“Lydia’s on Columbus Avenue. It’s walking distance.” Where was the man who asked her opinion about everything that concerned her and some things that didn’t, who forced a bodyguard on her because he had to know that she was safe, and who had a man trailing her for the same reason though he deemed that the bodyguard was no longer necessary? That John Ashton Underwood was no where in evidence.
She ordered a simple meal of shrimp diable, spaghetti and a green salad. And although he ordered veal Marsala, mashed potatoes and sautéed spinach, he hardly tasted it. They talked very little while eating. Later, sipping espresso, he looked her in the eye and said, “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re doing another story on Barber-Smith’s attempted takeover? Did you learn something new? Is that why you’re doing it, and behind my back yet. What’s the secret? And after meeting you in my company, what’s Ellsworth going to think was your reason for not admitting to him that you’re writing the story? In this case, you’re either with me or against me. There’s no middle ground.”
“Ray demanded that I write a story unfavorable to Underwood Enterprises, and I told him I wouldn’t do it. He has no new information about Barber-Smith, but he wanted me to write a column fabricating something. I’m terribly sorry that I didn’t tell you, Ashton, but since I had no intention of writing it, I didn’t mention it to you.”
“Good for you. But you damned well should have told me. Ray may know something. If you don’t write it, he may get another reporter to do it. You even gave Ellsworth the impression that you didn’t know what he was talking about when he asked if you were going to write another piece on Barber-Smith. Maybe there is something brewing. You know what this means to me, and you had plenty of time to bring it to my attention. Didn’t it occur to you that I might be able to take some strategic steps on my behalf?” He ran his fingers through his hair, punishing his scalp. “If Ray prints a lie in that paper, he can look for another job.”
“I knew I wasn’t knowingly going to write anything that I couldn’t verify as being true, so I didn’t take it all that seriously.”
He stopped himself just before he banged his fist on the table. “You didn’t take it seriously! You know how important Dream is to me. You say you love me, but you don’t concern yourself with my interests. Hell, Eartha wouldn’t have withheld such vital information from me as you did, and we know she’s limited.”
She bristled at his attack. “If you’ve finished berating me, I’m ready to leave.”
“What do you have to be upset about? I risk losing almost half of my income, and you didn’t take it seriously.” His lips quivered, and she didn’t know whether from anger or some other emotion.
If she knew anything about Ashton, it was that, when it suited him, he could be intransigent. He hadn’t listened to her explanation, but was so immersed in his disappointment, that he couldn’t see the logic in her explanation.
“I said I was sorry, and I am,” she told him, pained and no longer able to look at the eyes she adored, but which held no warmth for her now.
“Thanks for dinner.” Without realizing that she would do so, she whirled around and walked out of the restaurant. “I love him, and maybe I was wrong in not telling him. I’m sorry, but I’m damned if I’ll give my blood to placate him.” She flagged a taxi and went home. So much for that. It was a great ride while it lasted.
Ashton didn’t allow his gaze to follow her; it was sufficient that the clicking of her heels sounded increasingly softer as her anger took her farther and farther from him.
“Would you like something else?” the waitress asked him.
“Another espresso, please.”
“And one for madam?”
He shook his head. “Cancel that, and bring me the bill.”
At home, he checked his answering machine and found that he’d had calls from Cade, his grandfather and Gordon Ellsworth. He phoned Ellsworth first.
“I don’t think the press has this yet,” Ellsworth said. “I got an inside tip, and I hear it’s going to be an uphill fight against Smith, though the board members are with us. We need more shares if we’re going to bury them. Why would Smith go to such trouble for Kate Smallens? She’ll spread for any pair of trousers that has a pocketful of greenbacks.”
“Beats me. I appreciate your support, and I’ll be doing everything I can to keep the company.”
“Attaboy. I expect you’ll make it.”
So this was something that not even Felicia’s editor knew about. He sat beside the phone for nearly half an hour before he called his grandfather. “How are you? I just got in.”
