The Fifth Avenue Story Society

by Rachel Hauck

  “Chuck, facing the truth is the only way to heal and move on.”

  “From what I can see, I’m not the only one lying to myself. What was that trip to the GW really about?”

  Ed turned back to his dishes as the door slammed behind Chuck. He wilted against the counter. He’d meant no harm. But it was his flaw. Pointing out things other people didn’t care to see. Esmerelda used to get on him about it.

  “Just keep your opinions to yourself, Ed.”

  “Ed?” The knock on his door came with the sound of Mabel Cochran’s voice. “I made a coffee cake.”

  “Do you stand with your ear against your door waiting for me to come out?” He jerked open the door Chuck just slammed to find Mabel with a flash of shallow pink on her cheeks.

  “No, but I heard a slam.” She turned to go. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  “Mabel, wait—”

  For the second time in two minutes, he had a door slammed on him.

  He was just trying to help. Well, help Chuck. Mabel he wanted out of his hair and to quit plying him with sweet cakes.

  Back in his place, Ed banged around the kitchen, taking out meat for dinner, then realizing it was story society night and someone else was in charge of food.

  He stepped into his coveralls and checked his list of repairs for the day.

  What did Chuck mean he wasn’t the only one lying to himself? Ed wasn’t lying. No, he was loving. Something the world could use a little more of about now.

  * * *

  Lexa

  Trouble had come to their little society. At nine o’clock when Gilda announced the library was closing, she found herself sitting alone with Jett ten seconds later.

  “That was weird,” he said.

  “Very. No one talking.”

  To be fair, Coral, Chuck, and Ed were speaking but not communicating. Then as soon as Gilda announced, “Closing time, children,” the three of them bolted for the door.

  Coral informed them her auditor had found an off-shore account. But no money had been transferred.

  Chuck smiled only when describing what it felt like to hug his kids for the first time in over a year.

  Ed muttered something about his neighbor Mabel trying to make him fat and how the co-op residents needed to read the instructions on the proper use of a garbage disposal.

  “Chuck and Coral were barely talking.” Jett stretched as he stood.

  “Do you think something happened between them?”

  “Or perhaps didn’t happen.”

  “I’ll try to call her tomorrow.”

  Jett set his backpack on his chair. “What about you and me? We good?”

  “We are good.”

  “I thought a lot about our conversation in the barn,” Jett said. “You’re right about me being stuck. I don’t want to be an old guy who looks back and wonders what happened to his life. Who wears his emotions on his sleeve but does nothing about them.”

  “Weddings and memorials put life in perspective,” Lexa said. “What you said about Storm’s ashes being undiscernible from those in the firepit hit me.” She shivered. “We really are made from dust.”

  “And yet he lived with the breath of God in his lungs.”

  “Makes me wonder what I’m doing with that breath in mine.”

  “What’d you conclude?”

  “The past is the past. I’m wasting time carrying a wound from twelve years ago. Why does Carnie get to live in my emotions when I knew him all of six months? I accused you of being stuck, but I’m not much better.”

  “You put your résumé out there.”

  Yes, and when she checked her account after arriving home from Chappaqua, she had several inquiries.

  “When you and your parents spoke of Storm,” Lexa said. “I dropped my own bones, so to speak, into the firepit.” She looked at him with intention. “What happened between us in the past is over. Time to move on. Carnie? Moving on. All the little rejections and disappointments from moving so much, burned in the fire.”

  “I’m sorry for my part, Lex.”

  “Me too. For mine.”

  In her imagination, the light on the walls, in the fireplace flickered as if happy. Gilda looked in again.

  “Time, children.”

  “On our way.” Jett hitched his backpack over his shoulder and spun around. “I have to say this, Lex. I should’ve never let you go.”

  “Jett, I—” She’d been waiting so long for this sort of confession. But it was too late. Too late.

  “I’m just being honest.” He picked up a napkin under Ed’s chair. “I don’t expect anything.”

