Return to Sender

by Fern Michaels

  The investment banker picked up on the first ring. “Miller,” the voice said curtly.

  “I’m being denied access to my personal accounts. What’s going on, Andrew?”

  “Nicholas! Good to hear from you. You must be feeling better. I heard you were a bit under the weather. Yes, I’m aware of the problem, and I sent you a couple of letters advising you of the fact. Possibly your mail piled up, or you just didn’t get to it. It appears that someone other than you has managed to change your security codes. We put a freeze on all your accounts until our fraud team can trace that person to the originating source.”

  “How long is that going to take?” Nick asked in a shaky voice. God, even his voice sounded like the rest of him, broken down and brittle.

  “I can’t give you a specific answer. Sometimes it takes only a day. Other times it could take weeks, possibly as long as a month. It all depends on how smart the person changing the codes is.”

  “That’s it? I can’t get into my own accounts, and you can’t even tell me how long it’s going to take? No, no, I don’t do business that way. Either find the culprit, or your ass is grass by the end of the day. I’ll move every single account I have once I gain access. Are we clear on this, Andrew?”

  “Nick, this isn’t something I have a lot of control over. Do you need cash? I’d be happy to front you a few thousand,” Andrew offered.

  Nick clenched his teeth. Dr. Reeves’s words rang in his ears. He tried to calm down. “I don’t need cash, Miller. I want results. I’ll call you first thing in the morning.” His hand was shaking so badly, he had trouble fitting the phone back into its cradle.

  Nick sank back into his leather chair. All of his earlier strength was gone. It had to be Chelsea. She’d thrown the hissy fit of a five-year-old when she found out her line of credit had been cut off. It had given him great pleasure watching her as she’d literally flung herself on the floor, then crawled to him as though he were a king. She’d begged and pleaded, but he hadn’t relented. She’d hardly spoken a word to him since.

  Nick didn’t think Chelsea was smart enough to go after him financially, but apparently he’d underestimated her. Yes, she was cunning, sneaky, and manipulative, but when it came to anything remotely technical, the woman was dumber than a doornail. Or pretended to be. Maybe she knew some hackers who had been only too glad to offer up their services for…whatever Chelsea was prepared to pay.

  She’d screwed with the wrong person. Or she was screwing the person who was screwing him. Now that made sense. Chelsea was a very attractive woman, he’d give her that. It was one of the reasons he’d been conned into thinking that he slept with her in the first place. It was also the biggest regret of his life. His engagement to Cathryn had been severed immediately because of that little indiscretion. Of course, Chelsea had told his father she was expecting Nick’s child. Controlling as ever, his father hadn’t wasted a second when it came time to plan their wedding.

  They’d had their photographs taken, their engagement announced in the New York Times. Somehow his father had managed to get them in Town & Country just two weeks before the June issue hit the stands. He recalled his wedding day in vivid detail. He remembered throwing up before heading to St. Patrick’s Cathedral. That they’d actually married in a church had seemed a mockery to Nick at the time. How his father had managed to secure the famous cathedral in the city on such short notice, he hadn’t a clue. Later he learned that Pemberton Transport had financed a major remodeling project for the church. Money talked then, and it had best speak up now, he thought as he tried to log on to his accounts once more before summoning Herbert to drive him home.

  Access denied.

  Chelsea would rue the day she messed with him. When he got through with her, she’d be lucky to be alive.

  On the first Wednesday in October, Lin and Sally were discussing the apartment in SoHo that Jason Vinery had found for them.

  “I can’t believe I’m paying five thousand dollars a month for this dump. It hardly seems worth it,” said Lin. The small apartment was about the size of Lin’s living room back in Dalton.

  “Jason was lucky to find this, remember?”

  “So he says. It just seems so…wasteful spending that amount of money for such a hole-in-the-wall. Think of what I could do with all that money. I could have all the chairs in the diner reupholstered in leather. Rich, warm buttery leather.”

