When Eve returned to New York, she checked into a midtown hotel, as she had been instructed. An hour later, Brad Rogers telephoned.
“Your grandmother called from Paris, Eve. Apparently there’s some problem between you two.”
“Not really,” Eve laughed. “It’s just a little family—” She was about to launch into an elaborate defense when she suddenly realized the danger that lay in that direction. From now on, she would have to be very careful. She had never had to think about money. It had always been there. Now it loomed large in her thoughts. She had no idea how large her allowance was going to be and for the first time in her life Eve felt fear.
“She told you she’s having a new will drawn up?” Brad asked.
“Yes, she mentioned something about it.” She was determined to play it cool.
“I think we had better discuss this in person. How’s Monday at three?”
“That will be fine, Brad.”
“My office. All right?”
“I’ll be there.”
At five minutes before three, Eve entered the Kruger-Brent, Ltd., Building. She was greeted deferentially by the security guard, the elevator starter and even the elevator operator.
Everyone knows me
, Eve thought.
I’m a Blackwell
. The elevator took her to the executive floor, and a few moments later Eve was seated in Brad Rogers’s office.
Brad had been surprised when Kate telephoned him to say she was going to disinherit Eve, for he knew how much Kate cared about this particular granddaughter and what plans she had for her. Brad could not imagine what had happened. Well, it was none of his business. If Kate wanted to discuss it with him, she would. His job was to carry out her orders. He felt a momentary flash of pity for the lovely young woman before him. Kate had not been much older when he had first met her. Neither had he. And now he was a gray-haired old fool, still hoping that one day Kate Blackwell would realize there was someone who loved her very deeply.
He said to Eve, “I have some papers for you to sign. If you’ll just read them over and—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Eve, it’s important that you understand.” He began to explain. “Under your grandmother’s will, you’re the beneficiary of an irrevocable trust fund currently in excess of five million dollars. Your grandmother is the executor. At her discretion, the money can be paid to you at any time from the age of twenty-one to thirty-five.” He cleared his throat. “She has elected to give it to you when you reach age thirty-five.”
It was a slap in the face.
“Beginning today, you will receive a weekly allowance of two hundred fifty dollars.”
It was impossible! One decent dress cost more than that. There was no way she could live on $250 a week. This was being done to humiliate her. This bastard was probably in on it with her grandmother. He was sitting behind his big desk, enjoying himself, laughing. She wanted to pick up the large bronze paperweight in front of him and smash his head in.
She could almost feel the crunch of bone under her hand.
Brad droned on. “You are not to have any charge accounts, private or otherwise, and you are not to use the Blackwell name at any stores. Anything you purchase must be paid for in cash.”
The nightmare was getting worse and worse.
“Next. If there is any gossip connected with your name in any newspaper or magazine—local or foreign—your weekly income will be stopped. Is that clear?”
“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper.
“You and your sister Alexandra were issued insurance policies on your grandmother’s life for five million dollars apiece. The policy you hold was canceled as of this morning. At the end of one year,” Brad went on, “if your grandmother is satisfied with your behavior, your weekly allowance will be doubled.” He hesitated. “There is one final stipulation.”
She wants to hang me in public by my thumbs
. “Yes?”
Brad Rogers looked uncomfortable. “Your grandmother does not wish ever to see you again, Eve.”
Well, I want to see you one more time, old woman. I want to see you dying in agony
.
Brad’s voice trickled through to the cauldron of Eve’s mind. “If you have any problems, you are to telephone me. She does not want you to come to this building again, or to visit any of the family estates.”
He had tried to argue with Kate about that. “My God, Kate, she’s your granddaughter, your flesh and blood. You’re treating her like a leper.”
“She
is
a leper.”
And the discussion had ended.
Now Brad said awkwardly, “Well, I think that covers everything. Are there any questions, Eve?”
“No.” She was in shock.
“Then if you’ll just sign these papers…”
Ten minutes later, Eve was on the street again. There was a check for $250 in her purse.
