A Woman of Fortune (18 page)

Jana Rae shook her head, sending her gold earrings swinging wildly. “You don't get it. It's not the money.” She lifted her chin. “Okay, it's the money. But Tuck was our friend. He didn't just lose our retirement—he lost our trust.”

“He—or we?” Claire challenged.

Before Jana Rae could respond, Claire's cell phone rang. She held up a finger. Using her other hand, she grabbed the phone and pulled it to her ear.

“Mom?”

She continued to stare into Jana Rae's face. “Max? What's up?”

“I'm with Ranger. I'm afraid I have bad news.”

“What do you mean, the US Attorney's Office has extended their investigation?” Claire paced the conference room, waiting for Ranger to answer.

Max tapped a pen against the granite table. “Mom, calm down.”

“Don't tell me to calm down. I don't understand.” Claire turned and faced Ranger sitting at the head of the table. At either side sat other attorneys from his firm, their faces grim. “They have Tuck. Very soon they'll also have everything we owned. What more could they want?”

“Charles Jordan isn't showing all his cards at this juncture. But like I explained, he's issuing subpoenas, and I suspect he plans to reconvene a grand jury.”

Claire tried not to emotionally jump off the cliff's edge that had become her life. “A grand jury?”

The gentleman sitting at Ranger's left, a thin-faced man with wire-rimmed glasses, set the document he'd been reading on the
table. “Jordan is fishing, but you can bet somebody has handed him bait.”

Ranger looked at Claire, and just for a second she thought she saw anger in his features, which scared her. The sand beneath her shifted. She needed a firm place on which to anchor her emotions. “Ranger, please be honest. What's going on here?”

Ranger folded his hands on the table in front of him. He drew a deep breath. “Well, it's obvious the US Attorney's Office has learned something that makes them believe Tuck has not complied with the agreement. I suspect they think he's not been forthcoming with information. Or—”

“Or they think someone else is involved,” Max said. “Like perhaps my big brother.”

In unison, the men flanking the table scribbled furiously on their yellow pads.

Claire's face tightened and she felt her insides splinter. Garrett—soon to be a father.

Oh please, don't let him be involved in
this.

Ranger slid back his chair and stood. “Let's not jump ahead. We'll know soon enough what the government intends. Until then, there's very little we can do.”

“That's it?” Claire said. “We're supposed to sit around and wait for Charles Jordan to make his move?” She slammed her chair against the table. “Sorry, that's not good enough. This is my family.”

Ranger's face grew sympathetic. “Our hands are tied. Grand jury proceedings are highly secret. The only information we're going to get is what Jordan leaks.”

Claire scowled. “You mean, like to the
Dallas Morning News
.”

“Yes, exactly. And sometimes these matters can take months, even years, to conclude. In the end, there's no guarantee a grand jury will issue findings that would allow the US Attorney to bring additional charges. This really is just a waiting game.”

Ranger escorted Claire and Max through the lobby and to the
bank of elevators. “If I hear anything, I'll immediately be in contact,” he said.

The elevator dinged. Max shook Ranger's hand and thanked him. Claire followed suit and pasted a simulated smile on her face.

She needed to talk to Garrett. And soon.

They stepped inside the elevator and Max pushed the button to the ground floor. Slowly the elevator descended.

To their shock, waiting television reporters swarmed as they stepped out of the elevator into the lobby of the Renaissance Tower. A cameraman with helmet hair pointed his lens, and his sidekick reporter shoved a microphone into Claire's face. “Would you like to comment—”

She shook her head and felt Max take her arm, pulling her through the crowd. On the outside, she fought to remain composed.

But inside, Claire's emotions began their own descent.

23

M
ax hit the gas, keeping his eyes on the road while Claire pulled her cell phone from her purse. Her thumb scrolled to Garrett's number and dialed.

Several rings later, a familiar female voice picked up. “Hello?”

“Hi, Marcy, it's Claire.” Her face pulled into a confused frown. “I—I meant to dial Garrett's number. It's urgent that I talk with him.”

“This is Garrett's old phone. He's not here.” Her daughter-in-law's tone sounded more than a little chilly.

“Where is he? I really need to—”

“Look, I know why you're calling. We've been told not to talk to anyone—not even you. Especially now.”

Claire caught the fear in Marcy's voice, as if she walked a dangerous path and didn't know where to safely step. She tried again. “I understand the caution, but honey, I need you to have Garrett call.”

