Priceless (11 page)

That she understood. Many times, she’d started things just for fun and ended up in bed with people she didn’t really want to be with or said hurtful things to other girls or ruined situations without intending to. Mind you, those things were a little different from embezzling billions of dollars, but she guessed it was a question of scale.

“Mr. Bedford says they’re probably going to seize the apartment in the next day or so. They’ve already frozen our bank accounts.”

Her father frowned. “Do you have money?”

“I pawned some jewelry.”

He said nothing for a moment. “Well, that’s a little embarrassing. Geller was polite, I assume?”

She nodded. “He’s an honest man.” She meant it to sting a little, but there was no sign on her father’s face that he felt it.

“So you’re all right for money?”

She shrugged. “I have some money. I can go and get a job.”

He nodded. “Of course you can. You’re a very capable young woman.”

She was surprised. “I am? I’m not sure I feel very capable, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

He had already moved back to his favorite topic. “So, Bedford tells me I will probably be sent to a federal prison with some very frightening individuals. He’s going to try to get me moved to a minimum-security place. Who knows, I might get some reading done.”

“That’s a positive way to look at it.” She was clearly angry with him, and he finally picked up on it.

“You’re annoyed. Is it the apartment? The jewelry?”

“Dad, you stole millions of dollars. You’ve ruined our lives. I’ve got no place to live. A woman I’ve never met was so angry with me she tried to break my nose.”

He was surprised, finally. “That’s not very polite, is it?”

“She didn’t manage it, though.”

“Well, that’s good. Did they arrest her?”

She shook her head. “Yes, but I didn’t press charges. I decided we’d hurt her enough.”

“That’s nice of you.” He considered. “Maybe you should take a vacation.”

“On our yacht?”

A quick smile. “No, I think the FBI might be using that now. But maybe you should take a trip.” Something occurred to him suddenly. “Did you say they’re shutting you out of the apartment?” She nodded. “Listen, this is very important. In your mother’s dressing table, there is a key. The key is for a chest in the green guest room. Are you following me?”

“Yes, of course. But what on earth are you talking about?”

“Listen to me. Go to the chest and take out a red box. I intended to give it to you on your wedding day, but I want you to take it now. It’s very important, very important indeed, that you take everything that’s in that box. Do you understand me?” He looked like the old Dad for a moment, intelligence and force in his eyes, focus and passion. No wonder people had trusted him with everything.

She had.

She leaned forward and took his hands.

“No touching,” barked the guard.

“Daddy, why did you do it? We had plenty of money. We had each other. We could have left New York and done what you and Mom planned, run away to some island.”

“Really?” His face was blank. “What about your friends? Your schooling? Your clothes and toys and ponies and cars? That all seemed very important to you.”

Her eyes grew hot with unshed tears. “Compared to you? Compared to watching you go to jail? That’s not fair, Dad. If you started this soon after Mom died, then I was only a little kid. I didn’t know the difference between rich and poor. We could have gone away then and just hung out. It would have been heaven.” Now she was just letting the tears come. “Instead, you chose money, and I lost you. You were always at work when I was a kid, and now that I’m starting out in the world, you’re going to jail. Why did you make that choice?”

Her heart was breaking, but her father seemed strangely unmoved. He just looked at her silently as she put her head down on the table and sobbed. Slowly, he reached out a hand
and stroked her shaking head.

“No touching,” said the guard.

The apartment had strangers in it. Labeling things. Taking things.

She called Greta and Davis to her room and locked the door behind them. After falling apart with her father, she had come to the conclusion that the going was tough, and she’d better toughen up and get going. Her jaw was set, and her hands had stopped shaking as the taxi passed Grand Central, heading uptown.

“OK, they’re going to take the apartment. There’s nothing we can do about it. Dad has fucked us all over, so to speak, but the first thing I’m going to do is pay you two back the money you lost. I’m not going to apologize for him, because I sincerely hope he will apologize himself, but I’m sure you know how I feel.”

They were silent, but Greta took her hand and squeezed it.

“So, how much are we talking about. Davis? You can round it up.”

“Seventy-five thousand.”

She didn’t blink. She peeled notes off her pile, shuffled them together, and handed them over. “Davis, you have been a rock in my life ever since I can remember. I cannot tell you how much I love you and appreciate your loyalty and support.”

He looked at the money and started to hand it back. “I can’t take this, Charlotte. What are you going to live on?”

She shrugged. “Oh, there’s plenty of money where that came from, don’t you worry. Besides, I have lots of friends who’ll help me. Greta? How much did that dickhead take from you?”

“A hundred.”

“Thousand, I assume?” She counted it out. Who knew Greta had a hundred grand to lose?

She felt good, having paid them back, and it made what she had to do next a little easier.

“You realize, I guess, that there isn’t going to be a job here anymore.”

