Helen looked away and David nodded slowly, studying Monty. “I congratulated her. How wonderful for you.”
“Don’t worry about telling my sister—I will, today. Call Joe off. I’m ready to cooperate.”
David stared at Monty and paused. “Last item: I need to come to see the house tomorrow.” He brought up a calendar on his computer, surveying his agenda for Tuesday. “I’m available between two and four thirty. Let’s say, three?”
“Fine,” said Monty. “What’s the purpose?”
“To assess the status of the renovation. Take photos and come up with a list of what remains to be done to get the certificate of occupancy and to list the property with a realtor as soon as possible.”
“Now it’s my turn to ask questions,” said Monty. “Is Candace going to sign the note? Is she going to see us through on financing the project?”
“We’ll be in communication with you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Of course, our shared desire is that the house sell quickly. A lot depends on what we find out tomorrow as to what remains to be done. Once it’s sold, all the creditors, including Candace, will be paid.” David turned his attention to his office door, where a uniformed guard had just appeared. “Hi, Joe. I think we’re okay here, after all.”
Joe nodded. “Yes, sir. Let me know if you need me. I’ll be in the hall.”
Monty gave David a hard look. “As I’ve said in the past, Helen and I need to come out of this deal on the plus side. We’re buying our next home with the cash we take away from this one. What amount is Candace willing to write off so that can happen?”
“And as I’ve said, there’s no point in discussing any such situation until the project is complete, and we get a contract on the home.”
Monty gave his wife a sideways glance. “Are you satisfied? This was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
Her lips tightened into a thin line as she looked from her husband to David. “Should I be there tomorrow afternoon?”
“It’s not necessary,” said David, “but it might be a good idea.”
“Are we done?” Monty asked while rising. “I have places to be.”
Helen rolled her eyes at David, then caught herself, looked down, and picked up her purse. “I’ll try, David. It may be closer to four before I can get there.”
“Then I’ll plan to arrive around three thirty or so. See you tomorrow.”
Back at the office, Helen spent her lunch hour at her desk trying to catch up on work. At a quarter to one, her cell phone buzzed. It was Dawn.
“So, how did it go with David?”
“Okay, I guess. He went over a list of requested items with us, and Monty cooperated.”
“That’s hard to believe. I’m sorry, Helen—I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did. But that’s fine. He did have a mini-meltdown when David asked about our income—”
“Your income.”
“Right. That, and our monthly budget. But then he calmed down. He said he’d send David the info they want. Receipts and stuff.”
“Do you think he will?”
“Dawn, I hope so. He’s got to. David said Candace won’t do anything for us if he doesn’t.”
“What’s she gonna do? I mean, do you need her to front more money to get the renovation done?”
“It’s complicated. But yes. At least, it looks that way. David’s coming out to see it tomorrow afternoon, and we’re going from there.”
“Helen, I’m glad you emailed Candace, and that you had this meeting. You need full disclosure, too.”
“I know. Anyway, I’ve got to eat my sandwich while we talk. I’m famished.”
“Eat, eat. You’re carrying two babies! How do you feel?”
“Better than I did. But hungry all the time. It’s irritating, to say the least.”
“Does Candace know that it’s twins yet?”
“Probably. Monty said he was gonna call her. I told David this morning. But let’s talk about you and Frank.”
“Nothing to tell. Except I’m pissed off at him right now.”
“What happened? Dawn, he’s perfect.”
“No, no, he has flaws.”
“Like what?”
“Like, reneging on promises.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s not a big deal,” said Dawn. “It’s just—you know how I hate that! He’ll say he can do something, and then say he can’t. I’m like, don’t tell me you can, unless you really can. Plus, as long as I’m bashing, he hates to travel. Says he can never get away from the office for long. But I shouldn’t bitch.”
“Are you talking about going on a trip?”
“We were, but now he claims it’s not a good time. Too much going on at work. Even though I can get away.”
Helen took the last bite of her sandwich and pictured Frank arriving home in his suit at the end of the day. Dawn had said that he wasn’t a workaholic, but she had complained before about the short-to-no vacations problem. On the reneging issue—well, Frank didn’t break the big promises, as far as Helen could tell. The guy traveled a lot for business, and if he didn’t want to travel much otherwise, it was understandable. He was a good man—he worked hard and earned a good living. Dawn was lucky.
“I’m sorry, Helen, I’m just in a bad mood. Forget what I just said.”
“Don’t worry. I’m fine.” Some of her coworkers were returning from lunch. “I should probably hang up, anyway.”
“Look. I meant that about being able to get away. I can come down to Atlanta. Anytime.”
“Maybe you could, later on. Like, when I get closer to the due date.”
“Of course! But should I come before that? This spring or summer?”
“Not now. We’ll see. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Dawn. “I guess I’ll go to lunch. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” Helen placed the phone back on her desk and tossed her paper plate in the trash can underneath it. She shut her eyes. Dawn was always going to be there for her. She always had been, as long as Helen could remember.
