Halt at X: A North of Boston Novel

by Sally Ann Sims

  “Doesn’t that rag have anything of interest to report? Like all the great athletes we’re attracting? Al’s good candidates for baseball and basketball coaches?” Frank said, ignoring the vibrating phone in his pocket. “Plus that new archaeology professor, Dr. Blaston? Although, she’s a little dried up if you ask me.” He sipped his wine and then removed the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the ice bucket and poured Margo another glass. Their baked oyster dish arrived steaming.

  Margo laughed. “The kids want a little mystery. Don’t you remember what it was like? Was it that long ago for you?” she teased.

  He put a hand over hers. “You’re right,” he said. “It is kind of intriguing. John confessed that he’s only playing one side, the day I finally caught him red-handed over the chessboard, pondering his next move and trying out alternatives. So who is the other guy playing? He claims he doesn’t know.”

  “Or gal?” Margo said lightly, gently slipping her hand out from underneath his and taking a sip of wine.

  “Perhaps it’s you,” he said. He wished that tonight were the first night they met.

  * * * * *

  Lucinda looked toward the entrance to the indoor arena when she heard her name called. Was it Peter?

  She trotted Lady Grey diagonally across the arena. It was Peter, a kitty carrier at his feet, which Nanogirl was sniffing. There was something hissing in the carrier. Peter grabbed the miniature’s halter and pulled her away from the carrier.

  “I’ve got good news,” he said. “Bart’s at Greenbough.”

  Lucinda shut her eyes, moved her lips without sound, and then opened her eyes. She slipped her feet out of her stirrups and dismounted. When she threw her arms around Peter, and he her, Nanogirl nosed her riding boots.

  “He begged me not to call you sooner,” he said when she pulled away. “He wanted to actually be there, in rehab, when I sprung the news. To show you he really meant it.”

  Peter let go of Nanogirl’s halter when Ramsey came to fetch her.

  “Who’s this?” Lucinda said, looking into the carrier.

  “The newest member of the family. I’m overseeing her reentry into society until Bart comes home, which is fitting since I’m reentering society myself.”

  “She so thin,” Lucinda said. “But sweet.”

  “Reminds me of a certain horse my sister got last year,” Peter said, reaching out to touch Lady Grey’s muzzle. She was standing quietly as she’d been trained to do. “Are you sure this is the same mare!”

  Lucinda smiled with pride. “Follow me. Let me put her in her stall and we’ll talk. We’re done for today.”

  She untacked the mare and sponged her off in the crossties. Soon she and Peter sat in the observation room, with the kitty carrier.

  “So what happened?” Lucinda said, wanting to know, not wanting to hear it.

  “He bottomed out, finally. I hope,” Peter said. He held up crossed index and middle fingers. “I found him in an alley in the North End, passed out, in the rain. He’d been robbed and didn’t even know it. This tiger girl had crawled into his arms to get out of the cool rain. They were keeping each other warm.”

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered. Lucinda looked down at the carrier.

  “Cinda, I wasn’t even sure he was alive at first,” Peter said softly.

  She raised her gaze to look again into her brother’s face. She didn’t bother wiping away the tears — they’d been a long time waiting to fall.

  “We stayed at Brent’s for the night. He wasn’t happy about the cat, but I did mention that it was still technically my apartment,” Peter said. “Then I made arrangements at Greenbough in the morning. We were lucky there was an opening for the eight-week residential program. So I rented a car at the airport after Brent dropped us off, drove Bart and kitty out there, and now here we are. Now I gotta get this girl to a vet for a checkup. I don’t think she’s been a stray for too long. She’s friendly underneath her skittishness.”

  “Did he… ” Lucinda started. “Was he… .” She stopped and glanced into the indoor arena where Margo was riding Bally out of the heat of the day.

  “Did he say anything about what happened?” she finally got out. It was not the question she wanted to ask. She couldn’t say those words yet. Did he know how much anguish he caused?

  “He admitted that he hadn’t really cared whether he made it through till morning.”

  Lucinda’s voice caught in her throat.

