Inheritance (55 page)

"Why bother?" Cole Hatton demanded. "You have a buyer."

"We shouldn't give the place away if we can get a decent price," said the man next to him.

They began to talk to each other, and Felix looked beyond them at the gray sheets of rain lashing the conference room windows. They made the distant outline of Beacon Hill look blurred and wavering.

That bitch will never own a Salinger hotel.

He shook his head. What was he thinking? She already owned two. Two of my hotels. Conned some money men— probably old men, like my father—sneaked in, and got two of my hotels.

But she'll never get another fucking thing that's mine.

"I don't intend to give it away," he said harshly, "but I don't like OWL Development—^I won't deal with them—and that's a sufficient reason—^"

"Not for me," Thomas Janssen said. His dark eyes were puzzled behind his round glasses. "If we're rejecting a qualified buyer, I'd like to know why."

Inheritance

"M-m-maybe they're not qualified?" Asa said tentatively.

"For Christ's sake," Hatton exploded. "Not qualified? They i bought our Chicago and New Yoric hotels, they've gotten mortgages and construction loans, and the Chicago hotel is wiping the floor with the competition. Shit, not qualified? Call your man back," he said angrily to Felix. "Tell him we'll take ten million. I don't care what beef you've got with OWL Development; get rid of that danm hotel. We've been farting around with it for over two years, and we've got to get started on the new one in New York. It's the only one I'm absolutely sure we should be building."

Felix's lips were a thin line; his muscles were tensed as he fought to contain his rage—at Laura Fairchild, at his board for opposing him, at his father for building the damned hotels in the first place. "I've already made this decision. We'll find another buyer."

"What's wrong with OWL?" Ben asked. "Odd name; I've wondered about it. It sounds almost like a joke, doesn't it? What's wrong with them?"

"I don't like their way of doing business," Felix snapped without bothering to turn his head. "I already said the decision is made. And we've debated it long enough."

"I'd like an answer to that question, though," said Hatton. "What's wrong with them? It didn't come up with Chicago and New York. Something changed over there? Who runs it? Who we dealing with?"

"Wes C-C-C-Currier," said Asa.

"Good man," Hatton declared. "Handled a merger for me. Something wrong with Currier?" he asked Felix.

"No," Felix said shortly.

"Who else, then? Somebody you don't like. Somebody you don't like a lot, to queer a good deal like this. So who is it?"

The door opened and a secretary came in, walking the length of the table to whisper in Ben's ear. Immediately he stood. "I'm sorry," he said, a grin breaking through his cool demeanor. "My wife is on her way to the hospital, and I want to be with her when our baby is bom. If you'll excuse me— **

A chorus of good wishes rose from the table, and Thomas Janssen jumped up and put his arm around him. "Give our love to Allison. And you'U let us know right away— V

Judith Michael

"Of course. Thanks." Ben turned and walked toward the door.

"So who don't you like?" Hatton pressed. "If you think I'm going to let a good deal fall through because you've got a flea up your ass— "

"A stockholder," Felix burst out, his rage breaking through. "I just found out. A major stockholder. Laura Fairchild. A scheming, lying— "

Ben tripped and crashed against the doorjamb.

"Good God—!" Thomas exclaimed and started toward him.

But Ben was already getting up from the floor. "Chair," he said hoarsely. "Bumped it. Sorry— '*

"It's hard to be a father," Hatton said jocularly. "Even if you aren't one yet. Better take a cab to the hospital; might not be able to trust yourself driving."

Ben nodded. Numbly, he looked at the conference table: everyone was standing, casting covert glances at Felix, who sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. Thomas had come up to Ben. "Sure you're all right?"

"Fine." Ben lowered his voice. "When I call about the baby, you'll tell me about the rest of the meeting?"

"Of course."

"All about it." Thomas nodded, but as Ben opened the door to leave, he was not sure how much he would hear, especially if Thomas and Asa managed to have a private conversation with Felix.

"What the fuck difference does it make who she is?" Hatton was demanding while others around the table began to raise their own questions. "Money's money; who gives a damn where it comes from? You thinking of what's best for the company, or whatever's eating you?"

