Emma gave her sister one of those looks, as we liked to call them—narrowed eyes, wrinkled nose, and a slight shake of the head. “Say what you want. I’m going to try them on.” She disappeared into a dressing room with the bibbed shorts, a pair of slacks, and three summer tops.
Hayley couldn’t find anything she liked. “What will I do when I get much bigger than I am now? I hate this part of being pregnant. I can’t find any clothes that I like.”
“You’ll find something,” I said. “This is only one store.”
“Yeah, but I can’t spend all day looking. The carpenters are due to arrive around two o’clock this afternoon.” She drew in a breath. “I don’t know why I had to be the one to use my week’s vacation to oversee this remodeling. I tried to make Steven understand that he would be better at it than me, but he wouldn’t budge.”
“Would you like your dad to come over and check on things? I’m sure he would if you asked him to.”
“No. That’s okay. I’m just stressing. You know how I get.”
Yes, I knew.
She pointed to a bench at the back of the store. “Let’s wait for Emma over there.” As soon as we sat, she said, “Have you heard anything more from that reporter?”
“No. Your dad thinks if she had anything substantial, something more than just a rumor, the station would have aired that piece from Saturday night by now. But he’s going to check with Stan Ludwig today, to see if there’s anything he should be doing.” Just in case.
“Anything like what?”
I shrugged.“I really don’t know. Looking into salaries. Making sure all travel has been well-documented. That sort of thing.”
Over the past decade, In Step had grown beyond anything I’d imagined it would. The office had expanded until it took over one full floor. Every year more employees had been hired, and the volunteer base had grown as well. Computer systems and programs had been upgraded, and giving could be done by phone, mail, or Internet. Everything was much more sophisticated than it had been when I helped Brad with the office work.
The one thing I did know for certain was that Brad’s salary wasn’t out of line for the president of a charitable foundation. When compared with people in similar positions, his earnings were on the low side. So whatever Ms. St. James meant to imply wasn’t true.
“Well, if it were up to me, I’d see if I couldn’t get that woman fired.”
I patted Hayley’s knee. “Thanks, honey. But I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Your father says In Step needs positive media attention in order to help the recipient families. We don’t want to make enemies.”
“It looked to me as if Ms. St. James is already an enemy.”
Emma stepped out of the dressing room, clad in the bibbed shorts over a sleeveless top. I was thankful for the interruption. I was sick of thinking about Greta St. James. I would just as soon never think about her or see her again.
Part Two
REAL LIFE
Six
ON OCTOBER 28, 1983, AT 8:06 A.M.—FIVE MONTHS AFTER Brad and I were married—a 7.3 earthquake rocked central and southern Idaho. Twenty-five years later, I still remembered every detail.
On that morning, I’d stood at the sink, washing the breakfast dishes, the faint scent of bacon and fried eggs lingering in the room. Sunlight filtered through the yellow cotton curtains that covered the kitchen window. On the stereo in the living room, David Meece, one of my favorite recording artists, sang “Rattle Me, Shake Me.”
How appropriate.
Although the epicenter of the quake was about a hundred and twenty miles away as the crow flies, it felt as if it were right next door. Everything in the house jerked to the left—me included—and water splashed onto my blouse as I grabbed the edge of the counter. I was swaying back to the right before I realized it was an earthquake, too stunned to run for cover or move into a doorway. The rolling of the earth beneath my feet seemed to last an eternity. It left me feeling scared and helpless for days afterward.
What happened on that Wednesday following the banquet was like that earthquake.
I’d been to the gym, the bank, and the grocery store, and had just brought the last of the canvas shopping bags into the house when the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Mom,” Hayley said. “Turn on Channel 5. Quick.”
I grabbed the remote for the small television set that sat on the kitchen counter. A punch of the button, and the television screen came to life. I caught a glimpse of myself, looking like the proverbial deer in the headlights.
“Get that mic away from her!” Emma’s hand flew up to obstruct the view of the camera.“My mother has nothing to say.” Her hand came down seconds before she turned around, her body shielding me from the reporter and her cameraman.
Greta St. James appeared on-screen, but she was no longer at the convention center, no longer dressed in that red blazer. Instead she wore a lime green cardigan over a white blouse and stood outside the glass-walled entrance of the In Step offices.
“Last week, Channel 5 News learned of a rumor regarding mismanagement of charitable assets at the In Step Foundation. As you saw in the clip,we approached Brad Clarkson and his wife on the night he received his award. Mr. Clarkson stated he hadn’t heard the allegation himself. We chose not to air the footage you just saw since it was uncorroborated. However, we’ve now learned that a complaint has been made to the attorney general’s office, and they are reviewing it to determine whether there is cause for a formal investigation.” She glanced toward the lettering on the door to the office, then back at the camera. “This morning, I again attempted to talk to Mr. Clarkson. He refused my request. But I was able to speak with a former In Step employee.”
The image on the television screen changed to a second film clip, Ms. St. James seated in what looked to be someone’s living room. I frowned. The room seemed familiar.
“Tell us why you decided to come forward,Miss Schubert.”
