Fortune Is a Woman (5 page)

Happiness is a good investment. It brings good returns. So Paula Treadwell, too, could boast swank accommodations courtesy of her corporation and its shareholders. Perched on the top two floors of Soloman-Schmitt’s world headquarters, she could view very nicely nearly the entire metropolis from her floor to ceiling windows, which was, for a compulsive micromanager who hated to miss a trick, a great delight.

Home for Paula, however, was not a figure of speech and the excesses of her work life seeped into her domestic scene as well. Yet home is much too humble a word to describe the lavish suburban villa she choppered to and from daily. Home for Mrs. and Mr. Treadwell was not just a fortress that protected them from a hostile world. It was practically a nation state.

On to Robert and Kay Keagan. They also lived in Lydia’s neighborhood, though perhaps it really should be called the Keagans’ neighborhood, since they lived there first. Lived and worked. Twenty years in the same apartment.

Was this a fortress? Well, it could be said that if the world ended tomorrow, Robert Keagan Esquire could still show up for work on time if he wanted to. A spacious apartment with exposed brick, wide plank floors and large sunny windows, the Keagan home felt more like one of those renovated loft spaces one might find farther downtown on the waterfront.

Although large, the actual living area of the Keagan residence amounted to less than one third of the available space. All the rest was devoted to Robert’s legal practice. In Fort Keagan there was a computer room, an expansive file room, a briefing/conference room and two private offices, the larger one–Robert’s–containing a good size library. The other office was Kay’s, who served as a secretary to her husband and performed for him the kind of mundane and unrewarding duties that help to turn a good man into an awesome breadwinner.

The newest addition to the Keagans’ neighborhood was Venus Angelo. Her penthouse was a palace, a refuge from childhood poverty, and in it she finally had all the things she had ever dreamed of having, including a spectacular view.

If you want a better past, you must constantly be working toward a better future–Ms. Angelo’s motto. Work she did and by the tender age of twenty-seven she had gotten it all. Luxury and those sorts of things. Just about everything the world had to offer. Just about.

_____

Sebastion was such a dolt at times, him and his entertainment mindset. Always “on” with a face full of pearly whites and all that bottled charm. Venus sucked down another cognac and gazed out her windows at the cityscape shining up at her like a galaxy. She wasn’t sure where he had run off to at this hour.

She poured herself another drink and threw it, full, into the fireplace. No home fire burning. Summertime. It was cool inside but Venus was hot under the collar. She and Sebastion had gone to Cicero’s tonight and had run into Dr. Kristenson and her friends. She couldn’t remember their names just now. She’d met them before, though. She pulled off her shoes and threw those, as well. Sebastion hadn’t met any of these people before and to her chagrin had gone into overdrive to woo Dr. Kristenson for an interview, which everyone knew she rarely granted and which, as expected, she succinctly though graciously declined.

It was one in the morning when Venus got home. He made it in by two. So it was two in the morning when Venus’ had her first opportunity to tell Sebastion off. Not over the interview exactly, but that he had been so tactlessly persistent about it, even attempting later in the evening to bargain with the doctor for a nude cover on one of his company’s skin mags.

A nude cover. What a freakin’ disgrace! Dr. Kristenson had blushed and laughed off the idea of it, citing her age. Her friends got up to dance without saying a word to him. After that Sebastion disappeared, a favorite trick of late, and Venus didn’t look for him when she left. She was surprised he came home at all. When he did they had harsh words over the incident and he was gone again.

The dolt.

“I should like to have lunch sometime,” Dr. Kristenson had said last night, when it was just the two of them left at the table.

That had startled Venus. Have lunch?

“Sebastion is perfectly charming,” she reassured, sensing Venus was upset with him. “I didn’t mind the attention.”

Venus nodded. The woman was…ummmm…wonderful. She hadn’t seen her this close up and personal before. They sat without speaking for a while and watched the dancers.

Dr. Kristenson broke the silence. “So. Tell me about Venus Angelo,” she coaxed, with a bottled charm of her own.

Venus Angelo squirmed at the sound of that voice. She could tell the doctor anything and she knew it, feeling the urge to do so right then and there. She could tell her everything if she wasn’t careful. She held herself back. “I wouldn’t know where to start with that, Dr. Kristenson.”

