Maxine (29 page)

“Would you go to the funeral with me? Please, Nick. I don’t want to go alone.”

“Yeah, sure.” He pulled back. “Do I need a suit?”

“We’ll buy you a new one. You need one anyway, since you lost your other one in the fire.”

“Can I order one on the computer?”

Her lip twitched in a little smile. “No, we’ll go shopping tomorrow, but please let me pay this time. If not for me, you wouldn’t need it.”

He ran his hand through his hair, a little embarrassed to have a woman buy him things. “Yeah, okay. My only credit card is maxed out or I’d buy it myself.”

She cocked her head. “Nick, you’ll get a salary for—”

He shook his head. “I’m not doing that to get paid. I’m helping a friend, that’s all. I’ll help you get things in order and shut the corporation down, and then I need to go back to Gig Harbor.”

A look of pain crossed her eyes. “You don’t want to stay with me?”

He put his hands on her face and gazed into her eyes. “I love being with you, but I can’t stay here forever. I have to go home and put my life back together.” He dropped his hands. “Are you still planning to build a house in Gig Harbor?”

She nodded, her eyes swimming with unshed tears.

“Then we need to get to work on it, so you have a safe place to stay when you come back.” He pulled her close and her tears soaked his shirt. He threaded his fingers through her soft curls and held her gently. He wanted to tell her he loved her, because he did, but he didn’t have anything to offer but himself. He needed to build a future before he could ask her to share his life.

<>

The next day Nick and Cara went shopping at a small, exclusive men’s shop, and she helped him pick out a gray wool suit. This one was a whole lot nicer than the one he had before. The sales clerk measured the leg length, marked here and there with chalk, and said the alterations would be ready the next day. “What alterations?” asked Nick.

“To make it fit better,” said Cara. She picked out three ties to go with the suit, three shirts, and socks. She insisted he pick out new shoes, too.

Cara asked that their purchases be delivered and handed the man several hundred dollars. Nick hadn’t even looked at the price. He’d never in his life owned any clothes that cost over a hundred dollars. He’d bought his other suit on sale.

On the way back to the car, he overheard a woman in the parking lot say, “She’s so rich she can buy any man she wants.”

“I think he’s kinda cute,” said another woman. “I’ll bet he’s a good lover.”

“He must be,” said the first woman.

Nick glanced at Cara, but she either didn’t hear or pretended not to. Was that what everyone thought? Did they think she bought him? He didn’t give a shit what people thought about him, but she deserved better.

<>

Nick felt uncomfortable going to the funeral of a man he’d only met once, but he wasn’t going for Bill Morrison. He was going for Cara. He dressed in his new suit, a white shirt, and dark gray tie with a subtle pattern. His new dress shoes felt butter soft. He glanced in the mirror, then looked again. The suit fit perfectly, better than anything he’d ever worn. He’d never looked so good.

Cara tapped and opened his bedroom door. “Nick, are you almost ready?”

He turned to look at Cara. She looked incredible in a fitted black suit, dark stockings and high heel shoes. The skirt was about two inches above her knees, long enough to be discreet, but short enough to make her long legs look even longer. The sight of her took his breath away.

“Oh, Nick, they did a nice job on your suit.”

He stroked the lapel. “I’ve never worn anything this nice before.”

“You look very handsome.”

“Aw, c’mon, Cara. Dressing me up does not make me handsome. Nothing will ever make me handsome.”

She motioned with her finger. “Turn around and let me see.”

He turned around slowly as she cocked her head and looked him up and down. “No, I was right. You’re very handsome.”

“And you’re full of it.” But her words warmed him.

The church was packed with people Nick had seen pictures of in the newspaper. He never thought he’d be in the same place with well-known people like this, but no one said a word or made him feel out of place. Maybe that was because Cara had her arm threaded through his, as if they belonged together.

After the service, he went with Cara to see Bill’s family. She hugged Bill’s wife, a woman he’d never met. Nick took her hand, said, “I’m sorry for your loss. He was a good man,” and then moved on, staying close to Cara.

Some of the women wore hats, but not Cara. When the service was over in the church and they moved on to the cemetery, her hair caught fire in the bright sunshine. She was the most beautiful woman there, drawing admiring glances from everyone. He felt proud to be with her.

Reporters stood back, giving family and friends the privacy they deserved, but they didn’t leave the cemetery. Nick wondered if the cameras were there for the Morrison family, for Cara, or for someone else.

When the service was over, he took Cara’s hand and walked her to the car. They were stopped in the parking lot by a small cluster of reporters. One stuck a microphone in Cara’s face. “Miss Andrews, may we have a word with you, please?”

Nick was surprised to hear Cara say, “Yes, of course.”

“Was Bill Morrison a good friend?”

“Bill Morrison was my grandfather’s good friend for many years. In the last few weeks he became my trusted friend and advisor, too. He gave me insight into the past and confidence to face the future. His death is a great personal loss. His gentle words of wisdom will stay with me forever. I’m proud to have called him friend.”

“Thank you,” said the reporter.

With his hand on her back, Nick walked her to the car. “You were ready for that.”

The bodyguard opened the door and they sat inside before Cara answered. “I wrote it last night. I figured someone would ask me to say something.”

“Maybe this isn’t the right time to say it, but you look beautiful today.”

Her eyebrows shot up in a disbelieving look. “Me?”

“I always thought you looked good, but there’s something different about you lately, a confidence that wasn’t there before.”

She straightened her skirt and leaned back. “I am more confident. I don’t care as much what people think or say about me.”

“Even me?”