  “Let me finish,” Peter said, placing a hand on her shoulder for a few seconds. “But when Bart woke this morning, he said he felt more fortunate than he ever had. He wants to break the addiction, and he doesn’t want to see you hurt anymore. I don’t know if you guys will get back together. I don’t know, with what you’ve been through.”

  Lucinda met his gaze. She was not ashamed anymore of her part in the affair — she’d been human, made a mistake, and atoned enough. Although not proud of her mistake, she was not going to let it drag her down. Lucinda had done all she could think of to bring Bart back, but Bart’s decision was out of her hands.

  “But I do believe Bart is going to put everything he has into breaking this addiction. He knows he can’t do it alone.”

  There was a tiny questioning meow from the kitty carrier.

  Peter bent down and the tabby came to the front of the carrier. He pulled a few kibble bits from his pocket and pushed them through the front screen.

  “Her stomach is so tiny. I need to feed her only a little at a time.”

  “Another thing she has in common with you,” Lucinda said. She was smiling, although her face was wet.

  “I don’t know whether Bart wants her. He’s got other stuff to work out now and later when he comes out. But he’s got first dibs on her when he comes back. If not, I’m keeping her.”

  “She have a name yet?”

  “Not yet, any suggestions?”

  The door to the observation room opened, and Tori strode in with Dr. Camille who carried a case containing small-animal veterinary equipment.

  “We heard there’s a patient in here!” said Dr. Camille, putting down her case and peering in at the cat.

  “News! Major news!” Tori looked at Peter carefully opening the carrier. “Let’s go into my office,” she said to Lucinda. They left Peter and the tabby to the vet exam and hustled next door to Tori’s office.

  “What?” Lucinda said. What else?

  “Chester Mulholland and his wife are dining with us tonight. Chester is the one assembling a syndicate to buy Hyperion. It is a perfect fit for his residential development enterprises in Newcester.”

  “Wow, good for Chester. Good for you guys,” Lucinda said, taking it in.

  “Martin will basically be back in his old position, without ownership obviously, but he gets to hire all his own staff. And the salary offer is very generous.”

  “Tori, I’m so happy for you,” Lucinda said, with a twinge of envy that she tossed off as soon as they hugged. “Don’t forget to find out about that check for a P-H donation he gave to Warren! I ran into Chester last week at Colorworks Studio in Newcester and found him a Homer for his wife’s birthday. So despite Warren trying to steal Chester from me, I’m back big and bright on his radar screen. But the little matter of his last donation didn’t come up and I need to know.”

  “But your staff documents that kinda stuff up, down, and sideways,” Tori said. “Or you used to?”

  “That’s just it. Frank’s keeping certain donations under wraps, and I’m tearing my hair out trying to get to the bottom of everything. Weird pots of money popping up and then disappearing. Don’t mention this to anyone, Tori. I really shouldn’t be talking about it.”

  Tori made a zipper motion over her lips. “Of course. I’ll get Chester to brag about all the details of his last gift. I’ll brag about mine, that will do it. He loves to top me in the donation department, but we don’t play anywhere near his league.”

  “Great. I think I’ll be setting up a big planned givi
ng meeting with him soon, and I need every scrap of information. About everything.”

  Lucinda looked down into the arena. Thea was circling Paz at the canter.

  “Oh my God!” Lucinda said suddenly. “I almost didn’t tell you!”

  “Tell me what?” Tori said, her head tilted slightly to the left.

  “Why Peter’s here.”

  “I guess it’s more than just showing us the new kitty?”

  “God, yes. Bart’s in rehab.”

  “Really?” said Tori. “You’re sure?”

  “Peter brought him there himself. Greenbough.”

  Tori hugged Lucinda tightly. “Oh, Lucinda,” she said into Lucinda’s ear. “This is a good day.”

  By the Boardwalk

  “Chester insists that you’re in the room,” Frank said. “So we’re doing the visit together. No Warren.” He leaned back in his massive office chair and studied her. “What the hell did you promise him?”

