“But he works on the house every day—”
“Fuck the house. He needs to bring in some income, and you need to see his paycheck. Things have changed now, Helen, and you’ve got to talk to him about it. Confront him.”
Helen shifted in her chair. “I know I do. No matter how angry he gets or what he does.”
“You’re not afraid of him, are you? Please tell me you have no reason to be.”
“Dawn. I’m not. But when he loses his temper, that ends any discussion. He walks away.” After breaking something.
“You cannot let him walk away. You have to deal with this. He has to make some money—he has to help you support your family. This thing with the house is an excuse. You said yourself that even when Candace lends you guys more money, nothing ever changes on the house. You need to find out what he’s doing with that money—money that you owe her, too.”
Helen leaned farther down and rested her elbows on her desk. “I don’t know how I’m going to do that. He’ll accuse me of not trusting him—of doubting him.”
“Let him accuse you. You shouldn’t trust him—you can’t anymore, and I wish you never had. You cannot let him keep on bullying you. You’re the one with the job—you make a good salary. You have the power. Use it. Open a bank account in your own name. Give him an ultimatum. Tell him he’s off your dime unless A, he brings you in on all the financials on the house immediately, and B, he gets a fucking job.”
“You make it sound easy. First of all, no one would even hire him. His work record is spotty.”
“He can find a job. He can deliver pizzas. Work at the goddamn grocery store, a hardware store. Anything.”
“He’ll never do it.”
“He has to. Listen, I know you’re in shock that you’re pregnant. You’re upset and you feel horrible. But you need to take control of your marriage. If Monty gets off his ass and gets a job, you guys will have more money. And if you take over that renovation, get it done and get the house sold—even at a loss—your world changes.”
“If, Dawn. If. Those are big ifs.”
“Demand it, Helen. When Candace finds out about the baby—”
“I’m not telling her. Not yet,” said Helen.
“Well, when she does, and she will, she needs to demand it, too. That he work, not ‘on the house,’ but at a paying job. Not because she’s his sister, but because she’s a creditor. She’s got a ton of money invested in that house, and I’m sure she requires specifics from him on that renovation—a regular report of where the money’s going. At least I hope she does. I think you need to call her today and tell her you’re pregnant.”
“I know, but—”
“Before he does.”
“He may have told her already,” said Helen. “He doesn’t tell me when they talk.”
“Well, I think you need to call her yourself. I know you two aren’t close. But she’s a businesswoman, and she’s your sister-in-law. Both of you have a vested interest in accountability.”
“I don’t know if I’ll call her.” I won’t even call Mom. She’d be absolutely no help, as usual—she’d be the opposite.
“I love you so much. I hate to stand by and watch what you’re going through.”
Helen saw her boss walk out of his office. “I love you, too. Listen, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
She put the phone down and stared at the computer screen in front of her. She couldn’t talk to anyone else right now. Her mind was too focused on her baby forming within her body, and on her altered future.
She had to think of the positives—the negatives were too upsetting. Her situation was far from ideal, but she was already a mother, and thankful for Adele. Maybe this baby was a boy, and if so, maybe that would make a difference to Monty. No matter what it was, maybe just having two children would make him a more of a partner. Maybe it could bring them together as a couple.
Whatever happened, though, she had to deal with it. She had to chase away her initial feelings of panic and despair and replace them with optimism and hope.
Candace stepped into the conference room at her Atlanta office in Buckhead where all eleven members of the marketing team awaited her, laptops open.
“SwimZ. That’s the name,” Candace said to the group. “Not SwimZuit, or SwimZ-suit. Five letters, just like SlimZ. Only one letter changes.” She glanced from one face to the next. “This will be the label—the change in logo for swimwear. The tall, skinny girl that’s the l in SlimZ is going to be the w in SwimZ, but wearing a black SwimZ and relaxing on a chaise lounge. You’ll be getting the proofs in a few days.”
Candace’s phone buzzed. Checking it, she saw a text message from Rob. She turned to the head of sales and marketing, who led this group as well as the nine-member sales team. “Amanda, I’m leaving you to conduct this meeting. Everyone has received an email of the agenda. Make sure we know where we are on all social media, including our new Twitter account. I want a report on the internal action plan on my desk by five o’clock.”
Candace left the room, read Rob’s message, and called her twenty-four-year-old assistant into her office.
“Jess, shut the door,” she said. “I want you to know that I’m grateful that you’ve kept knowledge of my engagement to yourself these past few weeks. Where are we on the plans?”
“Oh, not a problem. I’ve got calls into all the New York City hotels that you and Mr. Chandler wanted me to look into.”
“Call him Rob.”
Jess smiled. “Rob. And I’m working on the guest list.”
Candace reached into an interior compartment of her black leather Fendi Peekaboo bag and took out a small turquoise felt envelope. Opening it, she slid on the engagement ring that she and Rob had selected: a five-carat sapphire surrounded by several large, round diamonds set in platinum. Jess gasped.
