The Queensbay Series: Books 1-4: The Queensbay Box Set

by Drea Stein

  Noah was relieved. If his father’s wild ways meant that a whole bunch of people were about to lose their jobs, well, that was something Noah wasn’t sure he wanted to allow. Now that he could afford to do something about it.

  “So, where does this leave me?” Noah brought himself back to the now.

  “Well,” Gary said, and Noah could tell he was phrasing his words carefully, “I suppose there’s no need to check into the Osprey Arms while you’re here. You could keep the house, or sell it. Are you eager to get back to California? I know a few real estate agents who would be happy to list it. Surely you weren’t planning on running the firm? You never wanted that, did you?”

  Noah shook his head in frustration. “I hadn’t planned on it, but I’m not going to turn my back on my investment. I have some time to go in and assess things. Does anyone know that he sold it to me?”

  Gary shook his head. “I’m not sure; it was a very quiet deal. And since you left pretty much everything in place, I don’t think anyone’s noticed the change. Were you planning on running it yourself?”

  Noah shook his head impatiently. His father had wanted a loan, and Noah had refused. He had made a different offer, and his father, desperate, had taken it.

  “I was going to find someone to oversee it and keep an eye on my father. He needed money for a reason, and I wasn’t going to let him just run off with mine.”

  “So, Queensbay Capital is just another company in your portfolio?”

  “For now. I suppose that, while I’m here, I’ll take a more personal interest. I’ve been keeping an eye on some of their investment choices, and I have to admit, they have me intrigued.”

  Gary smiled. “Yes, that would be your old friend Caitlyn Montgomery. She seems to have quite a knack for picking winners, almost the Midas touch, if you will. The two of you should get along well.”

  Noah shot the man a look. Gary had handled his father’s affairs for ages, and from what Noah remembered of the man, he wasn’t prone to making jokes. And he didn’t seem to be making one now.

  Noah chuckled. “This is going to get interesting.”

  Gary looked up from the papers on his desk, his look questioning.

  “You know, she’s going to be pretty steamed when she finds out,” Noah said, relishing the thought of seeing how Caitlyn took the news.

  Chapter 10

  Caitlyn sat in her office, twirling in her chair. It was a fairly small office. Maxwell had said he didn’t want to upset the team when she first came by giving her one of the bigger ones, and she had accepted that, content to bide her time. After all, she had expected to be sitting in the corner office before long, so a short layover in a space that was a bit larger than a cubicle was no big deal. Still, she had insisted that she be allowed to paint it her own choice of color, a creamy white, and she had filled it with fun art – things she had picked up in London, somewhat funky, kind of avant-garde.

  In truth, her own taste was a little more conservative, but she needed to stand out and look different than the leather chairs and wood paneling most people associated with financial management firms. Nothing sent up-and-coming talent away like a place that looked straight out of the men’s lounge at a country club. In general, Caitlyn’s clients hated to be told what to do by old men in three-piece suits.

  So, she’d gone deliberately in the opposite direction. And it had worked. Caitlyn tapped her fingers on the desk as she counted on her hand. Fifteen new clients in eight months. Not a bad track record when she’d had to start over from scratch.

  Caitlyn stood and walked over to her window. The view was okay. If you stood on tiptoe and leaned, you could catch a glimpse of Queensbay Harbor, but for the most part, you got a view of the parking lot. Clouds were piling in. It would probably rain later, slicking down the roads and pulling more of the late fall leaves off their branches.

  She loved the water at any time of the year. In college, she had been landlocked, and in London, you had the Thames, of course, but it couldn’t quite compare to home, to Queensbay. She had missed it, the quiet yet prosperous town, small enough that people knew your name and remembered how you liked your coffee, big enough so that they had good restaurants and decent shopping. They’d even had their own theater at one time, a giant pile of a Victorian folly that had been home to summer stock for a number of years until it had fallen on hard times. Queensbay was small town with a touch of cosmopolitan, and it had the comforting feeling of permanence. The water might be changeable, but Queensbay itself was not.

