The Daughter-in-Law (33 page)

“The gallery. We’ll need show space and storage space. We were talking about it last night.”

“Pam, do I know you? Your name seems familiar.”

“Probably it’s my mother that you know. She’s heavy into art. She raises all sorts of money for museums and galleries. She probably hit you up for a donation or something.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of her. And your father is . . .”

“A financier. He owns Sound Holdings.”

He was staring wide-eyed at the telephone long after Pam had hung up.

Kimes had called the desk and canceled his checkout. He called Indianapolis and told his office that he would be staying on in New York for a few days. Then he started down Park Avenue to visit some of his associates who owned galleries.

He and Pam had been together every evening, marching through the Upper East Side art district until everything closed, and then stopping in small restaurants for light dinners. Pam, he discovered, had excellent taste both in art and in properties. She also had an unlimited budget or, more accurately, absolutely no idea of what a budget was. She was sold on locations before she even asked the rent, and even the most outlandish figures failed to alarm her. She talked decoration and design as if she were furnishing a dollhouse.

In the course of conversation, Pam had let slip little hints of the kind of money she might bring to the party. She referred to a desk as being like the one her mother had in the Newport house, and a picture was like a painting in the entrance gallery of the North Shore house. She didn’t care for seascapes. There were too many of them hanging in the family yacht.

Carefully, he had probed these revelations, expanding them to their full significance. “It must be a big house?” was an innocent enough question, but it elicited that there were thirty-eight rooms at Rockbottom—not counting the cabanas. “Oh, and how do you like Paris?” was an inoffensive way of asking how often she went and where she stayed. As the evidence mounted, the size of her potential investment became enormous. Kimes realized that she might be able to buy any painting in the world, and that just one of the great ones could make their gallery the talk of the art world.

There also had been suggestions of romantic possibilities. Twice
when he had dropped her off, Pam had asked him up for the requisite drink. She was probably just being polite, but there was a chance she was announcing her availability. And that was both a glorious opportunity and a dangerous hazard. Romantic involvement might become the glue of the business involvement, giving him endless access to both the girl’s charms and financial treasure. But the same scenario could well be described as the seduction of Jack Donner’s daughter intended to lay claim on Jack Donner’s money. In his indecision, Kimes handled her like a bomb that might explode at any moment, afraid either to set it down or to toy with its wiring. The safest course was to toss it in one direction and run in the other. But to the handsome young art buyer, beauty and money were an irresistible combination.

They had settled on a location, a second floor on Madison Avenue, east of the Guggenheim. It was a new building that could easily be partitioned into separate galleries and office areas, and it had its own walk-up entrance from the street. It was at that point that Pam admitted she didn’t have the money to put down, but it would be coming shortly. Her father would be delighted with her initiative, and would certainly cover the renovation costs. And then, her sister-in-law whom Kimes had met, would be bringing more money to the party. The funds were there, and there was no reason why they shouldn’t plunge ahead. She had even brought him to meet Ben Tobin, her attorney, who had drawn up the agreement of partnership.

But the money wasn’t coming and, while there were further hints of romantic interest, he was no closer to becoming Pam’s lover. Gradually, it began to dawn on him that while he thought he was coming into a fortune, the fact was that little Pam Donner was picking his brains and marketing his expertise.

Pam signed the lease, paying the deposit out of her pocket money while he put up the advances due to the contractors. Then she and William began renovating the space. She concentrated on remodeling and decorating, while he searched for the artists he hoped to involve. But he balked at putting up any more money. What about the investor she had introduced him to? And where was Jack Donner’s fatherly support? He began to hint that he might have to reclaim his old career, and return to his offices in Indianapolis.

Their romance started accidentally. A carpenter drove a nail into
a new water pipe, and the water pressure pushed out the nail. Pam arrived after work to find part of the ceiling on the floor and workmen from three different unions trying to argue in unrelated languages. Kimes came upon Pam in tears, took her in his arms to console her and ended up making love to her on top of soggy drop cloths. They needed paint thinner to wipe off the stains of olive and white, and then showers to wash off the paint thinner. With that much intimacy already behind them, Kimes had no second thoughts about moving from his hotel to her apartment, hoping that the money would follow soon.

