By Invitation Only

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  I decided to go over to Diane’s table to congratulate them and to say something nice. Floyd’s daughters were all there with boyfriends or friends, and from a distance it seemed like everyone was finding their places and chatting away. Judy stopped me on the way there.

  “What a sweet wedding,” she said.

  There was something so disingenuous about the way she said it that made me want to slap her. Well, I thought, I can be just as disingenuous as the best of them.

  So, I said, “Why, thank you, Judy. We were almost done in by a blizzard, but I think the club did a beautiful job, don’t you? What a cute little dress. Didn’t I see that in an ad for Nordstrom Rack? Excuse me. I have to speak to the in-laws.”

  Her smile became an expression of uncertainty and I slipped away, saying hello to our friends along the way. I reached Diane and Floyd’s table just as Frederick and Shelby were being introduced and having their first dance to a piece of music I didn’t recognize.

  “Congratulations!” I said. “We’re in-laws! Aren’t they a gorgeous couple?”

  “Congratulations to you too!” she said. “This is just beautiful, Susan. Thank you for your incredible generosity and, well, for everything.”

  I looked at her for a moment. Her sincerity always startled me.

  “I wish I had friends like you,” I said. “By the way, that’s a really pretty dress.”

  “Oh, thank you. I wasn’t so sure. You know, we don’t do this kind of thing so often. This is really a breathtakingly beautiful room. We’ll never forget this night. Really, Susan.”

  In just that brief exchange I realized how hollow my friendships were. I swore to myself that I’d be nicer to her than I’d planned.

  “Or last night either,” I said. “You went to so much trouble and it was so much fun.”

  Floyd stepped over to us.

  “What am I missing?” he said.

  “Molly,” I said, and Diane burst out laughing.

  We stood together, watching our children dance their way into a new life together, marveling at the optimism of the night. My heart was so full of love for my daughter and her husband. The bride and the groom. Now they were both mine. I now had a son. I’d share my daughter’s heart with Diane if she’d share Frederick’s heart with me.

  Soon I danced with Frederick while Alejandro danced with Shelby, and then we switched partners and I danced with my husband.

  “Do you know what?” I said.

  “No, tell me what,” he said.

  “I think this might be the happiest night of my whole life.”

  “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to outshine the bride? My darling, you are so beautiful tonight.”

  “And every woman here wishes she was in my shoes. Do you have plans for later?” I said.

  “What do you think?”

  Chapter 23

  Jailbird Blues—Susan

  “I thought I knew him!” Susan said.

  “This is catastrophic,” Judy CQ said.

  Monday after the wedding, Shelby and Frederick were on a plane to Tanzania for a glorious four-week safari. The safari was our wedding gift to them, in addition to the small Renoir Alejandro wanted them to have for their home, a fabulous pair of binoculars with Swarovski crystal lenses, and an amazing camera with all sorts of lenses and filters. The Renoir was a painting of a little girl that my tenderhearted Alejandro bought at auction when Shelby was born. He felt it was appropriate that she have it now. So right after Christmas he had it cleaned and the frame restored. We gave it to them yesterday, when we went to their apartment to wish them a safe trip. The South Carolina contingent had just left with Molly as we arrived, missing them by just minutes. I’d call Diane Tuesday to be sure they all got home safely.

  I was at my home waiting for Judy CQ to arrive. We were going to talk about flowers for the Lyric gala. I don’t know why I ever agreed to cochair this massively complicated event with her. It was definitely putting a strain on our friendship. To be honest, Judy simply didn’t like to work. She would tell me over and over that she was a concept person, a big-picture thinker. Then she’d give me all sorts of assignments – see if so-and-so will donate flowers or printing or buy a corporate sponsor table. But I had yet to see her pick up a phone to ask for a postage stamp. She may have thought of herself as a concept person, but she surely didn’t understand the concept of cochair.

