Inheritance

by Judith Michael

  "Hell no," Farley said wisely. 'They take forever; everybody knows that. They'll fart around for a few months, playing with numbers. We got plenty of time."

  "You poor fool," Paul said. 'The only thing that makes this tour work is people's confidence. As soon as word gets out that you're being audited, you lose that. The tour is through and so is your comeback, if you can call it that. You haven't got—"

  "I don't wanna hear this!" Louie shouted. "Nothing's through, you hear? We'll figure something out! I got contacts, they'll talk to the IRS, hold 'em off—"

  "You're going to make sure people talk about it," Paul said.

  ! **'

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  "Wait a minute," Farley said. "You guys crazy or something? My fans love me; they'll come no matter what. They don't know from field audits; they want to sit out there and love Britt! There's no problem! Everything's gonna be fine!" Behind him, his hand had been groping; it touched the drawer handle and pulled it open while he kept his eyes on Paul and j Louie. "You stick with me and everything'll be just—^"

  "Leave that stuff alone," Paul said.

  "I pay attention better if I have some. You'd understand if you weren't a fucking Mary Poppins— "

  "If I don't ask my contacts for help, who do I ask?" Louie said, almost to himself.

  Paul reached out and clamped his hand over Farley's. Leave it alone. Now listen. I'm not going to let this whole thing go down the tubes."

  "What are you gonna do to stop it?" Louie asked.

  "I'm thinking about it. But first I have to know that Britt can perform."

  "A'course I can perform! I told you, my fans love me! Doesn't matter what I do: I don't have to be top-notch; I could howl like a hyena and pee on them from fifty yards, and they'd scream and say I'm awesome. A'course I can perform ... no question!"

  *That's not what I had in mind," Paul snapped. "You're going to give that concert, and you're not going to howl or pee or do anything else except sing and make it the best you've ever done. Did you get that? I'll stay with you every minute between now and the time you go on that stage, and you'll be as clean as I can get you— '*

  Farley barked. His head back, he let out a series of high yelps that turned his face red. Paul waited it out, his hand still clamped on Farley's until the yelps faded away. "And when you're clean," he said quietly, "and you've given that concert, and the tour is over, we'll talk about how we finish the film."

  "Jesus H. Christ!" Farley's voice was a rasp. "I can't go on if I'm clean! Are you so fucking stupid you can't get that? I've gotta have something or I fall apart. Can't sing. Can't talk. No voice. Whatcha gonna do about that, old buddy?"

  Paul was silent. He didn't know if it was true or not.

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  "What difference does it make?" Louie asked. "If the IRS puts us outa business— **

  'Tell you what," Farley went on. "Louie can stay with me. He's made me cut down other times; it only woiks if I ask him. It worked in Salt Lake; you remember how good I was there? So you don't have to worry; you'll have your concert. And we'll have a movie, too. Right? Louie'll take care of the money—he has these contacts who know their way arounc the government, they get lots of favors—and he'll take cj of me, too; I gotta have somebody take care of me, y'know; don't like being alone. But there's one thing. Listen, I don't have the money, you know, to pay it back? And I don't kno just when I will. You never know how long a series takes to get off the ground. So I can't do it. I'll give you a hell of a show in D.C., but I can't do the money. Okay? I can't handle it."

  Paul contemplated him. Our American hero, he thought caustically. A frightened httle boy, weak and going downhill fast, on his way out of a career. "I'll handle it," he said at last. "I'll put the money in if you give me your word— **

  "What money? In where?"

  "Sorry, I didn't make that clear. I'm putting two hundred twenty thousand dollars into the fund. Nothing will be missing when the books are audited."

  A strangled sound came from Louie. He stared at Paul, his eyes bulging.

  "Where you gonna get that kind of money?" Farley demanded.

  "I'll get it," Paul said briefly. "Your problem is keeping quiet about it. Can you? Can you keep your mouth shut so this whole thing doesn't blow up in your face?"

  "Hey, shithead, this is Britt Farley you're talking to— ''

  "I didn't hear you say that," Paul said, his v^ce like steel.