FIFTY-EIGHT

J
ACK WAS
sitting with his face in his hands when he heard Nicole’s key turn in the lock. She was stunned to see him but recovered quickly. “Jack, what a pleasant surprise.”

“It’s been a morning of surprises,” he answered. He nodded toward the answering machine. “I just heard my daughter tell you that she was opening a gallery. She seems to be counting on you to become her partner.”

She offered food, coffee, and then alcohol, but he waved them all away. “There’s something I have to tell you, and it’s not easy for me. I need you to just sit here with me and listen.”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Nicole answered, but she settled onto the edge of a chair directly across from his place on the sofa.

Jack spoke without emotion, just as if he were reviewing the pros and cons of buying into a new issue. His eyes were fixated on his hands that he kept folding and unfolding. Only occasionally did his glance flicker up to Nicole.

It was the story he had rehearsed. In the beginning he had assumed that she was just another of Jonathan’s friends, classier than most of them and certainly more attractive than any. But he had quickly grown to like her and perhaps even envy his son’s good fortune. “I love Alexandra,” he assured her and himself as well, “but you had . . . have . . . this electrical attraction. I was certainly taken in.”

He had never agreed with Alexandra’s paranoia for protecting Jonathan. He had certainly never supported her snooping into Nicole’s background. He knew that Jonathan was happy with his choice, and he was happy for his son. Oh, sure, he had his concerns. All parents do. But there was nothing that would have prompted him to oppose the wedding.

Then Jonathan died, and he was shaken to the soul. Despite all his bluster he loved his son, and the loss left him hollow and emo-
tionless. He thought he recognized the same emptiness in her, and that was what had drawn him to her.

“I had no right. . . no right at all. . . to touch you. But I would have died if it hadn’t been for you. And then I realized how much . . . how deeply . . . I loved you. That’s what I acted on. That’s what I’m still acting on.”

He made his case as to why he had to break off the affair, hoping that she would understand and not hate him too much. It would destroy Alexandra who, despite her irrational dislike for Nicole, still didn’t deserve to be treated shabbily. It would drive away his daughter. It would certainly tarnish the empire he had built, and in financial empires tarnish was every bit as fatal as rust is to iron. His business was held together by confidence in his integrity. Scandal would gnaw away at confidence.

Nicole listened sympathetically, acknowledging that their relationship would always be a danger to him. What he was putting at risk was magnitudes more than anything she stood to lose.

Jack got down to his proposal. There had to be a wide and permanent separation between them. She had to leave the orbit of his life or otherwise he would always be moving toward her, even when he thought he was moving away. But he wanted her to live just as Jonathan would have wanted. He wanted her to have everything that their marriage would have provided, and the wealth and security that he himself would have given her.

“I don’t want our lawyers and accountants arguing over you as if you were a commodity, or as if there were some price that would precisely match your value. So I’m going to settle it myself. I’ll have a check ready for fifteen million dollars. Just sign the damn papers they put in front of you, and take the check. Try to think of it as an expression of affection, and not as a settlement.”

He fell into a silence that she had to interrupt. “Jack, that’s very generous of you. I’ll never forget you . . . or Jonathan ...”

Jack stood. “I’ll say my good-byes now. I don’t think I should be at the meeting. I couldn’t fake a simple handshake.” He took her in his arms, held her close for just a second, and then turned to the door. Nicole stood watching until he was gone.

FIFTY-NINE

“F
IFTEEN MILLION.”
Victor Crane shook his head. “It’s a hell of a lot of money, and just because Jack can make it back in a few weeks, doesn’t make it cheap.”

“Cheap compared to the twenty-five million he wanted to pay her,” Ben Tobin answered. “And when you figure how easily she might have tied the family fortune in knots, it’s probably a bargain.”

