“I wonder what’s taking the men so long,” Caro interjected, looking at her Rolex for the third time in five minutes. “They were supposed to meet us here at one.” The ladies were working on their second round of drinks, more than they usually allowed themselves at lunchtime.
“They’ll probably be here any minute,” Margo said. She was rather enjoying this time with just the girls. She felt a bit sorry for Libby, though, having to hang out with the older women, and probably not enjoying the nostalgic memories. She probably would have been happier to ride horses with the other group. Oh, except I could never picture Libby and that Nicole having a single thing to talk about.
***
“Excuse me,” Libby said, as she rose and headed for the ladies’ room. Walking past the radiant fireplace in the center of the room, she decided it had been a nice morning, after all. It was good to see Margo laughing and having fun with her old friends, especially after last night. I was ready to kill Preston for messing with her while everyone else was at the dinner table. She’d never admit it, but I know that was why she was crying when we went to bed. And why is he chasing Margo, when he and Nicole are newlyweds? I can’t see what Margo ever saw in Preston anyway. Libby shook her head in disgust. She was happy her life had taken a different path from her sister’s.
When Libby returned to the table, Caro was just disconnecting from a call from John E. Her forehead furrowed, and her lips formed a tight line.
“Something wrong?” Libby asked as she settled back into her chair and lifted her glass of iced tea to her lips.
“It’s Nicole. She was thrown from her horse, and she’s at Brandywine Hospital.”
“How badly hurt is she?” Vicki asked, stirring her drink.
“They think it’s just a broken ankle, but they are still doing some tests,” Caro replied. “The guys are going to leave Preston there with her and come over here to meet us for lunch. They’ll be here in about ten minutes.
“It’s a shame she got hurt. I got the feeling that she only went riding because she didn’t want to spend the morning with us,” said Julia.
“More probably, she didn’t want to let Preston out of her sight,” added Kitty.
Vicki popped her stuffed olive into her mouth. “She has her hands full being married to that one, all right. She’ll be lucky if an ankle is the only thing broken--Oh, Caro, I just remembered Preston is your cousin. I wasn’t thinking.”
“That’s okay. I understand how you feel about Preston. Besides, there are three ex-wives out there who would probably agree with you.” Caro paused, still frowning. “I hope Nicole is all right, both for her sake and for the sake of our weekend. I wouldn’t feel right going on with the party if she is in serious condition.”
“Then here’s to Nicole,” Kitty proclaimed, holding her pomegranate martini aloft.
“And to more partying,” Margo seconded. “I’m just getting started on catching up with all of you.”
“Speaking of catching up,” Caro said, “tell us about the restoration of your villa in Tuscany, Margo. I saw the photo shoot in Vanity Fair, and I was blown away.”
“It was a fun challenge. You should all come play there some time, maybe next year for my milestone birthday.” The thought of sharing her Italian residence with her college girlfriends gave Margo a warm feeling inside, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol she was imbibing. For the time being, Margo wasn’t thinking about her divorce, apartment hunting, or even the disturbing encounter with Preston the night before. Margo smiled and then giggled. It was the happiest she had felt in a long time.
Chapter 10
Before contacting the wives, the men had taken over the small waiting room at Brandywine Hospital, waiting for news of Nicole’s condition. What they knew was that she had sustained a trimalleolar fracture. The doctors had cast her leg to hold the bones in position.
“So what’s going on at the Fed these days, Marshall?” Leon asked.
“Same old, same old,” Marshall replied. “You have to love the chairman. He’s got his own agenda, which may or may not jibe with anyone else’s.”
“I question his sanity at times,” Preston said. “Doesn’t he know we’re in a recession?”
“Well, if the market would just make up its mind, things would be okay,” Gerald said.
“Besides, some of the blame falls directly on the White House.”
“Watch it, Gerald,” Preston warned, pointing his index finger in Gerald’s direction. “I’m hearing sour grapes.”
“That was tacky, Preston,” John E. said. “Let’s all just get along, okay? Consider it my birthday gift.”
“Easier said than done,” Marshall replied. “Past grievances have a way of affecting the present, as most of us are realizing. Anyway, aren’t we supposed to meet the ladies at one?” Marshall pumped his knee impatiently. “It’s five after already.”
“Yeah, why don’t you guys go ahead and meet the girls? No need for everyone to sit here all day.” Bad enough that I have to sit here, Preston thought, but I’d rather be alone than suffer the presence of these fools. Past grievances, my ass.
“Okay, Preston. Here’s my cell number. Call me when you have some news.” John E. turned to the others and nodded his head toward the door. “Let’s go have some lunch.”
***
“Mr. Phillips?” the orthopedics resident asked.
“Yes?” Preston rose from the vinyl sofa and put down his fourth cup of bitter black coffee from the waiting room machine. Jeez, this kid is the doctor working on Nicole? “I’m Mr. Phillips. Do you have news for me?” He extended a firm hand to shake the doctor’s.
“Let’s sit down. I’ll take you in to see Mrs. Phillips in a moment, but I wanted to talk with you first.”
“That sounds ominous. Is she going to be okay?”
