Words Unspoken (31 page)

Greed.
Many brokers were tempted by greed. But his temptation was something much more basic.
Survival
. How had he plummeted from golden success to simple survival in just one week? He did not know, but he prayed to the God of Mammon that his plan would work.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 21

The little scoundrel
, Stella thought.
Some nutcase is trying to wrap me around his finger. Well, it won’t work
. She was as mad as a rabid dog on the last day of his life! Who was toying with S. A. Green? She didn’t have time for this game. Or the energy, she admitted to herself. This person was snooping into her life, and she’d been foolish enough to fall into his trap. No doubt he—or she—had been somewhere in Chicago on Monday, probably observing her every move. What did that mean?

It meant she had to outsmart him.

With the plane hovering somewhere over Raleigh, North Carolina, she had decided to spend the night in a hotel. What if this creep was on the plane and planning to follow her home? She wasn’t going to lead him to her doorstep. She’d spent half the plane trip looking over her shoulder, with Eddy doing the same. They saw no evidence of being followed. Still, just to be safe, Stella had found a nearby hotel and checked in.

Now on Wednesday, back at home, she still felt nervous. Never mind. She wasn’t buying into any more schemes. She had enough pressure on her with the editing of the manuscript. And the stock market. The news was all about the crash on Monday. The
New York Times
described the panic at the brokerage firms, of people losing millions in the course of one day.

She picked up the phone and dialed Ted Draper’s number. He answered on the third ring.

“Ted, this is Stella Green.”

“Oh, hello, Miss Green. How are you?” His voice sounded as smooth and confident as ever.

“Very well, but I need to ask how are
you
? And of equal importance, how is the foundation?”

“I was actually planning on calling you later today. You are one of only a few of my clients who haven’t called me this week. Hold on a minute. I have your portfolio right here.”

As Stella waited, she realized her temple was throbbing.

Ted came back on the line. “I won’t lie to you, Miss Green. This has been the worst week of my life—the worst week for all brokers—as far as the stock market goes. People are numb with shock. Most everyone has lost huge sums. But I actually think it was fortunate that you held on to everything. Right now you’re showing a loss of about nine hundred thousand dollars. But I urge you to stay calm. It could have been much worse.”

Stella swallowed hard.
A loss of nine hundred thousand …
“So the foundation’s worth has dropped below six million?” She was surprised at the raspy tone in her voice. She tried to clear her throat again.

“Not quite.”

He was trying to reassure her.

“And with the advance from the new novel, I’m sure it will bounce right back up. My advice to you is to hold tight. Be patient. It will inch back up, maybe sooner than either of us expects.”

He sounded so confident. What could she do besides trust him? While her account had lost hundreds of thousands of dollars, she had been standing on a corner in Chicago waiting for a neurotic reader to show up and ruin her day. He hadn’t shown up, and the big bear of Wall Street had. Every way she looked at it, Black Monday had been a disaster.

________

The recording was not the clearest, but in between the scrape of knives and forks and the chatter of the restaurant, Silvano got the gist of the conversation between Stella Green and Eddy Clouse. The first twenty minutes centered on him—the jerk who was making them waste their day in Chicago. Silvano laughed out loud at every reference to “some neurotic reader.” Eventually, they began to discuss other things that were much more interesting.

“Stella, maybe it’s time to let your fans know who you are.”

“Impossible. Not yet, Eddy. I can’t yet.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think it through, talk to him.”

“To Ashton?”

“Yes.”

More static as Silvano scribbled down the name Ashton. Stella then made two references to places in Atlanta, after which followed a long period of Eddy and Stella talking about the editing. Once Stella grew quite agitated, but Eddy managed to calm her down. And then the lunch encounter was over.

He looked over his notes. With the information he had gleaned, as well as the photos of Miss Green and a recorded conversation between the author and her editor, he had plenty of scoop to dangle before a magazine. The identity of Miss S. A. Green should be worth a lot.

_________

“And all I want to do is to make him suffer. Suffer terribly. I know you’ll think that is just sinful, but it’s how I feel.”

The kids were in bed, and over a cup of coffee, Katy Lynn had finally managed to bring up the subject with Janelle and Brian.

“What are you hoping for, Katy Lynn?” Brian asked, his voice steady.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you really looking for a fight and a way to ruin Hamilton’s reputation, or do you want to go through this in the least painful way possible, trying to preserve some type of peace for you and Gina? Are you hoping to get all his money, or are you willing to split it?”

“Good questions.” She had an old robe of Janelle’s pulled over her pajamas and her feet tucked under her on the couch in their little den.

What do I really want?

“What I wanted at first was for him to come back to me. Plain and simple. To admit he’d made a huge mistake and been a fool and then come back.”

“And what are the chances of that happening?” Brian asked, looking straight at her. He was concerned, compassionate without being emotional.

She took a sip of coffee and conceded, “Zero. He filed for a divorce, moved out. The only contact I’ve had since is by letter from his lawyer.”

Brian leaned forward and, in that same soothing voice, said, “Maybe you don’t want to rake Hamilton over the coals and ruin any chance of a relationship. Maybe you want to handle it like a businesswoman. Don’t get me wrong, Katy Lynn. I know you feel horribly betrayed and justified in making him as miserable as you are. The wound is fresh and bleeding.

I’m just wondering what might work the best in the long run.”

“For Gina.”

“For both of you.”

Late on Wednesday night Katy Lynn sat in Sandy’s bed, the pink sheets pulled around her, and listened to the mistral whipping outside, causing the wooden shutters to bang against the stuccoed walls of the little house.

Try being thankful, Katy Lynn. It works wonders.

