The Hot Flash Club Strikes Again (20 page)

Claudia flicked the remote and the screen went blank. “How was your tea?”

Oh,
Polly thought.
Of course!
“It was fine. We met at the Ritz.”

Claudia’s eyes brightened. “The
only
place for tea.”

“Yes, and it’s near Carolyn’s doctor’s office.”

“And how is her health?”

“She’s got slightly elevated blood pressure, which has her doctor concerned, but she’s doing what she can to manage it, even though it’s hard when she has a company to run.”

“Her husband, Hank, is an excellent man. Went to Andover and Williams. Involved with many conservation societies.”

“Yes, and he’s a wonderful husband, from what Carolyn tells me.”

“You mentioned earlier something about Aubrey Sperry’s new wife.”

Polly hesitated. Carolyn had given Polly the okay to discuss her private life with Claudia, but Polly wanted to stress the necessity for discretion. “This is in confidence, you understand.”

Claudia looked insulted. “Of course.”

“Carolyn doesn’t like her at all. Doesn’t trust her. She’s much younger than Aubrey, and she feels just a little
off
to Carolyn.”

Claudia’s eyes gleamed. She was almost smiling.

Thrilled to be the source of such pleasure, Polly elaborated, “Heather—his new wife’s name is Heather—has withdrawn, over the past month or so, over two hundred thousand dollars from Carolyn’s father’s personal credit line.”

Claudia elevated one eloquent shoulder. “Certainly he can afford it.”

“True. Still. Carolyn’s worried that Heather has some kind of scam going.”

“Really?”

Polly had Claudia’s entire attention. “Heather did sign a prenuptial agreement, so that’s not the worry. And, yes, they can afford two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of furniture—that’s what she spent it on—but he certainly can’t afford two hundred thousand dollars flying out of his account every couple of months.”

“What sort of furniture did she buy?”

“Oh, dreadful antiques. Claudia, you ought to see them! Carolyn and Aubrey each have private wings in the old Sperry family mansion. Heather’s filled Aubrey’s rooms with a hideous mishmash of styles. Lots of painted, gilded, dainty-legged stuff mixed in with heavily carved Gothic monstrosities.”

“Where did she buy the furniture?”

“We don’t know. Carolyn has access to the joint household account and also to her father’s personal checking account, but no way to get into Heather’s personal financial statements. It doesn’t matter, anyway. We’ve seen the furniture. It’s obvious she spent the two hundred thousand dollars on the furniture.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Polly cast a look at Claudia. “What do you mean?”

Claudia fingered the pearls at her throat. “People from the very best of families have occasionally found themselves in a temporary financial pinch. One of the solutions for this problem has been to find an antiques dealer who has, shall we say,
flexible,
policies?” She glanced over, saw that Polly was completely rapt, and continued, “Let’s say that someone, let’s call her Heather, needs access to liquid funds. She writes a check for ten thousand dollars cash at the bank. She takes the cash to her friendly antiques dealer and buys a nice little Chippendale chair. She takes it home, tells her husband she paid ten thousand dollars for it. In fact, she gave the dealer seven thousand, and slipped the extra three thousand into her private safe-deposit box.”

“How fascinating! But doesn’t the dealer have to keep records for tax purposes?”

“Of course. But these dealers buy entire estates, with masses of furniture, collectibles, antiques. They can record most of their purchases and sales for the IRS and still have a few pieces set aside for this kind of easy money. It works the other way around, too, of course. Heather might bring in a piece of furniture, sell it to the dealer for, let’s say, five thousand dollars, and tell her husband she was given only three.”

“My God. We never even thought of that. I mean, we never even considered where all the old furniture from Aubrey’s wing went. Claudia, may I use your phone?”

“Absolutely.” Claudia gestured with one languid wrist to the phone on the table next to her.

