A Bridge to Love

by Nancy Herkness

  “I see. This is strictly business then. My next question would be: is this a merger or an acquisition?”

  Randall's voice was as cold as steel when he said, “I don't do mergers.”

  “Just checking,” Tom said agreeably and changed the subject.

  But when he hung up, he shook his head. “Next you'll be coaching their Little League team.”

  Thirteen

  The Chilton family slept late that Sunday morning. When the telephone rang, Kate had to clear her throat before she could manage a husky, “Hello?”

  “Did I wake you? I'm sorry,” Oliver's voice slid smoothly through the receiver.

  Kate sat up in bed. “No problem.”

  “How did the soccer game go yesterday?”

  “We tied. But we're still in first place in the league by the skin of our teeth.”

  “That's great. If you're going to be home this afternoon, I thought I would stop by and say hello.”

  “You're not going to join us for dinner?” Kate asked, secretly relieved. She'd had enough of amorous dinner guests.

  “No, I have to finish a design for a meeting tomorrow. By the way, the final contract for the partnership buyout is supposed to be ready tomorrow as well. I'll try to make the signing process as quick and simple as I can. I know this is painful for you.”

  Kate took a deep breath. “Would you fax a copy to Georgia? I realized that I should probably have a lawyer look at it, and Georgia kindly agreed to.”

  “Of course,” Oliver said. “I want you to feel completely comfortable with the contract.”

  Kate could tell that he was annoyed. “I trust you, Oliver. It's the lawyers I worry about.”

  Oliver's chuckle sounded forced. “I'll be there at about three.”

  As Kate walked down the hall to see if Clay and Patrick were still asleep, she tried to figure out a subtle way to keep them from discussing Randall Johnson while Oliver was visiting. She didn't want to add fuel to that particular fire.

  She found Clay reading in bed. “Good morning. What are you reading?”

  “The next Redwall book,” Clay said, flipping it over to show her the cover.

  Kate glanced at the illustration and then shifted her gaze to Clay's face as he started reading again. The angle of his jaw and the sweep of hair across his forehead reminded her so much of David that her heart twisted in her chest. She brushed his hair with her fingertips. “You're a good-looking guy.”

  Clay gave her a quick, embarrassed smile and went back to his book. Kate stood up. “It's waffle time.”

  Patrick bounced into the room. “Is Oliver coming over today? I want to nutmeg him.”

  Kate stifled a groan. “Guys, I want to ask you a grownup favor. Oliver doesn't really like Mr. Johnson...”

  “I didn't know he knew Mr. Johnson,” Clay said.

  “They've met through business.” It was a necessary white lie. “It might be better if you didn't mention that we spent yesterday afternoon with Mr. Johnson. It might upset Oliver. He worries about all of us.”

  “Why would Oliver worry about us swimming in Mr. Johnson's pool?” Patrick asked.

  “He's not worried about us, he's worried about Mom,” Clay said.

  Her older son was far too smart for comfort. She acknowledged his statement with a nod.

  “Oliver has his own reasons for believing that Mr. Johnson would not make a good friend. I don't agree with him but I don't want to hurt Oliver's feelings by letting him know that.”

  Patrick looked less puzzled. “Does that mean I can't show Oliver how to nutmeg?”

  Kate gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “You can show him as long as you don't mention that Mr. Johnson taught you how to do it.” Kate hated dragging her children into adult deceptions.

  They were just rolling their bicycles into the garage after a brisk ride around town when Oliver pulled up. He got out of his car carrying a cookie tin and a square box tied with a gold ribbon. The tin he presented to the boys. “Yeah, Gimmee Jimmy's Cookies!” Clay and Patrick cheered, ripping open the seal and stuffing chocolate chip cookies in their mouths.

  “You might offer your mother one first, you barbarians,” Oliver said, taking the tin away from Clay and holding it out for Kate.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking a cookie. “Their Gimmee Jimmy's addiction wreaks havoc with their manners. Would you like some milk to go with your cookies?” Kate led the way into the house wondering what was in Oliver's other box. Thank goodness it looked too big for a ring.

