by Wendy Wax
“Dandiel!” Dustin smiled. “Did you come to practice our lines for the next scene?”
“I’ve told him that he’s already got them down, but he doesn’t seem to believe me.” She sent Daniel a pleading look. “There is such a thing as overpreparing, right?”
For a moment she thought she hadn’t been clear enough, but Daniel nodded as he walked toward them. “Your mom’s right. You’ve been on the money every single take today, unlike your old man. You want to keep it fresh. Too much practicing can make the lines feel stale when the time comes to deliver them. What do you say we run them one time? For me. I’m sure Tonja will appreciate it.”
Daniel sighed. His eyes met hers. “I knew there would be a lot more to deal with, but I think I may have underestimated just how much it could affect my performance.” He picked up the sides that had been delivered that morning and handed them to Kyra. “Will you read the part of Jenna?”
Kyra had read Tonja’s lines with Dustin without thinking much of it, but reading them with Daniel felt decidedly different. “All right,” she said. “But only once. Because your father needs help. Are we clear?”
Father and son smiled in agreement, their expressions achingly similar.
“Okay.” Daniel laid out the upcoming scene. “Tyler, his mother, Jenna, and his father, Martin, are in the lobby, just back from dinner. Tyler is sleepy but he doesn’t want to go to bed. His mommy and daddy promise that if he goes to sleep as soon as they get to the room, they’ll go on the rides first thing the next morning.”
Daniel hefted Dustin up in his arms the way the script called for Martin to lift Tyler.
As Kyra read Jenna’s line, Daniel put his arm around her and pulled her close, per the stage direction, as he recited his line. His lean strength enveloped her; his musky scent filled her nostrils.
Dustin’s lines followed. As he would in the scene, he laid his head on his father’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and stuck his thumb in his mouth.
“Ahhh . . . alone at last.” Daniel’s eyes darkened. The way they promised and asked things at the same time pulled at something deep inside her. He drew her closer.
Kyra’s eyes dropped to the script and she recognized Martin’s line. The scene was part of the story’s setup, designed to illustrate Martin and Jenna’s love for and attraction to each other. Dustin had no further lines. There was no reason to continue. Yet Daniel continued to hold her against him.
She knew she should step away right now. But the warmth in Daniel’s eyes stopped her. So did the lowering of his face to hers. His lips brushed seductively across hers as he murmured things that made her shiver with anticipation. When he deepened the kiss, her lips fell open. The next thing she knew she was kissing him back with enthusiasm.
Her last semiconscious thought was, So far, not so good.
* * *
• • •
“Are you ready?” June Steding asked, looking across her desk at Bitsy.
Bitsy wasn’t actually sure. She’d been so eager to hear from Gary Kaufman, but now that the forensic accountant was on the line, she realized she was about to hear things she could never unhear. She nodded slowly.
June answered the phone. “Hi, Gary. Bitsy and I are both here and on speaker.”
“Thanks so much for going through the records,” Bitsy said after greetings were exchanged. “I really appreciate your help.”
“My pleasure.”
“So what have you got for us?” June asked, giving her a steadying look.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, your husband didn’t start out crooked. In the beginning he invested your funds in legitimate businesses and deals. And he did manage to keep you out of Dyer’s Ponzi scheme. But truthfully? The guy didn’t do so well.”
“How so?” June asked. She picked up a pen and straightened the legal pad in front of her.
“First off he fell for a number of scams—bought steel in India that the owners had resold ten, twenty times while it was sitting in port. I’m pretty sure it’s still sitting there today.” Kaufman’s delivery was briskly efficient, his accent vaguely northeastern. “He also bought land that didn’t exist. And, of course, the worse he did, the more he tried to cover the losses and the riskier his choices became.”
Bitsy listened dully, trying to remember what Bertie had said about the deals he’d looked at or the businesses he’d wanted to invest in. But had she ever really listened to the details?
“Things took a steep nosedive when he became sole trustee. He was already in the hole, but he got more aggressive.” There was the sound of papers being flipped. “From what I can see, once he’d managed to hide the losses from you, he got more brazen. Watching the progression, it becomes clear that he realized he could do whatever he wanted.”
He paused for a moment and she heard him cover the mouthpiece to speak with someone. “Sorry. Where were we?”
Bitsy did not answer. But she knew exactly why she had ignored those records for a whole year. Validation of one’s own stupidity sucked.
“Oh, here we are.” He cleared his throat. “He did leave enough in your accounts to fund living expenses in the style to which you were accustomed. But he was skimming on both ends and stashing money in accounts in his name in the Caymans. Then he set up a dummy Cayman company, which he then bought for ten million dollars of your money.” He paused to let that one sink in.
“The company’s only asset was him?” June stopped note-taking to ask quietly.
“Yes. Ultimately the company bought a yacht, a villa, and an office park. All of which were in his name. So basically, he used money from your joint accounts to fund a new life for himself in the Caymans.”
Bitsy’s face flushed hotly. She peeled off her sweater and reached for the bottle of water that sat unopened on the desk.
“Bottom line?” June asked.
“Bottom line, we definitely have more than enough outright fraud to get the authorities interested.” He said this as if it demanded applause.
