The Cinderella Rules

by Donna Kauffman

  Shane assumed it wasn’t Alexandra’s innovative themes that cinched the A-list attendance, but the purse strings she dangled in front of her guests’ noses. Whether they hoped to secure a donation to a certain charity, or funding on a new wing for this hospital or that university, they were all marionettes and she the master puppeteer. Everyone seemed happy enough with their respective roles.

  Shane pinched the bridge of his nose. “Who authorized this?”

  William, Alexandra’s current lawyer, cleared his throat. “It was stipulated in her will that any events or projects undertaken in her name at the time of her death were to be seen through to completion.”

  “Surely she didn’t intend that to include a garden party?”

  Both Hal and William looked at him in surprise.

  “Garden party?” Hal chuckled. “It’s hardly that simple.”

  “Those invited to attend generously donate to the Morgan Foundation. This event essentially gathers the working capital for the foundation for an entire year,” William explained. “Not to mention that the guests likely anticipate being able to do a fair amount of wheeling and dealing for their own causes over the course of the weekend.”

  “Weekend? This shindig lasts two days?”

  “Surely you’ve some experience with events like this?” William said.

  Shane looked to Hal as if to say, “He’s kidding, right?” He tried to summon the patience he’d lost somewhere during his umpteenth meeting two days ago. He should have grabbed Darby from that dressing room and taken off with her. He wondered what she’d think of Bali this time of year. He regretfully let that image go, and sighed. “I was kept in boarding schools during most of my formative years,” he explained to William, “precisely so I wouldn’t be here during Alexandra’s many soirees. I don’t think she trusted me to behave in a manner acceptable to the Morgan name.” He looked to Hal. “Can you imagine?”

  Hal didn’t quite manage the hoped-for smile in fond reminiscence.

  Since their little contretemps earlier, Hal had remained a bit tense. Shane wished he hadn’t snapped the way he had. He’d been so relieved to finally have a possible ally, he’d discounted how deeply Hal was grieving. His mistake, and, he imagined, probably not his last one, before this was all over.

  Shane took a calming breath, then said, “So, okay, two days. The race is run on Saturday, is it not? We party all night, shovel everyone out of here Sunday morning, and—”

  “Actually,” William broke in, “some guests will begin arriving tomorrow afternoon. A casino night is planned for the smaller ballroom tomorrow evening. All proceeds go to the foundation. Outside, we’ll have a string quartet on the back terrace for those who might enjoy strolling the grounds. Saturday is race day, when the real event begins. The rest of the guests are scheduled to arrive by ten in the morning. The lawn party begins at one, with the catering staff in racing silks. This year’s theme is ‘Turn-of-the-Century Belmont, a Centennial Celebration,’ with those attending encouraged to wear attire befitting that time period. The race itself will be projected on big-screen monitors both outside and indoors. There will be a sit-down dinner late that evening, around eight. Sunday will begin with a brunch. A round-robin tennis tourney is slated, then an afternoon supper.” He waved his hand. “It’s all taken care of by the staff, as is cleanup and the dismantling of the tents and ornamentation. It should all be over by three or so on Sunday.”

  The house was already a showcase, with numerous paintings, sculptures, carpets, and furnishings, all of which could be displayed in any number of museums. So why they felt they had to drag in life-sized racing horses, draped in flowers and stationed not only on the grounds but inside the house as well, Shane had no idea. Every room, from the sitting areas to the bathrooms, now reflected an early 1900’s horse-racing theme.

  Too much money seriously compromised a person’s ability to exercise common sense, Shane thought, not for the first time. He dropped into a hard-as-stone Louis XIV chair. “Fine, fine. Maybe we should reschedule this for next week. I’ll meet you both Monday. There are a few things I could be doing over the weekend myself.” He had a stack of folders from Alexandra’s private files out in the car. He’d only flipped through the three drawers full of folders, but a handful looked like they dealt with the Celentrex takeover, so he’d grabbed them for a closer look. Hopefully there’d be something to help him make the decision. Or, better yet, point him in the direction of who he might hand the decision-making over to.