“Yes, she is not in any immediate danger, but she has sustained a bad injury to her ankle, and her situation is complicated. Her ankle bone is broken, but she also dislocated it, and it is extremely swollen.”
“Well, you can fix that, can’t you?” Preston asked impatiently.
“Yes and no. Your wife will need surgery eventually. We can’t do it now because the swelling is so severe. We sedated her in order to X-ray it and set the bone in a cast. Then we X-rayed it again to make sure the bone was lined up correctly, but it wasn’t.”
“Who was doing this inept work on my wife?” Preston exploded. “I want to talk to your supervisor.”
“Calm down, Mr. Phillips. I am the resident on call this weekend. I assure you I know what I am doing, and the ankle has now been properly aligned. We’ve been working on her for the past two hours, making sure the external fixation is perfectly in place.”
“It’d better be. Now tell me what external fixation means.” I hate having to suck up to this pipsqueak.
“Your wife has six pins in her bones that are connected to a bar. The bar holds the bones in place. She will have to wear this appliance for three to four weeks, until the swelling goes down enough for her to have surgery.”
“You mean the kind of surgery that means permanent plates and screws?” As a football enthusiast, Preston was familiar with the process that would sideline a player for at least a season. He never dreamed he would have to deal with such an injury with his wife.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. It is an unfortunate accident, but Mrs. Phillips’ prognosis is good. She’s young and healthy, and she’ll heal fast.”
“We’re just here for the weekend. We live in New York,” Preston muttered, half to himself.
“Yes, Mrs. Phillips mentioned that. She can travel home with the appliance on her foot and see an orthopedic surgeon there. The important thing is that she not get an infection. You can see her now, but she is going to need to rest. She’s still groggy from the sedation, and she will have to remain on oxycodone for the next several days. If all goes well, she’ll be able to leave the hospital on Monday.”
“Monday? Why can’t she
just rest at the Campbells’ farm? We’re here for a very important birthday celebration.”
“I assure you, Mrs. Phillips is not going to feel much like partying. Your wife is in a lot of pain.”
“Nevertheless, I think she would be better off resting at the farm. Unless she is in mortal danger, I want her discharged now.”
“As you say, Mr. Phillips, but you’ll have to sign papers acknowledging that this is against medical advice.”
“Well, take me to my wife, Doctor. We’ll have to do the best we can.” I’ll let Cousin Caro play nursemaid tonight. I’m sure she’ll do a better job than I could. This entire weekend is a fiasco, Preston thought, but then he remembered that if he hadn’t come, he wouldn’t have seen Margo and had the chance to apologize to her. Hmmm...maybe the whole weekend isn’t ruined, after all, he thought, smiling wickedly to himself.
Chapter 11
The men had joined their wives at the restaurant, where they lingered into the afternoon, waiting for Nicole to be released from the hospital.
“I hope Nicole is able to leave the hospital this afternoon,” said Les. “It’s after three already.”
“Dinner won’t be until late,” Caro said. “I thought we could go back, rest from our day’s adventures, and come down for cocktails at eight.”
Marshall looked at his watch, pulled a pill case from his pocket, and downed a small white tablet. He glanced at Julia and shrugged. “With horseback riding, the hospital, and now lunch, it slipped my mind completely.”
Julia didn’t reply. She knew how much pressure Marshall had been under lately. Being a financial wizard wasn’t easy, especially in these uncertain times. She worried about Marshall’s health, his job, his investments. That was one of the reasons she had wanted to come to John E.’s birthday celebration. She wanted to confront Preston, to make him pay for hijacking Marshall’s inheritance. Fortunately, Marshall had a good income, and they had wisely parlayed the cheese business profits into secure assets, but, in this economy, one could never be too sure about money. Truthfully, it seems the more we have, the more we need. There is just no way to get ahead anymore.
She was pretty sure Preston would want to do right by Marshall once she explained everything to him her way. She had spent years gathering information about her in-laws’ estate and the way Preston had mismanaged it from the beginning. It was time to use that information now, before things got really nasty.
***
Vicki was watching Julia. It seemed as if her friend had been talking to herself a lot this weekend. Except for the few hours of shopping and light conversation with the girls this morning, Julia had seemed tense, and Vicki knew better than most why.
Julia hates Preston almost as much as Leon and I do, although for different reasons. I can’t blame our financial woes on him, although who knows? If Tony hadn’t been killed, maybe Leon would have been more careful with risking so much in that bad deal last year. Maybe every single bad thing that has ever happened since Tony’s death is Preston’s fault.
Vicki’s eyelids felt like lead weights. “I think a nap is a great idea,” she said in response to Caro’s suggestion.
***
Just then John E.’s Polytron prototype cell phone rang. “It’s Preston,” he informed everyone, before answering the call. “Hello? Sure, we’ve been waiting for your call. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“Let’s go, everyone. Nicole has been released, though she’s not going to be much in the mood to party tonight.”
Everyone piled into the three SUVs that had brought them into town. Two headed straight to Bucolia, and one took a detour to the hospital to pick up Preston and Nicole. Les expressed what everyone was likely thinking, despite the accident and individual agendas, “No matter what’s happened, we came here to celebrate a birthday, so we are going to party on.”