  “This was your idea, Lin. Live with it,” Sally said.

  “I’m sorry. When Jason said we’d need to rent an apartment for a couple of months, I certainly envisioned something larger. At least two bedrooms.”

  “Stop whining. At least he found us a set of single beds. I haven’t slept in a single bed since I was a kid. It’ll be fun. It won’t be forever, Lin. You’ve got to stay focused. This is one of the sacrifices we agreed to.”

  Lin wandered around the three small rooms. A living room the size of her walk-in closet, a bathroom with a tub half the size of hers at home, and a bedroom barely able to hold the two beds. It was a joke. They couldn’t walk in the bedroom at the same time without bumping into one another. The kitchen was nothing more than a sink with a minifridge. There was no stove—only a microwave, which sat on a counter not more than three feet long.

  “I’m glad we aren’t planning on cooking,” Lin remarked as she wandered across the room to the kitchen. “Much,” she added with a trace of her old humor.

  Part one of their plan was already in motion. Jason’s “source” had said Nicholas was furious when he learned he couldn’t access his personal bank accounts. Even though she knew it was only temporary, it brought a smile to Lin’s face.

  Let the games begin.

  They’d been in New York for two days when Jason told them it was time for a little bit of fun, and he could use their help. It was risky, but when he explained his idea to them, both Lin and Sally were excited.

  “Do you think this will backfire?” Lin asked Sally, as they both plopped down on the cream-colored sofa, the only decent piece of furniture in the apartment. They’d just finished unpacking, if you could even call it unpacking. They’d left their luggage open on top of the beds. At night they would simply slide it beneath their beds. Their toothbrushes and toiletries were stacked precariously on top of the toilet tank.

  “Not if we’re careful and do exactly as Jason says. He said the first thing we have to do is get the clothes. He said there’s a thrift shop on Mulberry Street. You want to walk or hail a cab?” Sally asked.

  “Let’s walk. I need the fresh air after being cooped up like a chicken.”

  Sally stood up and stretched. “Then let’s go. We don’t have that much time. Remember, it gets dark here early. We’ll have to rush to get back to the apartment for our makeovers.”

  “I can hardly wait,” Lin agreed.

  Together they walked down the streets of SoHo, marveling at all the shops, the restaurants, and the variety of people. It was like a kaleidoscope of life. Both women tried their best not to look like tourists. It was all about blending in, according to Vinery.

  “I’m so glad we’re here together. Too bad we can’t call Will and have him meet us for dinner while we’re here,” Sally said.

  “Jason doesn’t know I have a son, and I want to keep it that way. At least for now. I don’t want to give him any reason to investigate me personally, but I’m thinking the guy is going to do it, anyway. If I was him, that would be the first thing I’d do. As far as Will knows, we’re both in Dalton, busting our buns, getting ready for the holiday parties. I just wish I didn’t feel so guilty about lying to my own son.”

  Sally reached for Lin’s hand. “It’s for Will that you’re doing this, and don’t you forget it even for one minute.”

  “No, not really, Sally. If I’m honest with myself, it’s for me. I want to see that bastard suffer the way Will and I had to suffer. His son ate macaroni and cheese for weeks at a time when he was younger. I didn’t even have enough money to feed him properly
. He was three before he knew what a damned ear of fresh corn was. It’s a miracle he didn’t have rickets or some such disease from a vitamin deficiency. I want Nicholas to live in fear, like I had to those first few years. Fear of anything, whether it be his last meal, or fear that he’ll lose his last dollar.”

  I remember when Will was around four years old. I took him to McDonald’s for breakfast. It was his first time there. Can you believe that? I remember feeling as though something was missing. I felt out of sorts. At first I thought it was because we were actually going to a restaurant for a meal. I remembered thinking that I’d always felt fear as a child, but then when I saw how tough it was to raise a child alone, the fear I’d felt as a kid almost seemed like a joke compared to what I felt each time I walked into Winn-Dixie or Kroger. I feared I wouldn’t be able to provide enough. It was always there, nagging like a damned toothache. Never enough. Never enough. Then it hit me that morning at McDonald’s. I realized the daily fear was gone. I actually felt normal for the first time in my life. In a McDonald’s. Can you believe that?” Lin shook her head in wonderment.