“Can't your family just leave us alone?” Marcy's tight voice escalated. “Do you realize what y'all have done to my husband? To both of us?”

Claire flinched. “Honey, you don't understand—”

Before Claire could finish, the phone clicked off. Confused, she looked at Max and slowly lowered the phone.

He let out a brief, uneasy chuckle and swung his Jeep onto
Stemmons Freeway. “Let me guess. Queen Marcy has closed her embassy.”

After her encounter with Marcy, the rest of Claire's day felt unsettled, as though a dust storm had blown in, adding to a day already ruined by the sweltering news they'd received in Ranger's office.

Max talked Claire into trying to get some rest. Rather than argue she couldn't possibly sleep, she'd grabbed an afghan and headed for the sunroom to collect her thoughts and try to make sense of things. Despite the quiet solitude, she found herself jumpy and unable to concentrate on anything but the fact her family was at risk.

She'd said goodbye to Tuck, believing the worst was over. Now Claire faced the agonizing possibility Garrett was also the target of the government's investigation.

How could Garrett possibly be involved in criminal activity? She'd been in that conference room with him when he'd heard, as she had, Tuck's confession. Garrett had been furious. He was as surprised as anyone when Tuck was arrested. Still, the US Attorney's Office seemed willing to stir the pot to feed a bloodthirsty public.

Marcy's voice on the telephone replayed in Claire's mind.
Can't your
family just leave us alone?

What was that supposed to mean exactly? Marcy had always been a bit high-strung, but Garrett's family certainly wasn't the enemy here. They would always be by his side. Nothing, no one, would alter that fact. Not even her son's wife.

Claire would see to that.

When Garrett married Marcy Karstan, everyone had agreed the union was a match made in heaven. Claire wasn't sure.

Marcy had grown up in Houston, the only daughter of Jack and Emily Karstan. A former astronaut, Jack had moved on from his aeronautical career to build a successful engineering firm. He thought his stunning daughter, who won the Miss Texas title in 2001, rode stars to the moon.

Like Tuck, Garrett had played football and enjoyed popularity. Tall, handsome, and a rich up-and-comer, he was president of Sigma Alpha Epsilon, drove the best car, and made the dean's list every year. And when Garrett graduated, he'd been given a promising career waiting on his daddy's silver platter.

Claire adored her oldest son, but she couldn't deny her children were privileged. Especially Garrett, who walked straight out of knit booties into his daddy's cowboy boots.

And what could she say about Marcy? Well, the best way to describe her daughter-in-law was by how she chose friends. If you drove a Mercedes? You were in. A Lexus? Maybe. A Honda? Never.

You can imagine the instant attraction the little darling felt toward Claire's son and his silver Maserati Spyder, a gift from Tuck in celebration of Garrett making the Texas college all-star team his senior year.

Claire loved her daughter-in-law, but like Jana Rae often said, her son's wife boated on the shallow end of the bass pond.

Still, she wanted to give Marcy the benefit of the doubt. Tuck's actions had changed all their lives, and she understood the fear plaguing Marcy right now, knowing Garrett might be the target of an investigation. Claire shared that same panic.

But make no doubt, the little Botox beauty who only ate spinach salads with broiled chicken and a splash of dressing could never shove Claire out of her own son's life.

Never.

She punched the stiff cushion behind her back in an attempt to make it more comfortable.

“Mrs. Massey? I'm sorry to interrupt you. There is a woman at the door. I told her you were resting, but she insisted.”

Alarm rang in Claire's head. Financial considerations had forced severe reductions in security, to almost nonexistent. “Who is it, Margarita?” she asked, praying the media hadn't gotten through the gate.

“She says she's your mother.”

24

C
laire blinked in surprise. At the door, across the shiny tiles of her front foyer, stood a stylish woman with perfectly coiffed hair, looking eerily like Shirley MacLaine stretched tight as Joan Rivers.

“Sweetheart,” she gushed, extending her arms toward Claire.

“Mother?”

“Claire, darlin'—come give your mama a hug.” She wiggled her fingers.

Claire had no choice but to move forward into her mother's embrace. In her arms, she caught her mother's signature fragrance, Shalimar—the heavy amber patchouli scent popular with women over five decades ago. She still thought it stunk.

After giving her mother a quick pat, Claire pulled back and let her in. “Wow. How long has it been? Five years?” She found it hard to keep the scorn from her voice.