“A movie company wants to shoot a feature film here. If we allow it, I want them to bring their own horses, build the fences, houses or whatever, and leave the property as they found it. Cade wants all that and more in a contract.”
“Cade’s right. Tell Damon to draw up a contract and to charge them by the day, so they won’t stay there forever.”
“Sure will. I hadn’t thought of that.”
He hung up, phoned Cade and heard more about the probability that a feature film would be produced on their property. Thank God, neither of them had seen the paper or heard the latest rumor, and neither had spoken with Damon.
After hanging up, he went to the kitchen, got a bottle of pilsner beer, took it out to the deck at the back of his house and sat down. Stars nearly covered the sky, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen the moon so brilliant. It was not a night for being alone, but he was, and he probably would be for the rest of his life. He drank a swig of beer from the bottle, and rested it on the floor. It should have been the happiest day of his life, for if fate hadn’t intervened, Felicia would be wearing his ring. He closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath. Maybe she wouldn’t have.
He tossed the bottle into a bin. Surely this overwhelming, almost stupefying love that he felt for her couldn’t be one-sided. It hurt. It hurt like hell, but it was best that he know now, rather than later. The best thing for him to do was get on with his life. He went inside, got ready for bed and, when he could no longer postpone it, he lay down and began counting sheep.
Felicia didn’t welcome the call from Miles; she knew he’d tell her that Ashton had a right to be annoyed with her, even to mistrust her for not telling him about her boss’s proposal. “You mean to say that you didn’t tell Ashton what your editor planned to do? I thought you said Ashton owns that paper.”
“He does own it, and that’s one reason why I didn’t tell him. I don’t ask him to solve my problems, and I knew I wasn’t going to write a bunch of lies about Ashton, his company or anything else, so I didn’t bother to mention it. But Ray obviously didn’t believe me, so he printed that notice on the front page. He thinks I’d be afraid of losing my job. You see, he doesn’t know that Ashton and I are friends, or were.”
“No matter. You should have told Ashton, because your editor can always give the story to another reporter if you refuse to write it.”
The weight of that possibility hit her, and she sat down on the edge of her desk. “That’s what Ashton said. Well, what’s done is done. He no longer trusts me, and I walked out and left him sitting alone in the restaurant. It’s over.”
She heard Miles pull air through his teeth, something that their mother had always frowned on. “Don’t be ridiculous. Patch it up, for goodness’ sake. And don’t be stubborn. That man loves you, and right now, he’s hurting. The longer you let it go, the deeper his pain will be. Have you ever been lonely, Felicia? Let me tell you, it will hit you like a scud missile when you need him, really need him and he isn’t there for you.”
“I know. But he’s so stubborn.”
“So are you. Get over it, and do what you have to do. I’ll be routing for you.”
She phoned the paper’s financial columnist. “Ray wants me to write another column on Dream and Barber-Smith. I’m not anxious to do it, because as far as I know, there’s nothing new since I last wrote about it.”
“I’m not so sure abo
ut that, Felicia. This is a relatively small company. Why is Ray so interested in it?”
“Beats me. What’s going on with Barber-Smith?”
“Kate Smallens just bought a chunk of stock in Dream. So did Smith’s wife, which surprises me, because they used different brokers. My spies say something is about to happen. Kate Smallens didn’t even earn enough to pay income tax last year. So where did she get the money to buy seventy thousand dollars’ worth of stock? Get my drift?”
“I do, indeed.”
She hung up and called Miles. “How much Dream stock can you afford to buy?” she asked him. “You can sell it back next week after the board meets.”
“I own some of it, and I can add to that. Now, you’re using your head.”
“By the way, give me your votes. I need it in writing.”
She sold her shares in the paper and bought more stock in Dream. She didn’t want to call Ashton and receive an icy, impersonal greeting for her trouble, but she had to tell him what she’d learned.
“Underwood speaking.” He knew from his phone’s Caller ID that it was she, but he chose to identify himself as if she were a stranger. So be it.