My breath caught in my throat as the camera turned to the woman seated on a sofa. Nicole? The remote fell from my right hand, clattering as it hit the floor.
Nicole Schubert. Pretty. Slender as a reed. Blonde. She’d served as the Chief Financial Officer at In Step for two years, and for a short while she’d attended the women’s Bible study in our home. What on earth—
“Because I didn’t want the public to be deluded. All is not well at In Step. Brad Clarkson may call himself a Christian and look like a great humanitarian, but he isn’t who others think he is.” She looked straight at the camera. “Brad and I became lovers while I was the CFO at In Step. He led me to believe he planned to end his marriage. But he lied to me just as he’s lied to his wife and his supporters.”
I sank to the floor, my back sliding down the cupboard door.
The image shifted back to Ms. St. James standing outside the In Step offices. “Channel 5 will air the entirety of my interview with Miss Schubert this evening on Our View at seven o’clock. Be sure to join us then.”Her smile pierced my chest. “Reporting from the Henderson Building in downtown Boise, I’m Greta St. James, Channel 5 News.”
The weatherman appeared on the screen.
“Mom, are you there?”
I’d forgotten the phone was in my left hand.
“Mom?”
“I’m here, Hayley.” I picked up the remote and pressed the Mute button.
“Why would she say those things about Dad?”
“I don’t know.”My skin tingled. My hands shook.
“But the attorney general is investigating. If there wasn’t some evidence—”
Call Waiting beeped in my ear. “I’ve got to go, honey. I . . . I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up the phone. After a moment’s silence, it began to ring. Caller ID told me it was Emma. I closed my eyes and waited for the ringing to stop. Finally it did.
I set the portable handset on the floor beside the remote, then covered my face with my hands.
“Why would she sa
y those things about Dad?”
Brad would never have an affair. He loved me too much. He would never steal from his company. He loved In Step too much. He wasn’t devious or dishonest. He loved the Lord too much. I would know if what Nicole said was true.
I jumped when the phone rang again. When I checked the caller ID, it showed Brad’s cell phone number. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Not yet. I was still in shock about what I’d seen. I couldn’t think straight.
I rose from the floor and focused my attention on the groceries, emptying the canvas bags, setting food to be refrigerated on the counter to my left and food for the pantry on the counter to my right.
Should I freeze the pork chops or prepare them for tonight’s supper? I couldn’t decide. The thought of food turned my stomach.
“Brad and I became lovers while I was the CFO at In Step. He led me to believe he planned to end his marriage . . .”
Knees weak, I returned to the chair and sat on it.
“Brad and I became lovers . . .”
No. I wouldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. Not about Brad. About anyone else, but never about Brad.
Hayley
HAYLEY COULD SCARCELY BREATHE AFTER HANGING UP THE telephone. That a scandal like this would touch her family was unthinkable. Saturday night had been bad enough with that reporter slinging accusations and her sister behaving like a bodyguard, throwing herself between the camera and their parents. But for their dad to be accused of infidelity in such a public manner—it was beyond embarrassing.
At least she wouldn’t have to face her associates at work right away. Here she’d been grousing about using a week of her vacation to supervise the remodeling, and now she was grateful for it. By next Monday, maybe the worst of this would blow over. Maybe the attorney general would announce there was insufficient evidence to support the complaint. Maybe that Nicole Schubert would admit she was a liar.
Wishful thinking.
Oh, to have the family name dragged through the mud like this. It was unthinkable, unbearable. Her friends would be talking. Her neighbors would be talking. Complete strangers would be talking.
Dad’s so naive.
Hayley had met Nicole on a few occasions, and she hadn’t liked her much. There was something about her that was off-putting. But her dad was so trusting. He gave everyone the benefit of the doubt until they proved they were untrustworthy. It worked for him most of the time. People seemed to rise to his level of expectation.
Not this time.
What was it the Bible said? “Be as shrewd as snakes and as harmless as doves.” In Hayley’s opinion, her dad wasn’t very shrewd when it came to women. He leaned toward the harmless-dove, love-one-another side.
Could he have cheated on Mom?
It seemed an absurd question. But . . . on the other hand, there were all those stories about Grandpa Roger and his secretaries. It wasn’t as if Hayley’s dad hadn’t had an example set for him. Her dad would be quick to point out that her grandfather hadn’t been a Christian. To which she would answer, sometimes Christians were unfaithful to their spouses too.
If her husband ever crossed that line, she would be gone in a flash. Steve knew it too. Unlike her mother, Hayley didn’t believe in fairytale marriages. She was too practical for that. Oh, she loved her husband, and she was happy with the life they shared. But if he ever cheated on her, she would be outta there. She wouldn’t hesitate at all. Not even a second.
Seven
I DIDN’T ANSWER OR RETURN BRAD’S PHONE CALLS. NOT the first one, nor the third, nor the fifth.
“Kat,” he said on his last message, “I can’t leave the office until Stan gets here so we can go over things. Please call me when you get this message. I’ll come home just as soon as I can get away. And if you caught that report on Channel 5, don’t believe it. Trust me. I . . . I . . .”A long pause, then, “Please call me.”