Her mother stared back, wide-eyed. “Oh, that's impossible,” she said, waving off the idea. “I visited when Max graduated high school.”

“It was Lainie's graduation, and that was—” Claire stopped and mentally counted. “Yup, five years. And you only came in for the ceremony but couldn't stay for the party. I think you had a plane to catch, to Bali, I believe.”

Her mother nodded. “Oh yes. That's right. Honey, you need to go to Bali sometime if you haven't been. In addition to the powder-soft sand lined with lovely palms, that little island has such culture. Talented artisans and dancers.” She glanced around the two-story foyer. “Your home is lovely as ever. But what happened to everything on the walls? Looks a bit bare, dear.”

Inwardly, she grimaced. It wasn't that she and her mother had a distant relationship exactly—well, okay, they had a distant relationship. If you knew Eleanor Cooper Webster Hilderbrand Wyden, you'd stay at arm's length as well.

Ellie Wyden had made a career out of marrying well. After her second husband died, she quickly said her graveside goodbyes to Jack Webster and married Lawrence Hilderbrand, owner of a well-known chain of resorts in the Caribbean islands. Sadly, he dropped from a sudden heart attack within the year, forcing her to move on to her last husband, Ari Wyden. Ari had serious money—the Kennedys from Hyannis, Massachusetts, kind. He owned a yacht company and named the company flagship the
USS Ellie
.

To her mother's dismay, Ari suffered a stroke and lingered for nearly ten years before passing. “Do you know what long-term care costs these days?” her mother had written in her Christmas card just before he died. What she didn't say is that he'd placed a good share of his money in a benevolent trust, leaving her without the extravagant retirement she'd planned.

No doubt her mother now hoped to hunt down another wealthy husband before she herself kicked the bucket. Despite tubs of Retin-A and other expensive wrinkle creams, Claire's mother wasn't getting any younger.

Claire looked past where her mother stood to the open door, just to make sure she hadn't already bagged another victim and forgot to tell her. Finding her mother hadn't brought along an unknown stepdaddy, she forced a smile and motioned her mother into the living area. “Well, this is a surprise.”

To her mother's credit, she waited until dinner to bring up the
subject of Tuck's incarceration. “When I saw the news, I simply couldn't believe it. I was humiliated for you, darling.”

“Yes, it's been really hard,” Claire said slowly. “I've learned life can change on a dime.”

Her mother wiped the condensation from her glass of sweet tea with a napkin. “Sounds like it was quite a few dimes, dear.”

Claire sighed. Might as well open this conversation instead of waiting for her mother to unfold her inquisition. “Tuck made a huge error in judgment. And now we're all paying for what he did.” Claire stared across the table. “Please don't say you told me so.”

Her mother straightened. “Give your mama some credit, Claire. I'm the last one who would pour salt on your wound.” She swirled her tea, sending the ice tinkling against the glass. “Counter to my predictions, Tuck proved to be quite the businessman. None of us saw this coming.”

Claire's eyebrows lifted. “I'm surprised to hear you say that, Mother.”

“Well, you shouldn't be. The returns your husband made were remarkable. Even I invested.”

Her heart gripped. “You—you put money with Tuck?”

Her mother's face turned grim. She placed her glass of tea on the table. “Yes, unfortunately so.” She shrugged. “And now I'm afraid I'm broke.”

When Jana Rae learned of the unexpected visit, she nearly choked on her sweet tea. “Wow. I can't believe your mom just showed up at your doorstep. Is she still just a mess in a dress?”

Claire smiled. “Too early to know for sure, but all indications point that direction.”

Jana Rae knew Claire often made light of her relationship with her mother, but she'd also been audience to the times Ellie Wyden had hurt her only child.

Twenty minutes prior to Claire's wedding ceremony, the church
had been filled with guests. Claire turned to her maid of honor. “Is she here yet, Jana Rae?”

Her best friend gave her a quick hug. “Not yet, but don't worry. She'll be here.”

Unfortunately, Jana Rae hadn't counted on Claire's mother laying over in New York to catch a Broadway hit. The clock read nearly two o'clock in the morning when her mother called, waking the newlyweds. “I'm so sorry I didn't make it for your little ceremony, sweetheart. I hope you had a nice time.”

Claire rubbed sleep from her eyes. “What happened? You said you'd come.”

She could hear her mother take a drag from her cigarette. “I'm sorry. I should have called. But Jack got his hands on tickets to
A Chorus Line
. Frankly, I think some of those dancers were too heavy for those costumes,” she said, oblivious to the fact she'd called at such an awful hour. “Of course, I don't judge.”