  Sally knuckled the tears in her eyes. “Look how far you’ve come, Lin. Your hard times are nothing more than a distant memory. You should be proud of all you’ve accomplished.”

  “I suppose. I just did what anyone else would’ve done had they been in my shoes. Nothing spectacular.”

  “You’re a survivor, Lin. Will is lucky to have you for a mother.”

  Lin grinned. “He is, isn’t he?”

  Sally gave her a gentle shove. “You witch!”

  They both laughed until their sides ached.

  Lin’s mascara ran down her face, but she didn’t care. She was on a mission to right a terrible wrong. “Look at that.” She pointed to a street sign. “We’re on Bleecker Street. Let’s go to that bakery, the one from Sex and the City. The Magnolia Bakery. Their cupcakes are supposed to be some of the best in the city.”

  “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day. Let’s run,” Sally suggested.

  Together they ran down the street to the famed bakery. Once inside, there were so many cupcakes to choose from, they ordered one of each.

  “I bet you’ve gained back all that weight you lost,” Sally said after they’d eaten six cupcakes apiece.

  “And then some. I know when I go home, I’m going to dream about those cupcakes. They’re to die for!” Lin exclaimed.

  They walked another block before spying the thrift shop tucked in an alleyway.

  “Just where Jason said it would be,” Lin commented.

  The place was called Frugality. Lin guessed this was supposed to be a hip name for what she thought of as a used-clothing store, something she thought she’d never have to visit again, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Not that she couldn’t afford to shop on Madison Avenue. She could. It was simply a matter of common sense.

  They entered the store. Lin was surprised to find it so organized and neat. A young girl with coal black hair, and so many piercings she reminded Lin of a pincushion, greeted them.

  “Can I help you find anything?” she asked.

  They told her what they were searching for, and she directed them to a half-price table at the back of the store.

  “Look at these,” Sally called as she held up a pair of black slacks.

  Lin walked to the back of the store.

  “Oh my gosh,” Sally whispered. “They’re Chanel. Size six. Five bucks. I’ll take it.”

  “You go, girl,” Lin said. “Let me see what else we can find.”

  The two of them rummaged through the piles of clothing, finding everything they needed for tonight’s adventure. Now all they had to do was wait for Jason’s call.

  Chelsea Pemberton had never been more mortified in her life. The minute she’d found out her husband had canceled her lines of credit and credit cards, she’d sneaked his American Express from his wallet while he showered. The way he looked told her he wasn’t long for this world. He couldn’t die soon enough as far as she was concerned.

  Reluctantly, she’d had to share Herbert today since Nick was due for his Wednesday chemotherapy treatment midmorning. She’d told him she was having lunch in the Village with friends. What did he know? She could’ve told him she was dining with the Pope in Peru, and he wouldn’t have acknowledged her. She prayed for his sudden death. Maybe an air bubble would form in his IV line. She’d heard that was deadly. Whatever the means, she wanted the son of a bitch dead. With him out of the picture, she’d have complete control of his fortune. Pemberton Transport would be up for grabs. At the right price, of course. She smiled. Nick would kill her if he knew what she was thinking, and if he didn’t, her dead father-in-law would reach up from beyond the grave and try to pull her right down into the depths of hell with him. She smiled at the thought.

  “Herbert, I need to make a stop at Van Cleef & Arpels.”

  She knew he’d tell Nicholas if asked. The old sod was loyal to the Pembertons. Chelsea couldn’t understand why, since they treated most of the hired help like eighteenth-century slaves, though she had to admit, she enjoyed abusing their services as much as Nick did.

  “I’ll need you to wait.”

