Power Play: A Novel (21 page)

When Marshall got to the office on Monday morning, he found the usual reports on his desk, and a few new ones. Things were always a little slow in the summer. And he found a message from Connie Feinberg. He hadn’t spoken to her since the sexual harassment incident, and thought it was a good time to lie low. He had been very grateful for the way it had worked out, and for their support. He
called her as soon as he saw the message, and she took his call immediately. He asked her how her summer was going, and she said she had spent July in Santa Barbara with her children and was now back at work.

“I’d like to come by to see you this afternoon, if you have time,” she said casually, sounding as pleasant and easygoing as ever. He liked her, and they got on well.

“Anything special?” he asked, assuming it was just a friendly visit, but he liked getting a heads-up if there was something more. Things had been going well for them lately, and thanks to some strong decisions he had made in the last quarter, their stock was up significantly. It was why the board loved him and gave him their full support.

“I just wanted to catch up on some things with you.” She complimented him on their stock increase, and said she’d be there at noon. It didn’t sound ominous to him, just a standard visit from the chairman of the board, and he kept busy until then, answering letters and returning calls. He had just finished his to-do list when his assistant told him she had arrived.

Connie walked into his office wearing casual summer clothing. She was an athletic-looking older woman, with sharp blue eyes and neatly trimmed gray hair. And she was a brilliant businesswoman herself, despite the slightly grandmotherly look.

He complimented her on her tan, as she sat down on the other side of his desk, and had closed the door to his office as she walked in. They chatted for a few minutes about their families and nothing in particular, and then she looked into his eyes with a serious expression that told him the meeting wasn’t going to be as easygoing as he’d thought.

“I’m here unofficially, Marshall, to discuss something with you privately. I’ve already discussed it with the board, and we’d like you to handle it this time
before
it becomes a problem. How you handle it is up to you, but we don’t want this to become public knowledge, or an issue for UPI, or us as the board. We’d rather not be forced to take a position on it. So it’s entirely up to you what you do.

“It has been brought to our attention, by several members of the L.A. office, that you’ve been involved with a woman there for many years, and in a fairly serious context. We’ve been told you have a second family there and several children with this woman. Apparently, one of the secretaries in the office is aware of it too, and says that this woman, your er … uh … mistress … other wife, however you view her, used to be an employee of the office. I realize that these things happen, and it’s not the first time in the business community, that a man of your stature has a second, hidden family, for whatever reason. But it’s a situation that could blow up in our faces, or yours. I have no idea if your wife is aware of it, but if she isn’t and she finds out, it’s going to be a mess for you, and she may not keep quiet about it. And far more likely, if the other woman, and mother of your other children, gets tired of the situation, she could create an enormous scandal that would make you look bad, and us by association. You know how sensitive people are about things like this, and hypocritical about moral issues. This is a very puritanical country, although personally I’m more realistic than that.

“But this isn’t about my morals, or yours, or how I view them. This could turn into a major public scandal that would make you look bad to the public and the stockholders, and taint your reputation in an extremely negative way. I’m sure this is a heartbreaking situation for you. But the board wants you to clean this up as quickly as possible
before someone goes to the press with it, or one of the women involved decides to make a public scandal of it. You’re very important to us, Marshall, and we can’t have you be this vulnerable to something that has all the makings of a gigantic mess. You’re going to have to make hard choices here, for the sake of your career. If UPI is still your priority, then you’re going to have to bring your personal situation into line with what’s expected of you as our CEO. I’ve spoken to our lawyers about this, and we can’t force you to get divorced, or marry another woman, but I can tell you that in the circumstance you’re in now, should that become public, that’s not the image we want for our CEO.

“The people we love are often more important to us, and should be, but this could jeopardize your career. And I thought it was only fair to warn you of that, to tell you that we’ve become aware of it, and give you the chance to clean it up as quickly as possible. At this point, if you do care about your job, you really have no other choice.”