That was laughable. Her mother judged everything. Well, maybe not everything, but she didn't seem to hold back when it came to Claire.

Honey, those shoes don
't go with that outfit.

You'll never find a
good husband at that school.

Claire, you mustn't eat
bacon. It'll go right to your hips.

And her classic:
Don't marry that boy. He'll never amount
to anything.

In the library, Jana Rae pulled strapping tape across a box, sealing it. “Tell me you're kidding.” She lowered her voice. “You're going to let the old bat live with you?”

Claire dropped the books in her hand into an open box. “What choice do I have? I can't very well turn her out on the street.” She pulled several volumes from the shelves and added them to the others. “Besides, she's out of money because of my husband. And it's only temporary.”

Jana Rae shook her head, looking unsure. “Well, you'd better sharpen your skates, because you-know-what just froze over and
it's going to be a long winter.” She lifted her box and stacked it on top of the others by the door to the library. “What are y'all going to do with these books?”

“Donate them,” Claire said, pulling more books from the shelves. “Before long I'm moving into a much smaller place. Guaranteed I won't have space for this kind of library.”

Jana Rae dropped on the sofa and wiped her brow with her sleeve. “What do you hear from Lainie?”

Claire straightened and rubbed her sore back. “My daughter seems to have fallen off the face of the earth. When I talk to her on the phone, she tells me she's staying with a friend. Not to worry about her.”

“What's this about Lainie?” Claire's mother swept into the room, her hair wrapped up in a pink turban that perfectly matched the hibiscus in her tropical print caftan. Two tiny Yorkies in pink bows followed close behind.

Jana Rae raised her eyebrows. “What are those?”

Ellie Wyden stopped. “Well, you're that nice girl Claire was friends with in high school.” She scooped up her dogs. “Now, what was your name, dear?”

“Mama, this is Jana Rae. You've met several times.”

“We have?” She shrugged and turned to her daughter. “Such a shame our Lainie isn't marrying that man who is running for senator. Now
he
would've been a catch.”

Claire could see Jana Rae suppress a giggle. When her mother turned away, Claire scowled and gave her friend a warning look.

In an apparent effort to redeem herself, Jana Rae asked about the dogs. “What do we have here?”

Claire's mother beamed. “These are my little darlings—Puddin and Nutmeg.” She bent and kissed her long-haired babies.

Claire felt a pulling sensation in her gut. Apparently her mother was capable of affection after all. “Are you hungry, Mama?”

“No, I had juice and a muffin earlier.”

Margarita rushed though the French doors, pulling at her apron. “Mrs. Massey, you need to see the television.”

Claire hurried over to the coffee table, grabbed the remote, and clicked the on button. “What is it, Margarita?”

Before her housekeeper could answer, a live shot popped on the screen. Kelly Thatcher of WCBA-TV had caught up with Deputy Chief Hodges of the US Attorney's Office and was running alongside him. She extended her microphone. “Sources are telling our station that your office has reopened your investigation into the Massey fraud, that others may be involved?”

Hodges brushed the reporter off with a smile. “I can't comment on any investigation.”

Kelly Thatcher pressed. “We're hearing a grand jury may have been reconvened?”

“No comment. As you know, Kelly, grand jury matters are not public.” He slowed and looked into her camera. “But I can assure you and the public that the office of the US Attorney, together with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, won't rest until we've explored every avenue, turned over every rock. If there are others involved, we'll bring them to justice.”

The screen switched to a shot of Garrett with a voice-over.

“Theodore Massey's oldest son, Garrett, insisted through his attorney that he was unaware that his father's successful cattle brokerage business was really a multimillion-dollar Ponzi scheme, and in a written statement he said of his father, ‘There's no way to explain what he did, the damage he has caused. What possible explanation could there be?'”

An image of Tuck being escorted from the Adolphus in handcuffs appeared.

“Massey was sentenced to five years in the Federal Correction Institution in Bastrop for orchestrating one of Texas's, if not the country's, largest cattle frauds in history. Victims include many well-known names and institutions, including Massey's own church, where he served as an elder. Despite Massey's claims he acted alone, sources tell WCBA-TV that his oldest son is currently being investigated.”

Claire's hand flew to her mouth. For an odd second, she felt her life had turned into one of those annoying jingles that kept playing in your head even after the commercial ended.