Using the remote on the headboard, she turned off the lights. It wasn’t exactly the evening she had in mind, but Nick had had a big day and he was still recovering. There would be another time. For now, this would have to be enough.
For now.
<>
Mary Margaret McMillen, the woman Sylvia Towne recommended to run the Monica Andrews Foundation, met with Cara at the estate on Tuesday. She was everything Cara hoped for, a sweet pixie of a lady with so much energy she could barely sit still. She seemed intelligent and concerned about children, and she loved the idea for the new charity, the one Cara thought of as Nick’s charity. Cara hired her on the spot.
As soon as Mary Margaret left, Cara called Marge and asked her to set Mary Margaret up in an office. “She’ll need an assistant, so she may need your help hiring someone. Introduce her to Bart. They’ll need to work together to get things set up the way she wants. As soon as she’s settled, we’ll want to issue a press release.”
“What’s she like?” asked Marge.
“She’s in her forties, an ex-nun with a feisty disposition and enough energy to power the city. You’ll love her.”
And Ron Holcomb will hate her
. He was slow and methodical and she was just the opposite. Cara wondered if they’d get along at all, then realized it didn’t matter. By the time Mary Margaret got settled, Ron would be gone.
Cara spoke with Ron and asked him to put the ten million from the sale of the South American company into the Foundation. She also asked him to sell her interest in the tobacco companies and put those millions into the Foundation, too. Ron was furious, but she was adamant. It was her money, not his. He had no choice in the matter.
Ron didn’t say anything about the RASH Corporation, but he must know she’d found out about it. The architect had spoken with him before their meeting at the apartments, and Marge had removed all his RASH files. He had to know. She half expected Ron Holcomb to resign, since she was eroding his power, but he didn’t.
One way or another, he’d be gone by the end of the month.
<>
Lance was watching the evening news with Ian when a picture flashed on the screen. “Lord Billings has requested that police in San Diego re-open the investigation into the death of his sister, Gwen Billings. Miss Billings fell or jumped from the balcony of her luxurious waterfront vacation home in San Diego in July of last year. Lord Billings said his sister was planning to marry a man she called her ‘Lancelot.’”
The reporter showed a film clip of Lord Billings and Lance grimaced. He looked bloated and pale, like a reincarnated version of Winston Churchill. “Lord Billings insists that his sister was not depressed or suicidal. She was happily anticipating her upcoming nuptials.”
Would anyone connect him with Gwen’s death? He’d been careful to clean all his fingerprints out of her house after she fell asleep. At three in the morning, there’d been no witnesses. She’d been half asleep when he’d ‘helped’ her over the balcony railing and watched her tumble three stories to the flagstone patio below.
An accident or suicide, the authorities called it. Foul play wasn’t even suspected.
Until now
.
Chapter Sixteen
A
few days later, Mr. Pettibone said, “Miss Andrews, Mrs. Morrison just called. Her husband, Mr. William Morrison, has had another heart attack. This one is quite serious. He has asked to see you.”
“Me?”
“I’m having a car brought around to take you to the hospital.”
Bill Morrison was the last link to Cara’s grandfather, the one person who knew him well enough to speak of him as a valued friend. Cara didn’t want to lose Bill. He’d become a good friend to her, too.
Bill’s wife met her outside his hospital room. She thanked Cara for coming and took her in to see him. He looked pale and very tired, but he didn’t waste any time saying what he needed to say. “Ron called me yesterday. I know what you’re trying to do, Cara. You’re trying to lift the burden of wealth off your shoulders.”
Cara stood by his bed and sighed. He did know.
“It won’t work, my dear. If you give it all away, you’ll feel guilty for letting your grandfather down. And your own children, when you have them.”
“If I ever have children, I don’t want to saddle them with that burden.” She wanted her children to have a normal life, not be isolated in luxury, with things instead of friends.
“Your grandfather and I had this same discussion many years ago. He loved his family so much, he was afraid of what all his money would do to your lives. He was afraid someone would kidnap you or harm you in some way. And he was afraid of how it might change you, especially when you grew up.”
“He always seemed concerned about security.”
“Not just physical security. Your mother was not a strong woman. When people took advantage of her, it angered him.” Bill released her hand and shifted slightly on the bed. His wife moved closer.
“Are you talking about my father?”
“He was the first,” said Bill.
She glanced out the window. “I don’t remember him.”
“He was much like your husband, Cara. The money drew him to your mother. He wasn’t a cruel man, but all he seemed to care about was traveling, gambling, racing cars, and playing. Work was out of the question. He spent very little time with you and your mother, and your grandfather hated him. He wanted him gone.”
Cara opened her mouth and Bill held up his hand. “I know what you’re thinking, that it wasn’t his decision to make, but your mother couldn’t take charge of the situation. She was distraught, almost suicidal.”
“My grandfather told me my father was dead.”
“Yes, he was killed in a race car accident in Mexico many years ago. You look a little like your father, Cara, but you have your grandfather’s spirit, his intelligence, and his strength.”
“Thank you. That’s a nice thing to say.”
Bill’s wife gave him a sip of water and straightened his pillow. He said, “Cara, do you believe in a hereafter?”
“Yes, don’t you?”
“Yes, I certainly do.” He pointed up. “I think your grandfather is up there somewhere watching over you. He loved you deeply, and I know he’d be very proud of you.”