  Lucinda allowed herself a tiny smile. For the first time in a year she held a significant slice of power over her boss. It felt good. She was going to savor the moment and milk it for all it was worth.

  “Guess he just likes me,” she said amicably.

  “Well, he wants to meet tomorrow at ten am. We’ll take my car.”

  “You’re right, it wouldn’t look good arriving separately. One car will reinforce how closely together we work.”

  A frown started before Frank caught himself.

  “So that he knows you’ll be on base with whatever I say,” Lucinda continued, enjoying herself. “And vice versa. I’m sure he’s already a bit peeved that he was ‘assigned’ to Warren. We can’t afford any more missteps. My guess is that the half million he gave Warren was a test. A test that Warren didn’t pass.”

  She knew assigning Warren to Chester was Frank’s idea. Frank knew what Chester’s net worth was. Or had some clue.

  “Yes, well. Let’s focus on what we ask for.”

  Lucinda smiled again, this time indulgently, as if patiently educating someone new to the profession.

  “He already knows exactly what he’s prepared to give us. And how. Our job is to tease it out,” she said. Shit! she thought, realizing there wasn’t enough time to prep properly. It’s going to be a long night at the office. But she would stay up all night if necessary since she’d been cultivating Chester for a megagift over the whole time she’d been in charge of development at P-H. Even before, when she’d met Chester one night at a function Honor hosted at her office, when she was just a starry-eyed annual giving coordinator.

  Frank glanced away from her to his computer monitor just as an e-mail popped up with a red exclamation mark associated with it. He clicked on it, read it, and then quickly closed it. He blinked twice rapidly, swallowed, and then leaned back against his plush head rest and shut his eyes. Blood drained away from the surface of his face under his almost perfect tan, marred only by a slightly burnt nose.

  “Are you ok?” Lucinda asked.

  “I’m fine,” he said flatly, his eyes still closed. “I need to make some calls, so… .”

  Lucinda stood. “Right. And I need to pull things together for tomorrow.”

  He opened his eyes and turned toward her. “I thought you were recommending letting him do the offering?”

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t prepare.” Prep up the wazoo, she thought. “P-H is his main philanthropic outlet right now. Remember, his wife’s a much-loved P-H graduate and his own alma mater pissed him off a couple years ago. He’s ready to talk big.”

  “Right. So we’ll go over all that in the car tomorrow.”

  She shook her head. It was unbelievable what he didn’t know.

  “There isn’t enough time. You’re just going to have to follow my lead,” she said.

  She stood, not waiting for a response, and walked out of Frank’s office. She was not going to piss around stoking Frank’s ego by making him think he was really in on this strategy. She felt surprisingly calm — focused and detached at the same time. If this worked out, there was no way the Board would ever stand for Frank replacing her with Warren.

  * * * * *

  Walking back to his car from the fine arts building in the warm August night, Aden smiled when he glanced up the hill toward Rantoul Hall and saw Lucinda’s office light burning, the only one illuminating a piece of the third floor. He’d just attended the faculty art show, attended by scads of incoming freshman art-majors-to-be. It’d turned into quite the party, and, now that it was closing in on eleven-thirty, he’d intended to head back to Newcester, when that light beckoned. Surely she’d heard the news, and he wanted to get her reaction.

  He climbed the wide front steps of Rantoul and, out of his usual curiosity, looked over to the president’s mansion. A light also was burning in the third floor bedroom occupied by Frank. Given the latest, Aden was sure the president was not sleeping easy.

  He heard some kind of scuffle in the woods beside Rantoul, a sound that could have been a fox or an owl. He caught an ocean scent on a languid breeze blowing from the south over the cliff. He loved this campus. Being on the edge of the continent in a place where wildness and culture mingle, the refinement of the arts next to the brute force of wind and water and rock. One moment one, another moment the other.

  He arrived at Lucinda’s office and knocked on her locked door.

  “It’s me,” he said. “Aden.”

  He heard her chair bump something, and soon she was unlocking the door and pulling it open. Lucinda was still in her dark plum pantsuit, meaning she hadn’t been home since she got here at 8 am. She stood aside as he passed her and then relocked the door.