  “Of course you do,” Herbert replied in what Chelsea felt was a condescending tone. She’d make sure to mention this to Nick, for whatever it was worth.

  Herbert expertly maneuvered the Lincoln Town Car through the midtown traffic. Lin looked at her Tiffany watch, a gift from Nick when he’d been trying to impress Joel Stein, an investment banker he’d taken to dinner when he’d been trying to lure him away from J.P. Morgan. It hadn’t worked. Apparently good old sharp-as-a-tack Joel had seen right through his phony malarkey. Though Chelsea had to admit, she’d been pleasantly surprised when Nick whipped out the famous blue box while at dinner.

  Unbeknownst to her husband, she was about to purchase an exquisite Caresse d’Eole ring she’d seen in Van Cleef & Arpels. His American Express bill would be a tad on the high side by the end of the month.

  “Ma’am,” Herbert said as he pulled in front of the famous jewelers.

  Chelsea hurried into the shop. Herbert had been instructed to return to the hospital in three hours. She didn’t have time to browse.

  A small man wearing a custom-tailored suit greeted her at the door. “Mrs. Pemberton, how wonderful to see you.”

  Chelsea loved the recognition. “Yes, I must have the Caresse d’Eole ring I saw last month.”

  The man smiled at her. “Of course, madam. Follow me.”

  She followed the man to the back of the store, where he removed the ring from its case. “This is one of our most beautiful pieces. Here.” He reached for her hand. “Allow me.”

  Chelsea gazed at the ring of white gold and diamonds. She deserved this. “I’ll take it.”

  “Are you sure of the sizing?”

  “It’s perfect, almost as though it were made for me. Now, if you’ll hurry along. My driver is waiting.” She thrived on ordering around what she thought of as the “little people.” She smiled. In this instance the phrase “little people” was quite literal. How pleased she was!

  The man made fast work of wrapping the ring in beautiful cream-colored wrapping paper. “Would madam care to charge this to her Van Cleef & Arpels account?”

  Madam would love to, she thought. However, Mr. Pemberton, the bastard who’d closed her account, had decided otherwise. “I’ll be using American Express.” She removed the card from her bag and gave it to the clerk. She tucked the bag under her arm. She couldn’t wait to wear the ring in front of Nick. She’d show him it wasn’t so easy to prevent her from getting what she wanted.

  When the clerk returned to the front of the store, his face was red. When he spoke, it was in a hushed voice. “Madam, there seems to be a problem. Mr. Pemberton’s card has been denied.”

  “What do you mean?” she shouted. “There must be some mistake. You’ve done something wrong. Try again.” Chelsea felt the heat
rise from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.

  The clerk ran to the back of the store, only to return minutes later. “I am very sorry, madam. The card was denied. Perhaps Mr. Pemberton…” His words trailed off.

  Chelsea knew what he wanted to say. Perhaps Mr. Pemberton has canceled the account. “Never mind. Give me back my card. I will never visit this store again!” She tossed the package on the counter and ran out the door, humiliated beyond belief.

  Herbert was waiting. The moment he saw her, he got out of the car to open her door for her.

  “Get out of my way!” she shouted. She could open the goddamned door herself. Did he think she was stupid? Of course she was stupid—she had been stupid for years. More times than she could remember, she’d stood rooted to the ground while she waited for the old man to extricate his arthritic body out of the car to come around and open the door for her when she could have so easily done it herself and spared Herbert his pain.

  He complied.

  In the backseat, Chelsea fumed. Nicholas had just humiliated her for the last time.

  “Where would you like to go now, Mrs. Pemberton?” Herbert asked.

  The lunch date had been nothing more than a lie, but she’d never admit it. “I’m too upset to go anywhere. You can take me back to the penthouse.”

  A spark of an idea started to form on the drive home. If it worked, Nicholas Pemberton was as good as dead.

  Lin and Sally waited outside the SoHo apartment for Jason Vinery. Each wore the secondhand black slacks and shirts they’d purchased at Frugality, and each wore gloves.