Hudson had apparently arranged everything in Olivia’s name, and she didn’t correct the misunderstanding. Conversation came easier from that point on. When the pair parted, the hugs were genuine, and they made plans to meet again before leaving the city.
To her surprise, tears filled her eyes as she made her way to Hudson’s office to thank him for making the arrangements. Alejandra was still at her station, guarding the palace. She greeted Olivia with a smile carved into the concrete set of her face. “Hello, Mrs. McAllister.”
Olivia froze and stepped back. “You know who I am?”
“I made your flight arrangements.”
The explanation did not lessen the strange vibe the woman was giving Olivia. “I’d like to see Hudson, please.”
There wasn’t the slightest shift in the woman’s expression, though Olivia didn’t believe her when she said, “I’m very sorry. Hudson left for Bahrain this afternoon. Shall I give him a message when he calls in?”
Olivia knew Hudson’s trusted assistant wasn’t sorry in the slightest. “Please just tell him I said thank you.” And without pressing further, Olivia turned and left.
Chapter Eighteen
A gentle hand fell softly on Hudson’s shoulder, momentarily drawing his attention from the street scene eighty-seven floors below.
“She just stopped by to say thank you. I told her what you said, that you were on your way to Bahrain. It’s your fault I’ll be going to confession this Sunday.”
Hudson’s pinched reflection looked back at him from the window. “How did she seem?”
“Happy. Content. You did a nice thing for her tonight.”
He laid his hand over Alejandra’s.
“You’re a good guy, Hudson. Have I told you that lately?”
“Good enough to warrant some of your homemade empanadas?”
“Homemade empanadas? I’m a big executive now, with a very demanding boss. I don’t have time to cook.” She gave his shoulder a pat and walked a few steps away. “All joking aside, I’m worried about you. You’re here day and night. Barely sleeping or eating. You look like hell.”
He turned to her and smiled. “Now you have another topic for confession.”
“This woman isn’t good for you. You can’t afford to go back down that rabbit hole again. Too much depends on you right now.”
He rubbed his fingers deep into his eyes.
“I see. You still love her, and you can’t get those feelings to go away.”
“I’m all right, Alejandra. Having her so close today was tough.”
“As every day has been since she came back into your life. End this once and for all. Go to her and tell her you still love her. Get couples’ therapy or call my priest to conduct an exorcism on you so you can be free.”
He laughed. “I hadn’t considered some of those options.”
“I’m serious, Hudson.”
“It’s out of my hands,” he answered brusquely, as he moved to his desk and slumped into his chair. “I’m sorry. I can’t go to her anymore. Olivia has lived her entire life by other people’s expectations. I’m not going to impose mine on her. She deserves the opportunity to become her own person. If that journey brings her back to me, I’ll be the happiest man alive.”
“And if it doesn’t? Will you be able to survive that?”
Chapter Nineteen
Two days after returning from New York, Olivia locked Hudson’s beach house, severing this tie to Hudson and the past they shared. Closing her eyes, she retrieved a sweet moment, a final image to hold on to from those early days. Several bubbled into her memory and were quickly eclipsed by the memory of their final anguished goodbye and kiss.
Laurel, Ben, and Joey were the only bright spots in Olivia’s personal life. Pepper sent Olivia a final text admitting that she had been wrong about her ability to be an objective counselor. She realized that her relationship with Hudson continued to get in the way. She sent several referrals, but Olivia never called any of them.
Rain and clouds cloaked her in a world as gray as her mood. Six weeks passed in a fog of work, broken only by time spent with Laurel and her family or at the gym Olivia joined. She missed the beach, but even without Hudson’s house and his view of the sea, thoughts of him crept into unoccupied moments. Guilt always followed, creating a painful, unending cycle.
The day finally arrived for her visit with Susan and the long-awaited opening of the safe deposit box. Conversations over the month helped the women retain the progress they had made in their relationship. When Susan arrived, Olivia honestly saw her as a welcome friend.
Small talk on the way to the bank centered around three themes: Olivia’s recovery, her new home, and Susan’s work. The love Susan felt for her students was evident to Olivia, but when the conversation hit a noticeable lull, Susan asked, “Is Hudson still keeping in touch?”
The question seemed additionally awkward coming from Jeff’s sister. Olivia stalled while she considered how to answer. “He was a wonderful support to me. He couldn’t have been a better friend, but it was time for him to get back to his own life.”
“Hudson is a good man. Did I tell you that I’ve always assumed that he’s the benefactor who funded The Pioneer School?”
“How would he have even known you needed a new school?”
It didn’t surprise her. Hudson’s goodness caused another ache in Olivia’s heart that hovered over the remainder of the ride to the bank.
Mr. Curtis, the bank manager, examined Susan’s ID before leading her and Olivia to a private room. He left, and returned a few minutes later with a long metal box, which he set on a table. “I’ll be outside the door if you need anything further.”
Olivia felt chills snake up and down her spine as the door closed, and she handed Susan the key. For a moment, she questioned the plan, but before she could reconsider, Susan opened the box.