  “We both made mistakes. We should learn from them.”

  “No more running when things get hard?” He shot the wadded napkin at the trash bin like a basketball. “Wilder for three.”

  “No more running. At least not out of rejection or pain.” She smiled. “From now on it’s calculated leaving, or moving. However, if I’m being chased down a dark alley, it’s all elbows and heels.”

  “Or if some handsome man asks you to dinner, you hightail it.”

  “Really? Toward or away?”

  “Away, of course. You can never trust handsome men. Too shallow.”

  Her eyes met his. “I trusted you.”

  “And your point is?” Every once in a while, Jett made self-deprecation work.

  “I wouldn’t change anything.” She was finally comfortable with some of the little confessions. “Only wish we’d been more mature.”

  “Yeah, me too.” The soft light in his blue eyes reminded her of why she fell in love.

  “Are you ever going to tell me what happened on that mountain?”

  “What happened to letting the past be the past? Letting things go?”

  “Because this is one thing that still feels like the present. Storm’s death did more than grieve you, it broke you. It broke us.”

  He paused, hands in his pockets, his backpack slipping from his shoulder. After a moment he looked up, glanced at the door, then motioned for her to follow him to the back of the Bower.

  “Want to see the unpublished GPR manuscript? It’s really fascinating.”

  “You’re avoiding the question again.” Whatever happened that day remained hooked in Jett’s soul, refusing to let go. She touched his arm. “Jett, you don’t have to tell me, as long as you’re honest with yourself about what happened. Don’t keep ignoring it. And tell someone.”

  “Did you ever consider I let it go during the memorial?”

  “Did you?”

  Without answering, he dropped to one knee and reached for a book on the bottom shelf.

  “Here it is. Written by Gordon’s hand. One he held and touched. Look, here are his publisher’s margin notes.”

  Kneeling next to him, she let the question of the mountain go and trusted the melody of his voice. He’d have to slay his giants his way.

  She’d treasure this moment along with him, because it was the perfect ending to the long chapter of their short marriage.

  * * *

  Coral

  The assistant at the desk outside Dad’s office was new. The nervous, sweaty one hadn’t lasted a month.

  “Is Mr. Winthrop in?” She marched toward the door.

  “Coral?” The man stood, his thick arms bowing by his side, the pressed fabric of his shirt straining against clichéd biceps.

  “Yes.” She offered her hand. “His daughter.”

  “Dallas Scott.”

  “You’re new.”

  “Started yesterday.”

  “And you know me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His military training was evident. “Made it my business to know your father’s family and associates.”

  “Then you and Eric Winthrop III must be getting along fine.”

  “That’s my goal, ma’am.”

  She met Dad in the middle of his office. “Where did you find him? And what took you so long?”

  “Retired marine. Logistics officer.
I finally listened to the advice of my friends and went to the VA.” He handed her a blue folder. “You should give your tech guy a huge bonus.”

  She’d sent over the initial findings of the forensic auditor. Today she and Dad would review together and come up with a plan.

  Coral carried the folder to the couch and sat just as rain splattered against the windows.

  “What should I do?”

  “Call the authorities. And before I forget, I’m having brunch with your mother and brother on Sunday, eleven thirty at Daniel. You should join us.”

  “I’d rather eat at your place. I hate going out.” She opened the folder and scanned the data.

  The embezzlement had started when she was in Lauchtenland. An expense report here, a vacation there, kids’ dance and karate lessons. Then it was low-hanging fruit, starting with a concealer they’d discontinued but Blaire managed to sell through discount channels. She siphoned all of that money into the second account.

  It was as if they were testing the waters.

  “You need to be seen out and about, Coral. Let the world know you are not just a runaway bride in hiding.”

  “Did you see the PayPal account where they’re diverting some of the money? It belongs to Dak. You’d think he’d be smart enough not to use one of his personal email accounts.”