“Ashton, this is Felicia. I’m calling to tell you that our financial columnist has discovered some unusual trading in Dream. Both Smith’s wife and Kate Smallens bought huge chunks of the stock this morning.”
“What? Thanks for letting me know. I—I appreciate this.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Goodbye.” She hung up before he had a chance to respond. She knew he wouldn’t engage in small talk, and she didn’t want to hear it, anyway. What she needed to hear was his acknowledgment that he’d misjudged her, that he was sorry and that he loved her. But she didn’t expect him to leave his cocoon of self-assurance and tell her that he’d erred in judgment. Oh, heck. Maybe she was being unfair, but no matter how you sliced it, he had wronged her.
Now, who could that be? “Hello?”
“Miss Felicia, can you come over and see me?”
“Teddy? Honey, how did you get my number?”
“Miss Eartha gave it to me. When can you come? I’m going to have a birthday soon, and I’ll be five.”
“Teddy, I can’t visit you, because I’m going out of town, but I’ll see what I can do as soon as I get back. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. See you.” He hung up, and she made up her mind then, that she would not abandon her relationship with Teddy unless Ashton forced her to do so. She left work at three, and was at the airport in time for a five o’clock flight to Chicago. At eight o’clock that evening, she stood behind a podium at the Carter G. Woodson Library lecturing on the obligation of African-American youths to involve themselves in the country’s politics.
“You can’t complain about what you get in this life,” she told them, “if you don’t work to make things go your way.” Later, as she luxuriated in the applause and the expressions of appreciation, a chill shot through her when, as if some otherworldly character spoke, she heard out loud the words, “physician, heal thyself.” Then, she remembered Miles’s advice. But could she make John Ashton Underwood see the light?
Two days later, she telephoned Teddy when she knew that Ashton would be in his office. “I only have a few minutes, Teddy,” she told him, “but I can visit you during my lunch hour for a few minutes. Remember, I can’t stay long.” His squeals warmed her heart. “Let me speak with Miss Eartha.”
“Mrs. Clarke, I thought I’d visit Teddy for a few minutes during my lunch hour today. Will that inconvenience you? If not, I should be there about twelve-thirty.”
“No, ma’am. If you’re willing to eat a hamburger, you can have lunch with us. He’s been worrying his little heart out because he doesn’t see you.”
She heard Teddy’s laughing delight when she rang the doorbell, and as Eartha opened the door, he launched himself into her arms and smothered her with kisses. “Come on and let’s eat,” he said. “You’re in a hurry.” She held him and kissed him, disbelieving the joy she felt with that child in her arms.
“I tell you, I do hope Mr. Ash is going to do something about this,” Eartha muttered, walking toward the breakfast room ahead of Teddy and Felicia. “This child is gone head over heels about you. I never saw the like of it.”
Eartha’s hamburger was accompanied by potato salad, sliced tomatoes and a pickle, after which she served the three of them pistachio ice cream. “If I ate here regularly, I’d be three sizes larger,” she told Eartha after complimenting her on the meal, kissed Teddy and left.
She knew that Teddy told his father about her visit, and she rejoiced that Ashton hadn’t called to tell her not to visit the child again. That Monday morning, she dressed for the board meeting in an avocado linen suit with black accessories, including a flattering black straw hat. She didn’t have the money of those Park Avenue women, but she had the class, and she meant to display the outward trappings of it.
She walked into the grand ballroom of the St. Regis and, to her astonishment, Cade, Damon and Jacob—Jake—Underwood sat on the front row at the left aisle. She had her brother’s certificates in her purse and, with them, the right to cast his vote as well as her own. She waved to the Underwood men and sat on the front row at the right aisle. She didn’t sit with Ashton’s family, because she didn’t intend to give Ashton the impression that she was sucking up to his family. When Eartha Clarke arrived and sat beside her, she relaxed; Ashton had done his homework. And so had she.