It was empty except for the items Susan expected—a copy of her parent’s will and Jeff and Susan’s birth certificates—and a plain manila envelope. Susan picked the envelope up, opened it, and removed the contents. A handwritten letter lay between a stapled document and a sheet of paper.
She looked at Olivia and down at her shaking hands. “It’s for you.”
Olivia recognized the handwriting immediately—Hudson’s—though the penmanship was sloppier than normal. One glance at the first line, and she knew why.
I’ll be gone before you two return.
Now Olivia’s hands began to shake as she read the pleasure Jeff’s friends—the wedding goers—took in delivering news of the nuptials to Hudson. And then she hit these lines:
When Jeff didn’t show up for the meeting, I assumed he was sleeping off a party binge or with a member of his entourage. But you two? I never saw this coming. How long was I the stooge? I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I can’t see us working together going forward, so I’m giving you two Arena Corp as a wedding gift. I owe it to our investors to make sure it succeeds, but after a year, I’ll bow out. My attorney will make transfer arrangements. I guess there’s nothing left to say except, be happy, Liv. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.
Hudson
The shaking moved into her legs. Olivia leaned into the table to steady herself while the information in the letter sank in. “Hudson gave us Arena Corp.”
“What?” Susan picked up the stapled pages. “Yes, he did. Here are the documents.” She scanned several pages. “They were signed by Jeff through a proxy in 2009, and the company was sold in 2011.” Susan’s head cocked to the side. “You didn’t know this?”
“No. I didn’t know a lot of things. How could Jeff have kept this from me?”
Susan sat heavily into a chair. “Where did the money go?”
“I have no idea. It didn’t come to us.” She remembered Hudson’s allusion to Jeff’s secrets. “Hudson knew. Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Jeff was with you every day. How could he own a fortune and live like—” She caught the pain in Olivia’s f
ace over the reference to their lifestyle. “I’m sorry, Olivia. None of this makes any sense. There has to be an explanation. Maybe he wasn’t husband of the year, but neither was he deceitful. I just can’t wrap my mind around this.”
Olivia reached over and picked up the last piece of paper. It was blank except for a series of letters and numbers written in Jeff’s hand. “Another mystery. I can’t take any more.” Tears streaked down her face as she dropped her head into her hands. A sense of frailty overtook Olivia, as if her entire world was made of sand. Wringing her hands, she said, “I need to get out of here. I can’t think about this right now.”
The women closed the box and opened the door, finding the bank manager standing near.
“Is there anything else I can do for you ladies?”
“No, thank you,” Olivia managed to say. “We appreciate your help.” As she beelined for the exit, Susan turned back to the man.
“Could you take a look at something for us? Olivia, can I show him the numbers?”
Olivia handed Susan the sheet.
“Do these letters and numbers mean anything to you?” asked Susan. “They belonged to a man named Jeff McAllister. He passed away several months ago. Does that name ring a bell?”
The banker studied the paper and bit the side of his cheek. “I believe this series follows Switzerland’s IBAN, or International Bank Account Number format.” He pointed to the string of characters. “The ‘C’ and ‘H’ here are the country code for Switzerland. The rest of these numbers are in the right order and of the correct length to identify a bank and an account, but you’d need someone to run it through an IBAN validation program to verify its authenticity.”
“Could you?” Susan stopped herself and turned to Olivia. “I’m sorry. It’s your call.”
Olivia nodded. “Please. Would you do it? We’d both like to know.”
He left for a few minutes and returned with an apologetic smile. “I thought I remembered the name Jeff McAllister, but I needed to be sure. Six or seven years ago, Mr. McAllister made an appointment with me, asking me to recommend a Swiss bank. I did my research and called him back, suggesting Zurich Cantonal, which another of our clients uses. That’s all I know. Mr. McAllister contacted them and made all the financial arrangements himself.”
“So he really did it,” said Olivia flatly, as the chaos and betrayal rushed back in.
Susan’s eyes welled up. “Mr. Curtis, can we access that account? We need answers.”
“Did he have a will?”
The women looked at one another and shook their heads. “He died in an accident,” said Olivia. “Wills just didn’t seem important to a man of thirty.”
Mr. Curtis’s face softened with understanding. “I do understand. However, I’m afraid Mr. McAllister’s passing, the international nature of this account, and the absence of a will complicates matters considerably. You need a good attorney to sort this out.”
Olivia thanked the man, grabbed Susan’s hand, and pulled her through the front door as her mind wrestled with an increasing list of questions. There was money she never knew about. Money from Arena Corp. Money they could have built a life with. Why had Jeff kept it secret?
“Do you have a good attorney?”
“That depends on your definition of good.” Olivia did know an attorney, a sleazebag who knew how to bend the rules to get information, and Larry Brewster owed her.
Chapter Twenty
Susan sat on the sofa, biting her fingernail as Olivia lowered herself into a chair and dialed Larry Brewster’s number. She set the call on speaker.
“Larry Brewster here.”
“Mr. Brewster, this is Olivia McAllister.”
His groan echoed in her ear. “Geez, lady, you’ve got no beef with me. The way I figure it, you owe me.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I gave up investigating your Mr. Bauer. He’s so clean he probably squeaks when he walks. But you already knew that, so tell me why you led me on a wild goose chase with those claims that he stole that company out from under you? I saw those transfer-of-ownership papers. Your name and your husband’s were all over that document.”