“He used to say, ‘Stand tall, don’t show your fear. Bluff your way through if you have to, but make sure they know who’s in control.’“
“Yes, I remember. I listened to the tape your attorney brought to the meeting. I could almost hear your grandfather cheering you on.”
She smiled, warmed by his kind words. “I felt his presence that day.”
“Cara, your grandfather’s businesses are no longer a concern. They were bought out one by one years ago. The way I see it, you need four good people to help manage your estate. You need a business manager or advisor, someone you trust implicitly; an attorney, and you have a good one; and an accountant. Bart Cantrell is a good man. I suggest holding onto him. The trustees were in business to handle the estate because your mother was unable to do it herself and you weren’t old enough. Now that you’ve grown up and taken over, you don’t need us.”
“You said four.”
“You need a good administrator for the Foundation, and from what I’ve heard about Mary Margaret McMillen, you have one. It’s a wonderful idea, Cara.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
“Invest the money how you want, spend it how you want, give some away, but don’t make the mistake of thinking that the danger, the threats, the con men, will go away if you lower your net worth. Your name is associated with great wealth. You could give ninety percent away and still be a wealthy woman. And, money or not, you’ll still be well known, a target for the unbalanced and the unscrupulous.”
She sighed and looked down. Bill was right. “I’m afraid I’ll make mistakes.”
He squeezed her hand. “My dear, we all make mistakes. Life is a learning process and making mistakes is part of learning.”
Bill sounded so much like her grandfather, Cara had to blink back tears.
“Money is power,” said Bill. “Use it wisely.”
“Do you have a recommendation for business manager?”
“Hutch would do an excellent job. I think he’s ready to move on, hand the reins of his company over to someone else.”
“I like Hutch.”
“He’s a good man. Marge is one to keep, too. You can call on the others if you need advice, but there’s no sense in keeping the other trustees on the payroll. Norton is as good as gone already. Sylvia has her hands full with her own company. Carter has other things going, too.”
“And Ron Holcomb?”
“In my opinion, Ron has outlived his usefulness. You don’t trust him anyway.”
Cara was almost afraid to ask. “Did he neglect my mother as he neglected me?”
“She wasn’t neglected, Cara. I spoke with her doctors often and monitored her care. I’m sorry I didn’t do the same for you. Ron gave the impression that things were going very well for you.”
Bill paused for another sip of water, then continued. “Your mother had an illness as a child. The high fever left her changed.”
Something else she didn’t know about her family. “I’ve been half afraid my guardians were right, that I’d inherit my mother’s emotional weakness or pass it on to my children.”
“Oh, that’s nonsense. Your mother was a willful, headstrong child before she got sick. Her personality changed after that. She became fearful, easily frightened. Your grandfather tried to protect her, but we can’t always protect those we love. All his money wouldn’t turn her back into the child she was before the illness.”
“I can’t remember him ever talking with her about business.”
“No, I don’t imagine he did. He put all his faith in you, Cara.” Bill’s voice weakened. “I couldn’t leave this world without telling you that.”
“Bill—”
“No, don’t tell me I’m going to make it. I’ve cheated death before and I’m ready to go. I’ll be with my friend, your grandfather, watching over you, my dear.”
She kissed his forehead and turned to find his wife watching them, tears in her eyes. Cara had to leave the room before she cried, too. It was like watching her grandfather die all over again.
He said she couldn’t change who she was and the money was part of who she was.
Money is power. Use it wisely.
<>
While Cara was gone, Nick and Gerry went through some of the RASH files. Without exception, RASH had lost money on every deal, but the real estate broker made a commission, the architect earned a substantial fee, and the contractor made a comfortable living. And Ron Holcomb paid himself a handsome salary for managing the corporation.
Gerry muttered to himself, his face getting darker with each file he opened. “Idiots! Did they really think they’d get away with this?”
“They’ve been getting away with it for at least six years. Their money supply stops today. I don’t give a flying fuck what they’re doing now, they’re all off the payroll.” But they had assets to dispose of, contracts with subcontractors with penalty clauses, listing agreements for the condos, and a host of other problems. He had work to do.
Gerry looked through one more file and threw it down on the desk. “There’s not a single deal here that the corporation made money on.”
Nick spread the architect’s plans for the apartments on the desk and pointed out the marble fireplaces and granite kitchen counters and other expensive features to Gerry. “Those idiots were planning to build these fancy condos in the middle of a low income neighborhood.” He picked up the plans and threw them in the corner. “To hell with that.”
“You take care of the buildings, Nick. I’ll speak with the prosecutor about the men involved. I imagine a judge will have a few things to say about what they’ve done.”
Nick called the contractor and made arrangements to inspect the work in progress on another project, an office building downtown. He needed to get Al up here to look at those run-down apartments before they did anything. His cousin wasn’t an architect, but he had good sense and a natural talent for designing. If they worked it right, they could get one building renovated first, get people moved, and then work on the others.
He had something else in mind, too. Cara talked about doing a pilot project for the charity they spoke about, and that would be a good place to do it. Maybe they could use some space on the main floor of one of those buildings as a place for kids to go after school. The space could be used for a community center, a place not only for kids, but for adult education classes, birthday parties, and whatever.
Cara would like that.
<>
Nick was watching a video with Cara that evening when she was called to the phone. She talked to Mrs. Morrison and expressed her sympathy, and he knew Bill Morrison had passed away. Knowing Cara needed comfort, Nick wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back. She’d grown close to Bill Morrison over the past few weeks and often said he reminded her of her grandfather.