The questions were cut off as Ben closed the door behind him and strode down the corridor, his thoughts racing between two poles.

Laura Fairchild. OWL Development.

Allison should be at the hospital by now.

How did she get to be a major stockholder?

I won't drive; Hatton's right; better take a cab.

She always was the smartest of us all, but how did she do it? Where did she get the money?

Inheritance

The doctor said everything was fine, but things can go I wrong; my God, if anything happens to Alhson— And where the hell is Clay? Nothing will happen; she's fine; the baby's fine— I have to see Laura. Find out what she's doing . . . "Mr. Gardner," the receptionist said, "I told them to hold a t taxi downstairs; I thought you might want it." [ "I do. Thanks," he said. 'Thanks for thinking of it."

He stood in the elevator feeling he was being sucked into a » vortex. Laura. Allison. Our baby. Felix losing control. \ And if he does that once too often . . . } And I keep mine . . .

I The Salinger hotel empire will be at the tips of Ben Gardner's fingers.

He ducked into the taxi as the dooiman held the door, and sat back, letting his thoughts spin, unaware of the honking and screeching of die traffic on rain-slicked streets, or the driver's muttered monologue directed at everyone who drove or walked. At the hospital he asked the way without being aware H he was doing it, and so found himself in a room with Allison p before he had time to shut out thoughts of the meeting and think only of her.

"You look fierce," Allison said as he bent to kiss her. She lay on a narrow bed and smiled up at him. "Was it the board meeting? Hold my hand and stop thinking about it. Think about being a father. I'm trying to think of us being parents in a few hours, and all of a sudden I can't imagine it. I don't have the faintest idea how to be a parent. Do you? Do you believe in spanking children?"

"No." He pulled up a chair and sat beside her, holding her hand. "I believe in giving them lots of attention and never leaving them."

"Not even for a vacation?" "We might be able to manage that." "We've hardly talked about it. Isn't that odd? I think we spent the whole nine months choosing names." She took his hand and held it on her breast. "It's been a wonderful time, hasn't it?"

*The best I've ever known. But it isn't ending, you know; it's just going to change."

Judith Michael

She smiled. "Ever since I found you, I haven*t wanted anything to change. Everything, the whole family, has been perfect." Without warning, a gasp broke from her and her face grew pinched. She drew up her legs as if trying to keep the pain from bursting through. Her breathing was shallow and quick and her hand gripped Ben's with a strength he had not known she had. "Damn," she gasped. "Why . . . isn't it . . . fun? So much . . . fun . . . making it."

He grinned. "Breathe. All those exercises, remember?"

She grimaced. "Easier when it . . . didn't hurt."

"I'll count," he said, trying to be casual. He hadn't known what it would be like to watch Allison in pain. 'Try to remember: deep, slow ..."

"Good," approved a nurse, appearing at the bedside. "So many of them forget. Mrs. Gardner, you're doing fine."

Allison nodded, her eyes still closed. "Because of my husband."

"Fine," said the nurse absendy; she was taking Allison's blood pressure.

"Is she all right?" Ben asked. He told himself not to be a fool: he'd been through all the classes with Allison, he knew what to expect, he shouldn't be worried. But it was one thing to share talk and exercises with a group of pregnant women and their husbands, and another thing to sit in a hospital room and watch Allison's face and body tensed in pain. "Is everything all right?"

"Hush," Allison said. "Ben, darting, don't yell at the nurse; she's just doing her job."

"Everything's dandy," the nurse said. "Hang in there and keep up the breathing. You're both just great."

"Does she have to be so goddam cheerful?" Ben growled.

Allison made a sound that was part grunt and part laugh. "You're supposed to pay attention to me and nobody else. Just stay close and talk to me and everything will be wonderful. . . . We're going to be the happiest threesome in the world."

Ben held Allison's hands with both of his, and neither of them looked up when the nurse left the room. "You're wonderful," he said. "And I love you."

"Hey," Allison said with a smile. "You sound surprised.

