I sighed, cradling my head in my hands. I was exhausted, and that number probably meant nothing, and maybe Tony was right to suggest I take a break from my detective work for the holidays. So I locked the papers inside a drawer and then fell into bed.
*
The office closed at noon on Christmas Eve. I left my desk and went to a conference room on our floor, where Kitty was throwing a party. All the editors and the assistants and every other Femme employee were drinking eggnog and playing a Christmas movie-quiz game that Kitty led. She stood in front of the room, asking questions and handing out prizes.
“Who directed It’s a Wonderful Life?” she asked.
“Frank Capra,” an editor shouted.
“Give that man a Starbucks gift card,” she said with a laugh, flinging one his way.
I headed for the empty chairs at the back of the room, and I’d just sat down when the glass door opened and Charlie Beckford came in with a toddler in his arms. He spotted me, walked in my direction, and nodded toward the chair to my left.
“It’s nice to see you again, Savannah. May we sit here?”
“It’s nice to see you, too, Charlie. And of course you may,” I said, remembering the story Kitty had told me about what had happened to his wife after their baby was born. “Is this your son?”
Charlie nodded. “This is Ethan,” he said as he sat down with the boy on his lap.
I looked at Ethan’s blond hair and his rosy cheeks and his big brown eyes, nearly choking up at the thought of him being motherless. I cleared my throat and forced a smile.
“Hi there, Ethan,” I said, but he just pressed his face against his father’s shoulder.
“Sorry,” Charlie said. “He’s bashful.”
“That’s okay. The best-looking boys are always the shyest.”
Charlie smiled, took off his coat, and hung it on the back of his chair. “Kitty invited me,” he said, glancing at her as she tossed another prize. “She seems to be having fun.”
I nodded. “It’s good to see her happy.”
She seemed even happier a few minutes later, when she joined us and Ethan stopped being bashful. He climbed off Charlie’s lap and onto Kitty’s, and he stayed there while the rest of us gabbed. He eventually dozed off, and Charlie excused himself to get some eggnog at the opposite side of the room.
“Do you ladies want anything?” Charlie asked as he stood up.
We shook our heads. Then he was gone, and I reached out to stroke Ethan’s hair. He was still on Kitty’s lap with his eyes shut, and his head was pressed against her blazer.
“He sure does like you,” I said, feeling soft curls between my fingers.
“He’s just friendly in general,” she said, and I didn’t correct her even though I knew better. “So how was the party in Larchmont? Caroline mentioned she’d invited you.”
“It was … interesting,” I said, and nothing more. It would have been insensitive to bring Ned into the conversation, and I wasn’t going to tell Kitty I’d poked around Edward’s office. But I couldn’t resist the chance for some inside information. “Kitty,” I began, “did Edward know people in Washington, D.C.?”
She adjusted Ethan on her lap. “Edward knew people everywhere. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering,” I said as Charlie returned and sat down.
“I don’t know if you and Alex have New Year’s Eve plans,” Kitty said. “But if you don’t … Charlie and I thought you might like to spend it with us.”
“I bought a table for ten at Cipriani on East Forty-second,” Charlie said. “Two couples have canceled, though. So if you and your boyfriend want to come … we’d be happy to have you.”
“How sweet of you to ask,” I said. “But Alex and I have already promised to spend New Year’s Eve with two friends of ours.”
“Bring them,” Charlie said. “Like I mentioned, I have four spots open … and the tickets are in my pocket.”
How could I refuse? I’d never been to Cipriani, but I’d heard it was a historic venue with an exclusive clientele—especially on New Year’s Eve. “Okay,” I said, and thanked Charlie when he handed me tickets printed with PLATINUM VIP. “How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing. It’s my treat.”
Our receptionist jumped up on a table to make an eggnog toast. Charlie looked that way, and I nudged Kitty.
“He’s a keeper,” I whispered.
“I know,” she said.
*
I left Stone News an hour later. I’d just walked through the revolving doors and into the cold air when Celeste Natali nearly tackled me on the sidewalk.