She had managed to impress upon her editor the importance of having at least an accurate basis for the story on Barber-Smith and Dream, and had promised to write it as soon as she could do adequate research. In fact, her motive was the postponement of the story until after the board meeting.
Before Ashton could speak, Julian Smith took the floor, asked for the board’s confidence and received scattered applause. Gordon Ellsworth rose and asked if the news that Smith hoped to give Dream to Kate Smallens had any merit and was rewarded with a roar of laughter.
Ashton walked up to the podium and when his glance fell on her, she thought he tried but failed in an effort to smile. His dispirited demeanor saddened her, and she gave him the thumbs-up sign.
He addressed the group. “I have managed this company with integrity and skill. Not since this stock has been on the Exchange has there been a period in which shareholders did not receive dividends, and some of the biggest companies can’t lay claim to that. Starting with nothing, my family and I have made this into a thriving company, and we did it with hard work and imagination. I don’t think Miss Smallens could do as well. I want a vote by ballot.”
Nearing the end of the balloting, she saw how close the vote was and stood, lest some of those who had voted for Ashton should change their vote in order to be with the majority.
“I cast thirty-seven hundred votes for Underwood Enterprises,” she said, and gasps could be heard throughout the ballroom. Ashton stared at her, seemingly unable to believe what he heard.
The accountant rapped the table. “Considering the few remaining legal votes to be cast, Underwood carries. According to our by-laws, Barber-Smith must wait seven years before another attempted buyout.”
Still staring at her, Ashton closed the meeting. “Thank you for your confidence.” With that, he jumped from the rostrum, picked Felicia up and twirled her around and around, all the while laughing with unrestrained joy. The other Underwood men crowded around them, as did Eartha Clark, who—with her gaze toward the ceiling—said, “Lord, I sure am glad this is over.”
“Sweetheart. Oh, sweetheart,” Ashton whispered, locked her to him and seared her lips with his own. “Can you ever forgive me for not believing in you?”
“I told you so,” his grandfather said. “Didn’t I tell you that this woman wouldn’t do anything to hurt you? Have you seen anything else about this in your paper? No you haven’t, ’cause I’ve been reading it every day.”
“We have to celebrate,” Cade said.
“Yea
h, but can we postpone that?” Ashton asked them, looking from one to the other. “I’ve got some fence-mending to do.”
“Yeah,” Damon said, “and make sure you do a good job of it.” He hugged Felicia. “We’re all in your debt.”
“No you aren’t, Damon. What hurts Ashton, hurts me, and maybe I can get him to understand that.”
“Don’t be too hard on him, Felicia. He’s being hard enough on himself,” Damon said. “He told me that you went to his home and had lunch with Teddy while he wasn’t there, because you didn’t want to see him, and that, in spite of the coolness between the two of you, you called to alert him to Barber-Smith’s latest sally. He’s been trying to find a way to…all right, he should have called and apologized, but—”
“But he was being Ashton. I love him, Damon, but I need some evidence that he believes in me.”
“Look,” Ashton said to them. “I’ll be in Rose Hill Friday night, and we can talk. Right now, I need some time with Felicia.”
“Bring her with you,” Jake said. “It’s time you two cut out this nonsense.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll ask her.”
“I’ll see you at home, Mr. Ash,” Eartha said.
“Can we have lunch together or…or whatever?” Ashton asked her. They walked out of the hotel onto Fifth Avenue.
“All right, but I’d like something light, and I don’t feel like going to a fancy restaurant.”
He looked down at her as if trying to gauge her mood. Then he said, “What if we get some hot dogs and a cold drink from that guy on the corner over there and eat in the park? You’ve got a blouse on under that jacket, haven’t you? It’s rather warm.” He bought the hot dogs and two bottles of lemonade, and they reached the park before she realized that they were holding hands and behaving as if they had never had a misunderstanding.
“If you forgive me, I give you my word that I’ll always listen to what you have to tell me, and I’ll listen with an open mind and heart.”
Just the Man She Needs Page 26
