by Nora Roberts
“Oh, God, not Louisa. Margo, you said your appointment was with a Mr. Newman.”
“Well, it was.”
The voice called out again, and if there had been anywhere to dive for cover, Laura would have used it.
“Ms. Sullivan, is that you?” The woman appeared at the top of the stairs. She was all in pink from her flowing swing jacket to her clicking heels. Her hair was the careful ash blond that hairdressers often chose to hold off gray, and it was styled ruthlessly into a helmet that curved around pink cheeks. Gold rattled on her wrists, and an enormous sunburst pin exploded over her left breast.
Mid-fifties, Margo estimated with an experienced eye, and holding desperately on to forty. Very decent face-lift, she mused, smiling politely as the woman picked her way down the circling stairs, chattering all the way. Regular aerobic classes to keep her in shape, possibly aided by a tummy tuck and lipo.
“. . . just refreshing my memory,” Louisa continued, bubbling like a brook. “I haven’t been in here for several weeks. Dear Johnny was supposed to show you through, but he had a teeny little accident with his car this morning.” When she reached the bottom, slightly out of breath, she offered a hand. “So delighted to meet you. I’m Louisa Metcalf.”
“Margo Sullivan.”
“Yes, of course you are.” Her raisin-colored eyes glinted with interest and carefully applied bronze shadow. “I recognized you right away. I had no idea my one o’clock was the Margo Sullivan. And you’re just as lovely as all your photographs. They’re so often touched up, aren’t they? Then you meet someone whose face you’ve seen just hundreds of times and it’s such a disappointment. You’ve led such an interesting life, haven’t you?”
“And it’s not over yet,” Margo said and had Louisa tittering with laughter.
“Oh, no, indeed. How fortunate to be so young and lovely. I’m sure you can overcome any little setback. You’ve been in Greece, haven’t you?”
“Hello, Louisa.”
She turned, laying a hand over her heart. “Why, Laura dear. I didn’t see you there. What a delightful surprise.”
Knowing the routine, Laura met her halfway and the women exchanged quick air kisses. “You look wonderful.”
“Oh, my professional mode.” Louisa smoothed her jacket, under which her bosom was heaving happily in anticipation of gossip. “I so enjoy dabbling a few days a week in my little hobby. Real estate takes you into such interesting places, and you meet so many people. With Benedict so busy with his practice and the children grown, I have to have something to do with my time.” Those glinting eyes sharpened. “I don’t know how you manage, dear, with those two lovely children, all your charity work, the social whirl. I was just telling Barbara—you remember my daughter, Barbara—how amazing I thought you were. Managing all those committees and functions, raising two children. Especially now that you’re going through such a trial. Divorce.” She whispered it as though it were a dirty word. “Such a heartbreak for everyone involved, isn’t it? How are you bearing up, dear?”
“I’m fine.” More out of desperation than manners, Laura tugged Kate forward. “This is Kate Powell.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Kate didn’t bother to tell her that they’d met at least half a dozen times before. Women like Louisa Metcalf never remembered her.
“Are you interested in the building, Laura?” she continued. “I understood that the caller was looking to rent, but if you’re wanting an investment now that you’re on your own, so to speak, this would be perfect for you. A woman alone needs to think about her future, don’t you agree? The owner is willing to sell.”
“Actually, it’s Margo who—”
“Oh, of course. I do beg your pardon.” She pivoted toward Margo like a cannon bearing to aim from the top of a tank. “Seeing an old friend again, you understand. And the two of you have been friends for years, haven’t you? So nice you can be close by during our Laura’s time of trouble. It’s a wonderful building, isn’t it? A clever location. You wouldn’t have the least trouble finding a suitable tenant. And I can recommend a very reliable management company.”
Buy it? To own it. Margo had to swallow the saliva that pooled in her mouth. Afraid that Louisa might see the territorial light in her eyes, she turned away and wandered. “I haven’t actually decided whether to rent or buy.” She rolled her eyes gleefully at Kate and Laura. “Who were the last tenants?”