She looked at him with a serious expression, and if she had hit him with a two-by-four from across his desk, she couldn’t have hit him any harder or taken his breath away more. It took him more than a minute to regain his composure after everything she’d said. He hadn’t argued with her or asked her the details of how they’d found out. It no longer mattered. Over the years, some of his colleagues must have seen him and Ashley in various places, or with their daughters, and apparently his life with her was an open secret. And Connie had made it clear that if he didn’t make a decision about it quickly, it was liable to cost him his career, something he couldn’t allow to happen. But he nearly burst into tears at the idea of giving either of them up, and he had no idea which one. And he clearly
couldn’t continue to lead a double life after Connie’s warning from the board.

She could see how undone he was, and she rapidly stood up. “I’ll let you deal with this, Marshall. Please keep me informed of how you intend to proceed, and what you plan to do. No one is going to be shocked or upset if you decide to get divorced. And if you decide to end it with the other woman, I hope you handle it carefully, so this whole situation doesn’t explode in your face and ours.” He was sitting on a time bomb, and so were they. And the last thing they wanted was this kind of publicity for their CEO. They were a very traditional corporation, with a serious, respectable image, and he was thought to be a proper family man. And straightening out his current situation without shattering that image was going to be a major feat. People had to feel they could trust him, not that he was some kind of sleazy, dishonest two-timer, with two families in two cities. She just hoped that his mistress was a decent woman and wouldn’t turn this into a circus. If the woman who had accused him of sexual harassment was any indication of the kind of women he favored, Connie was deeply concerned, and so was the rest of the board. And she didn’t envy what he had to do now. He was probably very attached to both women, but if he wanted to keep his job as CEO of UPI in the long run, he would have to make a choice.

“I’m sorry, Marshall,” she said quietly as she left his office, and Marshall sat at his desk for a long time, looking stunned. He had absolutely no idea what to do now.

After sitting in his office with the door closed for two hours, Marshall left at three o’clock, without explanation to anyone. He told his
secretary he thought he was coming down with something and just walked out. And she never made the connection between his leaving and the visit from the chairman of the board. It wasn’t the first time Connie had come to see him, just for a friendly talk between chairman and CEO. But this time had been entirely different, and only Marshall knew that. His whole career was on the line, even more than it had been with the threatened sexual harassment suit, or maybe because of it. Maybe he had used up his tickets with the board. But whatever the reason, Connie had made it clear, if he wanted to remain the CEO of UPI, that they didn’t want him having a wife and family in Marin County, and a hidden mistress and two children in Malibu. He had gotten away with it for years and now he no longer could. The jig was up.

He couldn’t call Liz to discuss it with her; nor could he tell Ashley. He knew that as quickly as possible, he had to choose one of them and clean up his life. Thinking about it made him feel sick, and as soon as he walked into the house in Ross at four-thirty, he walked upstairs to his bathroom and threw up. And he felt no better when he did. He was engaged in another nightmare, and this one wouldn’t end as simply as Megan Wheeler’s claims against him. There was no one to buy off, no compromise solution possible. If he wanted both women, he would eventually lose his job, and probably sooner rather than later, since the board was terrified of being involved in a scandal, and having it reflect on both him and UPI. And if it did, it could affect their stock. So he had to decide what to do now, or kiss his career goodbye. What he couldn’t figure out was whether to stay married to Liz, with whom he had spent twenty-seven years, and who had always been the perfect wife, despite her recent emotional ups and downs, but whom he didn’t love as he did Ashley. And it
brought tears to his eyes when he thought of giving Ashley up, and he didn’t think he could. But how could he do that to Liz? And his children, those he shared with Liz, would hate him forever if he abandoned their mother for the gorgeous girl who had shared his bed in L.A. for eight years, and given birth to his twins. He had no idea where to turn and no one to talk to. He had never been so terrified in his life, of making the wrong decision, but in this case, there was no right one, and he knew he would lose something and someone important either way, and a part of himself. Each of the women owned a part of him, and he would have to sever a limb to leave them, like an animal in a trap.