  But that wasn’t where his thoughts went at the moment. Presented with the possibility of an open weekend, work was the last thing on his mind. Darby was the first. If only he could steal her away from her baby-sitting post. Maybe use the corporate jet to fly them both to Italy, show her the sunrise in Tuscany. It was the purest of golden light, and with her hair down and wild, and all that tawny, toned skin . . .

  William cleared his throat. “Actually, you’ll be expected to attend. You’re the de facto host, as it were.”

  Shane wondered if Alexandra was somewhere in purgatory, having a great laugh over all this. “If what’s already been done could happen without my overseeing any of it, then surely the party itself could go on without a host, de facto or otherwise.”

  “The planning was highly detailed, well in advance as always, and I’ve been overseeing the various crews, having power of approval on such things, pending your return.”

  “Well, you can continue approving, because if it was up to me, I’d just haul in a truckload of beer kegs, steam some Maryland blues, line a few tables with enough fried chicken and cole slaw to feed an army, and hire the best dance band I could find. Maybe dig a giant sandpit in the front yard and set up some beach volleyball. Run belly-flop contests in the lap pool. Hell, we could probably put together two fairly decent softball teams with a big enough guest list.” He leaned back and crossed his ankles. “Now that’s a party.”

  William looked properly horrified, but Hal surprised him by smiling. The honest warmth caught Shane off guard.

  “Maybe if you’d stuck around all those years ago,” he said, “things would have been different around here. Or at least more interesting.”

  Shane didn’t know what to say to that. Hal’s tone was teasing, but also gently chiding. Admonishing the young man he’d expected more from than he’d gotten. “You know I’ve always appreciated everything you did for me back then,” Shane said sincerely. “But you of all people had to know I wasn’t ever coming back. Not while Alexandra controlled things with her iron fist. I couldn’t let her control me, too. And, while I respect your feelings for her, you have to admit that she wouldn’t have been content with anything less than me jumping to her every command.”

  “You had more control here than you might have suspected. You were hardly a man when you left.”

  “I didn’t want control here. I simply wanted to live my own life, be a regular guy.”

  Hal made a dignified snort. “Your life has hardly been patterned after that of a regular guy.”

  Shane’s lips quirked. “True, but it’s been mine to lead, to live. I didn’t want the empire. I didn’t ask for any of this.” He lifted his arms to encompass the room and all the crushing enormity of what sprawled out beyond it.

  “That’s the odd nature of birth, isn’t it?” Hal responded. “Some come into this world saddled with enormous debt, some with God-given talent, some with disabilities, and some with kingdoms. I doubt any of them asked for it, nor much wanted it. Yet it will be theirs.” He gestured with his hand, much the same as Shane had. “Just as this is now yours. What I’m saying is, that if you’d stayed, perhaps you’d have had more say in what it has become.”

  Now it was Shane’s turn to snort. “As if Alexandra would have allowed any vision other than her own to rule the day.”

  Hal shook his head. “You have no idea what enormous power you’ve wielded all along. Part of that is my fault, of course. But I was obliged to follow Alexandra’s wishes.” He gl
anced at William, who gave him a silent nod in return.

  Shane looked between the two of them, then back at Hal. “What are you talking about?”

  “You are the last Morgan. That was—is—your base of strength, and, I daresay, what would have put you on even ground with Alexandra.” Shane laughed outright, but Hal waved him silent, his expression quite serious. “I well knew, as did anyone who spent any time with her, how important the family name was to her. She might have married into this family, but by the time her father-in-law passed the mantle to her, she’d well-earned her place. With his only blood heir—your mother—only a small child, Charles had no choice but to do his best to instill that fierce Morgan pride and loyalty in his daughter-in-law. He all but challenged her to do better with it than he had.” Hal’s own smile was somewhat fierce. “And that she most certainly did.” He looked at Shane. “It was that intense pride and loyalty in the Morgan name, the importance of that heritage, that she wanted to pass on to you.”