“And it looks like he had help.”
“Help?” Once again the attorney asked what Bitsy couldn’t.
“Yeah, from what I can tell, that young woman at Houghton Whitfield that he allegedly bullied into wiring that last chunk?” Kaufman snorted in disgust. “Based on his purchases, which he’d stopped trying to hide some years before, and the pattern of transfers over time, they were clearly involved.” He cleared his throat. “In every possible way. And if they didn’t know it at the time, I have no doubt her bosses at the firm know it now.”
June scribbled harder. Bitsy simply sat and listened. Her head hurt from the blows as the forensic accountant hammered the final nails into the coffin of her faith in humanity and confirmed her inability to determine a good person from a self-centered, self-serving thief. She had chosen Bertie Baynard and she had married him. Then she’d given him a license to steal. She dropped her head into her hands.
“Any questions?”
June asked quite a few, all of them no doubt good ones. Bitsy was already reeling from what she knew now.
“All right then. I’ve sent a report over. Call if there’s anything else. I know a couple of good international process servers. And my money’s on Bertie still being in the Caymans; he’d want to stay close to his money.”
Then it was just Bitsy and June. Bitsy wanted to curl up and die. Or at least go somewhere dark where she could hide.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” June said. “You are not going to roll over and give up now. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Bitsy couldn’t decide whether to cry or shout, so she did both. “I see all those notes you took, but I don’t think you were paying attention. I screwed everything up. This is all my fault!” She took a shuddering breath. “I had an obscene amount of money. An Ivy League education. I could have done or been anything. My background and resources c
ouldn’t be more different than the women who come through here. I didn’t have to depend on a man. I didn’t need one to lift me out of poverty. Or help me go to school. But what did I do? The minute I had one, I abdicated. I turned into a helpless ninny. I deserve what happened!”
June came over and sat next to her. She wore the no-nonsense look she used when delivering the kind of truth most people didn’t want to hear. “No one deserves this, Bitsy. No one. We all start with what we’re given, who we are, and the hand we’re dealt. But you did not deserve this. And you are not going to give up and let him get away with what he’s done.”
Bitsy looked up in some surprise.
“What?” the attorney asked. “You think I’ve never seen the look that’s on your face? Hell, I’ve seen it in the mirror. And I’ve felt all the things you’re feeling right now. One day I’ll share my story with you, but I can tell you that it’s not only uneducated, poverty-stricken women who find themselves in this situation. Anyone can be taken advantage of.
“I went to law school because of a man like Bertie. And I’ve been doing my best to help the victims of men like him ever since. I love putting men like that in jail. And that’s what we’re going to do to your husband.”
“And how are we going to do that?” Bitsy reached for the bottle of water with a shaking hand.
“I haven’t worked out the details yet,” June said, sitting back, her arms crossing over her chest. “But the game has changed. Now we have ammunition. We have Gary Kaufman’s report that confirms there’s been fraud. And we have a paper trail that shows that your husband, a client of Houghton Whitfield, was having an affair with one of its employees.”
“But she doesn’t work there anymore. She . . .”
“The last thing a firm with a roster of high-net-worth clients can afford is a scandal. Your husband running off with your money is one thing. One of their employees having an affair with him and helping him do it? That is something else entirely. Something the Palm Beach state attorney’s office would be interested in.” June leaned across her desk, her eyes gleaming. “They didn’t just fire her and send her on her way. Though they might have paid her to keep quiet.
“Didn’t you tell me you knew someone in the financial crimes area of the FBI?”
“Well, yes, but . . .”
“Do you think he’d sit down with us?”
“Well, he’s due back this weekend,” Bitsy replied, trying to gather her wits. “I think so but . . .”
“Good.” The attorney smiled. “I’d like to talk this through with him, hear his thoughts, see if he can offer some advice. And I really, really want to find and talk to this woman.”
Nineteen
Wednesday passed in a frenzy of waffling that Maddie was grateful no one was present to witness. To call Will or not to call. To assume he had a good reason for not calling her back. Or assume it meant he hadn’t forgiven her for leaving so abruptly and for putting him in second place yet again.
The weather couldn’t seem to make up its mind, either. One minute, thunder rumbled. The next, pinpricks of sunlight pierced the mountainous dark clouds only to be quashed by heavy sheets of rain that blotted out the horizon. Temperatures hovered in the low fifties, dipped into the forties, came back up. The Weather Channel claimed there’d be an overnight low in the thirties, which meant locals were already breaking out the winter coats and UGG boots that saw action approximately once a year.
By late afternoon the sky had settled on dull iron gray, the air was wet and cold, and the downpour had diminished to an exhausted drizzle. Maddie gazed out the cottage window at the sodden flower beds and puddled walkways. The beach would be equally soggy. There would be no final walk or sunset toasts.
Her suitcase lay open on the bed still half filled with the things she’d thrown in it when she left Mermaid Point. Her toiletries lined the bathroom counter. But she didn’t have the will to pack them. She sighed. Blew a bang off her forehead. Stood for a good ten minutes staring out the bedroom window then headed back to the kitchen to stare into the refrigerator. She missed Will and couldn’t wait to see him, but what kind of reception would she get? Had he been too busy to miss her? Or had she given him reason to doubt her feelings? Or to reconsider his own?