  Caitlyn had thought that the firm wasn’t either. At least, that’s what her grandfather had told her years ago. It had been founded by his father, the son of a successful merchant, who was descended from a sea captain. Business was business, whether it was investing in a ship to carry cargo from far-off lands or building a portfolio of investments to handle stormy weather. A safe haven in a rough harbor. That had been her grandfather’s approach.

  And then Maxwell had taken it over and tried to add some swagger to it. He’d been flashier, brasher, a bit of a gambler. She had seen that now that she was closer, had seen some of the records from the past years. Still, Maxwell’s gambles always seemed to pay off, hadn’t they? And that’s what, she thought, had been bothering her. And so she had bothered him, until he had basically told her to mind her own business. In no uncertain terms.

  He’d rejected her offer, surprised that she had made it. He hadn’t expected her to be ready, and he had neatly dodged it, saying there was still time to sort out the details. It had been a brush-off, she saw that now. And there had been others, slowly but surely. He had been trying to let her down gently. But why?

  Caitlyn had thought there would be something, some note, perhaps in his home office. She had meant to be in and out, Caitlyn thought. Why did Noah Randall have to be there at that particular moment? She hadn’t found anything, which Caitlyn thought was exactly how it was supposed to be. Maxwell was careful. He wouldn’t have put anything like that in writing. What game had he been up to, and why had he changed his mind?

  She turned away from the window and sat back down at the desk, restless. Her thoughts were back on Noah. Had Maxwell changed his mind because of him?

  Noah had looked good. Too good. Tan, handsome, the way he had filled out his suit and smelled of soap and whisky mingled together. She closed her eyes, breathing, imagining the smell of him.

  Caitlyn sighed. Noah Randall was as different from Michael St. John as night and day, but in those few moments with Noah she’d felt more – what? Longing, desire? – than she had in months.

  But it was only because of their history together. Their unresolved history. When someone was supposed to have been your first, and it didn’t work out, and then he shows up looking all yummy and delicious … and angry … well, a girl couldn’t help how she felt, could she?

  Caitlyn shook her head and smoothed her dark beige skirt, straightened her blouse. There was a staff meeting in ten minutes, and since she hadn’t heard from Maxwell’s lawyer, she had a sense of where this was going.

  Chapter 11

  There was a knock at her door. Startled, she turned and saw Heather Malloy, her assistant. There was a look of worry on her face, and Caitlyn realized she’d barely said hello to the girl.

  “Come in,” Caitlyn said, and Heather eagerly crossed the beige rug and took a seat, then hesitated. Caitlyn sensed that Heather wanted to ask her something. They had forged a pretty good rapport since Caitlyn had started working there, and Caitlyn hoped Heather felt comfortable enough asking her anything.

  “Are we going to get fired?” Heather asked. Caitlyn knew she was trying to save money to move out of her parents’ house. Heather was twenty-two, and Caitlyn knew this wasn’t her dream job. Her father was a client, and a place had been found for her.

  “Probably not. I mean you’re not. I might, but they usually start at the top and work their way down.”

  “Oh good,” Heather said, and Caitlyn could see the relief clear
ly on her face. “I mean, I’m sorry; that’s not what I meant.” Heather’s green eyes looked contrite, and Caitlyn waved away her concern.

  “No problem. I understood what you meant.”

  There was silence, and Caitlyn looked out the window again. Heather didn’t seem inclined to move, and Caitlyn didn’t mind the company. There was nothing to do but wait right now.

  “Is it true?” Heather asked, and Caitlyn turned again.

  “Is what true?”

  “Did your grandfather used to own the firm? This firm?”

  “He did,” Caitlyn said cautiously. Heather was probably too young to remember the story or all of the gossip.

  “But he’s dead, right?”

  “Yes.” Caitlyn hoped Heather didn’t want all of the details.

  Everyone knew the story. Lucas Montgomery, scion of Queensbay Capital, investment advisor to the genteel rich, had driven his Lincoln Town Car, not his beloved Mercedes coupe, down to a deserted beach one evening towards the end of the summer. He had shot himself with a gun, no one knowing where he had gotten it, and left a note, saying, “I am sorry. I can’t live like this.”