“Oh, well, that was a bit unfortunate. Which is why the owner is considering selling out. It was a New Age shop. I don’t understand that business myself, do you? Crystals and odd music and gongs. It came out that they were also selling drugs.” She whispered the last word, as if saying it might addict her. “Marijuana. Oh, my dear, I hope that doesn’t upset you, with your recent troubles.”
Margo sent her an arch look. “Not at all. Perhaps I could see upstairs.”
“Certainly. It’s quite roomy. It’s been used as a little apartment and has the most adorable doll’s house of a kitchen, and of course the view.”
She picked her way back up, chattering about the delights of the building while the others trailed after her.
“You can’t be serious,” Kate hissed, grabbing Margo’s arm. “You couldn’t afford the rent in this location, much less the purchase price.”
“Just shut up. I’m thinking.”
It was hard to think with Louisa’s incessant chirping, so Margo shut it out. Shut out everything but sheer delight. It was roomy, surprisingly so. And if the banister circling the second level was shaky, so what? And the pentagram painted on the floor could be removed.
Maybe it was hot as a furnace, and the kitchen alcove was only big enough for one of the Seven Dwarfs. But there were quaint eyebrow windows peeking out, offering teasing glimpses of the sea.
“It has wonderful potential,” Louisa went on. “A bit of cosmetic work, some pretty paper or paint. Of course you know that property in this area rents by the square foot.” She opened the briefcase she’d left on the narrow kitchen counter, took out a file. “This building has six hundred and twenty-eight.” She offered papers to Margo. “The owner has kept the rent very reasonable, considering. Of course, the utility fees are the responsibility of the tenant.”
Kate turned on the tap, watched gray water sputter out. “And the repairs?”
“Oh, I’m sure something can be worked out there.” Louisa dismissed Kate with a wave of her hand and a jangle of bracelets. “You’ll want to look over the lease, of course. I don’t want to pressure you, but I feel obliged to let you know we have another interested party coming through tomorrow. And once it’s officially known that the building’s for sale, well . . .” She let that lay, smiling. “I believe the asking price is only two hundred seventy-five thousand.”
Margo felt her dream pop—an overinflated red balloon. “That’s good to know.” She managed a shrug, though her shoulders felt weighted. “As I said, I’m not sure if it’s just what I’m looking for. I have several properties I’m considering.”
Scanning the lease, she saw that Kate—damn her—had been right. Even the rent was well out of her reach. There had to be a way, she thought.
“I’ll be in touch within a day or two.” She smiled again, politely and dismissively. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Metcalf, for your time.”
“Oh, no trouble at all. I so enjoy showing off places. Homes are more fun, of course. You’ve been living in Europe, haven’t you? Terribly exciting for you. If you’re thinking of buying a second home here in the area, I have the most fabulous ten-bedroom on Seventeen Mile. An absolute steal. The owners are in the middle of a vicious divorce, and . . . oh.” She looked around to make a tittering apology to Laura, but her eyes continued to gleam. “She must have gone back downstairs. I wouldn’t want to upset her by talking about divorce. Such a shame about her and Peter, isn’t it?”
“Not really,” Margo said dryly. “I think he’s scum.”
“Oh.” Her color fluctuated. “You’re just being
loyal to your old friend, aren’t you? Actually, no one could have been more surprised than I was when I heard they had separated. Just the most charming couple. He’s so well mannered, so attractive and gentlemanly.”
“Well, you know what they say about appearances? They lie. I think I’ll just poke around for a bit longer, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Metcalf.” Firmly, Margo took her arm to lead her back to the stairs. “It might help me make up my mind if I spend a little time alone.”
“Of course. Take all the time you like. Just lock the door behind you. I have the key. Oh, and let me give you my card. You be sure to call if you want to breeze through again, or if you’d like to see that wonderful house on Seventeen Mile.”
“I certainly will.” Margo didn’t see either Kate or Laura on the first floor and kept marching Louisa toward the door.
“Oh, do tell Laura good-bye for me, won’t you? And her young friend. I’m sure I’ll see you and Laura at the club soon.”