“Thank God you’re still here,” she said as her brown hair flowed in the wind and her chest heaved. She wasn’t wearing a coat, there was a manila envelope in her hand, and her nose was quickly turning pink. “Do you know where Ned is?”
I shook my head. “Isn’t he upstairs?”
“No,” she said. “His secretary is on vacation so I’m filling in for her … he let everyone go early and he left, too, but I stayed to type up a few memos. Then I realized he forgot to sign a last-minute contract that has to be hand delivered by three today. I’ve been calling his cell for the past half hour, but it goes straight to voice mail and he hasn’t returned my messages. I think he said he was going home, but I’m not sure … and I can’t get into his secretary’s electronic Rolodex and the only address I have for him is on East Seventieth … and that’s not right, is it?” She inhaled a ragged breath and shivered in the cold.
“Relax,” I said soothingly. “I know his new address. I’ll track him down, he’ll sign the contract, and then I’ll arrange to have it delivered. Okay?”
Her lips were already blue. “You can’t. It’s not your job, and it’s Christmas Eve, and—”
“I know it’s Christmas Eve,” I said, slipping the envelope out of her hand. “So go inside and get your coat … and then go home.”
She stared at me for a moment as her teeth chattered. “There are five copies in there,” she said finally. “He has to sign all of them. Are you sure you can—”
“I’m sure, Celeste. Good-bye and Merry Christmas.”
It took a moment for her to agree to my plan and thank me. Then she headed back toward Stone News and I hailed a cab that took me to Ned’s building, which was in Turtle Bay and close to Grand Central Station. It was a high-rise with a big lobby and a concierge who picked up a phone after I told her my name and the resident I wanted to see. She dialed a number, and I heard Ned’s muffled voice through the receiver but didn’t know what he’d said until the concierge looked at me again.
“Mr. Stone asks the reason for your visit,” she said.
“The future of his company,” I told her.
I was on the fourteenth floor approximately ninety seconds later. I knocked on Ned’s door, and he opened it but didn’t invite me in. He wasn’t even dressed—he was wearing a bathrobe, and he seemed miffed that I was there.
“What is going on?” he asked in that demanding way of his.
I held up the envelope and pulled out the contracts. “You forgot something.”
Anger sparked in his eyes. “God damn it. Celeste was supposed to—”
“Don’t blame Celeste. You’re the one who forgot to sign.”
“Yes,” he said curtly, “but she was supposed to remind me.”
“So you both messed up,” I said, trying to get a glimpse of the apartment. But he moved to hide the view. “I’m sure you won’t be rough on her about it, though … she claims you’re very patient with new employees.”
He paused, raising an eyebrow. “How did you get involved in this?” he asked.
“I ran into Celeste, and she was frantic, and I told her I’d make sure the contracts got signed and sent. Now are you going to put your autograph on these things or what?”
He snatched them from my fingers. “Wait here,” he said, turning away. He started to close the door, which I blocked with my foot.
“Seriously
, Ned … Do you really think it’s polite to make me stand out here?”
He rolled his eyes and let me in. I stepped into his front hall, where I could see the kitchen and the living room and a shut door. The paint was pallid gray and so were the kitchen cabinets, and there were windows that overlooked the East River. It was a spacious, trendy place in a desirable location so the rent had to be steep, but it didn’t seem like a home. There wasn’t much furniture—only an L-shaped leather couch and a glass coffee table in the living room—and the walls were bare. The place felt stark, temporary, in need of a warm touch.
“This is a lovely apartment,” I said anyway.
Ned shrugged. “Not compared to yours, but it’ll have to do.”
I closed the door behind me and followed him toward the kitchen as I listened to a shower running in what I assumed was an adjoining apartment. Then I leaned against a granite countertop while he looked around for a pen, and I unzipped my purse to see if I had one. I rummaged through all the junk inside and realized something was missing.
“What’s wrong?” Ned asked as he plucked a pen from a drawer and started signing.