  “Is what they say true?”

  “What do they say, Heather?” Caitlyn countered.

  She swallowed. “There’s just Deborah; she works at the other end of the office, and she’s been here forever. It was just lunchroom gossip; that’s all.”

  Caitlyn sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

  “It probably wasn’t. Queensbay Capital was started by my great-grandfather. My grandfather was the last Montgomery to run it. He killed himself about ten years ago.”

  It took effort for her to say the rest. “He had cancer. Inoperable brain cancer. No one knew, and I guess he didn’t give himself good odds. So he took fate in his own hands.”

  “How come you didn’t inherit it? You said it was your grandfather’s firm.”

  “Maxwell was a partner. It was a bit complicated. A firm’s not like a piece of art or necklace. So, at the end of the day, my mother and I got the lovely house and some other things.”

  Heather seemed to take this in for a moment. “What about your dad? Wasn’t he a partner?”

  “My dad wasn’t a Montgomery, and my mom had no interest in running it. She never worked a day in her life, at least not in finance. She’s an artist and didn’t want anything to do with it.” Caitlyn was careful to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  “So you’re not one of the owners?”

  Caitlyn shook her head. “Just an employee.”

  Heather seemed satisfied, and Caitlyn was glad. She didn’t want to relive the memories. The cancer had been the official reason for Lucas’s suicide, but there had been other rumors, whispers. Caitlyn didn’t like to think about those.

  And Maxwell had been amazing, stepping in and stepping up, preserving Queensbay Capital for the new century.

  Caitlyn looked at the clock. It was time for their meeting.

  “Should we go?”

  Chapter 12

  Caitlyn entered the conference room just after Heather. It was a large space; still, it was filled to bursting with every employee of the firm. Queensbay Capital was on the top floor of a five-story building. Nothing like the glass-and-steel tower she had worked at in London, but still it reeked of money, quiet old money.

  Inside the room, Caitlyn could feel the nervousness rolling off of people. It was in their eyes and in the sweaty armpits of Bob Mancini from the mailroom. Faces reflected in the sheen of the conference room table’s shiny surface were worried, ghostly almost. They were all wondering what would become of them.

  There was a slight swirl of air as heads turned towards the door. Two men entered, and Caitlyn felt her heart sink, even though she had prepared herself for this. Maxwell the Bastard had struck again. She felt a burn in her throat and just maybe the prick of a hot, angry tear before she got a hold of herself.

  Maxwell had used her, she thought, as Sam Harris began to speak. He had salt-and-pepper hair and a perpetual tan. In the summer months, he spent most of his spare time on his boat or hanging out at the yacht club. By October, Caitlyn suspected he had a little help from the bottle.

  “Thank you all for joining us. It has been a difficult week for all of us, since Maxwell was such a part of the firm. Some of you may be wondering what will happen now that Maxwell is gone. Well, the good news is that, while nothing stays the same, we can ensure that we will carry on. Maxwell and I worked together for a number of years. In the last few, I began to talk to him about a succession plan. Luckily, he listened to me.” Sam took a moment to pause, and Caitlyn looked at him closely. Whatever he was going to say wasn’t easy for him.

  “Everyone, I would like to introduce you to someone. Many of us here have worked at the firm for years. It’s always felt like a family firm, Maxwell like a benevolent uncle guiding the ship.”

  Caitlyn felt the anger rising in her. Benevolent, her ass. Cheating, deceitful user was more like it.

  Sam straightened his tie before continuing. As usual, he wore a suit, gray with pinstripes, and a striped tie, this one alternating navy and red. Caitlyn had seldom seen him wear anything but, not even a subdued paisley. He eschewed French cuff shirts and cufflinks and wore a simple watch with a leather band. The only thing noticeable about him were his dark, dead-fish eyes. They watched everything coldly. Sam Harris had been the man to rein in Maxwell’s wilder tendencies, but he did little to inspire anyone to greatness.