“Absolutely. ’Bye now. Thank you so much.” Margo closed the door with a quick rattle. “And do be a stranger,” she muttered. “Okay, where are you two hiding?”
“We’re up here,” Kate called out. “In the bathroom.”
“Jesus, it’s really tacky for two grown women to hide in a bathroom.” Once she’d climbed the steps again, she found them. Laura sat on the edge of the old clawfoot tub with Kate facing her from her perch on the john. In any other setting, Margo would have said they were deep in some intense and serious discussion. “I really appreciate you leaving me alone with that nosy magpie.”
“You wanted to do the talking,” Kate reminded her.
“Nothing really to talk about.” Discouraged, Margo joined Laura on the edge of the tub. “I could probably squeeze out the rent, if I didn’t eat for the next six months. Which isn’t that much of a problem. But I wouldn’t have enough left over to handle the start-up costs. I want to buy it,” she said with a sigh. “It’s exactly what I’m looking for. There’s just something about it that tells me I could be happy here.”
“Maybe it’s the leftover aroma of stale pot.”
Margo sent Kate a withering look. “I only smoked it once when I was sixteen. And you had several hits yourself on that memorable evening.”
“I didn’t inhale,” she said with a grin. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
“Then explain why you claimed you were doing a pas de deux with Baryshnikov.”
“I have no recollection of that event—and he told me to call him Misha.”
“It’s a damn good thing I only wheedled two joints out of Biff.” Margo blew out a breath. “Well, this, unfortunately, is reality. I can’t afford this place.”
“I can,” Laura said.
“What do you mean, you can?”
“I mean I can buy it, and I can rent it to you, and we’ll be in business.”
Margo nearly threw her arms around Laura before sanity, and pride, prevailed. “Oh, no. I’m not starting off this next section of my life that way.” She dug in her bag for a cigarette, lighted it with a violent flick. “You’re not bailing me out. No one’s bailing me out. Not this time.”
“Tell her what you told me, Kate, when I suggested it.”
“Okay. First I asked her if she was out of her mind. Not that I don’t think you couldn’t pull off this plan of yours, Margo, but I don’t think you can pull it off.”
Eyes narrowed, Margo huffed out smoke. “Thanks so much.”
“It’s an admirable idea,” Kate soothed. “But starting a new business is a risky venture at any time, with anyone. The vast majority go tits up in the first year. Basic economics, even if the people have some training and education in retail. Not to mention that Monterey and Carmel are already lousy with gift shops and boutiques. But,” Kate continued, holding up a hand before Margo could snarl at her, “some succeed, even thrive. Now, putting your part of it aside for the moment, we look at Laura’s current situation. Having been married at the ridiculous age of eighteen, she’s never invested on her own. There is the Templeton organization, of course, in which she shares. But she has no personal, individual stocks, bonds, or property beyond her interest in Templeton. As she’s just filed for divorce, and is solvent financially, it makes good economic sense for her to seek investments.”
“I’ve never bought anything on my own,” Laura interrupted. “Never owned anything that wasn’t through the family or with Peter. And when I was looking around this place, I thought, why not? Why shouldn’t I buy it? Why shouldn’t I take a gamble on myself? On us.”
“Because if I screw it up—”
“You won’t. You’ve got something to prove here, don’t you, Margo?”
“All right, yes, but it doesn’t include taking you down with me.”
“Listen to me.” Eyes serious and soft, Laura laid a hand on Margo’s knee. “All my life I’ve done what I was told, taken the quiet, well-tended path. Now I’m going to do something just for the hell of it.” She felt a giddy little thrill at the thought. “I’m buying this building, Margo, whether you want a piece of it or not.”
Margo took a deep gulp, discovered it wasn’t pride she was swallowing. It was excitement. “So, how much are you going to gouge out of me for rent?”
The first shock came at the bank. A cashier’s check for ten percent of the asking price was Kate’s advice, not only to nail down a contract but to help negotiate that price down by twenty-five thousand.
The money wasn’t there.