He sat in the dark in the house in Ross after nightfall, unable to move or clear his head. He just kept going around and around in his mind … Ashley … Liz … Liz … Ashley … Did he pick history or passion? Duty or desire? Youth or maturity? The perfect corporate wife or the girl of his dreams?… He had loved them both for too long … He had been sitting there for several hours, alternately crying and unable to breathe, with a rising feel of panic that tasted like bile in his mouth, when he was suddenly aware of a sharp pain in his chest and a tingling down one arm, and he knew he was having a heart attack. And for a minute it seemed much simpler to die than to make the decision he had to make. And as he thought it, he was so breathless, he started to pass out, and instinctively reached for the phone and called 911. They answered immediately.

“I’m having … a … heart … attack …,” he said, in short sharp breaths. He had no idea what time it was and didn’t care, and he still hoped he would die, but had called 911 anyway. He hadn’t called Liz or Ashley and didn’t want to. He wanted to die alone. It was another choice he couldn’t make.

“What’s your address?” the woman asked him in a calm clear voice, and he told her. “Are you close to your front door?” she asked him.

“No … can’t get downstairs … I can’t breathe …,” he said in gasps. “Pain in my chest … front door unlocked.” He felt again like he was going to pass out, but he hadn’t yet.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Two scotch … not drunk … I’m upstairs … in my bedroom.”

“I’ll send a unit out immediately. Keep talking to me. What’s your name?”

“Marshall Weston,” he said clearly, and it meant nothing to her.

“Marshall, are you alone?… Marshall?” she said sharply. He had gone silent for a minute, and then she heard him groan.

“Just threw up.” It was consistent with symptoms for a heart attack. She had already dispatched the paramedic unit from the fire department, which should be at his house any minute. And then she heard voices in the room with him, and knew they were there.

“Marshall, are the paramedics with you?” She had to check to be sure.

“Yes,” he said, and hung up the phone, as two burly paramedics knelt down next to him. He was lying on his bedroom floor in his own vomit. Marshall looked at them with eyes full of fear and despair. They checked his vital signs, and his heart was racing, but it sounded strong, as one of them listened with a stethoscope and nodded to his friend. There was a chance that they had gotten to him before the actual attack, but they had everything they needed to get his heart going again if it stopped on the way to Marin General.

“I can’t breathe … my chest hurts …,” Marshall said as two firemen put him on a gurney and strapped him in.

“You’re going to be fine, Marshall,” the senior paramedic reassured him. He looked about the same age as Marshall and exuded confidence as he directed the others to get him into the ambulance. “We’ve already called the hospital, and they’re waiting for you.”

“…  can’t breathe …,” he gasped again. He felt like he was choking, and he could feel his heart racing now, a thousand beats a minute, or so it seemed.

The paramedics talked to each other as they slid the gurney into the ambulance and closed the doors. They took off with lights flashing and siren screaming less than a minute later, as one of them sat next to Marshall and continued to take his vital signs. Marshall kept looking at him, with an oxygen mask on. He pointed to his chest and said “hurts,” and as the paramedic nodded his understanding, Marshall lost consciousness into a sea of black.

Lindsay was in her room, doing her nails and watching a movie while talking on her cell phone to a friend, and Liz was quietly reading on her bed, when the phone rang at the house in Lake Tahoe. It was late for anyone to call, and Liz assumed it was Marshall when she picked it up. Instead, she heard an unfamiliar voice that identified herself as an emergency-room nurse at Marin General, and she told Liz that Marshall had been brought in by the paramedics for a suspected heart attack, and they were checking him for coronary blockage. Liz sat bolt upright on her bed as soon as she heard the words. They had found her name and all their numbers in his wallet and called her as soon as they admitted him.

“How did that happen? Is he conscious? Is he all right?” She was already standing next to her bed, ready to bolt out the door. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and she slipped her feet into sandals as she questioned the nurse.