Polly punched in Carolyn’s home phone number. “Carolyn? . . . Polly here. Listen, I’ve just been chatting with Claudia, and she told me something really interesting.” As Polly outlined the moneymaking scheme, Claudia’s attention hovered near her like a hummingbird near a flower. “Yes, well, I didn’t think of that possibility, either,” Polly told Carolyn. “No, sorry, I can’t think of a way for you to get into Heather’s checkbook. I assume it’s in her purse. I suppose you could sneak into her room at night while she’s sleeping, but
you
can hardly
sneak
in your present condition. . . . Oh, I don’t know, Carolyn. I’m not that graceful. . . . Yes, all right, I’ll think about it.”

With a sense of trepidation, Polly clicked off the phone. Claudia had always been so quick to criticize every little thing Polly did, what would her reaction be now, having heard that Polly might stoop to sneaking around someone’s private quarters in the middle of the night?

Deep breath,
she told herself. She turned to her mother-in-law. “Carolyn wants me to thank you for telling us about this little cash-and-carry scheme. I’m not sure what the next step will be. Carolyn wants to think about it and talk it over with her husband.”

“Excellent idea.” Suddenly Claudia was looking a little green around the gills. She put her napkin to her mouth and turned her head away from Polly.

Polly tried not to show alarm. “Are you all right, Claudia?”

“A little indigestion, that’s all, Polly, don’t fret!” Claudia closed her eyes and leaned back in her chaise, patting her chest gently.

“Is there anything I can get you? Some soda water? An antacid?”

Claudia shook her head carefully. A moment later, she opened her eyes. “As you may have noticed,” she said, all the starch back in her personality and her voice, “I’m not as strong as I was. I’m not managing to keep up with matters around the house, and I do seem to have these little emetic spells from time to time. Also, to be candid, climbing the stairs to bed at night has become somewhat of a challenge for me. I don’t need assistance, but I must say the possibility of falling has occurred to me.”

“Then we need to find someone to stay here in the house with you. We could hire—”

“I’ve told you, Polly,” Claudia interrupted sharply, “I dislike having strangers in my house, and I certainly don’t want them touching me.”

“All right.” Polly waited.

Claudia said nothing but fussed with the stems of her reading glasses.

“Oh,” Polly said, suddenly realizing what Claudia wanted. “Would you like me to come stay with you, Claudia?”

“It might not be a bad idea.
If
you thought I could be of more assistance to you and Carolyn Sperry.”

“Oh, well, you certainly provided invaluable help tonight.” Polly’s mind raced. “Could I set up my sewing machine in the dining room? I have some commissions to finish.”

“Of course.”

The reply came so quickly, Polly was stunned. “Would you like me to sleep here tonight, Claudia?”

“I think that would be best, don’t you?”

“Of course. Well, then, I’ll just run home and pack up a few things.”

“I believe the guest bedroom needs dusting,” Claudia said.

“Not a problem. I know how to dust.”

“I’m sure you do.” Her tone of voice put Polly promptly in her place.

Polly removed Claudia’s dinner plate—the older woman had eaten perhaps three bites—and brought in a dessert plate with a few tea cookies and tartlets from the Ritz. She told Claudia she’d be back soon, then hurried out through the cold winter night to her car. Driving to her house, she found her body trembling with the emotions she’d been stifling in Claudia’s presence—pity, dread, and a weird kind of love that made her burst out laughing and crying at the same time.

22

I’m just as concerned about this as you are.”

Hank’s forehead was clenched in the adorable little frown he wore when he was all worked up over saving the wetlands or the Alaskan wilderness, and to have him frowning this way now because he was worried about
her
was so cute, Carolyn could hardly focus on the problem. Sitting across from her husband at their chrome-and-glass kitchen table, finishing the hearty stew Mrs. B. had made for their dinner, Carolyn felt warm, full, and optimistic.

“But asking your friend to crawl around your father’s private quarters in the middle of the night is not the solution.” Hank sounded so
manly.
Carolyn felt a surge of lust, immediately followed by a twinge of guilt: how much of her mother’s thoughts and sensations could a fetus experience?

She forced herself back to the subject at hand. “Then what is?” It was a reasonable question. “All I want to know, Hank, is the name of the shops where Heather bought the antiques, and the price she paid for them. If she wrote those checks to cash, we’ve got grounds to suspect she’s pulling the kind of scam Polly’s mother-in-law suggested.”