  “I know you believe that, but more than anything, I think she was mostly interested in the importance of adding to the Morgan coffers.”

  Hal lifted a shoulder. “It was certainly a focus. She lived to one-up the old man. But she never forgot she wasn’t a Morgan by blood. God knows, he never let her. And I think—no, I know—that it haunted her that she hadn’t been able to instill the same pride and loyalty in the Morgan name in you, that Charles had in her. It was her one failure.” His smile was affectionately amused. “And we all know how well she handled failure.” Hal looked to Shane, but the wistfulness in his expression, the emotional sheen in his eyes, kept Shane from interrupting. “She was born with beauty, brains, and the kind of drive and determination that rightfully terrified those who weren’t blessed with the same. But when it came to dealing with others . . .” Hal lifted a shoulder. “That was, perhaps, her real failure. She lacked patience, and, some would say, compassion.” He sighed. “I tried to tell her that ordering you home, commanding you to make this or that appearance for the sake of the family name, was in direct opposition to your nature.” His lips quirked again, though the grief was still clear in his eyes. “She didn’t listen to me any more than she did anyone else. She was convinced you’d grow weary of trotting the globe eventually, and come to your senses. She simply couldn’t understand why you’d wish not to.”

  “And yet you think she’d have listened to me if I had?”

  “She wouldn’t have had a choice.” Hal paused, then glanced at William again before looking back at Shane. “This”—he gestured once again—“was always only going to be yours. Charles’s will stipulated that all Morgan holdings would only pass to another Morgan. A blood Morgan.”

  Shane’s mouth dropped open. “But Alexandra—”

  William broke in. “She was, essentially, a trustee. Charles left her in charge of everything, as your mother was hardly more than a toddler when Alexandra’s husband died. Your mother showed scant interest in the empire and, admittedly, Alexandra had grown quite fond of her role here and was more than happy to run it for her. Though she did try and rein Francine in from time to time. With your mother’s untimely death, by the terms in her grandfather’s will, all Morgan properties shifted to you.”

  Shane’s gaze darted from one lawyer to the other. Still stunned speechless, he didn’t know which question to ask first. “But Alexandra was the driving force—she pretty much single-handedly grew the Morgan holdings into an international empire.”

  Pride shone on Hal’s face. “I think even the old man would have been impressed.”

  “But you’re saying it was never really hers?”

  “On paper? No,” William said.

  “But certainly emotionally, and in every other way it could be, yes, it was hers as much as it had ever been any blood Morgan’s,” Hal added. “Legally, once you were of age, she was bound to hand it over to you. Or at least begin the process of shifting it to your control.”

  “Why—” Shane broke off, then shook his head, unable to assimilate this latest bit of insanity. “I guess, given our history, I don’t have to ask why she wasn’t in any hurry to hand it over, but she never even told me.”

  Hal just gave him a look. “If and when she could track you down, she did try.”

  “I got orders to show up at this gala or that charity event. Never did I get so much as a postcard telling me that I was—”

  Hal cut him off. “Those various summons home over the years were ostensibly for this function or that. She wasn’t going to inform you of something that important via telegraph. By the terms of the will, you would have been bound to run the company and manage the holdings. Of course, you could have chosen to allow her to continue.”

  “Which she has to know I’d have gladly done. I still should have been told.” He slumped back, still reeling.

  “Yes, you should have. I argued with her many times over the years about that very subject. She kept insisting it wasn’t time, that you needed to be older, more mature, before news of such importance was brought to bear on you.” He lifted that negligent shoulder again. “Maybe you would have turned it over to her. But then again, maybe you wouldn’t. Alexandra was no fool. Of course she doubted you’d have wanted it, but given the rocky nature of your relationship, she couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t have simply given it all away, just to spite her.” Hal leveled a steady gaze at Shane, who felt his face warm at the silent accusation. “It was a risk she didn’t take lightly. She had an obligation to Charles, and had you come home and decided you sincerely wanted to run things, she would have done whatever she had to do to prepare you for that role. But she hadn’t worked herself to the bone, to let you waltz in and snatch it all away from her.”