“How could you possibly have seen those papers? I just found out about them.”
“It’s what I do. I slipped one of Hudson Bauer’s employees a hundred spot, and she gave me a peek.”
“But I never saw or signed any papers about Arena Corp.”
“Did your husband ever ask you to sign a proxy doc? Seven or eight years ago?”
She thought back to a night near their anniversary when Jeff took her out to a restaurant. Before dessert, he slid papers and a pen her way for her to sign. Humiliation hit her like a spray of ice water over the memory. She had been such a weak, spineless fool, so grateful for his attention that she asked few questions. “Yes,” she replied in defeat. “He said he was opening an account.”
“That’s an understatement. You never read the document?”
“No.”
Susan stood up and walked to a window. Olivia’s heart broke for her.
“I take it you never saw any revenue from the company either.”
She grasped at a final straw. “Maybe there wasn’t any. I heard the company failed.”
“But it was worth over two million dollars when Bauer signed it over at the end of its first year. A Japanese program took over the market, so the management company sold the stock and invested it in other tech industries. Your husband had to have been making the final decisions. There’s money. Somewhere.”
Olivia’s eyes began to sting.
“So you’re telling me you have absolutely no knowledge of Arena Corp?”
“I might have something. Jeff opened a Swiss bank account. It might be attached to the business, but my name isn’t on it. Can you get access to that account?”
“It’ll take some doing, but unless some other person or entity is attached to that account, the money should legally go to you. But once the case goes international, my price goes way up.”
“I’m sure we can agree on something fair. You run a sleazy operation, Mr. Brewster. I didn’t know that when I hired you. In truth, though, I was on your level at the time. I’m giving us both a chance to step up and redeem ourselves. And maybe we can redeem my husband too.”
“I’m not running any charity, lady.”
Charity. That was it! Olivia thought about the photos of the Syrian refugees and of the nuns and orphans whose faces filled her dreams. “I’ll send the bank account information to you, and you get me everything you can on that account. I want to know how it operated, how involved my husband was, and what he did with the funds. Maybe we can do a little good in the world with that money. And don’t let a word of this leak to the press, because as much as I’d hate to play lowball again, if Hudson Bauer’s name is compromised in any way, I’ll tell the FBI about that hundred spot you used to bribe one of his employees. I imagine that information could place your license in jeopardy. So be a hero, Mr. Brewster. You’ll have my email in the hour.”
Olivia ended the call, but Susan’s pained reaction to it continued. She stared out the basement walkout’s sliding doors, looking much as she had that day in Olivia’s hospital room.
“None of that sounded like the Jeff I knew.”
Olivia was reeling herself and had little comfort to offer. “Maybe we’re missing something.”
Susan turned and brightened. “Of course. We must be.”
Prickles rose on Olivia’s arms. She could think of no good explanation that wouldn’t build up what could be false hope.
Susan grabbed her coat and headed for the door. “A few of Jeff’s college friends came to the funeral or sent cards. I’m going to contact them. Maybe they know something that will explain all this.”
“Okay.” Olivia heard the doubt in her own voice. She didn’t believe Susan would find a happy explanation for Jeff’s behavior, but neither could she abide any further discussion of the topic today.
> “I’ll be in touch,” said Susan, as she slipped past the door. Olivia wondered if she’d ever see her again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Clouds and rain filled most Portland forecasts from October to the year’s end. It seemed a fitting prelude to Olivia’s feeling about the upcoming holidays. Thanksgiving in Maryland with her mother and Peter Thibodeaux proved to be an unexpected delight. Peter’s endless stories about his Cajun boyhood and misspent youth flimflamming tourists in New Orleans left Olivia in stitches. She completely understood why her mother adored the now successful plumbing contractor, and to her surprise, she teared up when it was time to leave them both.
Christmas was spent at Laurel’s playing with little Joey. Olivia’s thoughts frequently drifted to the baby she had carried so briefly and her January due date. She could no longer picture herself with Jeff and a child, but an ache and emptiness remained.
Hudson sent a package from Africa, where he and his parents were spending the holidays. Inside was a delicate, hand-loomed tablecloth and a beautiful woven basket adorned with a hand-painted elephant. The cover of the card was a sketched Nativity, and inside was a note.
The nuns at the Mother Thomasine’s convent make and sell items like these to support themselves and the orphans they teach at their school. Their business is doing well, thanks in great part to your beautiful work on the microbusiness projects. I hope you get to see some of these places and the people you’ve helped. Thanks also for your support on Sweet Water. You’re making a difference.
I hope your Christmas was merry and bright.
Hudson
She debated whether or not Hudson sent gifts to every employee, or if this was his way of reaching out to her, of keeping the door of hope ajar in case they tried again to get it right. She had been so wrong on every point with this good man. She had even picked up the phone a dozen times to admit that very truth, that she now understood her marriage was based on a trick, and that Hudson had given them Arena Corp. But how could she excuse her lack of faith in Hudson?
A SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE BOXED SET Page 46