The following morning Eve called on a real-estate agent and began looking for an apartment. In her fantasies, she had envisioned a beautiful penthouse overlooking Central Park, the rooms done in white with modern furniture, and a terrace where she could entertain guests. Reality came as a stunning blow. It seemed there were no Park Avenue penthouses available for someone with an income of $250 a week. What
was
available was a one-room studio apartment in Little Italy with a couch that became a bed, a nook that the real-estate agent euphemistically referred to as the “library,” a small kitchenette and a tiny bathroom with stained tile.
“Is—is this the best you have?” Eve asked.
“No,” the agent informed her. “I’ve got a twenty-room townhouse on Sutton Place for a half a million dollars, plus maintenance.”
You bastard!
Eve thought.
Real despair did not hit Eve until the following afternoon when she moved in. It was a prison. Her dressing room at home had been as large as this entire apartment. She thought of Alexandra enjoying herself in the huge house on Fifth Avenue.
My God, why couldn’t Alexandra have burned to death? It had been so close!
If she had died and Eve had been the only heiress, things would have been different. Her grandmother would not have dared disinherit her.
But if Kate Blackwell thought that Eve intended to give up her heritage that easily, she did not know her granddaughter. Eve had no intention of trying to live on $250 a week. There was five million dollars that belonged to her, sitting in a bank, and that vicious old woman was keeping it from her.
There has to be a way to get my hands on that money. I will find it
.
The solution came the following day.
“And what can I do for you, Miss Blackwell?” Alvin Seagram asked deferentially. He was vice-president of the National Union Bank, and he was, in fact, prepared to do almost anything.
What kind Fates had brought this young woman to him? If he could secure the Kruger-Brent account, or any part of it, his career would rise like a rocket.
“There’s some money in trust for me,” Eve explained. “Five million dollars. Because of the rules of the trust, it won’t come to me until I’m thirty-five years old.” She smiled ingenuously. “That seems so long from now.”
“At your age, I’m sure it does,” the banker smiled. “You’re—nineteen?”
“Twenty-one.”
“And beautiful, if you’ll permit me to say so, Miss Blackwell.”
Eve smiled demurely. “Thank you, Mr. Seagram.” It was going to be simpler than she thought.
The man’s an idiot
.
He could feel the rapport between them.
She likes me
. “How exactly may we help you?”
“Well, I was wondering if it would be possible to borrow an advance on my trust fund. You see, I need the money now more than I’ll need it later. I’m engaged to be married. My fiancé is a construction engineer working in Israel, and he won’t be back in this country for another three years.”
Alvin Seagram was all sympathy. “I understand perfectly.” His heart was pounding wildly.
Of course, he could grant her request
. Money was advanced against trust funds all the time. And when he had satisfied her, she would sent him other members of the Blackwell family, and he would satisfy them. Oh, how he would satisfy them! After that, there would be no stopping him. He would be made a member of the executive board of National Union. Perhaps one day its chairman. And he owed all this to the delicious little blonde seated across the desk.
“No problem at all,” Alvin Seagram assured Eve. “It’s a very simple transaction. You understand that we could not loan you the entire amount, but we could certainly let you have, say, a million immediately. Would that be satisfactory?”
“Perfectly,” Eve said, trying not to show her exhilaration.
“Fine. If you’ll just give me the details of the trust…” He picked up a pen.
“You can get in touch with Brad Rogers at Kruger-Brent. He’ll give you all the information you need.”
“I’ll give him a call right away.”
Eve rose. “How long will it take?”
“No more than a day or two. I’ll rush it through personally.”
She held out a lovely, delicate hand. “You’re very kind.”
The moment Eve was out of the office, Alvin Seagram picked up the telephone. “Get me Mr. Brad Rogers at Kruger-Brent, Limited.” The very name sent a delicious shiver up his spine.
Two days later Eve returned to the bank and was ushered into Alvin Seagram’s office. His first words were, “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Miss Blackwell.”
Eve could not believe what she was hearing. “I don’t understand. You said it was simple. You said—”
“I’m sorry. I was not in possession of all the facts.”