“There must be some mistake. I should have at least twice this amount liquid.”
“Just a moment, please, Mrs. Ridgeway.” The teller hurried off while Laura tapped her fingers.
As a sick feeling began to stir in her gut, Margo laid a hand on her shoulder. “Laura, this is a joint account with Peter?”
“Sure. We use it primarily as a checking account, to run the household. I’m taking out less than half, so there shouldn’t be a problem. We’re a community property state. My lawyer explained all of that.”
The vice president of the bank came out into the lobby, shook her hand. “Laura, would you come back to my office for a moment.”
“Frank, I’m in kind of a hurry. I just need a cashier’s check.”
“Just for a moment.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders.
Margo gritted her teeth as Laura was guided away. “You know what that bastard did?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Furious, Kate pressed her fingers to her eyes. “I should have thought of it. Christ, I should have known. It’s all happened so fast.”
“They’d have money scattered around, wouldn’t they? In another bank. Stocks, bonds, a portfolio through a broker.”
“They’d have to. Laura might have let Peter take over the finances, but neither of them is foolish enough to put all their eggs in one basket. And there’s the insurance limit on funds in a bank. This is a drop in the bucket.” But she had a sick feeling. “Shit. He never let me near their books. Here she comes,” Kate muttered. “Goddamn it, it’s all over her face.”
“Peter cleaned out the account.” Face pale, eyes dazed, Laura headed for the doors. “The morning after I found him in bed with his secretary, he came in here and took out all but a couple of thousand.” She had to stop, press a hand to her stomach. “We had started little savings accounts for the girls, so they could put money in themselves. He took that, too. He took their money.”
“Let’s find a place to sit down,” Margo murmured.
“No. No, I have to make calls. I have to contact the broker. I don’t even know his name.” She covered her face with her hands and tried to breathe. “So stupid. So stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” Kate said furiously. “We’re going home. We’ll find the numbers and we’ll call. We’ll arrange to have the rest of your assets frozen.”
There wasn’t much to freeze.
“Fifty thousand.” Kate sat back, slipped off her reading glasses, and rubbed her eyes. “Well, it
was damn generous of him to leave you that much. From what I can figure, that’s about five percent of your joint holdings.” Thoughtfully, she unrolled her package of Tums. “The good news is he wasn’t able to touch your stock in Templeton and he doesn’t have any claim on the house.”
“Their college funds,” Laura said weakly. “He closed Ali’s and Kayla’s college funds. How could money have meant so much to him?”
“Money’s probably only part of it. He’s teaching you a lesson.” Margo poured another glass of wine. It might help them all to be a little drunk. “And he got away with it because you’d never have thought of doing the same thing. I would have, but I wasn’t thinking at all. Maybe your lawyer can get some of it back.”
“Odds are it’s all tucked away in the Caymans by now.” Kate shook her head in disgust. “The way it looks, he’s been busily transferring stock and cash and mutuals out of your joint accounts into a personal one for quite a while. He just made a quick final sweep.” She bit her tongue before she could chastise Laura for signing anything Peter had handed her. “But you’ve got the paperwork, copies of the transactions and withdrawals, so you’ll be able to fight when you get to court.”
Laura sat back, closed her eyes. “I’m not fighting him for money. He can have it. Every lousy penny.”
“The hell with that,” Margo erupted.
“No, the hell with him. The divorce is going to be hard enough on the girls without the two of us battling over dollars and cents in court. I’ve still got fifty thousand cash—which is a lot more than most women start with. He can’t touch the house because it’s in my parents’ name.”
She picked up her glass but didn’t drink. “I’m the one who was stupid enough to sign whatever he put in front of me without questioning him. I deserved to get fleeced.”
“You’ve got the Templeton stock,” Kate reminded her. “You could sell part of your shares.”
“I’m not touching the family stock. It’s a legacy.”
“Laura.” To calm her, Kate laid a hand on Laura’s. “I’m not saying to put the stock on the market. Either Josh or your parents would buy it, or margin you a loan against it until everything’s sorted out.”