“You could simply
ask
Heather where she bought the furniture,” Hank pointed out.

“True. But I can’t ask her how much she paid. Or I
can
ask her, but I’m not sure I’d believe her answer. I want proof, and the proof might be in the checkbook.”

“Well . . . ,” Hank said slowly, talking it through, “doesn’t your father have the same kinds of checks we all use, with an attached transfer sheet that automatically makes a copy of all the information as you write the check?”

“Of course. Saves the time of writing everything twice.”

“So where does he keep his checkbook?”

“From what I’ve seen, Heather has it now. She keeps it in her purse, and her purse is always with her.”

“Except when she’s asleep.” Hank grinned. “I wonder what she does with it at night. Whether she takes it into the bedroom or leaves it in the living room.”

Atta boy,
Carolyn thought. Once Hank committed to a problem, he carried through. “It would help to know that, I suppose.”

“Yes. That would be a start.” He looked at his watch. “It’s eight thirty. Why don’t we drop in for a friendly little nightcap? We used to do that occasionally, before Aubrey married Heather.”

Carolyn grinned. “True. And you’ve been out of town. It’s really just a friendly thing to do, isn’t it?”

“Are you up to it?”

She held her face up for inspection, smiling. “No nervous tics. No jumping eyelids. Calm as a cucumber.”

“Well, then, let’s pay a little social call.”

——————————

Carolyn freshened her makeup, slipped her feet back into her shoes, and went hand in hand with her husband through the various halls and corridors to her father’s wing. Hank knocked on the door.

Aubrey answered, looking handsome in a red velvet smoking jacket and a silk ascot. “Hank! Carolyn, my dear! What a nice surprise.”

“I’ve been out of town most of the week,” Hank explained, “and it seems like I haven’t had a chance to see much of you, Aubrey, you and your lovely wife, Heather, so I thought we might drop in for a neighborly chat. If you’re not too busy.”

“Capital, my dear man! Come in, come in. Heather, look who’s here for a little nightcap.”

Heather was curled up on one end of the pink-and-gold-tasseled sofa, wearing a filmy, pastel negligé that accentuated her curving bosom and hips. Now Carolyn understood how her father might find this woman a pleasure to be around, with her soft, sink-into-able body. As Carolyn and Hank entered, Heather plucked at the plunging neckline of her negligé, her little blue eyes darting nervously. “Oh! Hello! Goodness, we weren’t expecting company!”

“We can come back another night,” Hank quickly assured her.

Aubrey quickly intervened. “Nonsense, we’re all family here.”

“Please don’t get up,” Carolyn hastened to persuade Heather. “You look so comfortable there. We’ll just stay awhile.”

Aubrey was at the drinks table, his hand on a crystal tumbler.

“Aubrey,” Heather said bossily, “remember, you’re supposed to limit yourself to one drink a day.”

“This will be just a small one, my dear.” Aubrey turned to Hank. “What would you like?”

“A little Scotch would hit the spot.”

“Great. I’ve found a new single malt I’ve been wanting you to try.” Aubrey poured the drinks and handed one to Hank.

“I’m not drinking these days,” Carolyn said. “If it’s all right, I’ll make myself a little cup of tea.”

Heather rose in a sherbet symphony of nylon. “I’ll make if for you, Carolyn, please sit down.”

“Heavens, Heather, I can walk to the kitchen.” Carolyn followed before Heather could object. “What kind of tea do you have?”

The kitchen, small, modern, and efficient, was the only place in the apartment that hadn’t been overwhelmed by froufrou, rococo, and gilt, although a tapestry of noblewomen in satin gowns hung above the small breakfast table. No purse in sight.

Heather opened the cupboard. “Chamomile, red zinger, licorice, and mint.”

“Mint would be great.” Carolyn continued to scan the room. “You keep so much fruit around. Good for you.”

“I’m doing my best to keep him healthy.”

“I’m so glad. Mrs. B. makes delicious meals, but they do tend to rely on red meat and white flour.”

“Too true.” Heather opened the refrigerator and took out a container of skim milk, poured a little into a pitcher, and set it on a tray.

“Hey, Heather. Is that a steak in there?” Carolyn asked with surprise.