  “Hey,” he said. “Thought I’d drop in after the faculty art show. It just broke up.”

  “Right,” she said. “How was it?”

  “Rowdy,” he said. “Fun. Everyone wanted to blow off steam. After about ten-thirty when they ran out of wine, the party spilled outside and someone whipped out sidewalk chalk. In Technicolors. A couple of professors started a chalk reproduction of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in the parking lot under the lights. The new freshman egging them on and throwing out demands for more contemporary work. Then the freshman rebelled and started their own pictures. The night ended in a competition which they insisted I judge as an unbiased observer.”

  Lucinda smiled. “Sounds lively.”

  “What are you up to?” He indicated all the memos, binders, and spreadsheets on her desk.

  “Meeting with Chester Mulholland tomorrow. ‘The Meeting’,” Lucinda said, raising her right eyebrow. “Me and Frank.”

  Aden smiled broadly. “Whoa! That trumps the other news, huh?”

  Lucinda rubbed her eyes. “What other news?”

  “You didn’t hear? Well, obviously not,” he said, watching her confused expression.

  “Abby did the deed. She’s officially accused Warren of sexual harassment. You’ve got to commend her timing.”

  Lucinda stood still taking it in and then sat down.

  “That may be what Frank found out when I was in his office today. Of course, he hates the idea of working with me on the Mulholland gift,” Lucinda said, “and then he totally shut down after he read this one e-mail.”

  “A little too close to home, I’d say, since he had his own accusation for that in the past.”

  She looked up at him. Had Sean talked to Aden too? She doubted it. Abby for sure.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of digging.” Aden smiled. “Plus, he must wonder how he can he put Warren in your place if all this horrid stuff keeps coming out about him, whether it’s true or not. Makes it a little tricky to justify.”

  “Do you think it’s true?”

  “I don’t know. Abby’s changed in the last six months. Something’s going on.”

  “A lot of things are going on.” Lucinda smiled. “And right now, all I care about is getting this Mulholland gift tied up.”

  “What are you going for?” Aden leaned against a
window sill.

  “Multiyear outright gift and charitable lead trust,” Lucinda said, organizing all the papers into a pile and clicking the print icon on her computer monitor. “He’s hinted about this on previous visits, and he’s waiting for us to get serious. Plus I know he’s reaching out with other business acquisitions right now.”

  Aden whistled in admiration. “You don’t piddle around.”

  “Not with this,” she said, smiling. “After finding that Homer, I knew it was the right time. I have his attention.”

  “You’re the master,” he said, mocking bowing to her.

  “Cut it out!” She chuckled. “It ain’t done till it’s done.” She quickly knocked on her wooden desk.

  Aden pushed himself away from the window onto his feet. “May I escort you to your car and down the road a piece, or will you be calling Harris?”

  “God!” Lucinda said. “I feel like a politician.”

  “You are,” he said.

  * * * * *

  They drove to Chester’s real-estate development office between Newcester and Thornbury, a tasteful corporate compound in glass and stone overshadowing an historic seafood restaurant owned by Chester’s oldest son, Bruce.

  “Don’t ask for a specific amount, Frank, whatever spirit moves you. You’ve got to leave this one in my hands or we could lose a major, major gift. The biggest the college has seen.” Lucinda checked Frank’s profile. “So calm yourself when he starts talking entrepreneurial vision. Or anything resembling it.”

  Frank simply nodded and pulled into a guest parking slot. What choice did he have?

  * * * * *

  “Welcome, welcome!” Chester said as he rose from behind his massive mahogany desk and walked over to them in a few long strides. He hugged Lucinda warmly and enclosed Frank’s offered hand in a finger-crushing grip.

  “Come, sit! Coffee’s on its way.”

  Chester held a chair next to him at the end of an oval conference table for Lucinda. The large window behind him overlooked, at ground level, a lush marsh, bisected by a boardwalk.

  Chester noticed Lucinda looking out, while a young assistant placed a tray holding a coffee pot and mugs on the table. She poured out three cups before retreating.