“No, I care what you think.” She took his hand. “I care very much what you think, Nick.”

He cared, too. Maybe too much.

They rode in silence for a few minutes before Nick spoke again. “I saw Marge at the funeral, and Bart Cantrell and the other trustees, but I didn’t see Ron Holcomb.”

“I know. It’s Wednesday.”

“He’d miss a funeral to play golf?”

“Apparently.” She glanced out the window. “I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“I didn’t know you had a meeting scheduled tomorrow.”

“I’m going to fire him,” she said calmly, as if she fired people every day. “He fights every decision I make and I’m sick of arguing with him. Now that I know about that rip-off corporation, I can’t put it off any longer. He has to go.”

“What about your investments?”

“I’ve made a few changes and I’ll let what I have ride until I can hire someone to replace him. Surely I can find a business manager I can work with, someone I don’t have to argue with all the time.” She sighed and leaned her head back.

“You’re turning into quite a businesswoman.”

“Out of necessity.”

Nick put his hand on her knee. “Cara, when you married Lance, is this the kind of life you expected to have?”

“No, I wanted a normal life, whatever that means. I wanted to have children and be a stay-at-home wife and mother. Cassie gave me cooking lessons, because I refused to have live-in servants in Seattle. Lance hated it.”

Nick suspected she wanted privacy, something that was missing in a big house filled with servants.

“I thought I could escape the notoriety, the tabloid photographers, and all the hoopla. I was thrilled when Lance said he wanted to go back to work. I thought we’d live like other couples, that we’d start our family and live happily ever after.”

Cara’s skirt had worked its way up an inch or two, and Nick couldn’t keep his hands off. He gently rubbed her knee and thigh through the silky stocking. He loved her legs.

She threaded her arm through his and leaned into him. She looked so sad, he wanted to hold her in his arms and make everything all right. If he could turn the world into a different place, if he could make her pain and loneliness go away, he’d do it in a heartbeat. She lived alone in a house full of people. Just as his drunken mother was his legacy, her grandfather’s money was hers. “You can’t escape from the notoriety.”

Cara looked up at Nick’s face. “That’s what Bill said. He said my wealth is part of who I am, that if I gave most of it away, I’d still be a target for the unbalanced and the unscrupulous. I didn’t choose to live this way, Nick, but I can’t get away from it.”

“What else did Bill say?”

“That money is power, to use it wisely.”

Other people thought her life was perfect because she was rich, but Nick saw the sad, lonely side. She wanted to be normal, but she’d never live a normal life any more than he’d have a sober mother. It would never happen.

“So tell me, Cara. What are you going to do with all that power?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I just don’t know.”

<>

After the funeral, Cara sat in the study and called Gerry in Gig Harbor. She told him about her plans to fire Ron Holcomb. “I need a letter or something, don’t I?”

“Would you like me to draft something and e-mail it to you?”

“Yes, please.”

“When are you going to do it?”

“Tomorrow morning.” Now that she’d made the decision, she didn’t want to wait. She wanted to get it over with.

“Don’t give him time to do any damage, Cara. Give him time to clean out his desk, then get him out of there.”

Cara rubbed her forehead while she talked. “He wouldn’t do anything, would he?”

“I don’t think so, but there’s no sense in taking any chances. Have Marge call a locksmith to change the locks, and change his computer passwords immediately. Do you want me there?”

“No, I’ll do it.” The estate was her responsibility, and so was firing Ron Holcomb.

Cara sat at her grandfather’s big desk in the study. Since she’d inherited the estate, she’d gotten more involved than she’d ever intended, but it was out of necessity. She needed to hire someone she could trust, someone she didn’t have to second guess. Someone who would work with her and not against her.

She glanced at the clock. Almost five. Maybe Hutch went back to work. She hoped he did, because she needed to talk with him.

Hutch’s secretary said, “He’s here, but he’s not at his desk right now. Would you like him to call you?”

“Yes, please.”

Her next call was to Bart Cantrell. “Bart, this is strictly confidential.”

“Miss Andrews, everything I do for you is confidential.”

“Please call me Cara, and this is a little more confidential than usual. I need a final paycheck for Ron Holcomb. Make it through the end of this week. I’ll need it tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock. Add two weeks severance pay and any accrued vacation. Do you think that’s fair?”

“More than fair under the circumstances. I’ll have the check ready at nine.”

She knew without a doubt that she was doing the right thing. Ron Holcomb’s attitude was deplorable, and the way he and his friends used the RASH Corporation to steal money from the estate was downright criminal. Although it would put more responsibility on her shoulders, she couldn’t wait any longer. The man had to go.

Five minutes later, Hutch returned her call. Cara said, “I’m firing Ron tomorrow. Hutch, I spoke with Bill Morrison shortly before he died. He gave me a wonderful suggestion for a replacement. Would you consider taking the job? Bill said you’d been talking about making some changes at your company, letting someone else take over.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Part time is fine.” Ron had never put in over twenty or so hours a week anyway.

It took Hutch a few seconds to ask, “Why me?”

That was an easy question. “Because I trust you. Because you listen to me. Because we have the same philosophy about social responsibility. Because I need you.”

He laughed softly. “You make it hard to say no. I’ll talk it over with my wife.”

Now that she’d made the decision and set things in motion, Cara felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. It might be difficult for a few weeks, but it had to be done. She wanted Ron Holcomb out of the estate offices and out of her life.

<>

Ian called to Lance. “There’s something about Cara on the evening news.”

Lance ran down the stairs and into the living room, where Ian was flipping through the channels. “It’s over on one channel, but... here it is.”