My personalized snowflake from Stone News wasn’t in my purse. It had to be on Carys Caldwell’s lawn, where everything inside my bag had spilled. It had been dark out, and the crystal had probably sunk into the snow, and that was why I’d missed it. But that was okay, because Mrs. Caldwell might find it one of these days and be reminded of her mistakes.
The shower stopped. A female voice shouted, “Honey … who was at the door?”
So that hadn’t been the neighbor’s water running. It was Ned’s shower, and there was a woman inside, and she was the reason he’d tried to keep me in the hall.
“Is that a divorcée or a socialite?” I asked.
He was hunched over the counter, in the midst of writing his name on the last page of one of the contracts. “Neither,” he said peevishly. “You’ve obviously been talking to Caroline … who needs to stop trying to control my life.”
He went back to signing. The woman’s voice came through the wall again.
“Ned … is somebody out there with you?”
He straightened up and shoved the contracts at me. “Thanks for taking care of this.”
“You’re welcome,” I said as I stuffed everything into the envelope. “By the way … Caroline isn’t trying to control your life. She’s just concerned about what you’ve been … I mean, who you’ve been—”
“Enough,” he said, holding up his hand.
“Ned!” the woman screeched. “What are you doing?”
“I’m talking to a prying relative,” he yelled back. “But she’s leaving now.”
I stuck the envelope into my purse and sighed. “Caroline thinks you’d be better off without”—I motioned toward the bedroom and scrunched up my face like I’d sniffed a sewer—“this sort of thing. She thinks you should find a quality woman like—” I stopped. I couldn’t utter Kitty’s name. But the glum look in Ned’s eyes made me think he’d heard it anyway. “Well,” I continued, “she just thinks you should try to find somebody … better. I do, too.”
He hardened his face. “Is that right? And whom would you suggest?”
He’d said that smugly, like it was a challenge. “I don’t know,” I said, glancing between him and the East River. “But this city is filled with so many possibilities.”
A coarse laugh sprang from his mouth. He came toward me with a cocky swagger, put his hands on my shoulders, and twisted me toward the exit. “Savannah,” he said as he walked me across the living room, “your optimism is amusing.”
He practically shoved me out of the apartment. I spun around to face him as he stood in the doorway with his arms folded. “It isn’t amusing,” I said, thoroughly annoyed. “It’s valid. There are plenty of women you could have a real relationship with.”
“Hmm,” he said in the most condescending way as he rubbed the ridge in his chin. “I’ll need something more concrete than your misguided assertions to convince me of that.”
“Well, I’m still—”
“You’re still undamaged enough to believe all that starry-eyed tripe about the glass being half full and every cloud having a silver lining. Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts,” he said, and then he shut the door and turned the bolt.
Eleven
Mom’s auburn curls flowed down her jacket and Tina’s brown hair was in the cutest updo, and I heard them squealing from the other side of Kennedy Airport when they spotted Alex and me standing by the baggage claim.
“You’re too skinny,” Mom said, throwing her arms around me while Alex greeted Tina.
I chuckled into her neck. “I’m the same weight I was when I left Charleston.”
“You look even more beautiful,” she said, holding me at arm’s length.
She looked beautiful, too. So did Tina, who let out her husky laugh when she hugged me.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said.
“Even better to see you,” I said, trying not to get mushy as I detached myself from her grip and studied her face. The heavy makeup was long gone and the Marlboro Lights were, too. She looked fresh and healthy, and her big green eyes were bright.
“Ms. Morgan,” Alex said, extending his hand to Mom, “it’s great to finally meet you.”
She pulled him in for a hug. “Same here, Alex … and my name is Joan.”
I smiled. Tina poked me. “He’s grown even more precious,” she whispered in my ear.
I poked her back as Mom let Alex go and spotted her bag on the conveyor belt.
“There’s mine,” Tina said, pointing to a Louis Vuitton suitcase bursting at the seams.