  Farley reddened. "Fuck it. Okay. Yeah. I can keep it quiet."

  "You'll give me your word you'll keep it quiet."

  Farley looked at him for a long moment. "For what it's worth," he said in one moment of honesty. "On my word."

  Paul stood and put his hand briefly on Farley's shoulder. He had an odd liking for him, part pity and part sorrow over the

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  waste of what he had been, and could have been again. "I have to make a phone call. I'll see you later."

  "Sure. Hey, buddy," he said as Paul turned away, "if you're gonna ask somebody for that money, ask real nice."

  Paul gave a brief smile. 'Thanks for the advice."

  "Wait," Lx)uie said. "I'll walk you to the elevator. Right back," he said to Farley and followed Paul into the corridor. "You really can get the money?"

  "Yes."

  "Why? You gonna go into debt for a concert?"

  Paul laughed. There was something so gross about Louie that he was almost impressive. "I thought I was doing it for a •lot of hungry people," he said.

  Louie ducked his head. "You must think I'm some kinda monster."

  "No; I think you're scared, like our singer in there. Go back to him, Louie; you've got your job cut out for you. Two days. Get him as clean as you can. Go on. I'll see you at dinner."

  In his own room, he called his broker in Boston and told him what he wanted.

  "Two hundred twenty thousand," the broker repeated. 'Transferred to your personal account?"

  "No. Wired to me here." He gave the address of his hotel. "And make sure you get it out today." Tomorrow he would send it to the office of Music for the Hungry, under Britt Farley's name. It would appear on the books as a simple repayment of an advance.

  As soon as he hung up, he went downstairs to the bar. He found an empty booth in the comer and sat there, drinking scotch and watching the people who came and went. Every one of them had a story; each could have been part of a novel or a fihn. Farley wouldn't have believed that. He thought he was unique.

  But he's just like so many others, Paul thought. Emily and Louie and Britt, all wrapped up in themselves, with not a lot of time or energy for the rest of the world. He knew, as he thought it, that he had been like them once, seeking only his own satisfaction and comfort, refusing to get involved in anyone's problems. But something had changed. I'm beginning to

  Judith Michael

  give a damn. He'd said that to Lx)uie only this afternoon. It was, in its way, a radical statement for Paul Janssen, whose great-uncle Owen had chastised him for being a playboy.

  Maybe Britt is unique after all» he mused. He got me involved.

  He ordered another scotch. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Farley, but with Paul Janssen growing up. He smiled to himself. That's what Allison would say. He'd grown up, at least enough to feel responsible for protecting a guy who'd done some dumb things, because the guy deserved at least one more chance, and there was something bigger at stake that was worth saving.

  He felt uncomfortable and drank his scotch. Responsible. Protecting. Saving.

  Which was a lot more than he had done for Laura. We had something big at stake, too, he thought, but I let it go. I didn't try to understand her or protect her or work things out so we could try to go on fi^om there.

  He sat back and let himself think of Laura. He had been holding back since Farley talked about her, but he no longer could: her image came to him; he pictured her sitting in a restaurant, having brunch with Farley, saying something to make him feel good about himsel
f. You are a kind and lovely lady.

  Laura. He said her name slowly, as he had not allowed himself to do for years, feeling her presence through the softness of her name, remembering the scent of her hair, the lilt of her voice, the laughter in her eyes. Laura.

  I'm throwing a party when the tour is over and I'm inviting Laura. So you'll meet her,

  "Mr. Paul Janssen?" He looked up. One of the hotel desk clerks stood beside his booth, plugging in a telephone. *There is a call for you from Boston, and since I saw you come in here, I took the liberty . . ."

  "Thank you." He picked it up. "Paul Janssen."

  "Paul, it's Allison. Am I interrupting something? I couldn't wait to talk to you. I had to tell someone and you're the only one . . . Listen, Ben just told me: Laura's bought all of Grandpa's hotels! All four of them! Can you believe it? It

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  makes me feel so strange, I don't really know how to feel. We were all so angry at her, but you have to admire her anyway, don't you? She bought them! Isn't it incredible? Of course Daddy won't talk about it, he's furious, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. . . ."