Heather turned on a dime and planted her hands on her fat hips. Suddenly her voice was tinged with prissy venom. “Am I supposed to be accountable to you for every single thing I keep in my kitchen?”

Carolyn drew back. “No, of course not, Heather. I just was surprised to see what looked like a steak, because we’d just been discussing nutrition.”

Heather calmed down. “We do eat red meat from time to time. And I need to eat it these days because—”

The teakettle whistled, interrupting her.

The hair on Carolyn’s neck stood on end. “Because?” she prompted.

“Cups, milk, spoons, napkins,” Heather murmured, pretending to be completely focused on the tea things. “Ready,” she muttered, and fled from the kitchen, carrying the tray before her.

Aubrey and Hank were comfortably seated in a pair of hysterically patterned and painted chairs, looking like a pair of elks among primroses as they sipped their Scotch. Heather set the tray on the rosewood footstool with brass hoof feet that served as a coffee table. She sank back into her place on the sofa and gestured for Carolyn to sit at the other end, then busied herself pouring the tea.

Carolyn gingerly lowered her bulk, her pulse slamming in her throat. She could think of only one reason for Heather’s need to eat red meat.

“It’s serendipitous, your dropping in like this tonight,” Aubrey informed them, gently swirling his drink as he spoke. “Heather and I were just discussing the right time to tell you our news.”

“Oh, yes?” Hank looked eager.

Aubrey looked rosy with pride. Heather looked absolutely triumphant.

Carolyn held her breath. Her heart was skittering around so wildly it made her nauseous.
Don’t let her be,
she prayed,
don’t let her be.

“It’s a little earlier than we planned to tell you. We just found out ourselves,” Aubrey said. “So we want to keep it a secret a while more, just among the family. I’m absolutely delighted to tell you that my dear little Heather is pregnant.”

Carolyn felt the room spin and dim, and she fainted.

——————————

“Elevate her head!”

“No, elevate her feet!”

Carolyn opened her eyes to see three worried faces staring down at her. She was stretched out on the sofa with pillows beneath her head and feet, a slightly awkward position for someone as pregnant as she.

Pregnant.

“Are you all right?” Hank knelt next to her, clutching her hand.

She struggled to raise herself on the soft cushions. “I’m fine. My blood pressure just goes wacky now and then. I’d feel better if I sat up.” Hank put his hands beneath her arms and hoisted her up.

“Here, dear, have some tea.” Heather held out a cup of pale pink liquid.

“Thank you.” As Carolyn sipped the bland brew, she mentally composed herself, so that when she looked up again, she was smiling. “Father, Heather, I apologize for fainting just when you presented us with your marvelous news. I guess I’ll have to eat more in the evenings and stop worrying about my weight.” All the years she’d learned to be diplomatic with her employees and executives now helped her exhibit a delight she certainly did not feel. “You’re pregnant, Heather? That’s wonderful.”

“Yes.” Hank seconded Carolyn’s congratulations. “Grand news, Aubrey. Felicitations, Heather.”

Heather simpered. In a breathless little-girl voice, she said, “Our children will be able to play with each other!”

Carolyn felt her stomach heave. The floor turned to liquid and rolled beneath her feet.

Hank came to her rescue. “That’s right! But for now, I think I’d better get Carolyn into bed. Thanks for the Scotch, Aubrey.”

“Thank you for dropping in.” Aubrey put an arm around his wife’s shoulders, and there they stood, a united front.

——————————

Back in their own quarters, Carolyn undressed, Hank hovering anxiously at her shoulder the entire time. Once she was tucked comfortably in bed, he sat down next to her and took her hand in his.

“Carolyn. Listen. I think we ought to give up this idea of catching Heather in some kind of scam. Especially if—”

“No!” She kept her voice low but urgent. “Hank, while I was lying on the sofa, I saw Heather’s purse! It’s on that French-provincial secretary painted with shepherds, right next to the door to their bedroom.”

“Carolyn—”

“All you have to do is wait until they’re asleep. Take the flashlight, open her purse, look in her checkbook, find out the name of the antiques shops.”

