yellows of springtime in Atlanta. She sat down in one of two comfortable chairs facing a massive mahogany desk, and David took his seat behind it. Shelves and cabinets made of the same material lined the wall to his right and her left, and his thin, silver laptop sat on the desk within easy reach of his right hand.
David shut the machine and placed both his hands in front of him on the wood. “Both Candace and I are glad that you requested to meet. She’s in New York right now, so I will be speaking for her, acting on her behalf, as I so often do.” He smiled.
“Okay.”
“Now, I assume you know about Monty having dealt directly with Whitney Jamison over at Memorial Bank and having discussed a new arrangement with her?”
Helen nodded and raised her eyebrows. Was there something Monty hadn’t told her when he explained it on Saturday?
“Have you seen the email Candace had me send to him late Friday, with her questions?”
“No, I don’t think I have. Was I copied on that?”
David shook his head. “You should have been. That would have been an oversight.” He opened his laptop, clicked the pad a few times, then pivoted it toward her. “Here it is. I’m sending it to you now.” She leaned forward. “You see the list of questions—”
At that moment, Monty barged through the open office door and plopped down next to his wife, who leaned back in her chair. He stared at David. “So, I’m here. Happy now?”
David regarded him, stole a glance at Helen, and looked straight back at her husband. “Hello, Monty. Glad you could join us.”
“Could? I guess I do what I’m told at times, just like you do, Dave.”
David cleared his throat. “I was about to go over this list with Helen, but now that you’ve arrived, perhaps we can tackle it together.”
Monty sneered. “Perhaps. Or, perhaps we could stop wasting time, and Candace could just sign the fucking note.”
Helen dropped her eyes, then gazed at David, who offered Monty a faint smile. “If you had answered the questions via return email, we wouldn’t have to ‘waste time’ on them now.”
Monty leaned back, crossed his arms in front of him, and stared at David. “What the hell. Fire away.”
“First, here are the items we’ve received, including your most recent project budget.” David pointed to the message, visible to husband and wife on the laptop. “The invoices you sent are only for the windows and the plumbing fixtures, though. When can we expect them for the rest of the work that’s been completed so far?”
Helen looked at the floor. Monty shook his head. “Are we really going to go there?”
David narrowed his eyes. “Yes. We are.”
A few moments of silence followed as Monty stared at him without blinking. “Tomorrow. Okay?”
“Number Two: We need to discuss the fact that you are four months behind on your mortgage, and interest is past due on the HELOC.”
Neither of the Carawans spoke. David cleared his throat and looked from husband to wife. “What’s the story on that?”
“Here’s the story, Dave,” said Monty. “The HELOC had about eighty-five left to draw, but we needed to keep availability on it. However, we had to pay for some work that had to be redone. Your client wouldn’t take my calls or answer my messages, so we were forced to make these payments from our income. So we wouldn’t get sued.”
“Exactly what work had to be redone?” asked David. He crossed his arms and stared at Monty.
“Does it matter?”
“Monty, for inexplicable reasons, Candace trusted you in the past. But at this late date, we need to establish accountability.”
“Look,” said Monty, “I’m trying to answer your question. We couldn’t pay the interest or the mortgage because workers and suppliers had to be paid. They were threatening us.”
David looked straight into Monty’s eyes. “Send me the supporting documentation. Including an explanation of what had to be redone, and why.”
Monty’s face didn’t move. “Next?”
“Number Three: You did, in fact, draw additional funds from the HELOC, totaling sixty-five thousand. We need the invoices tied to those draws.”
Monty exhaled. “I’ll get that to you later this week.”
“What was the money used for?”
“Various items. Next?”
David looked at Helen. “What is your combined income?”
“Don’t answer that,” Monty said to her. “That’s private, and none of Candace’s business.”
“To the contrary. It is her business, since she is guaranteeing your existing loan. If you want any further consideration from her, I’d advise you to be open about this. You can send me your 2009 tax return,” David said to Helen.
“Don’t,” repeated Monty.
David turned to Monty. “Are you generating any income?”
“You can tell Candace that I’m being hugely undervalued right now.”
David’s eyes shifted to Helen. “We also need a listing of your monthly living expenses.”
Monty stood up. “This is ridiculous. Get my sister on the phone.”
�
�Sit down, please. Candace is unavailable.”
Monty leaned toward the desk, placing his hands on it and drawing close to David’s face. “I demand that she participate in this meeting. Get her on a conference call, or Skype. Now.”
“Monty, calm down. You’re not in a position to demand anything. You need to comply with Candace’s requests if she is to do anything more for you. That’s just the way it is, and the sooner you accept that, the better it will be for all concerned.” He looked at Helen.
“I can send you the tax return, David,” said Helen.
Monty whirled around and faced her, a snarl on his face. “What?”
“They need to know—”
“No, they don’t! That’s off the table,” Monty said. He turned back toward David. “So is what we do with our money—”
“But—” Helen began.
“Shut up,” Monty said, staring at David. “Look, we aren’t going to be micromanaged by that bitch. I simply refuse to let it happen. Nonnegotiable.” He sat down again, his eyes menacing.
Unruffled, David spoke in a low tone. “Helen, why don’t you send me a PDF of your last six months’ bank statements? I can have my assistant go through them and plug the numbers into a spreadsheet. That should suffice.”
Monty rose and lunged toward David over the desk, but stopped short of physical contact. “Do you fucking understand English, you prick?”
David sat immobile. “The last time you were here, Monty, I had to call security. I hope I don’t have to again.” He reached for his cell phone.
Monty stood up straight. “Go ahead,” he snarled.
Helen scooted back in her chair, her eyes wide with fear. David threw her a reassuring glance, then spoke into his phone, pronouncing his assistant’s first name as he always did: en français. “Geneviève, please have Joe come to my office.”
Monty sat down and leaned over, clasping his hands together between his knees. “Hey, I almost forgot. Did my wife mention that we’re having twins?”
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