  Paul half listened. Laura, he said to himself, and found himself smiling broadly. Good for you.

  I'm inviting Laura. So you'll meet her.

  f^

  i

  Chapter 22

  T UDD Gardner. Felix stood beside the crib, the name

  f burning into him as if it were a branding iron. The baby (# slept, blond hair curled damply at his forehead, his mouth a small pink flower. "Daddy's mesmerized," Allison said wonderingly to Ben. "He's never liked babies before." Ben nodded, watching Felix intently.

  After a long moment, Felix turned and met Ben's eyes with a savagery that made Ben take an instinctive step back. Judd's son. How could he not have known? What weakness, what insane blind spot had kept him from recognizing Ben Gardner the instant he saw him? He was not the image of Judd, at least as well as Felix could remember Judd when he was young, before he came back wounded from the war, with haunted eyes and a twisted smile that grew worse when he found his company gone. But there were resemblances, and Felix told himself he should have caught them: he prided himself on knowing what was going on when others were still stumbling. Yet this time all he had known was that those blond good looks were the kind he most hated, and that he hated Ben Gardner.

  Leni had wept when she heard the baby's name. "Did you know?" Felix had demanded. They were leaving the Beacon Hill house after their first visit to see the baby; he was two days old and Allison and Ben had just brought him home. "Did you recognize him?"

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  **Yes/* She looked out the window on her side of the car. **But I don*t want to talk about it. No one is going to talk about it. Allison is happy, she has a good marriage and a lovely family, and we're going to leave them alone.**

  "You can do what you want; Fm getting him out of the company. And out of our family, no matter how long it takes. He's out to destroy me, that smiridng bastard, l^eie's no other reason for him to be here."

  "He's in love with Allison and you're not going to— **

  "Bullshit. He's using her to get at me. Are you still such an infantile romantic that you can't see that?"

  "You're not going to touch them, Felix. What will you say? That I was sleeping with his father and you don't like to remember that?" She paused, but Felix was silent. "Is that what you'll tell your board? That your son-in-law, a man you trusted as head of security and just a few months agQ made vice president for development, suddenly deserves to be kicked out of the company? For what reason?** She waited. *That was a question," she said evenly.

  "I don't know yet," he said furiously. "1*11 think of something. But he's not staying— '*

  "He is part of our family," Leni said deliberately. **He is making AUison happy. He hasn't shown one sign of wanting to harm us, and you are going to keep quiet and leave him alone."

  He turned on her. "And if I don't? What are you tbreaten-ingr'

  She gave him a long look. "I don't threaten, Felix. If I decide to do something, I'll do it, with no warning.**

  That was the threat. That had always been the threat. And he had always known it, though he had not iel himself acknowledge it, any more than he had let himself recognize Ben's resemblance to the man he had most hated in the world. "You cried," he flung at her. "When you heard what tl^y'd named him, you cried. You still remember him."

  "1*11 always remember him," Leni said. She locdced at him. "And so will you."

  "Fve never heard him so stubborn," the Philadelphia Real-tcH* told Laura when he called her in Chicago to report that

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  Felix had refused her offer for the Philadelphia Salinger. "I tried to change his mind, but he wouldn't budge."

  "But why not? You told me he was pushing you to sell.'*

  **Right, he was. I thought he'd jump at it. I haven't the vaguest why he turned it down. He did say he wants to look at the other offers we've had."

  Laura lined up four pencils on her desk, pushed them so tfaey seemed to fall to the side, then lined them up again. "You told me there weren't any others."

  "^Not that I'd take seriously. But it's hard for me to read him; he may grab one. I suggest you consider raising yours a quarter of a nSllion; better yet, a half . . ."

  "Not yet."

  "But think about it."

  "FU let you know."

  Furious, she slammed the pencils into the leather pencil holder Clay had given her the day the Chicago Beacon Hill opened. He can't turn it down. We made a good offer, the (xly decent one he's had on that hotel. He sold the New Yoric Salinger to us without any trouble; what's his problem now? D^min it, he can't do this. I had it all planned.