  “Are you?”

  She glared at her father. “Am I what?”

  “Still the runaway bride in hiding?”

  “Dad, my company is being hijacked, and you’re concerned about my personal life?”

  “I am your father first and your business adviser second.”

  Coral dropped the folder onto the coffee table. “If you must know, I had some time ‘out and about’ this weekend.” Technically, it was not a date but, in her heart, she wanted to be Chuck’s girl. Which was crazy. She barely knew him. “I went to a birthday party with a man I met at the story society. He has twins and in the process of his divorce ended up not being able to see them. I volunteered to go as moral support.”

  “Not see his kids? What happened?”

  “Not really sure, but he’s a very nice man.” Initially she played up their relationship just for his ex-wife, hoping she’d see Chuck in a new light.

  But deep down, she did it for herself. To freely touch him and hold his hand.

  Then he called, and things got weird. But only because his comment about betrayal caught her off guard and, yes, hurt. A lot. She knew all too well she’d betrayed Gus.

  Yet she wasn’t sorry. Her betrayal was also her salvation.

  She wondered, though, if Blaire and Dak’s betrayal wasn’t her just due. Did she deserve it for what she’d done?

  God, was I wrong? And please take care of Gus for me.

  After she walked out of the abbey—technically she did not run—she tried to text him over the course of several days, but Gus never responded. He liked to block people. She’d been added to his list.

  All day Monday she battled fear of Chuck doing the same. She had every intention of talking to him at the society meeting about his comment until he walked in like a grumpy bear after winter. He barely looked at her.

  “He’s so nice he makes you frown?” Dad said.

  “What? No, no, not at all.” She raised her head, tears bubbling. “Just want this business with Blaire and Dak over.”

  Let him go. You’re imagining things. She didn’t need romance in her life right now.

  “Your grandfather had an embezzler. The man took more than a million dollars before he was caught.”

  “Really? I never heard that story. What’d he do?”

  “Threw him in jail. He’d been a good friend too.”

  “I don’t get it,” Coral said. “They are both well paid with excellent bonuses and benefits.”

  “Those things don’t make up for lack of character. Sometimes corporate execs, or admins with access to the money, believe they are entitled, taking what’s due them. If you asked, they’d swear up and down they are honest, good people.” Dad crossed the office to the coffee bar and poured himself another cup. “But with Blaire and Dak, I think they want CCW. Blaire was a founder at Cosmo Glam until they shoved her out. Then she walked into a faltering Glitter Girl with stock options. She could’ve owned it in ten years if the other shareholders hadn’t bumped her. She’s gunning for something, and I think she has set her sights on you. I remember meeting her at a luncheon. She clearly thought being a CEO was beneath her. She wanted to own a company.”

  “But CCW is a well-established, historic cosmetics giant. How does she plan to oust me? I may have been out of the country with Gus, but I was not absent from the business.”

  “Come on, Coral. You can see what she’s doing.” Dad rocked in his chair, Yoda to her Luke Skywalker.

  Use the Force.

  “Besides stealing from me?” Coral picked up the folder and flipped through the pages. “Most of this is about Pink Coral. She recorded all the sales and revenue here instead of our main database.” A ping of revelation. “Oh, she wanted my lip gloss.”

  “They’ve advised you to discontinue the product. When you do, they’ll either steal the formula or offer to buy it—”

  “And start her own company.” Thunder rumbled beyond the window. “Who do I call? I know you have a contact with the FBI.”

  Dad handed her a card. “Agent Tagg. He’s expecting your call.”

  Chapter 29

  Lexa

  Tuesday after the wedding Lexa returned to work at her usual seven-o-five, sat at her desk, and resumed a routine that felt stale and dull after five weeks off.

  Quent moved back to the Think Tank but ran in and out of Zane’s door ten times a day.

  Zane came in early with two lattes and a bag of donuts. He called her into his office and they sat by the window, looking out over the city.