“Oh my God! It’s gorgeous!”
Candace smiled. “I think so, too. Not too big, is it?”
“Oh, no. Does this mean—are you gonna wear it, now? Let everyone know?”
“Well, Rob finally got a chance to tell his mother in person, so we decided it’s time. PR needs to know now anyway, since it’s going to happen a few weeks after Fashion Week in September.”
“So, do you want me to help get the word out in the office today?”
“I’ll decide and let you know. For now, please email me a short summary of where you are on the plans. Your to-do list, showing what’s done and what’s not done, and look for my response.”
“Right away.” Jess retreated a step, then turned to exit the office and go back to her desk.
Candace picked up her phone and contemplated listening to Monty’s voicemail. He had called this morning while she was getting her nails done. Ever since David had received those copies of vendor invoices from him a few weeks ago, neither she nor her money manager had heard from her brother. Thank God David had been absolutely right when he said Monty’s threats in that angry email last month were bluffs. There was nothing Monty could really do to her.
Pretty soon, like the rest of the world, he would know about her decision to marry Rob later this year. She didn’t feel the need to tell him herself. When he found out, she knew he would turn the news of her engagement into another petition for cash. She studied her ring. Why shouldn’t she and Rob spend their money on a lavish New York wedding—money that both of them had worked very hard to earn? Her brother would never understand it, she was certain. His only mission, what he spent all of his time and energy on, was to guilt her into forking over small chunks of her fortune.
This he did, while judging her for her success. He had no idea what it was like to put in the hours to build a career, much less a business. Candace was sure that any one of her employees here at SlimZ, down to the youngest and last hired, had more work experience than her thirty-seven-year-old brother. It was true that he’d had vario
us jobs over the last two decades, but he’d always either quit or been fired after a few months. Each time, he claimed that he was much smarter than his boss, that his intelligence and talent had been undervalued.
He talked continually about “the next big thing” he was going to produce, the great idea he was going to propose and the mint he would make on it. When Candace had come up with her own invention and founded her company, he’d been extremely critical, insanely jealous, and infuriated. He’d gotten over it, though, and had maintained his pattern of avoiding work, supported by a string of live-in girlfriends and not getting close to the altar until Jeanine.
Then one day he called and said he was the father of a baby girl and was about to marry her mother. The next week, Candace came to meet Adele and Helen. After they got married, she gave the three of them twelve thousand dollars apiece. Then Monty had gotten her alone and made her listen to his appeal. With teary eyes and remorseful about his past mistakes, he fed Candace a sob story about wanting to finally make something of himself, and begged her to give him the chance. He said he’d found the perfect house to renovate. He would do much of the work himself and oversee the rest. It would be a great opportunity, he claimed, to develop his skills and get experience for a career in the business. Invoking the memory of their father and not forgetting to mention their mother’s death, he pleaded with Candace to back him financially.
With little rational analysis and overmuch emotion, Candace had caved. Once Monty and Helen bought a house they couldn’t afford without Candace’s help, Monty had begun his constant pleas for cash. She was glad she had stood her ground in March and refused to supply him with another hundred grand. David hadn’t received the rest of the documents he’d requested, but since Candace wasn’t out any more money, she had put that fact out of her mind. She’d been very busy.
She listened to Monty’s message. Another baby? What was the matter with them? She sat back in her chair and exhaled, closing her eyes. After a deep breath, she dialed her brother’s number.
He picked up on the first ring. “Candace! Are you in town?”
She cleared her throat. “Congratulations on the pregnancy, Monty. How’s Helen?”
“She’s terrific. Just found out,” he said in a cheery tone. “As happy about it as I am.”
“How old will Adele be by then—three, I guess?”
“Right. Listen, Candace—”
Candace leaned back; her grip on the phone tightened. “No, you listen, Monty. I assume that this was planned. Whether it was or wasn’t is none of my business.”
“That’s for damn sure,” he snapped.
“However, it does underscore your financial situation—”
“Which is also none of your business.”
“To the contrary, that is very much my business, and you know it. David hasn’t heard anything more from you—”
“Correction, Candace. I haven’t heard any more from you. For weeks. You don’t answer my calls, you don’t reply to my emails—”
“Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? What is the situation with the house? You need to update me. A year ago, you showed me a list of everything that remained to be done. Here we are today, and I’ve no idea what’s been completed. I don’t know what’s happened to the funds I loaned you or to the draws you’ve taken on the home equity loan that I cosigned.”
“I sent your little bean counter the invoices last month. Don’t tell me he didn’t mention them. Perhaps you’ve been distracted lately.”
“David has received exactly two invoices. I presume there have been many more. You know that wasn’t all that was required, either. I expect you to comply with the all the terms we agreed upon.”
“I have complied,” said Monty, his voice rising. “You’re the one who isn’t holding up your end of the bargain.”
“What are you talking about? Last April, you said all the work would be finished by the end of the summer, and you’d get the certificate of occupancy. That didn’t happen. Then you got the home equity loan and said the renovation would be complete by January. You said you’d take photos and get it on the market, and you haven’t done it. What’s the story on that?”