***
“So sorry, John E.,” Nicole slurred, as she rode sideways in the back seat of the Mercedes SUV, her foot propped up on pillows. “Didn’t mean to ruin your party, you know?”
“Not your fault,” John E. replied. “And besides, the party isn’t ruined. We’ll all still have a great dinner tonight. I’m just sorry you are in so much pain.”
Nicole didn’t answer. Her head had lolled over to the left against the soft leather upholstery, and her faint snore indicated that the pain medicine had kicked in.
John E. patted the seat next to Preston. “It’s going to be hard on you these next few days, taking care of Nicole.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Preston replied. “Nicole is pretty tough. Once this pain medication wears off, she’ll probably be hopping around on one foot and taking care of me.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” John E. said. “Those pins and that metal contraption look like pure torture to me. Also, I’m thinking we should make a bed for her on the first floor tonight. There’s no way she can make it up to the fourth floor bedroom.”
Preston smiled, revealing his trademark dimples. “Good idea, John. I’m sure that would be best for Nicole. And I won’t mind sleeping by myself for one night, either.”
John E. shook his head at Preston’s lack of concern for his wife. I’m just glad I’m not married to him.
***
By the time John E., Preston, and Nicole arrived at the farm, the main floor was bustling with preparations by the army of personnel, overseen by Caro. Almost all of the guests had gone upstairs to rest before the evening’s festivities. The florist crew, dressed in green and gray uniforms, was decking the house with fragrant arrangements. The catering staff, dressed in formal black and white, was preparing the table and serving trays, setting up the bar, and starting to cook. The impending feast promised to be a memorable one.
Julia had offered to stay downstairs to assist Caro with whatever needed to be done, though obviously there were more than enough people on hand. When Caro politely declined, she asked if she might read her novel downstairs. “I never sleep in the daytime, but I don’t want to disturb Marshall’s nap. Poor darling, he works too hard, and he needs his beauty rest.” Hopefully this way I might have a chance to talk privately with Preston once he gets Nicole settled, she thought. She curled up in the office, where she had a view of the circular driveway and the warm family room.
When the Mercedes SUV pulled up in the driveway, she put her book down and jumped up, her rehearsed speech running through her head like the ticker tape at the Stock Exchange. She donned her mink sweater and joined Caro in front of the garage to greet the two men, who were trying to figure out the best way to transport Nicole inside.
“Why don’t we use the caterer’s dolly?” Julia suggested, pointing to the large flatbed stacked with aluminum containers.
“That’s a really good idea,” Preston said, as if amazed that Julia could have generated it. “Let’s move these pans somewhere, so we can get Nicole onto the dolly.”
“I’ve already covered one of the sofas in the family room with pillows and bed linens,” Caro said. “We just have to go through a couple of rooms to get her there.”
Nicole had awakened when the car rolled to a stop, and she was looking about, her eyes half open. “I’m afraid, Preston, totally,” she cried when he bent into the back seat to place her arm around his neck. “I don’t want anyone to touch me, but you.”
Despite Nicole’s petite size, lifting and carrying her dead weight was not that easy. Preston felt every bit of his sixty-seven years, mostly in his right knee. “Hold on tight, and we’ll do this as quickly as we can.”
John E. had secured a dog ramp to the back steps. It was the perfect size for the catering dolly. Preston wheeled Nicole to the family room sofa, where she collapsed as if she had been the one doing the carrying. “I need another pain pill, Preston,” Nicole complained. “This really hu--r--ts.”
Trying to make herself useful, Julia went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She carried it into the family room. “Here you go, Nicole,” she cooed, hoping she sounded s
ympathetic. I hope the pill knocks her out quickly, so I can have a little chat with Husband of the Year, here.
Nicole gazed at Julia with puppy dog eyes as she grasped the glass of water. Preston held out an oxycodone, which Nicole swiftly gulped down with a swig. Preston hesitated before closing the pill bottle. On impulse, he removed an additional pill, popped it in his own mouth, and drained the glass of water.
Just then Caro walked into the room. “Preston, Julia, can you give me some time with Nicole? I want to make sure she is comfortable and all of her needs are taken care of.” She shooed the two into the first-floor office and sat next to Nicole, careful not to jostle her. She’d never dreamed that hosting the birthday party would be this complicated.
***
“Preston, may I have a word with you?” Julia began, as soon as they cleared the threshold to the office. She patted the loveseat to indicate where she expected him to sit, a few inches from where she then sat down.
Preston obliged, but he stared out the window at the snow, instead of making eye contact. A small vein throbbed near his eye.
“I was hoping we could talk.”
“About what?” Preston asked.
“About the Winthrops’ estate, that’s what.”
“That’s ancient history, Julia. Your in-laws’ estate has been closed for at least a decade.” He rubbed his right knee, wishing the oxycodone would kick in.
“Technically speaking, you are correct,” Julia replied, nonplussed. “But it’s what happened in the thirty years before it was closed that I wanted to talk with you about.”
Murder in the One Percent Page 6