Although she loved her older sister, Helen had been jealous of her back in their younger days. Dawn was without a doubt the more attractive. She had flawless skin, lovely features, perfect dark brown hair that never misbehaved, and an ideal figure that was effortlessly maintained. Unlike her, Helen had struggled over the years with a slight pudginess and had worked hard to maintain a slim figure. Her mousy brown hair was fine and thin, and her eyes were slightly too close together.
But a long time ago, Helen had come to terms with her appearance. There was a level of prettiness that she could achieve, and no more. At least her complexion was clear and smooth, a sharp contrast to the big patch of skin on her left shoulder, starting below her neck and reaching to the top of her breast. Her right hand moved to the area, her fingers feeling the warped flesh underneath her blouse. The scar had branded her, made her fundamentally different from other women. Past boyfriends had politely pretended it was a nonissue, and so had Monty, back in the beginning.
But it had aged her skin so prematurely, dispelling her youth like an ugly loss of virginity. It was just an irregular blotch of flesh—the slap of a grisly palm with long wiry fingers. It wasn’t a disease, like leprosy (though she’d been asked if it was). Helen had grieved over it for a long time before she accepted it. Her teen years had been the most difficult; what used to be embarrassment had developed into shame and anger. She had directed those emotions toward the person whose careless mistake had cost her any chance of beauty. Now that she was a grown woman and a mother, Helen was sure that no man who saw her disfigurement could ever desire her.
She was stuck with the man she had.
Luckily, he hadn’t brought up the subject of going to the bank this afternoon to add his name to her
new account. But she knew he would bring it up later. She knew she would acquiesce, too, if only to keep communication going between them. On Saturday, he had shown her the paperwork on the project and they had gone over all the bills online. She’d been very upset when she found out about the past due payments, but now it made sense why he’d been secretive and stubborn about wanting autonomy. But he had explained everything and outlined his objectives in working out the new loan. Once that was in place, he said, they could catch up and get the house done and ready to sell.
She would have to keep on him about it, no matter what, and she would have to make sure he at least went out looking for a job. As for her new account, it would be simpler just to close it rather than to add him—she hadn’t gotten payroll to switch her direct deposit over from their joint account, anyway. She pushed her thoughts aside and refocused her attention on her seemingly endless task list. She had to stay busy and produce what she had been assigned. She couldn’t afford to be identified as a superfluous employee.
David returned to his office after a quick lunch at the food court downstairs. For the next several weeks, because of his allergies, he planned to avoid exposure to the high pollen levels outside and stay within air-conditioned buildings as much as possible. As usual, he wouldn’t get to enjoy the beautiful spring days. Before too long, the city would be enveloped in summer’s oppressive humidity, which lasted through the end of September. Autumn was David’s favorite season, the only one he didn’t like to see end.
He had left Candace a voicemail after this morning’s meeting, saying he would email a concise summary. She would call him after that, he was sure, to discuss it and his visit to the property tomorrow.
Her brother was a truly amazing individual, if one were amazed by depravity. She claimed he was a pathological liar, and David was beginning to believe it. He certainly doubted whether the guy would send him the information Candace had requested. Even if he did, David would be wise to check on its validity. He’d assign Geneviève to track down the vendors and confirm receipt of any funds Monty claimed he had paid. He made a mental note to ascertain whether she had done that for the invoices already received, as he had directed.
He looked over his email to Candace before sending it. He had included the fact that the couple was expecting twins because, if he omitted it and Candace found out he had learned of it today but didn’t tell her in this email, she would probably be very annoyed. As for letting Monty tell her himself—well, that wasn’t a priority. Hopefully the news wouldn’t cause Candace to back down in her demands for accountability. However, David suspected she might acquiesce about signing the new bank note or, at the minimum, forking over some more money. Her stocks were up lately, and her judgment could possibly be off by an inverse amount. It had happened before.
An hour after he sent the email, his fears were realized. Candace called and said that depending on what he found out tomorrow afternoon when he visited the property—and in the interest of expediting the sale of the place—she would be willing to talk with Whitney Jamison at Memorial Bank.
10
Poor Relations
Rob Chandler hailed a taxi on Tuesday evening and instructed the driver to take him to the St. George Hotel in Manhattan, where Candace was meeting him for cocktails. Afterward, they planned to look at the hotel’s banquet room that her assistant had reserved for the wedding reception. Dinner would be at eight o’clock at Manaque, a hip new restaurant that a partner at the firm had recommended.
Checking email on his phone, Rob saw a new message from Candace. Evidently her money man had met with her brother today at the house she had financed to evaluate his progress on the renovation. Shepherd had taken several pictures of the rooms and had forwarded them. According to Candace, the place was a literal mess: half-done floors, tile and other materials stacked in corners, and piles of rubbish everywhere. Rob put the phone down and glanced out the window at the pedestrians bustling about the city streets. Undoubtedly, Candace would want to discuss the situation this evening, but he felt confident that she had already made her decisions—especially now that couple was expecting twins, as Shepherd had reported. Candace was so tough and strong when it came to business, yet so much the opposite when it came to that blasted brother of hers and his family.