“We’ve had several cost overruns that have caused a delay. They were unavoidable.”
“Where’s the evidence of these ‘cost overruns’? Explain them to me, Monty. Where’s the transparency?”
“I cannot even believe that I’m related to you,” he said. “We must have different fathers.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“You are a crazy, paranoid, insecure, calculating bitch with a germ phobia and a weight obsession. You won’t succeed in manipulating me—”
“Me manipulate you? Monty, you’re projecting,” she said and gave a harsh laugh. “It’s you who’ve been manipulating me. For years.”
“Fuck you, Candace. That’s complete bullshit. Your narcissism is incredible. I told you I needed more money last month and you ignored me. Do you realize that we’re still living in the guesthouse?”
“Are you telling me the house isn’t livable? That you still don’t have the C.O.?”
“Here’s what I’m saying. Listen carefully. We have another baby on the way. You’ve refused to provide the funds I need to finish the renovation. You know the market has been spiraling downward. You invested in the property, and if you keep on withholding money, if I have to walk away from that house, you’re the one who’s going to be fucked. Not me.”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Ask David.”
“I will. Look, Monty. You’ve allowed this project to run massively over budget. If you need more money to complete it, go get a job and make the money.”
“I don’t have time for a job, Candace.”
She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. Then she exhaled. “Why not? What is so hard about getting up off your ass and going to work every day?”
Monty huffed. “I am working—seven days a week—as the unpaid general contractor on this property. Every bit of Helen’s salary is already out the door before she brings it in. I’m not being compensated for what I do, and because of that, we have no extra money.”
“Are you saying you want funds from me to pay yourself a salary? Good God, Monty. The ongoing financial issues you and Helen have are not my fault, nor is the state of the real estate market.”
“I am saying that I’m acting as general contractor. I’m working. I’m doing everything that needs to be done, and I get no credit for it, no money, and no respect.”
“I don’t believe for a second that you’re ‘working’ every day. If you are, let’s see the proof. What’s more, I didn’t have to do anything for you financially.”
“Then why did you? As I recall, you said you believed in me, and in this project. That Dad would have loved doing one like it, that he would have wanted me to do it—”
“You said that, Monty.”
“Do you think he would want his grandchildren to be living in a crappy little cottage while you keep us from finishing the house?”
“Look. It’s not me who’s responsible for this situation. Here’s the reality: as a huge favor, I agreed to loan you a considerable sum to buy the place, renovate it, and sell it. You insisted that when you were finished, you’d be able to get three times what you paid for it. You’ve put my money at risk and your own credit in jeopardy. You’ve dragged your feet, lied to me, and refused to provide the documentation that you agreed to.”
“You must be hallucinating from lack of calories.”
“Monty, join the real world. Live up to your commitments and stop being delusional. Your behavior is absolutely inexcusable. You should be expressing only gratitude toward me, not any kind of animosity.”
“You’re a fucking lunatic,” he screamed. “You’ve treated me like shit, not the other way around. A
s always.”
Candace spoke slowly. “I know it’s difficult, but you need to understand this. If you don’t comply with the terms of our agreement, if you aren’t forthright with me and David, I’ll take over the whole damn thing and get it sold myself. Immediately. You and your family can find another place to live.”
“I’ll tell Helen you were thrilled to hear about her pregnancy, Candace.”
“Do that, Monty. Tell her I wish her the best,” she said. Despite her earlier resolve, she continued, “And tell her something else for me: Rob Chandler and I are getting married this fall in New York. She can email me your new address this summer for your invitation to my wedding.”
“I don’t think so. She’ll be eight months pregnant by then. None of your family will be able to attend.”
“Good-bye, Monty.” She hung up and dropped the phone into her bag.
David Shepherd finished his lunch at the Best Spot Bakery and began to walk the short distance back to his office in the Jefferson-Sloan Building. It was a beautiful April day, with the sun shining high in a cloudless sky at the end of the noon hour. Manicured rows of flowers bloomed along both sides of Peachtree Street, lining the sidewalk and filling every possible space surrounding the downtown hotels, storefronts, and skyscrapers. Spring in Atlanta was lovely, but with it came the pollen season, and David suffered from it every year. He took allergy medication daily beginning in late February and was never without his handkerchief.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Retrieving it, he saw it was Candace Morgan. He cleared his throat and answered the call.
“Hi, David. I spoke to Monty this morning.”
“You took his call?”
“No—I called him back. He’d left me a voicemail earlier saying Helen’s pregnant.”
“So you offered your congratulations, I presume—”
“Yes, but I didn’t leave it at that, unfortunately. I started questioning him about the house and his lack of communication about it. Then he launched into a tirade and attacked me personally. Apparently he still doesn’t have the C.O. The three of them are still living in that one-bedroom guesthouse in the back, and the baby is due in November.”
Underwater Page 6