Her father’s voice from decades ago broke into her thoughts. She had rolled her eyes and mocked him back then, but on this night she followed his advice. She
was
thankful—for the honest discussion earlier in the evening with Brian and Janelle, thankful that they had insisted she stay another week, thankful that Ellen Lewis had laughed at her request, claiming Gina was adorable and like a second daughter. Even Gina had sounded pleased. “As long as you’re having fun, Mom. Yeah, stay. That’s cool.”

Fun
was perhaps not the right adjective.
I am enjoying being away from the pressures of home, receiving good advice, and understanding a little more about my sister and brother-in-law. Voilà.
That defined it well. She thought of the astonished look on Janelle’s face when she had attended church with them last Sunday. Although she’d barely understood a word, the simplicity of the people, their sincere worship, and their devotion not only to God but to Brian and Janelle had touched some soft spot in her heart.

In three days she was getting on the plane and flying back to Atlanta to face lawyers and gossip and a teenage daughter with plenty of her own issues. Somehow Katy Lynn felt ready, or at least more prepared, than three weeks ago. She felt buoyed up by her sister and brother-in-law, knowing that all this way across the ocean, they cared. They would listen and pray, and for Katy Lynn that felt as refreshing as a long sip of iced tea on the porch of the country club.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 22

Janelle and Katy Lynn bent their heads into the mistral, drew their scarves around their necks, and marched down the beach at Carnon, pushing themselves into the whipping wind while fine particles of sand pricked their cheeks.

“Such a pleasant stroll,” Katy Lynn said, and then they both burst into laughter.

“Oh, yes. Divine! I love walking down the beach with my eyes closed! I’ll have you know, sister, that I am only doing this for you. I usually come to the beach
after
the mistral has packed up and left.”

“I know,” Katy Lynn said, and wrapped her arm in Janelle’s. “Thanks. Somehow I just needed one last walk on this beach before heading home.”

Go home.

Janelle kept her head bent down as she said, “Speaking of home, Katy, I am seriously considering spending a month with Mom and Dad and seeing a counselor. Brian thinks it could help. I hate to leave him here with the kids, but he assures me he’ll be fine.”

“Really?”

Janelle waited for her sister to digest this information.

“Going back to Mom and Dad’s for a month. You’re brave.” Katy Lynn kicked the sand and pulled her sweater around her. “No, I shouldn’t say that. I actually think that’s a very good idea. You need some time to be away from constant demands and take care of yourself. Maybe seeing the counselor would be another step in helping you to get past the depression.”

“Yes, and I think I need some time with Mom and Dad. For lots of reasons—including what you’ve told me about the past.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Her head bent into the wind, Janelle ventured the next question.

“When was the last time you saw them?”

“It’ll be three years this Christmas.”

Janelle said nothing, watching her sister huddled under an oversized sweater, her hair blowing in her face. She wasn’t wearing any makeup. Perfect Katy Lynn, Miss Etiquette and Miss Socialite and Miss Beautiful.

I’ve judged you all wrong,
Janelle thought.
I’ve seen you as a snob with lots of money and a superficial, cushy life. Pretty, with a great figure and tons of designer clothes and very few brains.
Now one word came to Janelle’s mind.
Generous.
Three weeks with Katy Lynn had shown Janelle the delightful generosity of her big sister. Not pretentious or condescending.

They found shelter at a café at La Grande Motte and ordered hot chocolate.

“Janelle, if you really do come back to the States and stay with Mom and Dad, I’ll … I’ll go back and see them too—if you are there.”

“Would you really?”

“Yeah. I think it’d be a good idea. I know I need to forgive him, Nel. But I have no idea how to go about doing it. I could make my mouth say the words. I could probably even go to the house and carry on a halfway decent conversation. But I don’t know how to uproot all the anger that is down so deep.”

“Do you know why you’re so angry?”

“Because Dad left; he treated Mom like a piece of trash. And then he got all religious and came back. And I’m mad at her for letting him.”

“But can’t you tell they love each other now?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t buy it. Not for them. But”—she smiled— “I see this faith stuff is real for you and Brian, and I think that is good. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. I certainly don’t have any easy answers. All I know is that I’m really, really glad you came, Katy.”

“Me too.”

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 23

Early on Friday morning, Brian, Janelle, Luke, and Sandy made a circle around Katy Lynn, each taking a turn to hug her. The kids had insisted on riding to the airport, even though it meant rising an hour earlier than normal. They thanked their aunt again for the gifts—the doll and the Walkman and the dinners and movies.

Janelle gave Katy Lynn one more squeeze and whispered, “We’ll be thinking of you, Katy. Please call us and keep us informed.”

“I will. I really will. And you let me know when you’re coming.”

They waved to her and watched her disappear around the corner with a final “Bye, y’all! Thanks for everything.”

Sandy turned and followed Luke down the escalator, calling out, “Wait for me!”

Brian took Janelle’s hand as she brushed away a few tears.

“What a very strange three weeks. I can’t believe that I’m crying over Katy Lynn. I’ve prayed about a lot of things in the last few years, but I never even thought to pray that I’d get to know my sister.”

“The Lord answers prayers in different ways, doesn’t He, Nelli?”

“Yeah. But why? Why does He give you someone you never even knew you needed—you didn’t even
want
to need—and take away someone you were absolutely convinced you could never live without? It doesn’t make sense, the way Jesus answers prayer. Someone finds his keys, someone’s child is healed, another child dies.” She sniffed softly. “A child dies in an accident, and we didn’t even have time to pray. We didn’t know it was going to happen, so we never got the chance to ask Jesus to prevent it. It just doesn’t seem fair.”