  It was almost noon when the doorman rang me to say she was here and coming up in the elevator. I had brought in chicken salad and was scooping it onto the beds of butter lettuce on our plates when the doorbell rang. The files for the benefit were spread all over the dining room table, so I decided we should eat in the kitchen, where no one had ever eaten more than a cracker.

  “Coming!” I called out as I reached the door.

  “Hi!” she said. “I brought us a brownie to share.”

  “Oh, you bad girl! Come right on in!”

  There was no reason to start on a bad foot, or whatever the saying is.

  I took her coat and hung it in the foyer closet.

  “It’s still freezing outside. Snow is banked everywhere. And we’re supposed to get another storm this week!”

  “Please don’t tell me that. I can’t take another flake!”

  “I know. This snow is so inconvenient.”

  “Amen. We’re having lunch in the kitchen because the dining room has become fund-raiser central. We can work in there after we eat.”

  “Sounds good to me,” she said.

  I flipped on the news to see if we could catch the weather report. Then I quickly set the table with rattan place mats and beige napkins. I was getting silverware from the drawer when Judy screamed.

  “No!”

  I turned on my heels and stared at the television screen in disbelief. Alejandro was being led away from his office building in handcuffs. I quickly grabbed the remote and turned up the sound.

  “After a five-year-long investigation by the SEC and the FBI, hedge fund owner Alejandro Cambria was arrested this morning for operating the largest Ponzi scheme in the history of Chicago. He was arrested on charges of securities fraud, investor adviser trust fraud, mail fraud, wire fraud, money laundering, making false filings to the SEC, perjury, and theft from several employee benefit plans. He’s accused of defrauding his investors to the tune of twenty-five billion dollars. He is expected to be held without bond . . .”

  “Oh, my God! This can’t be! My husband is an honorable man! He would never cheat anyone out of a dime!”

  The reporter went on and on about how Alejandro’s hedge fund delivered higher returns than anyone else’s and how that was the first red flag for the SEC.

  “I don’t believe it either, Susan. This has to be a horrible mistake! Sit down, sweetie. I’ll get you a glass of water.”

  She opened my refrigerator and unscrewed the cap on a small bottle of Pellegrino, poured it in a glass, and put it in front of me.

  “He had higher returns because he was smarter than the other guys. That’s why! He told me he always hedged his bets and he followed the Standard & Poor’s index. He was so thoughtful and careful!”

  I drank half the glass of water in one great gulp.

  “Of course he was!” Judy said.

  “He isn’t somebody who rolls the dice like those Wall Street guys in those giant firms! His business is so personal! He took care of the symphony’s investments and the museum and the teachers union. He wouldn’t cause harm to a teacher!”

  “He even had my retirement money and my parents!” Judy said. “ Obviously, this is a terrible mistake. Do you have somebody you can call?”

  “Like who?”

  “A lawyer?”

  “I’ll bet he already knows,” I said. “I don’t even know where Alejandro is! Where is the jail in Chicago?”

  “Oh, I’m sure there must be more than one! With all the murders on the South Side? Let’s call your lawyer right now. I’ll do it for you, if you’d like.”

  “T
hanks, Judy, but I think I have to do this.”

  My hands were trembling. How terrible was this? What did it mean? I got my address book from the kitchen drawer and called our lawyer.

  “It’s Susan Cambria calling for Michael Dean.”

  She put me right through.

  “Susan! What has happened to Alejandro? I just got the news in my feed!”

  “Michael, I don’t know any more than you do! I don’t know what to do!”

  “I’m coming over. Don’t talk to the press. Don’t let anyone into your apartment. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “All right,” I said.

  We hung up.

  “What did he say?” Judy asked.

  “He told me to not answer the door to anyone and not to speak to the press.”

  “That’s good advice. And I was just thinking, if you have any jewelry in the house, you should probably get it out of here. The they might try to confiscate it.”

  “What? I didn’t commit any crime!”