But I didn’t call him. I needed to be able to look into his eyes when we talked about Nicole’s claims. When I finally felt ready, I drove to the office, arriving during the lunch hour. One look at the receptionist’s face, and I knew everyone at In Step had either seen or heard about Ms. St. James’s report.
“Is Brad in?”
The receptionist—her name escaped me—nodded. “Stan Ludwig’s with him.”
Stan had served as In Step’s attorney since its inception. Brad and I respected and trusted him, and he and his wife were among our closest friends. It made me feel a little better, knowing he was here and involved.
“I’ll go on back,” I said to the girl at the front desk.“No need to announce me.”
I walked toward Brad’s office, head high, shoulders straight. I didn’t want anyone to think I’d been shaken by Nicole’s assertions. Fortunately for me and my acting skills, most of the employees were out to lunch.
I paused at Brad’s office door, rapped twice, then opened it. The two men turned to see who it was.
Brad stood as I entered. “Kat. I didn’t expect you to come down.”
“I thought I should.”
“You saw the news?”
I nodded.
He came toward me. “I would’ve come home if I could.”
“It’s all right.”
“It isn’t true, Kat. What Nicole said isn’t true.”
I nodded again.
He studied me for a long while, eyes grave, then motioned toward our attorney. “Stan was about to explain what to expect next.”
“Hi, Stan,” I whispered, finally acknowledging him.
“Katherine. Sorry this is happening to you both.”
I blinked back tears. I didn’t want to start sobbing. Now was the time to be strong.
Brad took my arm and ushered me to the chair next to Stan.
Stan said, “I told Brad it would be best if neither of you spoke to the press until this matter with the AG is settled.”
“Don’t worry,” Brad answered as he returned to his chair behind the desk. “We won’t.”
“Refer all inquiries to me.”
I had no problem with his instructions. There was no way I wanted to face another reporter. Not for the rest of my life.
“So what happens next?” Brad asked. “With the attorney general.”
“If the complaint doesn’t include reliable evidence of a diversion of assets or gross mismanagement, the AG’s review may end without further investigation. However, if they feel there is some reliable evidence, they’ll conduct a full investigation, inspecting all documents and records in order to prove or disprove mismanagement.”
“What would they look for?”
“Illegal use of charitable funds, diversion of donations from their intended purpose, excessive amounts paid for salaries, benefits, travel, and entertainment. That sort of thing.”
Brad released a breath. “Then we should be all right. They won’t find anything like that here. We’ve always had excellent bookkeepers—”He stopped, his face gone pale.“Nicole supervised the bookkeeper. Do you suppose she might have altered anything in our books before she resigned?”
“There’s that possibility,” Stan answered, “but it’s unlikely. The foundation’s books are audited every June by an independent firm. If anything was amiss, they would have found it.”
I took a measure of comfort from his confident tone, even knowing that all attorneys must try to sound equally as confident with their clients.
“Why not ask your bookkeeper and CPA to go through the records for the last few years? Maybe back about five. They can look for anything unusual. That way you’ll be ahead of the game if the AG proceeds with a formal investigation.” Stan reached for his briefcase on the floor beside him and stood. “Don’t let this worry you. It will be straightened out in due course.”He gave my shoulder a light pat. “I mean it, Katherine. Don’t worry.”
I nodded without looking up.
Brad walked with Stan to the door. They exchanged a few more words, too soft for me to know what they said. Then S
tan left. Brad closed the door behind him.
“It’ll be okay, Katherine.”
“Will it?”
“Stan’s right. Our books are in good shape. If not, the auditors would have told us there was a problem. It might be an inconvenience if the AG conducts an investigation, but that’s all.”
I lifted my gaze to meet his. “Ms. St. James doesn’t seem to think everything’s in order.”
“Ms. St. James is misinformed.”
I didn’t want to ask the question that burned in my chest, but how could I not? “What about Nicole? She said—”
“She’s lying!” His words were loud and sharp.
I stared at him.
He raked the fingers of his right hand through his hair as he pivoted away from me, muttering something I couldn’t make out. A curse? Surely not.
“I’m sorry, Kat.”He moved to stand at the window, looking down at the street six stories below. “I don’t know what more I can say. The truth is the truth.”
When a man and woman have been together as long as we have, they experience ebbs and flows in their relationship, including in the bedroom. Brad and I were no different. There had been times, especially when the girls were babies and sleep came at a premium, when our love life was somewhat less than passionate or romantic. There had been other periods when we were as desirous of one another as newlyweds.
These last few months had been like the latter. Brad’s expressions of love had made me feel as if I were twenty again, lithe and beautiful. He’d even memorized verses from the Song of Songs to whisper to me as we lay in bed.
“What a lovely filly you are, my beloved one . . . How beautiful you are, my beloved, how beautiful! Your eyes are soft like doves.”
Unbidden, the thought came to me: had he whispered similar words in Nicole’s ear while she lay in his arms? I shuddered, willing the traitorous thought away. I would not allow such poison to enter my mind.
The Perfect Life Page 3