“Start with ‘a self-made woman,’ Venus, and take it from there.”

Venus completely understood Lydia’s addiction to her. This was not just a woman. She was something more than that. Take it from there. “For sure. Self made, I mean.” The doctor’s friends were threading their way to the table.

“Lunch then?” Dr. Kristenson pressed. “You can reach me here.”

Lunch. “That would be…” Venus took the card she offered and hastily slid it into her purse. “Lovely,” she finished.

“Call when you’re able,” the doctor whispered out of the side of her face. “Well, you two looked quite smart out there, I should say.”

Robert and Kay were winded and fell into their chairs, happier it seemed now that Sebastion was gone.

“What a lucky man I am,” Venus recalled Robert saying as the evening wore on, “always with such beautiful women.”

The Keagans, Venus suddenly remembered, reaching into the fireplace for her shoes. Their names were Robert and Kay. She’d been introduced to them before. Robert and Kay Keagan. She thought they had eyed her suspiciously when they first sat down.

Maybe that was just a guilty mind.

What on earth was she supposed to do at lunch with Dr. Kristenson? Discuss their mates? Venus pulled the doctor’s card from her purse, set it on the bar, grabbed a new glass, filled it with ice, set it on the bar. Yeah, she concluded. Talk about their jobs and their mates. Talk about Lydia, talk about Sebastion. Isn’t that what women did over lunch? She tapped the card on the countertop. Yeah, they sure did.

Tap, tap, tap, tappety-tap, tap, tap…

Where? Where should she meet Lydia Beaumont’s mate for lunch? When? When should she call and arrange to have lunch with Mr. Right’s wonderfully fabulous wife? She felt suddenly surrounded by beautiful women, besieged by them. Strangely enough she felt lucky, too. Her stomach jumped. Why on earth would she be having lunch with Dr. Kristenson?

_____

Darling? Lydia heard this in her sleep. Sleeping? She smiled as she dreamt. Are you sleeping?
And trembled. Are you? Shook. “Lana…”

“Darling, are you asleep?”

She was awake now. “Lana? What time is it?”

“Hi–wee small hours–I woke you?”

“Wee small…? No, I was waiting.”

Helaine had gotten in late, but she needed immediate attention. “I nee–are you too tired?”

Lydia propped herself up on one elbow. Helaine was wet. “Lana…sweet Lana…Del claims we’re sexually obsessed with each other,” she teased.

Helaine sighed and threw her head back, opened her legs.

“Lana?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you agree?”

“Yes,” she said, wrapping her arms around Lydia’s neck and pulling her down, “I, uh…yes…yes…I…yes…”

_____

At breakfast Helaine mentioned running into Venus and Sebastion at Cicero’s and recounted for Lydia’s amusement his social blunder. Lydia laughed but felt sorry for her former assistant and said as much. She had only met the young man a few times but he struck her as the type always on the make, using his job to seem legitimate. He was gorgeous, yes, she agreed, but…and here she stopped herself, wanting to compare him with Sharon Chambers. But no one compared to Sharon Chambers! Instead, she vaguely referenced Joseph Rios with whom she had become so mired down, well before she met Helaine. She hadn’t thought of him in years. Rio Joe, her ex, who had ratted her out to Sharon’s lawyers, exposed her to the public as Jane Doe and made her life a living hell as a consequence. What was she thinking? No one but Sharon Chambers could compare to Rio Joe! The Feds sat his ass in the pen shortly thereafter and as far as she knew, he was still there today.

Stockbrokers, lawyers, reporters and maybe even entertainment consultants?

Helaine nodded understandingly and changed the subject. “I invited Venus to have lunch with me sometime. Care to join us if she takes me up on it?”

Lydia shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

Helaine was pleased with that reaction. “I felt Paula handled the situation badly, you know, and I told her so.”

Lydia grinned. Poor Paula. “Yes, I heard.”

After breakfast Lydia went for her morning run, a little later than usual. No maid on the weekend. Helaine tidied up and got dressed, satisfied that there was no intruder, no paramour lurking outside the castle walls, which was a great relief since she had last night instantly recognized the cologne Venus was wearing as being identical to the scent Lydia had carried into her office that one day.