They were in Victor’s conference room going over the details of the agreement. There were documents for Nicole that waved any future claims against the Donner estate, her surrender of the right to use the Donner name. There were also tax forms that recognized liability for the taxes involved, and agreements for Jack, Alexandra, and Pam, acknowledging the payment and giving up any future claim to the money. The two men read together, stopping to debate words and phrases and send secretaries scurrying back to their word processors.

Nicole arrived in a dark suit, befitting the assumed dignity of legal proceedings. She signed without reading, simply glancing at Ben and acting on his nod. She took the check as casually as if it were payment for Girl Scout cookies, and handed it over to Ben for processing. Then she stood, shook hands all around, and left the office, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor of the lobby.

“What was she worth six months ago?” Victor wondered aloud.

“A few thousand. Less than ten, I think,” Ben answered.

“A very fortunate woman!”

“She just lost her husband,” Ben corrected.

Victor smirked. “A very fortunate woman,” he repeated.

Nicole went back to her apartment, dressed in jeans and a sweater, and gathered her luggage. It was a minimal burden for the concierge—one medium-size valise with wheels and a handle, and
an overnight bag with a shoulder strap. “When will you be coming back, Mrs. Donner?” he asked as he helped her into a taxi.

“In a few days,” she lied. “A week at the most.” That was the message she had left on her answering machine. She would be visiting out on Long Island for a few days and then would be back home. Jimmy would be pleased at the thought that she was worming her way back into the Donner household. She didn’t want her absence to alarm him.

She directed her driver up the East Side and then across one of the East River bridges. Her head turned constantly, looking for cars that might be following. Once on the Queens side she directed the driver to return by a different route to Manhattan. When she was sure that no one had hung behind her, she gave her real destination, a busy tourist hotel on the West Side, only a ten-minute walk from the apartment she had left.

But the maneuver had effectively opened light years between her new life and the life she was leaving behind. Jack, for all his resources, wouldn’t be able to find her. Jimmy Farr would spend a week watching her empty apartment. Pam, in her new venture, would have to fend for herself. And Alexandra would have no one to accuse no matter how much evidence she gathered. The woman they all thought they knew had vanished from the landscape. When she reappeared, it would be in totally new surroundings.

All Nicole had to do was wait a day or so, check with Ben Tobin, and make sure her check had cleared. Then the bank would be able to tell her when the funds were safely tucked away in her Swiss account. At that point, she would walk out of her hotel to a rental car agency, and take a car up to the airport in Boston. A transatlantic flight would carry her to France where her Irish passport would gain her easy entry. And then, with that passport giving her unquestioned access to any of the European countries, she would find a home suitable to a woman of her newfound wealth.

Jimmy would go crazy, a thought that brought a smile to her lips. He’d watch the Sound Holdings offices, probably even phone to find out if she had already moved in with the senior executives. He’d watch Jack’s town house and check the residences on Long Island and in Newport. By the time he realized that she was gone her trail would already have turned cold. Maybe he’d find out about the settlement, and realize that she had already made off with more money
than he had ever been able to pocket for all his wheeling and dealing. Nicole would love to see his reaction when he knew that his dancing girl had outsmarted him, but that was a pleasure she had to deny herself.

And Jack! Poor Jack! He was a decent man despite his tough-guy personality. He truly would miss her much more than any amount of money he could have paid. But he had made the only decision possible—the decision she had expected since the first moment she caught him ogling her. Too bad, because he would have made a great traveling companion.

She thought that she would like to see Pam again. She knew that Jonathan’s sister would feel betrayed by her abrupt departure, and hurt that Nicole hadn’t said as much as a good-bye. Probably Nicole would be able to follow her career in the art sections of the newspapers. It would be fun to drop in from nowhere at one of her European events. But that wouldn’t be possible. Like the joy of watching Jimmy Farr go into a tantrum, it was a pleasure that she could never allow herself. She had to vanish completely and permanently.