How vividly he recalled the conversation with Brad Rogers. “Yes, there is a five-million-dollar trust fund in Eve Blackwell’s name. Your bank is perfectly free to advance any amount of money you wish against it. However, I think it only fair to caution you that Kate Blackwell would consider it an unfriendly act.”
There was no need for Brad Rogers to spell out what the consequences could be. Kruger-Brent had powerful friends everywhere. And if those friends started pulling money out of National Union, Alvin Seagram did not have to guess what it would do to his career.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated to Eve. “There’s nothing I can do.”
Eve looked at him, frustrated. But she would not let this man know what a blow he had dealt her. “Thank you for your trouble. There are other banks in New York. Good day.”
“Miss Blackwell,” Alvin Seagram told her, “there isn’t a bank in the world that will loan you one penny against that trust.”
Alexandra was puzzled. In the past, her grandmother had made it obvious in a hundred ways that she favored Eve. Now,
overnight everything had changed. She knew something terrible had happened between Kate and Eve, but she had no idea what it could have been.
Whenever Alexandra tried to bring up the subject, her grandmother would say, “There is nothing to discuss. Eve chose her own life.”
Nor could Alexandra get anything out of Eve.
Kate Blackwell began spending a great deal of time with Alexandra. Alexandra was intrigued. She was not merely in her grandmother’s presence, she was becoming an actual part of her life. It was as though her grandmother were seeing her for the first time. Alexandra had an odd feeling she was being evaluated.
Kate
was
seeing her granddaughter for the first time, and because she had been bitterly deceived once, she was doubly careful in forming an opinion about Eve’s twin. She spent every possible moment with Alexandra, and she probed and questioned and listened. And in the end she was satisfied.
It was not easy to know Alexandra. She was a private person, more reserved than Eve. Alexandra had a quick, lively intelligence, and her innocence, combined with her beauty, made her all the more endearing. She had always received countless invitations to parties and dinners and the theater, but now it was Kate who decided which invitations Alexandra should accept and which ones she should refuse. The fact that a suitor was eligible was not enough—not nearly enough. What Kate was looking for was a man capable of helping Alexandra run Kate’s dynasty. She said nothing of this to Alexandra. There would be time enough for that when Kate found the right man for her granddaughter. Sometimes, in the lonely early-morning hours when Kate had trouble sleeping, she thought about Eve.
Eve was doing beautifully. The episode with her grandmother had bruised her ego so badly that for a short time she had forgotten something very important: She had forgotten how attractive she was to men. At the first party she was invited to after she moved into her own apartment, she gave her telephone number
to six men—four of them married—and within twenty-four hours she had heard from all six of them. From that day on, Eve knew she would no longer have to worry about money. She was showered with gifts: expensive jewelry, paintings and, more often, cash.
“I’ve just ordered a new credenza, and my allowance check hasn’t come. Would you mind, darling?”
And they never minded.
When Eve went out in public, she made sure she was escorted by men who were single. Married men she saw afternoons at her apartment. Eve was very discreet. She was careful to see that her name was kept out of gossip columns, not because she was any longer concerned about her allowance being stopped, but because she was determined that one day her grandmother was going to come crawling to her. Kate Blackwell needed an heir to take over Kruger-Brent.
Alexandra is not equipped to be anything but a stupid housewife
, Eve gloated.
One afternoon, leafing through a new issue of
Town and Country
, Eve came across a photograph of Alexandra dancing with an attractive man. Eve was not looking at Alexandra, she was looking at the man. And realizing that if Alexandra married and had a son, it would be a disaster for Eve and her plans.
She stared at the picture a long time.
Over a period of a year, Alexandra had called Eve regularly, for lunch or dinner, and Eve had always put her off with excuses. Now Eve decided it was time to have a talk with her sister. She invited Alexandra to her apartment.
Alexandra had not seen the apartment before, and Eve braced herself for pity. But all Alexandra said was, “It’s charming, Eve. It’s very cozy, isn’t it?”