  “You honestly believe that if I had come running when she’d snapped her fingers, she would have just handed me the keys?”

  “Knowing Alexandra, she would have bent the rules to suit her needs. She did envision you taking over at some point. That was Charles’s desire, and, as the last remaining heir, hers as well. But no, I doubt she’d have clued you in to the whole truth until she’d determined that you had the same Morgan pride and determination she’d come to have herself.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  Hal didn’t look insulted, but merely nodded. “As long as she maintained her place in the scheme of things, I believe she would have, yes.”

  “You mean, as long as I ran the empire the way she wanted it run.”

  Hal sighed. “Perhaps. Morgan Industries, along with all the family holdings, was everything to her. Her mark on its history was very important to her.”

  “Because of Charles?”

  Hal smiled again. “In the beginning, maybe. You thought Alexandra was stubborn, you should have met your great-grandfather. The two of them made quite a pair. World Wars have been conducted and won with less strategy and combat skills than the two of them possessed.”

  Shane blew out a long sigh and let his chin drop to his chest. “I can’t believe this,” he said to no one in particular, although he knew Hal would take the remark personally. After all, he’d been her personal lawyer. He’d known all along, too. But his allegiance was clearly with Alexandra. Shane understood and didn’t hold that against him.

  “Would it have made a difference?” Hal asked, searching his eyes. “Had you known you held the keys all along, would you have come back?”

  Hal wasn’t asking lightly, and Shane didn’t take his response lightly. But he didn’t have to think about it much, either. He shook his head. “No. I didn’t want it then, and despite understanding Alexandra’s position a bit better, I can’t honestly say I want it now, either.” He held up his hand, stopping either man from responding. “You said she wasn’t a fool, and I heartily agree. And though I know she wanted it to stay in the family as much as Charles did, obviously it had become her whole life. She wouldn’t risk ruining all her hard work by handing it over to someone who might ruin everything. Why didn’t she have someone in place to ru
n it all? Did she honestly think that forcing me back home would suddenly turn me into some kind of industrial mogul? That it would instill in me the pride and loyalty that was so important to her?”

  “Partly, yes, I think she did. She honestly didn’t understand why anyone would willingly turn their back on such a rich heritage. She always felt that if she could only get you to come home, you’d see what you were missing.” He sighed with obvious regret. “As to the rest of it, I think, to some degree, her innate arrogance prevented her from believing she would ever dare die before her time. She’d always pictured personally grooming you to eventually take the reins. She’d never allowed herself to imagine, well, this. Perhaps if she’d lived longer and the fences between you had remained unmended, she would have groomed someone to take her place. But, in all honesty, while all the many venues that comprise Morgan Industries are, in fact, run by a number of well-qualified people, she would never have trusted the business itself, or the family heritage, and everything she’d built on to both, to anyone but a Morgan.”

  Shane felt the weight of Hal’s words press down on him. For the first time, he fully realized that what he faced here was a far more complex task than a list of assets to be disposed of and corporate divestitures to be dealt with. It wasn’t just Alexandra, but several hundred years of Morgan history staring him down. Yet nothing else had changed. Unlike his forebears, he didn’t have that same drive, dedication, and loyalty-above-all-else focused exclusively on the family name. Or, more accurately, the accumulated family wealth.

  “So where does that leave me?” Shane finally asked, sounding as weary as he felt. “What are my legal obligations?”

  William answered this. “Legally? You have none. Charles’s will only stipulated his holdings be passed on to the next in line. That’s been accomplished. What you do with it is up to you.”