  “Are we good?” he said.

  “You tell me.”

  “I said some harsh things.”

  “You did.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She locked eyes with him and saw his sincerity. “You’re forgiven. And look, Zane, if I overstepped it was only because I was trying to do what you asked and needed.”

  “I know, and I’m as much to blame as you. But Lexa, you are very valuable to me. I appreciate all you’ve done for ZB.”

  They talked for over an hour, apologizing, catching up, and reminiscing all at once. She almost asked if he was still set on not considering her for the CEO position but decided to wait for another time.

  On his own, he admitted he wasn’t sure he wanted to fill the job just yet.

  “I think I make a pretty good CEO and president.”

  Nevertheless, she had a hard time getting back into the groove. While all of her tasks were very familiar—she could do them in her sleep—she felt as if she were pulling bricks through mud.

  Wednesday she arrived closer to seven thirty than seven-o-five and steamrolled her way through the morning. Then during lunch she responded to an inquiry about her résumé that had shown up over the weekend.

  It was from a Seattle company, The Glass Fork, an up-and-coming organic bakery that had seen rapid growth, much like ZB. They liked her for their newly opened CEO position.

  We believe you’d be perfect for us.

  Seattle. It was one of her bucket-list cities but . . . Seattle. The opposite side of the country. So far from Skipper. From . . . Don’t say it. Don’t.

  Jett. Her ex. Her no more. Her once-was-but-not-now.

  Yet ever since the barn conversation, she thought about him. A lot. All the time.

  If she said yes to Seattle, she’d be a West Coaster. A six-hour flight from New York. Five from Orlando.

  She glanced at Zane’s office. The door had been closed since before lunch, and the wooden slat shades blocked her view through the glass interior wall.

  What was going on in there?

  She peered at her computer again. Change required courage.

  “H
e in?” Quent walked past her desk for Zane’s office.

  “The door’s closed.”

  Quent didn’t even slow down. He rapped once and walked right on in, closing the door behind him.

  Okay, Glass Fork, let’s talk.

  It couldn’t hurt to learn more about them. Take an interview.

  But Lexa knew from experience. Once she started the process, she’d have to see it through. Replying to their inquiry meant she was willing to move to Seattle.

  She startled when her phone rang. Seeing Jett’s name and number added a nervous shiver to her unease.

  “Just checking in.” He’d called Monday and Tuesday as well.

  “You didn’t call me this much when we were married.”

  “Making up for past oversight.”

  She paused, wondering if he was whispering something to her between the lines. “How are things in academia?”

  “The usual. I’m heading into the staff meeting. And the publisher dropped off a proof of my book.”

  “How’s it look?” She liked the buoyancy in his voice. Maybe he’d finally settled the debate within himself.

  “Beautiful. Lex, thanks again for this weekend. For the things you’ve said. I’ve been thinking about them.”

  “Yeah, me too. I’m glad I went. It was good to say goodbye to Storm.” She looked up as Zane rapped on her desk and pointed to his office.

  “Meeting,” he said, low.

  Now? “Jett, got to run.”

  “Want to grab a bite? Burgers or something?”

  “Um, I don’t know . . . When?”

  Zane wore a mask of impatience. What was going on?

  “Tonight. Paul’s Da Burger Joint.”

  One of their favorite Greenwich Village spots. But Lexa had always hesitated after she joined ZB, considering Paul’s a competitor.

  “Paul’s? Sure. It’s been a while.” She could do some recon. See what the competition was doing.

  “Lexa, let’s go.” Zane’s command startled her.

  “Jett, I have to go, but see you at Paul’s.”

  She hung up wondering if she’d just agreed to go on a date with her ex-husband.

  Spending the weekend with Jett and his family opened her heart just a little and reminded her of what she craved most. Intimacy with a man she loved. Community. She’d tried to fulfill her cravings with work, but after two years, she was dry, dull, and starved.