  Once the milk and cookies had been devoured, the boys went outside to warm up for soccer. Kate subtly put the kitchen island between herself and Oliver, but he walked around it. “I'd like you to come as my guest to the Beaux Arts Ball,” he said.

  The Beaux Arts Ball was the architectural social event of the year. Proceeds went to charity, but the real purpose of the event was for the stars of the architectural world to see and be seen. The attire was black tie, and everyone was supposed to wear a mask, which they or a member of their firm had created. The competition was fierce, and many of the masks were truly works of art. David had insisted that they attend each year.

  She had no desire to go with Oliver.

  “That's a lovely invitation but I can't create a mask worthy of the occasion –”

  “I anticipated that objection.” Smiling, he handed her the box. “The theme this year is 'Man's Best Friend.' I don't want you to think that I meant some subtle insult.”

  Kate untied the ribbon and lifted off the lid. Inside was a papier-mâché mask.

  “It's Gretchen!” Kate gasped. “Only a lot fancier.”

  Oliver had perfectly captured Gretchen's doggy grin. However, the mask glittered with glass jewels and beads. As Kate examined it closely, she saw that the details of Gretchen's fur had been painted on in gold. It was exquisite.

  “Oliver, this should be in a museum! It's too beautiful to wear.”

  He looked pleased. “We have to uphold the honor of C/R/G.”

  When she considered all the time and effort put into the mask – her mask – she couldn't bring herself to refuse.

  “I'll be proud to go to the ball with you and wear this mask to uphold the honor of C/R/G,” she said, bringing it up to her face. “How do I look as Gretchen?”

  “Lovely and mysterious.”

  “Woof!” Kate said, laughing, as she lowered the mask.

  “Now you look stunningly beautiful,” Oliver said. He reached out to smooth her hair where the mask had caught on it and then let his hand trail over her shoulder and down her arm.

  She braced herself to keep from flinching away. When Oliver looked at her this way, he became a stranger. She was afraid that he was interpreting her acceptance in every wrong way.

  “I suspect that I look better as a dog,” she said lightly, stepping away from him to put the mask back in the box. “What breed is your mask?”

  “A yellow Labrador, to complement Gretchen.”

  Kate considered suggesting that a wolf in sheep's clothing would be more appropriate, but that was the sort of thing she would only say to Randall.

  “I thought that the gold satin gown you wore to the awards dinner four years ago would work well with the mask.”

  Kate was taken aback by his attention to her wardrobe. “You have a good memory. I hope I can dig it out of the attic.”

  “That's great. Shall we play soccer?”

  Kate walked through the door he was holding for her wondering what in the world she had let herself in for.

  Georgia called her at work on Monday to tell her that the contract was fine. “It's a standard buy-out of a partnership. As your lawyer, the one thing that I would advise you to do is to have the numbers audited. I checked with a couple of sources who said that they seemed low for an established and apparently successful architectural partnership.”

  Kate made a sound of disagreement and Georgia continued. “However, as your friend, I know that you won't do that for fear of hurting Ol
iver and Ted's feelings. Which is why you should never do business with friends or make friends of your business colleagues.”

  “I'm very open-minded about that. I even have friends who are lawyers.”

  “You may have former friends who are lawyers.”

  Kate laughed. “I really appreciate you doing this pro bono, although I wish you'd let me pay you.”

  “You can't afford me.”

  Kate smiled as she put down the telephone receiver. Georgia was truly the best. She loved it when Georgia pretended her nasty New York lawyer persona was real.

  Susan Chen appeared in the opening to Kate's cubicle.

  “I hear that the bridge proposal is on its way to the Connecticut Department of Transportation. Getting our name in front of the Commissioner for serious consideration is a real coup. We couldn't have done that without you.”

  Kate glowed as the pleasure of Susan's praise flowed through her.