  “It was a terrible tragedy that Maxwell Randall was taken from us so soon.”

  Caitlyn scanned the room. The faces had changed from scared and nervous to puzzled. Most were trying to get a better glimpse of the man who stood behind Sam, just out of view.

  “In order for our ship to weather these stormy seas in the next few months, we need to present a clear and united front to our customers and the investment community. So, since ownership of Queensbay Capital has passed to Maxwell’s son, Noah Randall will be acting as the CEO. By Noah’s good graces, I will continue in my present role, overseeing day-to-day operations.”

  There were a few murmurs around the conference room, and someone started clapping. Soon enough, everyone joined in, including Caitlyn, giving some half-hearted slaps of her hands together. So this was how it was going to be.

  “Excuse me, excuse me.” Sam Harris raised his arms and called for quiet. “As I said, I would like to introduce you to someone. Noah, why don’t you come forward?”

  Sam Harris moved out of the way, and Noah stepped forward. Caitlyn looked up and caught his eye. She stared at him for a moment, holding his dark eyes with her own. He had to look away.

  “Ladies and gentlemen…” he began. Caitlyn tuned him out, focusing on the small seething little bit of rage within her. Queensbay Capital was supposed to have been hers. Not Noah Randall’s, the prodigal son, and certainly not Sam Harris’s. It was supposed to have been her legacy, and now it was slipping through her fingers. Again.

  Chapter 13

  “Can we talk?”

  Caitlyn looked up and saw Noah in her doorframe.

  “Do I have a choice?” Caitlyn didn’t bother to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “You’re the boss now, so I suppose you can talk to whomever you want.” Caitlyn flipped over some papers on her desk, trying to hide the fact she was shaking with rage, not able to look at Noah. “You know, if you were planning on firing me, you might want to rethink that. My employment contract calls for a rather generous severance package.” She looked up when she said it, shooting him a clear, hard look.

  “Caitlyn,” Noah said with a laugh. He tried not to show that her anger was getting to him. She had always set him off so easily. Nasty boardroom battles, angry investors, nothing could upset him the way a look from Caitlyn did.

  “I guess my father didn’t share his plans with any of you?” Noah said, trying to keep his calm. Sam Harris had been shocked but had done his best to hide it, to play along like he was happy with t
he news.

  Caitlyn stopped what she was doing and looked at him. Noah had dressed carefully, knowing that he needed to send a message. His suit was perfectly cut, his shirt starched, his cufflinks gleaming. If he now owned a financial company, he was going to look the part.

  “No, not this particular plan.” Her voice was clipped, but she had stopped shuffling with the papers and stood, ramrod straight, hands clenched tightly at her sides. She looked good in her silk blouse and smooth skirt that managed to hug her curves.

  “So, he blindsided you as well?” he said when she stayed quiet.

  “It wasn’t like that,” she started to say, and then stopped. It had been exactly like that, and she didn’t need to defend Maxwell anymore, least of all to Noah.

  He sat down and placed his hands on the clear surface of her desk. Caitlyn’s office was modern to the extreme, including a clear, glass-topped desk supported by simple metal rods.

  “I told you he couldn’t be trusted,” Noah said, his voice softening. His father had opened the lines of communication because he needed money. Not because he wanted to reconcile. Noah accepted that. He had gotten out from under his father’s manipulations years ago, but he sensed that Caitlyn was just beginning to shake free from her bonds.

  “It must feel nice to be right after all these years,” she snapped back.

  He was about to say that it didn’t, that he didn’t want to see her hurt, but he didn’t think she would listen.

  “Who do you think you are, Noah?” Her voice had dropped to a hiss, and she leaned over the surface of her desk, hands splayed flat at him as she pinned him down with her gaze.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were right. All along. You made it. You proved your point. Did you have to come back here and rub it in all our faces? There you go, Noah – you won. You own Queensbay Capital. You outsmarted your father. You outsmarted me. You’ve paid us all back for not believing in you. What did you do, make him an anonymous offer? Did he even know you were the buyer?”