  On impulse, she picked up the telephone and called Currier in New Yoric. "Wes, you said you knew someone on the Salinger Hotel board."

  "Cole Hatton; I handled a merger for him."

  "Can you talk to him and find out why Felix refused our offer on the Philadelphia Hotel?"

  "He refused it? I Uiought he was ready to accept it."

  "So did I."

  "I'll talk to Cole." An hour later he called back. "It seems you're a powerful influence on Felix, even after all these years. He found out you're an officer of OWL Development and called a halt to everything; he won't sell to you. There was a battle royal at the board meeting; they even had a second one, a week later, to discuss the hotel, and Cole said Felix was even angrier then than he had been before, as if something else had lu^pened that they didn't know about. He just dug in his heels. And he won, at least for now. You could wait him out."

  "I can't take the chance. I want that hotel."

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  **My dear, you can't force him to sell to you. Why don*t we talk alx)ut it next week, when you*ie here? My secietaiy found a couple of apartments for you to look at; we can do that and think about what to do with Felix."

  **Fine." But she was already thinking about it. Who does he think he is, refusing to sell to me? He's the one who cheated me; I didn't cheat him. I've never done anything to him. So what right does he have to stand in my way now?

  She needed a walk. She always thought more clearly when she was outside and moving. But in the lobby, she found Ginny Starrett. **I came to take you shqjping," Ginny said. 'There's a French designer doing a trunk show at Elizabeth Arden, and you've been working too hard."

  **Not today, Ginny. I need to be outside for a while and I'm going for a walk. Why don't you come with me?"

  *'&cause I don't go for walks, as you well know. If it isn't up and down the aisles of stores, I don't do it. How about lunch? Will you be back in time?"

  "I'll make sure I am. I'll meet you here at one."

  Ginny kissed her cheek and left the lobby as Laura watched: a trim, smart lady of indeterminate age who wore clothes designed only for her, who traveled from countiy to country as casually as city dwellers take cabs from one place to another, who took an interest in
almost everything, and loved being modierly to Laura. But because she had nev^ had a daughter, sfa» was mostly a very good friend who gave a great deal of advice.

  And I'm lucky to have her, Laura thought, walking the two short blocks to the lake. She and Kelly talked every wedc by telephone, and she went to dinner parties almost every night, but she was slow to make close Mends, and the times Ginny was in Chicago were the times Laura felt most compiete. Lunch with G^y, she thought, and smiled to herself, looking forward to it.

  The May morning was warm, and the beach and park were crowded with sunbathers, bicyclists, and joggers who followed the watt's edge where fishermen sat on upended buckets, plying their rods and swapping stories. Sailboats were white crescents against the silvery lake that was whipped into small skittering waves by an offshore breeze, and Lsuna

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  found a secluded spot to take off her shoes and stockings and suit jacket. She wanted to run on the fine-grained sand, but not in a business skirt, and so she walked, the wind in her face, the sun making it feel like summer.

  By summer she had planned to have all four hotels and be living in New York. By sunmier she had planned to be running her own small empire.

  She sat on one of the huge limestone blocks that lined the shore. Felix couldn't stop her, not when she was this far along; there had to be a way to make him change his mind. He was a businessman; he had to be convinced it was good business to sell quickly, even to OWL Development. He had to be handled. And the only way to do that was to use what she knew about him.

  She knew a lot about him: he was stubborn, vindictive, acquisitive; a good businessman, but not as good as he could be, because he didn't trust anyone and he was always trying to prove he was better than his father. And he pieened hinoiself on his ability to make decisions quickly and decisively, often without even discussing them with anyone else.

  Quickly and decisively, without discussions with anyone else.

  All she had to do was find something to convince him he had to make a quick, decisive decision.

  The sun blazed straight overhead; the breeze had died down. Naimies were taking small chil^n home for lunch and n^; sailboat owners were stowing away lunches for an afternoon on the lake. It would soon be time to meet Giimy. Laura put on her shoes, grimacing as they cnmped her feet, and walked back to the hotel.