After generously tipping the driver, Rob stepped into the hotel and made his way over to the bar. He selected a corner table, sent Candace a text, then ordered a single malt on ice. When it arrived, so did she. He stood up and leaned down to kiss her.
She smiled. “Did you see my email?”
“I did.” The waiter appeared and Candace ordered her usual martini: Grey Goose up with a twist.
“Well, the situation is worse than I’d imagined,” she said. “David said there was debris everywhere. Also that Monty was very uptight and defensive.”
“I’m not surprised. Did Helen show up?”
“She got there after David, and left when he did. He said she’s being very cooperative.”
“Poor girl. Hope she can manage the pregnancy,” said Rob. “However, it’s better that you know the facts about the place. Did you give David any instructions?”
“Not yet. He’s waiting on more information from them, later this week.” The waiter placed an ice-cold martini on the table, then disappeared. Candace lifted the glass and sipped her drink, her sapphire-and-diamond ring shining under the bar’s diffused lighting. “This whole thing is so awful, Rob. And so embarrassing. I mean, really, who has a brother like this?”
“I think you’d be astonished at how many people do.” Rob sipped his Scotch. “Especially wealthy people. As Dickens said, ‘It is a melancholy truth that even great men have their poor relations.’ I’m not saying that all of us ‘great men’ have a Monty, but many have a moocher, even a manipulator, in the family.”
Candace shook her head. “So, I’m not alone.”
“No. But . . .” Rob looked straight into her eyes.
“What?”
He took her hand. “It’s just that I can’t believe that guilt is what has driven you to get so deeply involved with him in this project. While the accident was a tragedy, Candace, you were not at fault for your mother’s death. It just happened. You were very young at the time, an inexperienced driver, and you made a mistake. The weather that day was a huge factor in it. You have to accept it and put it in the past where it belongs.”
“I have put it in the past, Rob. But still—that event changed my brother’s life—”
“It changed your life, too. And your father’s. Every year, millions of people throughout the world lose a parent—or a spouse—through an accident or illness. It’s unfortunate, but true.”
Candace sipped her drink. “I know. It’s just, my feelings of guilt are deeper than you know. There’s something else about the accident. Something I’ve never told you.”
“Why, darling? What is it?”
She breathed deeply, then clasped his hand more firmly. “The day before the accident, Mother had asked me to go and have the tires replaced. All four of them were bald, or almost. But I didn’t do it.”
Rob squeezed her hand and gave her a tender look. He was grateful for this woman’s trust in him, and for her resolve and commitment to the truth even when it hurt.
“Dad didn’t know she had asked me, and neither did Monty. I never told Monty that she had—”
“Candace—”
“But after the accident, I told my father. I felt terrible—if I’d done what she asked, the accident might never have happened. I felt that I was to blame. But Dad blamed himself for it. He said that he knew the condition of the tires, and he should have gotten them replaced.”
“Did Monty ever find out that Susannah had told you to get it done? Did Jack say anything?”
“No. I’m sure he didn’t.”
“Then—”
“Wait. There’s more. Rig
ht before the accident, as we drove through the pouring rain, Mother and I were arguing. But not about the tires. It was about my future, and what I thought was her indifference to it. I didn’t think she cared about me. I attacked her, Rob. I called her horrible names.” Candace paused and blinked away tears. “I don’t know exactly what, though. I’ve tried to block out the memory for so long.”
Still holding her hand, Rob gazed at her. “Don’t try to remember. You were a teenager—a child.”
“But I wasn’t a good teenager. I was very self-focused and self-absorbed, and not very forgiving—”
“Like all teenagers. You were normal.”
“Anyway, after her death, Dad was in deep grief. While I was out in Texas, he went through hell with Monty. When Monty started screwing around, Dad suffered even more. He didn’t bankroll him, though, or enable him. Mother was the one who did that. Monty was her project. I didn’t relate to her—I’ve told you about how she and I never got along.”
“Like many mothers and daughters.”
“Yes, well. I had so little in common with her. I blamed her for so much, too. She was a spender, and Dad was a saver. The fact that they never had any money—that was clearly because of her. We all knew it, and Dad had to deal with it.” She sipped her martini.
“And I’d say, you inherited—or adopted—his attitude about money.”
“I agree. I mean, I do spend a lot of money now, but I didn’t back when I didn’t have much. And I’ve always kept track of it. Anyway,” she continued, looking into Rob’s eyes, “the year before he died, Dad redid his will.”
Rob took another sip of his Scotch, his eyes trained on his fiancée.
“SlimZ was in its second year, and sales had more than doubled, from a very strong start.”
“I remember.”
“Yes. So, I was already making a lot of money. Dad told me that he was dividing his estate equally between Monty and me. He didn’t have many assets other than his home. It was paid off, and he wanted it to be sold upon his death. I told him to leave all of his money to Monty, that I didn’t need anything, whereas Monty might, someday. Dad argued with me, but I did talk him into leaving almost everything to Monty. Rob, I didn’t think he would die so soon after! I thought he would live for at least another twenty years.” Candace brushed a tear away as another fell down her cheek.
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