Inheritance

You should never sound surprised when you tell your wife you love her." She closed her eyes. "Having you love me is the most perfect thing that ever happened to me." She lay quietly, her body waiting for the next contraction. "I'm so glad we have everything ready at home. The bed for the nanny . . ." The pain was building; Ben could see it in the pinching of her face. "Call her later, Ben . . . don't forget ... tell her we'll want her in a couple of days. ..."

"Stop talking and breathe," Ben ordered. "And listen to me count." He held her hands and counted rhythmically, breathing with her, and as he did, everything else faded away. Felix's hostility, a new vice presidency, money, Laura, the desire to avenge Judd—they aH faded to nothing. He stroked the taut, trembling mound of Allison's womb that held their child, and leaned down to kiss her breast through the thin hospital gown, his blond hair merging with hers, long and ash-blond. He had a deep sense of safety. He had a wife who loved him, he had a home, he had a family of his own.

Laura had never answered his letter, and after he'd stopped watching the mail for it, he'd decided to wait until the baby was bom and then try again. But even if she refused to have anything to do with him, he was finding a new life that gave him almost everything he could ever want: love, a place to belong, a future. Even his drive to gain power in the Salinger empire, to settle the score with Felix, seemed unimportant as he sat beside Allison. He knew it would probably return later, but for now it was enough to love his wife and cherish what they had together. He hadn't expected to feel this way—he hadn't dreamed he could, about anyone—but now that he did, there was only Allison: her pale face, her eyes fixed on him, her hands gripping his as no one had since Laura had clung to him in the months after their parents were killed. Today there was only Allison and their baby.

"I love you," he said again. His voice was low and, oddly, he felt like crying and rejoicing at the same time. "More than I ever thought I could love anyone, or need anyone. You taught me that. I love you, Allison, and I promise to take care of you. I'll always be with you, I'll never leave you, I promise you'll never have anything to be afraid of, ever."

He kissed her and held her hands while the pains surged

Judith Michael

through her, and he stayed there as the nurse returned and left] and returned again, and was replaced by a different nurse when the shifts changed. At eleven that night, Allison's contractions were so close she barely had time to catch her breath between them, and it seemed to the two of them that the whole world had narrowed to that white room and Allison's determination to breathe properly while everything inside her felt as if it was twisting and pulling apart. Ben talked and talked, trying to distract her. And then her doctor arrived, beaming at her because she was doing fine and the baby's heart was strong and it wouldn't be long now.

And less than an hour later, just after midnight, while Ben sat beside Allison in the delivery room, still holding her hand and telling her he loved her, his son, Judd Gardner, was bom.

Chapter 21

THE second theft was in Paris, where Britt Farley, returning from a concert tour in America, unlocked the door of his apartment and found an empty mantel over the fireplace where his three rare Remington sculptures had stood. Nothing else was touched; there were no signs of forced entry, nor were there any clues. Clay's copies of Farley's keys had worked smoothly, and he had had all the time he needed, since he had learned from Farley's pocket calendar how long he would be in America and when he would return to Paris. He left the apartment exactly as he had found it, except for the three very fine Remingtons; delivered the sculptures to his broker, who commissioned all his jobs for private collectors who could not acquire certain works of art any other way; and was on the Concorde and back in New York before the weekend was over. And there was no information Farley could give the Paris police and his insurance company. The case was filed away before an investigation even had begun.

Farley had been living in Paris for almost a year, trying to kick his alcohol and cocaine habits while his manager looked for a new television series for him. For twenty-five years Britt Farley had been a singer and actor who made audiences love him. He was the country boy in the city, the innocent young man looking wide-eyed at the big wonderful world; he was naive and not too smart, but a ruggedly handsome hero with a

Judith Michael

lopsided smile that made parents think of their children when they were young and lovable, and women remember what they had once dreamed their husbands would be like. But then his skid began, and soon a reputation for alcohol, drugs, and women hung over him like a miasma. 'They won't promise us anything," his manager told him on one of his visits to Lx)s Angeles. "Not a television series, not even a concert appearance, until you've proved you can stay clean for a while—say a year. Unless . . ." He cocked his head. "I did have an idea. How about this? The new Britt Farley does a concert tour to raise money for the poor and hungry of the world."