  “Since we probably won't hear anything for a few weeks, I have a couple of smaller jobs that I thought that you might be interested in,” Susan continued.

  Kate had been unsure about whether Adler would keep her on during the waiting period. After all, she was technically a consultant hired to do one specific project. She smiled in relief. “Let me at them.”

  As she tried to make sense of a set of old blueprints, Kate's intercom beeped. “Ted Gershon on line three.” Kate let the blueprints curl back up with a snap.

  “Hello, Ted.” Kate had never been as friendly with Ted as she had with Oliver, but she had always liked the third partner in the firm. “I got the okay from my lawyer so I'm ready to sign the contract.”

  They agreed on a time and talked a bit longer about the firm and the new partner. Kate put down the receiver and stared straight ahead, testing this new feeling of calm at the prospect of selling her share in the company that David had worked so hard to build. It felt right to put C/R/G in the past. She was ready to let it go without regret.

  She had found a newer set of blueprints for the same building and was comparing the two when her phone buzzed again with Ted Gershon on line two.

  “We're postponing the contract signing because another bidder has come in.” Ted's voice vibrated with controlled excitement. “A big California architectural firm called Tower Design wants to establish a presence here on the East Coast, and they want to buy into C/R/G to do it. They've made a very generous offer.”

  “How does it work? Will Paul Desmond still be buying in also?”

  “We're just in preliminary discussions, but they seem to be agreeable to that. Kate, I'm so pleased about this for your sake. I know that it will change your tax arrangements, but even with that you'll be able to take far more money out of the firm this way.”

  Kate was puzzled by his comment about her “tax arrangements” but she let it go in the general flow of good news. They talked about the numbers for a while and then she asked, “Had you contacted this firm before? How did they know about C/R/G?”

  Ted sounded like he was floating. “They came to us out of the blue. They knew our reputation, and they knew about David's death, so they thought that we might be looking for a new partner. You know how gossipy architects can be.”

  “Don't I, though. Oliver must be thrilled.”

  “I haven't even told him yet. He's tied up with a client, so I decided to call you first.”

  Kate hung up the phone and tried to absorb her good fortune. Ted had warned her that it was far from a “done deal,” but he sounded very optimistic.

  She did some quick calculations. If she put away half of the money, the boys' college tuition would be completely taken care of. She could keep the rest as a safety cushion and just use the income. With that and her paycheck, she and the boys could live comfortably. Kate put her head down on her desk for a moment and heaved a long sigh of relief. She felt as though a lead weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “Please let the deal go through,” she whispered as she crossed her fingers.

  She had decided not to mention the new offer to Clay and Patrick, so when Oliver called she shut herself in her bedroom. “I can't believe the good news,” she said.

  Oliver sounded substantially less enthusiastic than Ted had. “We need to do a lot more research on Tower Design. I don't know how much control we'll have to give up.”

  “Oh.” Kate's high spirits sank. “Ted seemed very pleased. And even I've heard good things about Tower.”

  “The offer is financially very advantageous to us. In fact, it's so good that I'm suspicious.”

  “You certainly don't want to rush into any kind of a business deal if it might be detrimental to the firm. But it would be awfully nice to have that money in my bank account.”

  “I know, Kate.” Oliver sounded contrite. “For your sake, I want it to go through without a hitch. But I don't want you to hope for too much.”

  “Don't worry. I've learned from hard experience to expect the worst.”

  “I'd like to change that,” Oliver said quietly.

  “I was just being dramatic,” Kate laughed lightly.

  Oliver clearly wanted to say more but he dropped the subject, and they finished with nothing more than a friendly good-bye.

  Kate's next caller was even more problematic. When she picked up the phone, she was still mulling over Clay's math problem of the week.

  “Hello, darlin'. How'd you sleep Saturday night?”

  It annoyed Kate that Randall assumed that she would know who he was without identifying himself on the phone. Not only that, but his question transported her directly back to a certain dark corner of her yard. “Like a baby,” Kate said, ignoring the sudden heat that the memory evoked. “And you?”

