Last night Jack had yelled at her. "I need Lenny Brookstein! Without that money, I'm finished, do you understand? We're finished."
Honor did understand. But now here was Jack, storming off like a spoiled child, embarrassing them both in front of everyone.
"I'd better go after him," she said meekly. "Sorry, Grace. Lenny."
The dinner party limped on. After the Warners' departure, everyone made an effort to be upbeat, but Jack and Honor's empty chairs were like two ghosts at the feast. John Merrivale made a toast, thanking Grace for the meal, but his stammer got so bad halfway through that Caroline had to finish it for him. Connie left before dessert, citing a headache. By the time the maid brought the coffee, the forced smiles of the remaining guests were beginning to look like lockjaw.
In bed with Lenny afterward, Grace broke down in tears.
"It was a disaster, wasn't it? Why does everything come back to the stupid economy? Connie and Michael losing their house, Jack stressed out about unemployment."
"I don't think that's all he's stressed about, sweetheart."
"Even Caroline and Maria were moaning at the hairdressers' about how much less John and Andrew are making this year. I hate it."
Lenny was furious. "Maria and Caroline were bitching to you? Are you kidding me? They're lucky their husbands still have jobs. The SEC is all over us like lice."
Grace gasped. "You're under investigation?"
"Don't worry, honey, it's nothing. A shit storm in a teacup. They're looking at all the big hedge funds right now. The point is, these are tough times, and Quorum's survived them because of me. Which means those ungrateful bitches' husbands have survived it because of me."
"Please, darling," Grace sobbed. "Don't get angry. I shouldn't have said anything. I can't take any more fighting tonight. Really, I can't take it."
Lenny took her in his arms.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I've been a bit of a Grinch on this trip, haven't I?"
Grace nestled closer to his body. She always felt safe and happy pressed against him.
"I tell you what. Tomorrow morning, I'll get up early and take the boat out by myself. Sailing always clears my head. By the time I come home, I'll be so relaxed, you won't recognize me."
"Sounds good." Grace began drifting off to sleep.
Later, she would try to remember the exact words that Lenny had said next. It was so hard to untangle dream from reality. What she thought she heard was, "Whatever happens, Gracie, I love you." But maybe she dreamed it. All she knew for sure was that she'd fallen asleep that night happy.
For the last time.
Chapter Six
JOHN MERRIVALE TIGHTENED HIS SEAT BELT and closed his eyes as the six-seater, twin-engine plane shuddered its way up through the clouds. A nervous flier at the best of times, he was terrified of these little puddle jumpers. It was like trusting your life to a lawn mower.
"Don't worry." The woman next to him smiled amiably. "It's always bumpy first thing in the morning, before the sun burns through the clouds."
John Merrivale thought, Can sun burn through clouds?, then smiled at himself for being so philosophical, today of all days.
If the lawn mower didn't fail them, they would land in Boston in twenty-five minutes.
It was 6:15 A.M.
AT 8:15 A.M., ANDREW PRESTON TOOK his seat on a different airplane. The hundred-seater Fokker 100 was only two-thirds full. I guess not a lot of people fly to New York from Nantucket on a Tuesday morning. They all left yesterday.
He had mixed feelings when he got the call late last night, telling him he was needed urgently back at the office. Peter Finch, the head of the SEC investigative team looking into Quorum's accounts, wanted some "face time." Andrew dreaded the meeting. He could think of no good reason why Finch would summon him back to New York, and quite a few bad ones. On the other hand, being away from the office made him feel hideously out of control. He believed he'd covered his tracks, but these SEC bastards were like bloodhounds.
In any case, he needed to get out of Nantucket. That guest cottage was starting to feel like a prison. After her public humiliation at dinner last night, Maria had flown into a hysterical fury, swearing and screaming at Andrew, even attacking him physically. Rolling up his sleeve now, he could still see the livid red scratch marks from her nails.
"How dare you allow Lenny Brookstein to treat us like that! He made a complete fool of me, and you sat by and did nothing."
Andrew fought back the urge to tell Maria that it was she who had started it, by trying to make a fool of Grace. Instead, he said, "What would you have me do? He's my boss, Maria. He pays our bills."
"Barely! He pays you less than his goddamn cook. Didn't you hear what he said? Doesn't that bother you?"
Andrew had heard. And it did bother him. He was 90 percent sure that Lenny was joking. If the chef was making more than he was, she was certainly overpaid. But it wasn't unheard of for Lenny's generosity to prompt some peculiar decisions. He tried to reason with himself. Why should I care what Lenny pays somebody else? It's his money, after all. He can do what he likes with it. But it still rankled. Perhaps, on some subconscious level, it justified what Andrew had done.
Maria was passed out cold when he left her this morning, exhausted from her drunken rage. When she woke up, she'd have a horrific hangover. Andrew didn't want to be within a hundred miles of her when that happened. Now he wouldn't have to be.
"Cabin crew, please be seated for takeoff."
Closing his eyes, Andrew Preston tried to relax.
GRACE MET HER SISTERS FOR LUNCH at the Cliffside Beach Club.