_____

“She reminds me in so many ways of Lydia,” Kay said. “I can’t say exactly why.”

“Was she wearing men’s cologne last night?”

“Robert–why?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

She hadn’t noticed the cologne. “That a woman would wear men’s cologne?”

“Yeah…?”

Kay looked thoughtful. Venus Angelo could get away with it. “No, not particularly.”

Acquired Dominions

Paula Treadwell went on with business as usual, but her husband was ill. Very ill. Thoughts of mortality and love and the like permeated her no-nonsense mind these days and she caught herself many times drifting from her work, picturing what it would be like to live alone on the massive Treadwell estate.

Doctors were dominating her life now. Doctors, nurses, hospitals, home health aides, conflicting medical opinions. Decisions, decisions, decisions. It was a chore to be cheerful and it took a concentrated effort to stay focused on the positive.

There were some things to feel positive about. VP Overseas, for instance, was running a tighter ship than ever, performing beyond expectations for the first time in years. That would be due to the Angelo kid.

Paula left her office midday to circulate, still maintaining her regular routine. Venus Angelo was first on her list. A little praise, another raise. She was disgusted to find her Senior VP already there and worried whether this was becoming a habit.

“Beaumont!”

Lydia rose from her seat. Venus saw her cheeks redden and was flattered by what it might mean.
Might
. “Ms. Treadwell! How nice to–”

“In a minute, Angelo–god does this place stink or what?” (Cologne.) “Beaumont, I’ve been looking all over for you,” she invented. “Meet me in my office in an hour.”

“Is there anythi–?”

“One hour.”

Lydia returned to her own office embarrassed, slunk past her assistant without saying hi, and shuffled the papers on her desk for an hour.

_____

“But you can’t be serious.”

“It’s too much for me right now. I need time to be with Dickie. He’s…it’s not…it’s bad.”

Temporarily step down as president. Lydia couldn’t believe it. “Paula, you’ve notified the board?”

“Not yet. I wanted to discuss it with you first.”

“With me? Why?”

“Tell me about Venus Angelo, first.”

Lydia stiffened. “Tell you what?” she asked defensively. “I miss my brilliant assistant. I stopped in to say hello. I do that now and–”

“Beaumont, let me see your eyes when you talk to me.”

Lydia lifted her head.

“Watch yourself,
President
Beaumont. Everybody else is.”

“Who is?”

“The board. It’s a gimmee on my word so keep your nose clean.”

Lydia went to the bar and picked up a glass and, thinking better of it, put it back on the shelf. “I couldn’t do it without my former assistant.”

Paula sat at her desk, put her glasses on and studied Lydia through them. Presently she replied. “I doubt the integrity of that claim.”

Lydia dropped herself into the chair opposite her. She was tired today. Very tired of Soloman-Schmitt. She had an urge to go home and pull a Rip Van Winkle. “Why would they select me, anyway?” she asked. “Remember Jane Doe? I’m damaged goods.”

Paula clenched her jaw. “That’s forgotten, Beaumont.” (She’d fire Angelo if she absolutely had to.) “Besides, you married the woman. Perfectly respectable conclusion.” (But once Beaumont held the reins then the power was all hers.) “Legal and legitimate anywhere in the civilized world.” (Hers to lose. And then what?) “Is this what it looks like, Beaumont?”

“What does it look like for godsakes?”

“I’m not qualified to say. What does it look like to Dr. Kristenson?”

“Paula Treadwell…don’t make me say it’s none of your business. And don’t make me have to hear myself repeating myself. I’ve told you before that I do not and never will cheat on Helaine.” And then she said something she had never uttered before. “The end.”

Paula took her glasses off and laid them on the desk. She was trying not to smile at that. “Excellent, Beaumont. Now go home, get laid, be content and leave Ms. Angelo to her own destiny. Yours imminently awaits your attention.” She picked up her glasses again and turned her attention to the numbers streaming across her computer screen. “So begin posturing for it right now…and have a nice day.”

_____

Venus did not remain flattered by Paula Treadwell’s attentions for very long. When Paula returned later that afternoon she brought with her both tricks and treats, and it was, at last then, that Venus recognized her for the witch she was rumored to be. Oh, that she definitely was.