  “My dreams were X-rated, and you starred in every one of them.”

  “I don't want to hear any more.”

  “Don't worry. I plan to sell the ideas to a pornographic movie producer, so I'm keeping them confidential. Until I get you up here alone.”

  It was getting harder and harder to pretend that her body wasn't both tightening and relaxing at every stroke of his voice. Kate closed her eyes to concentrate on sounding cool, calm and collected.

  “I was in a good mood before you called. Try not to ruin it.”

  “Really? Maybe I'll come visit. I'd like to be there for your good mood.”

  “Now that would definitely ruin my day.”

  Randall snorted out a laugh. “Any particular reason that you're feeling good?”

  “Well, we submitted our bridge proposal to the Connecticut D.O.T. yesterday, so I'm riding a wave of accomplishment.” Kate hesitated a second and discovered that she wanted to share the rest of her good news with him. “And C/R/G may be getting a nice infusion of capital soon.”

  “Congratulations on both, and good luck with the bridge bid. When do you hear if you've gotten the job?”

  “They're in a big hurry to get construction going, so I would guess in two to three weeks, but it could be longer.”

  “How about the C/R/G deal? Should I be investing here?”

  Kate could hear the smile in his voice. “Only if you've run out of airlines to buy. I haven't heard any details yet. You probably know better than I do how long these things take.”

  “Johnson's Law states that the length of time from opening negotiations to closing a deal is directly proportional to the number of lawyers involved.”

  Kate laughed. “One of my best friends is a lawyer.”

  “Georgia Jenson. I believe she introduced us.”

  Kate was astonished that he remembered such a detail.

  “We'll credit the legal profession with one good deed.”

  Randall's voice became more serious. “Kate, Frank Peltier blackmailed me into paying for a whole table at the Beaux Arts Ball. Since you're acquainted with the architectural world, I'd like you to come with me.”

  A tidal wave of disappointment almost swamped her.

  “Thank you, but I'm already going. With O
liver Russell. He's one of David's partners at C/R/G,” she felt compelled to add, quickly. How absurd to have two men invite her to the same event!

  “Save a dance for me.” Randall knew exactly who Oliver Russell was.

  “Of course.” She was appalled at how much she wanted to go to the ball with Randall. “What sort of mask are you wearing?”

  “I don't wear masks.”

  “Now why doesn't that surprise me? Come on, Randall, you have to get into the spirit of the thing! Let's see. I don't think that Old Yeller would be quite right for you. Nor Balto – too goodie-goodie.” Kate was sure she heard Randall snort again, so she went on. “How about the Werewolf of London!” This time he definitely was holding back a laugh. “No, I have it: the Hound of the Baskervilles!' she said triumphantly.

  “Feel free to amuse yourself at my expense.”

  “Actually, I think something feline fits you far better.”

  “An alley cat, I suppose.”

  “That's tempting, but I was thinking of a much bigger cat. More like a panther.” Kate could picture his hypnotic eyes focused through the slits of a snarling panther mask. In a tuxedo, he would look devastating.

  “I'll see if I can arrange a change of theme. What about your mask?”

  “I'm going as Gretchen, of course.”

  “Gretchen's a nice dog, but she doesn't fit you. I'd choose an Irish Setter. It would match your hair and you'd have a nice long nose to look down.”

  “Touché!” Kate acknowledged with a laugh.

  “I'm sorry you can't come with me. It would make the evening interesting. Good-bye, Kate.”

  “Good-bye. And thank you for the invitation.” Kate wasn't sure that he had heard the last. The man ended conversations as abruptly as he began them.

  She frowned as the exhilaration of verbally fencing with Randall Johnson crashed against the sense of dread over his and Oliver's meeting. She firmly pushed that problem to the back of her mind. She wanted to savor the pleasure of knowing that Randall had invited her to the ball. “Just like Cinderella,” Kate told herself, humming a waltz as she went upstairs to help Clay with his math.