  “Yes, but you don’t know what could happen. Look what happened to poor Ruth Madoff. One day she’s riding around in a chauffeured Rolls and the next day she’s riding the subway. I’d hide it anyway.”

  “But wouldn’t that be obstruction of justice?”

  “You think there’s going to be any justice in this? Think again, Susan. I think you’re being very naïve.”

  My doorbell rang. Normally, the doorman called first, so it was unusual to have my doorbell ring unless it was another resident.

  I looked through the peephole. It was the co-op board president, Paul Keenan.

  “Don’t open it!” Judy said.

  “It’s okay. It’s my friend Paul.”

  I opened the door and Paul stepped inside. I closed the door behind him. He was wearing a red paisley ascot with his deep burgundy velvet blazer and gray trousers. Alligator loafers. No socks.

  “Hello, Paul. How are you?”

  “To be honest, Mrs. Cambria, I’m here for a very unpleasant reason.”

  I was Mrs. Cambria now, was I?

  “I see. Would you like an espresso?”

  “No, thank you. You’ve seen the news, I assume?”

  “Yes. Just now. I’m sure it’s a horrible misunderstanding, Paul. Come now. You’ve known Alejandro for almost twenty years, if my memory still serves me. He doesn’t have a diabolical bone in his body!”

  “Whether he’s guilty or not is none of my affair at this moment. The problem is that right outside our front door is a swarm of paparazzi. Your neighbors are unable to get into the lobby without being accosted, peppered with questions, and nearly assaulted by very aggressive members of the press. I’ve had a dozen phone calls in the last hour. We can’t have this, Mrs. Cambria.”

  “Well, what can I possibly do about that?”

  “I don’t know. But we are not the kind of building that welcomes this kind of attention.”

  “I see, Mr. Keenan. May I ask you something?” He nodded. “Do you believe in due process?”

  “Of course I do. I am not accusing Mr. Cambria of anything. I am merely suggesting you think of something to make these vultures go away.”

  “Such as?”

  “Perhaps you might consider taking up residence elsewhere until this storm passes.”

  “I see. Well, I’ll consider my options.”

  I opened the door and stood there with my face in flames and he left. An ascot. In the morning. Indeed.

  On hearing the heavy clunk of my door when it closed, Judy appeared.

  “This is very bad, isn’t it?” she said.

  “I think my life has just been totaled, Judy. Did you hear what he said?”

  “Every word. This is simply terrible.”

  A few minutes passed and my house phone rang. Michael was in the lobby.

  “Send him up, please,” I said to our doorman.

  I opened the door and went back to the kitchen, where Judy was picking at her plate of chicken salad.

  “Try to eat something,” she said. “You’re going to need your energy.”

  “I don’t think I can swallow a crumb,” I said.

  “Hello?” Michael called out.

  I went out to greet him.

  “How are you holding up?” he said, holding my arms in between us.

  “I think I’m in shock. I can’t think straight. What happened to Alejandro?”

  “I made some phone calls. He’s been charged with securities fraud and he’s being held without bail.”

  “Oh, no! Oh, God, Michael! Where is he?”

  “He’s at the Metropolitan Corrections Center.”

  “Oh, my God! He’s in jail?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, he’s not going to like that at all.”

  “I’m sure he won’t. I suspect that what will happen next is that the FBI will turn the case over to the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Northern District of Illinois and he’ll be arraigned tomorrow in federal court.”

  “Michael! We’ve got to get him out of there! Alejandro can’t be in a jail! He’s not a criminal! Besides, he needs his blood pressure medicine and his statin!”

  Judy came out from the kitchen and said, “Susan, I’m going to go and let you have some privacy. Let me know if there’s a single thing I can do, okay?”

  To be fair, Judy was leaving with twenty pounds of fresh wheat for the gristmill, but she had done her best to be empathetic.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll call you.” Air kisses.

  I closed the door behind her.

  Michael said, “Get his medicines and anything else you think he might need. I’ll take them to him.”

  “I can’t go?”