The knock on the door sounded as sweet as a last-minute reprieve from the governor. Maddie threw it open, the first move she’d made that day without dithering.
Bitsy and Nikki stood on the doorstep. Both had clothing draped over their arms. The roof of the twins’ stroller was similarly draped. A rain-splattered sheet of plastic protected the clothing and the twins. Avery hunched under an umbrella behind them.
“Since it’s too wet for sunset toasts, we thought we’d have a going-away party,” Nikki said as she began to unbuckle the girls. “And we cherry-picked our closets to help you add a few . . . enhancements . . . to your tour wardrobe.” Leaving the stroller near the door, Nikki carried the girls inside and set them on the area rug. “Gemma and Sofia napped all afternoon, so I figured they could stay up a little later than usual.”
“You’re never too young to learn how to tweak a wardrobe,” Bitsy said.
“What makes you think my tour wardrobe needs tweaking or enhancing?” Maddie stood aside so they could enter. “I’ve got plenty of things that won’t wrinkle or show stains.”
“Tell me none of those things are polyester ‘travelers’ or mom jeans,” Bitsy said.
Maddie watched them carry in the clothing, glad her travelers’ three-piece pantsuit with matching skirt wasn’t on the premises. “That doesn’t sound like a party to me.”
“It’ll be a party, because we’ll be drinking and eating while we do it.” Bitsy held up a container of Ted Peters famous smoked fish spread and a cloth carrier that held bottles of wine. “I am in serious need of a party tonight.”
“And I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but your wardrobe, while lovely and largely no-iron, doesn’t have any ‘hey, look at me’ things in it,” Nikki added.
“That’s because my body has asked me not to shout or draw attention to it,” Maddie replied. Closing the door behind them, she busied herself pulling wineglasses out of the cabinet and setting out small plates.
“Do you remember when we dressed you that time in Durham for Will’s concert? And we had hair and makeup?” Bitsy asked. “Weren’t you glad you made the effort?”
“Well, yes.” She remembered Bitsy’s delight in playing fairy godmother and how shocked she’d been by her reflection in the hotel mirror. Her reflection in Will’s eyes was something she’d never forget.
“As I recall, Will was pretty wild about how you looked,” Nikki said.
Maddie blushed. Will had loved her in the outfit they’d insisted she wear almost as much as he’d enjoyed taking it off her. It had been the most incredible night and had led to her first and only “walk of shame” the next morning.
“I rest my case,” Nikki said. “I’m just going to put these things in your room. After we toast a bit we can coordinate some outfits.”
Maddie handed Avery a bowl for the Cheez Doodles and opened the first bottle of wine, but she couldn’t imagine any piece or combination of clothing that would make up for the way she’d practically cut and run.
“Wow. I am in serious need of a drink,” Bitsy said as she set out the fish spread and poured the wine.
“Me too,” Avery said.
“Ditto,” Maddie added.
“I’m in!” Nikki said as she returned. “I believe that makes it unanimous.”
Rain splattered the windows and drummed a tattoo on the cottage roof as they arranged the food and drink on the cocktail table and settled themselves around it. On the floor at their feet Sofia began her exploration on all fours while Gemma placed both hands on the side of her mother’s chair and grunted loudly as she strained to haul herself to her feet.
They
sipped and drank for a few minutes. The others looked at her expectantly. “Okay then,” she said. “Anybody have a toast or a good thing to share?”
Bitsy raised her glass. “I can’t quite believe I’m saying this, but here’s to fraud.”
Except for the twins’ babbling, the room fell silent. All eyes settled on Bitsy.
“In what universe does that qualify as a ‘good thing’? Avery asked.
“That would be my universe,” Bitsy said. “Documenting the fraud is the first step in getting criminal charges brought against Bertie.” She downed her drink and poured a second. “Oh. I almost forgot. I have another toast.” Her glass went up. “To adultery.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain that one, too,” Avery said while the rest of them gaped.
“Well, it looks like Bertie had an ongoing affair with the woman at Houghton Whitfield that handled wire transfers.”
“Seriously?” Avery asked.
“As a heart attack,” Bitsy replied. “So it wasn’t just Delilah the stripper that he cheated with.”
“Oh, Bitsy.” The pain and anger etched across Bitsy’s face made Maddie’s worries about how Will would receive her tomorrow seem small. “I’m so sorry for what you’re dealing with.”
“Yeah, that definitely sucks,” Avery said. “Are you sure you want to drink to that?”
“I have to drink to that!” Bitsy took a long, desperate swallow of wine. “The good part is that June thinks the firm might be paying her to keep quiet. Which could also give the authorities reason to be interested.” She set down her empty glass. “She asked if Joe would be willing to talk through our next steps with us.”
“Of course he will,” Nikki said. “He’s home on Friday. Why don’t we give him a day to decompress? Maybe Sunday afternoon?”
“Thanks.” Bitsy sighed. “So what do you guys think? Good enough? Because frankly that’s all I’ve got. And at the moment it feels like the hurts just keep on coming.”