They nodded. Davis spoke. “I can stay, though. You can’t be here alone. It isn’t safe.”

She smiled and stood. She went to her closet and pulled out her handsome leather suitcase. “I won’t be here, Davis.”

They were concerned. “Where will you go?”

“I’m going to the one place where I know I can trust people.” She turned to look at Greta, who she knew would understand. “I’m going to New Orleans to find Miss Millie.”

SHE DIDN’T LIKE
creeping about in her own house, but neither did she want to draw the attention of the investigators. So, after stepping out of her shoes, she padded along the upper hallway to her parents’ room.

Her mother’s dresser was just as she had left it. Opening her drawers released the faint scent of her perfume, light, cucumbers and lemons, natural and sweet. She wondered if it was really there or if she was just imagining it. She was also coming to realize that her mother wasn’t exactly as the public thought. Chanel No. 5 for going out, lemons for staying in. Regal queen on the runway, sweet young woman in private. Maybe everyone had at least two faces. She certainly did. Charlotte rummaged through the underwear drawer, finding the cool hardness of the key right away.

The guest room was rarely used, but Greta kept it immaculate, of course. Looking around, Charlotte couldn’t see a chest, and she frowned. She finally found it under the bed. She paused, hearing voices in the hall. They passed. She breathed and then opened the chest.

Three things lay inside: a flat jewelry box, a ring box, and a flash drive on a silver chain.

Back in her own room, she flipped open the boxes. In the first lay a magnificent agate and diamond collar with matching earrings. She caught her breath. A famous
Vogue
cover of Jackie wearing this very necklace hung above the fireplace in her father’s study, Jackie’s arms folded across her bare chest, her eyes closed, her hair smoothed back from her forehead. She hadn’t been much older than Charlotte was now. The ring box contained a simple gold band, Jackie’s wedding ring. Charlotte turned it over—the inscription inside merely said “J & J & J & J …” all the way around. Nice. If only things had stayed that simple.

The tiny zip drive lay in her palm. Was he asking her to hide something from the investigators? She decided to think about it
later and hung it around her neck, where it hung almost down to her belly button.
Hmm.
Maybe her father had worn it. She almost took it off to give to the authorities right away, but as her hand closed over it, she changed her mind. What good could it do? He’d already confessed to the crime; they didn’t need any more evidence. And he’d said it was for her, for her wedding day, and why would he give her criminal evidence as a wedding present?

GRETA RUMMAGED IN
her purse. “I do have it. Hang on.” She pulled out a battered red notebook.

“Greta, didn’t I give you an iPhone for Christmas? You shouldn’t keep all your addresses in that old thing.”

Greta shrugged. “I only just worked out how to make the phone play music. Anything else would be beyond me. This little red book works just fine, Charlotte.” She flipped through it. “Here it is. Do you have a pencil?”

Charlotte was holding her phone and merely raised her eyebrows.

“OK. Millie Pearl, 1778 Robideaux Avenue, New Orleans.” She frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a phone number.”

Charlotte closed her phone. “S’OK. I got it when she called the other day. Besides, I’m just going to show up and surprise her.”

Greta turned away and carried on going through kitchen drawers. Charlotte had told her she could take what she wanted, and she was gathering her favorite tools. It looked like a pile of wooden spoons to Charlotte, but she knew better than to question Greta.

“Be careful, Charlotte.” The older woman turned suddenly and pointed a spatula at her. “Not everyone knows you the way she and I do, and people are going to judge you badly because of what your father has done. Protect yourself.”

“I don’t care what people think of me.”

“I know you think that, Charlotte. But it still hurts. Someone attacked you yesterday, and you’re pretending this is all OK and it really isn’t.” Her voice faltered. “It really isn’t OK at all.”

THE PHONE RANG
through from the front desk. “Clara Ackerman is here to see you, Miss Williams. Shall I send her up?”

Charlotte frowned. Clara was the last person she expected to see. “Of course, thank you.”

Charlotte met Clara at the elevator. When the doors opened, Clara looked worried, but her face lit up when she saw Charlotte.

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you! When we saw you on the news, that you’d been attacked, we were all so worried.” She gave her a big hug. She was wearing a winter white cashmere coat with a red fake fox collar and looked wonderfully elegant and together.

“We?” Charlotte suddenly had visions of all of her school friends getting together in a bar to witness her downfall.
Take a shot every time someone calls Charlotte a party girl!

“My family.” Clara looked around. “Why are all these people here? What are they doing with your things?”

Charlotte made a face. “They’re taking them. For some reason I don’t fully understand, the investigation has seized the apartment.”

“You’re joking.”

“Sadly, I’m not.”

“Well, come and stay with us, then. As long as you like.” She tugged off her leather gloves and cashmere cloche hat, stuffing them all in her pocket.