Hank rubbed his forehead. “What if she or your father wake up and catch me?”

“Tell them I lost an earring when I fainted and you were trying to find it. Hank, do this for me, please.”

“But, Carolyn, haven’t things changed now that Heather’s pregnant?”

Carolyn narrowed her eyes. “If Heather was brazen enough to swindle money from my father’s account, she might be lying about being pregnant.”

——————————

Hank set his alarm for three thirty. When he rose, he tried not to wake Carolyn, but she was a light sleeper these days, and tonight she was especially on edge. Plumping up her pillows, she watched Hank pull on his robe and slide into his slippers. He took the flashlight from their bedside table and kissed her on her forehead.

“Tonight,” he whispered, “zee eagle will lay zee egg.”

She grinned, grateful for his good humor.

He left. Carolyn waited, heart pounding. The profound silence of the house in the dark of night closed in on her like melancholy, and she wondered why she was so intent on finding out about Heather. Was she selfish? Didn’t she want her father to be happy, to be loved?

Of course, she answered herself, she did want her father to be happy. She liked the idea of his being married, being loved and cared for in his golden age. But she felt an equal, if not greater, obligation to the women from whom she was descended, not only to keep the governance of Sperry’s in the hands of the direct-blood female descendants of Great-grandmother Geraldine, but to keep Sperry Paper Company a viable, flourishing enterprise.

Still, she reminded herself, if Heather had a child, that child would be as much a Sperry as Carolyn herself, and if it was a girl, that girl would have as much right to lead the company as Carolyn’s daughter. Carolyn needed to be less rigid in her thoughts. She should remember the lessons she was learning at The Haven about letting go, letting things flow. She should try to think differently, creatively, she should turn puzzles upside down and see them from another perspective.

For example, what if she gave birth to a healthy baby girl who grew into a wonderful, intelligent young woman named Elizabeth, and what if that young woman had no interest whatsoever in taking over the company or continuing the matrilineal line? What if the new Elizabeth wanted to be a lesbian living in a commune raising dogs? Carolyn would love her just as much, and she would want her child to be happy. Yes. She would want her daughter to be happy more than she wanted her daughter to take over Sperry’s.

In that case, Carolyn reasoned, would she be able to pass the reins of the company to Heather’s daughter, assuming Heather had a daughter? Carolyn sat quietly for a moment, listening to her heart, and her heart responded—yes, of course. Carolyn didn’t like Heather, but she might adore Heather’s child, and how nice it would be, as Heather said, for Carolyn’s daughter to have a friend to grow up with. Carolyn had hated being an only child, she’d felt so alone, and she knew that both she and her father were slightly warped, a little too set in their own ways, a tad bit more possessive and fussy than they would have been if they’d had siblings. Carolyn hoped she’d be able to have another child, perhaps even two more children, so that little Elizabeth wouldn’t be alone, but she’d had such trouble getting pregnant this time around, and the pregnancy was so delicate, the possibility of a second and a third child was uncertain at best. So she should stop this suspicious fretting, relax, enjoy her pregnancy, and be glad for her father’s happiness. Damn it, she would relax!

She heard a slight shuffling noise, and then Hank came back in the room. His hair was tousled in all directions, as if he’d been standing on his head, and he was smiling.

“Got it!” he whispered gleefully.

“Yes?”

“Found the purse, found the checkbook, which has the copies of all the checks written out over the past month, for ten, twenty, thirty thousand dollars at a whack.”

Carolyn leaned forward. “And?”

“All the checks were made out to cash.”

——————————

Carolyn couldn’t get back to sleep. She tossed and turned all night, rising in the morning with a head full of lead and a heart full of dread. She and Hank had discussed what to do, and Carolyn had insisted they do it as soon as possible. This anxiety was killing her. Well, that was what people said, that things were killing them. But she was afraid that for her this might not be just a figure of speech. Her heart raced, flip-flopped, and chugged. Her vision swam. Her daughter nudged around inside her belly as if unable to find a comfortable position. Just when she wanted to fill her mind with tranquil thoughts and send only loving emotions through her blood to her unborn daughter, she was cursed with misgivings.