Alex grabbed the suitcase as it came around a corner, and then he reached for Mom’s.
“Let me take one of those,” I offered.
“I’ve got it,” he said.
He lugged the bags all the way to his Honda and locked them in the trunk. I settled down beside him in the front while Mom and Tina sat in the back, and we rode through a cold but sunny day as Mom gasped and gawked at the skyline while we headed into Manhattan.
“You’re just like I was on my first day here,” I said.
She was also just as spellbound by my apartment as I had been. “This is breathtaking,” she said when we walked into the living room and Alex headed toward the bedrooms to drop off the suitcases. “I’ve seen it in the pictures you sent, of course … but it’s more impressive in person. It has everything—location, view, lovely furniture. What else could you want?”
Nothing. I couldn’t want one more thing except knowing what had happened to Edward. But I wasn’t going to dwell on that—not now, at least—and I felt very lucky as I sat down to Christmas dinner with my boyfriend and my mother and my best friend and my ham. I had everything I could ask for right there at my kitchen table. So I happily dove into the food along with everyone else, and then we plowed through a feast of desserts that included Mom’s homemade praline cookies.
“Now,” I said when we finished eating, “it’s time to open your gifts.”
“Our gifts,” Tina said. “I only wish we hadn’t been banned from buying some for you.”
I pushed back my chair and stood up. “All I wanted from you and Mom was to be here. But did you notice what Alex gave me?” I asked, gesturing toward my necklace.
“That’s stunning,” Tina said.
“What good taste you have, Alex,” Mom told him.
He glanced shyly at crumbs on his plate. Then we gathered around the Norway spruce, where everyone opened boxes—first Mom, then Tina, and finally Alex.
“You’re spoiling me, Savannah,” he said as he sat on the floor, surrounded by the clothes I’d picked up at Brooks Brothers. “But thank you.”
I would have bought him so much more if he’d let me—like a better car and Yankees season tickets for next year. “It’s my pleasure. They’re practical presents … you can wear everything at your new job. And there’s one more thing,�
�� I said. I grabbed the last unopened box and handed it to him, and he gave the gift a puzzled stare when its wrapping was off.
“Cologne,” he said.
“It’s Clive Christian,” I told him.
“Oh,” he said, like he had no idea what that was. I couldn’t explain, because telling him it was one of the finest colognes available would’ve been pure tackiness. And he might have burst a vessel if he knew how much it cost. “It’s just … I hate for you to spend money on something I already have. You know my sister gave me a bottle of Acqua Di Gio, and I’ve barely made a dent in it.”
You’ve used enough. I can smell it on you right now.
“That’s all right,” I said, rubbing his back through his shirt. “Maybe you can just wear the Clive Christian when we’re together. You know … to make me feel good.”
I gave him a wink, but it took him surprisingly long to smile.
“Yeah … sure,” he said finally. “If that’s what you want.”
Mom clapped her hands together and stood up from the couch where she sat with Tina.
“Well,” Mom said, “I’ve heard so much about New York during the holidays … why don’t we get out there and see everything?”
Not long after that, all four of us were peering at the Christmas displays in the front windows of Macy’s and Bergdorf Goodman and Lord & Taylor. We walked around Rockefeller Center and pushed our way through Times Square, and Mom was awed by everything, but it seemed to tire her out. By then it was dark, and we hopped in a cab that whisked us back to the Upper West Side and let us off in front of my building.
“I should get over to Staten Island,” Alex said, checking his watch. “My family will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t spend some time with them today.”
I kissed his cheek. “I wish you didn’t have to go. But I understand why you do.”
“It was a pleasure celebrating Christmas with you,” Mom said before she gave Alex another hug. “I hope we’ll see you again while Tina and I are here.”
“You will,” Alex said, and he kept his word. He came to Manhattan on the nights he wasn’t working to join us for dinner at Eleven Madison Park and Marea, and he sat beside me for performances of Wicked and Jersey Boys.
Independently Wealthy: A Novel Page 10