  “It’s probably best for you to stay out of sight for the moment. The press will just harass you and upset you. You don’t want your picture plastered all over the Trib.”

  “No, I don’t. I just had a visit from our board president, who suggested I move, at least until this blows over. Maybe I should stay home.”

  “Hopefully, tomorrow after the arraignment, if the judge sets bail I can get him out until the trial, if there is to be one. Susan, listen, you’re going to need a team of criminal lawyers who completely understand hedge funds and exactly what Alejandro does and where he went wrong. They need the actual facts, good or bad, to help build a case toward having him exonerated. This is way out of my wheelhouse. I wouldn’t even know which questions to ask. I’m a real estate lawyer.”

  “But Michael, I don’t know any criminal lawyers,” I said.

  “I’ve got a few names. This is going to be a high-profile case, so I think you want the best legal counsel there is. We should call this fellow Ed Rabin, of Rabin, Tyler and Associates.” He handed me Ed Rabin’s card. “Columbia Law School. Phi Beta Kappa. He’s got about five hundred lawyers working for him. Some of the sharpest minds in the country.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “We’ve been playing squash and racquetball together at the University Club every Saturday morning since forever. He’s the guy I’d call for myself. In fact, why don’t I call him and ask him to be at the arraignment. I mean, we have to ask Alejandro if he wants him. He might already have someone else in mind.”

  “Please do. Michael, thank you. I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you to call on.”

  “I’m glad I’m here and I’m happy to help. I’m even happier I cashed out of Alejandro’s fund last year. Poor devil. Listen, I’m going to give you some advice, and I want you to listen to me carefully. For your own good and for your personal safety, and especially for the sake of Alejandro, do not talk to anyone about Alejandro’s business or your life together. I don’t care if Oprah calls you, tell no one anything. No exceptions.”

  “I understand.”

  “Okay, get me his meds and whatever else you think he might need and I’ll go pay him a visit.”

  “Toothbrush? Toothpaste? Disposable razor? Deodorant? Socks and underwear?”<
br />
  “I wouldn’t worry about the socks and underwear. And I’d just put his toiletries in a Ziploc. They might not let him have them. I’ll bring his watch home to you. Oh, and speaking of watches and jewelry, I wouldn’t be surprised if they get a search warrant and comb this place for assets. So do what you have to do on that one.”

  “You mean, move anything I don’t want to lose?”

  “As your lawyer I can’t advise you to break the law. But as your friend I’m saying, well?”

  He put his hands up in the air.

  “I understand,” I said. I knew I could never do anything like that. The government wouldn’t want my jewelry. That was plain ridiculous. Maybe they’d want Alejandro’s watch collection.

  “Certainly, the judge is going to freeze your accounts.”

  “Why would they freeze my accounts? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Do you have separate accounts?”

  “Of course not. Why would we?”

  “They’re going to be frozen. Believe me. If you want me to, I can use your ATM card and bring you some cash.”

  “Michael, the most I can withdraw in one transaction is five hundred dollars. What am I supposed to do with that? Two people can hardly have dinner at the Palm for that.”

  “Then I’ll try to go to two banks. Don’t go to the Palm. Somebody will call the Trib or the Sun or CNN. Who knows? Stay home, Susan. Let’s find out what we’re dealing with first. Okay?”

  “I wasn’t planning to go out for dinner, Michael. I was merely saying that—”

  “Don’t even think about it. Now, let’s get some things together for Alejandro.”

  “Okay.”

  I took a gallon Ziploc from the box in the pantry and went to Alejandro’s bathroom. I put his toothbrush and a travel-size tube of toothpaste and a disposable razor in with a sample size of some men’s cologne. I found his pillbox and emptied one day’s worth of pills into an aspirin bottle. I added a comb and a small size of deodorant. I couldn’t think of what else he would need, so I closed the top of the bag, went back to the kitchen, and handed it to Michael.

  “I feel like I’m living in a nightmare,” I said. “Here. Thanks.”