Part 11 (2/2)
”Yeah, come on in, Andy,” Reese called, looking up from the computer screen.
Andy Phillips was Albemarle's head of equity research. Only six years out of Harvard Business School, Phillips already had a growing reputation on Wall Street as a superb stock picker. ”Had another idea, Chuck.”
Everyone was on a first-name basis at Albemarle, no matter the age or seniority of position. And dress was business casual every day. Reese liked all of that. Being comfortable made for a better working environment. He knew full well how staid and stiff things were at Sumter. ”What's that, young gun? What's your next billion-dollar idea?”
”I think we oughta short General Datacom in a big way. It's a-”
”A storage device company out in San Jose,” Reese interrupted. ”About six hundred million in revenues and they've suffered delays getting their next-generation device to market. So what?”
Phillips chuckled. Of course, Chuck Reese knew that. Chuck Reese knew everything. ”They're about to report bad results for the last quarter.”
”The market already seems to know that,” Reese said, punching up a chart of the company's stock. ”The share price is off 10 percent in the last two weeks.”
”Right, but what the market doesn't know is that the senior managers out there are about to mutiny. They can't stand the CEO. The stock's probably going to fall 30 to 40 percent when the s.h.i.+t hits the fan in a couple of weeks.”
”How do you know this?”
”A friend. He says the product is ready, but the problem is that there's infighting among senior management.”
Reese held up his hand. ”Andy, never attribute to malice what can be explained by inept.i.tude. Hold off on that one. They'll end up getting it right out there. But I liked your ideas earlier today concerning the health-care sector. Go for it there.”
”Right.”
”That'll be all.”
”Thanks, Chuck.”
”Sure.” Reese watched the young man exit the office, then turned back to the window and glanced up at the Sumter Tower again. Everything else in his life was good. If only he could lookdown on the Sumter Tower.
CHAPTER SIX.
The Fan-named for the way its main avenues spread west from Richmond's downtown like the spokes of a lady's fan-is an eclectic neighborhood nestled between the outskirts of center city and the upscale, old-money residential area of the West End. The antebellum homes overlooking the Fan's tree-lined streets are large but built close together, with small yards taken up mostly by flower gardens. Over the years many of the old homes have been divided into apartments, so the Fan is densely populated. Health food stores, art galleries, and offbeat boutiques dot the main avenues, and, unlike other areas of the city, backgrounds, creeds, and colors are as diverse as the residents' interests. Blacks and whites. Young and old. Hippies, professionals, creative types, and students. It's the city's melting pot.
Angela slid into a wooden booth in Castro's, named not for Fidel but for a rhythm and blues band, Skip Castro, that had gained a measure of fame in Virginia during the seventies and eighties, but never quite made it onto the national scene. On the other side of the scratched table sat Kate Charboneau, a slim woman in her early forties. Kate had long blonde hair that cascaded past her shoulders in unruly waves, penetrating hazel eyes, thin features, and fair skin.
They hadn't spoken in two years. Not since a last-ditch appeal to win Hunter back had ended in an emotionally painful defeat, and now Angela found herself wis.h.i.+ng they had kept in touch. Kate was always optimistic, even when the situation seemed bleak. She had pledged to Angela that someday they would win Hunter back. Maybe she'd been right after all.
”Sorry I'm late,” Angela apologized. It was quarter to seven and she'd promised to be at Castro's by 6:30. She hated to keep people waiting. ”Traffic was terrible because of what's leftover of the snow. The streets coming out of downtown are pretty icy.” Kate's office was in the bas.e.m.e.nt of a four-story mansion a few blocks away, so she would have gotten to Castro's without much trouble.
Kate smiled. ”No problem. Was it hard to find a place to park?” she asked in her heavy Southern accent. She had come to Richmond from New Orleans for law school and never left.
”I got lucky. Someone was leaving just as I pulled up in front of my apartment.”
”So you still live out here?”
”Yes, same place as before. It's just a few blocks away.” Angela spotted Kate's half-empty gla.s.s of white wine as she placed her coat down beside her on the bench seat. ”How've you been? Practice going OK?”
”I'm finding a way to make ends meet.” Kate practiced mostly family law, mostly by herself. She'd had several partners over the years, but only for short periods of time. They inevitably became frustrated with her penchant for giving away her services to the poor. ”Same as always.”
Angela motioned to a waiter that she wanted a gla.s.s of wine, too. She'd hired Kate six years ago because she seemed determined. Plus, she was affordable. If money hadn't been a problem, she would have hired the other prominent law firm in town-the one Chuck Reese hadn't hired. But the partner Angela had spoken to there wanted five hundred dollars an hour and a ten-thousand-dollar retainer just for starters. And he'd given her a condescending look that had told her he didn't really want the case.
”You look great.”
Kate laughed. ”You're always so nice, Angela. The truth is I look three years older, and I ought to start using more makeup. You're the one who looks great.” She reached across the table and touched Angela's hand. ”I don't know how you do it. I think you're prettier now than the first time I saw you. You really ought to give up all the banking stuff and go into modeling.”
Angela scoffed. ”I wish you'd been in charge of the agencies I talked to in college.”
Most of the fas.h.i.+on people who had visited campus had used phrases like ”so close” and ”just on the edge of what we're looking for” when Angela had interviewed with them in her freshman year. It hadn't helped that she didn't have a portfolio-she couldn't afford the expense-but one firm had invited her to their main offices in New York City anyway. They'd put her up overnight in the Plaza Hotel, wined and dined her, and told her that she had a real future in the business. But, after returning to campus, she'd never heard from the agency again, despite her repeated attempts to contact the people she'd interviewed with. She'd always wondered if the silence had anything to do with her background. The other girls visiting the agency that day were from places like East Hampton on Long Island, Darien, Connecticut, and the Main Line in Philadelphia.
”Unfortunately, the decision makers didn't share your enthusiasm for my prospects in the industry. And that was almost fifteen years ago.”
”Well, they were wrong,” Kate replied adamantly.
Angela shrugged. ”So what's up?” she asked. ”You sounded so mysterious on the phone this morning.”
”Danny Ford's lawyer called me late yesterday afternoon.”
Danny Ford was one of the two men who had accused Angela of adultery in divorce court, one of the men who had helped ruin her life. ”And?” she asked, picking up the gla.s.s of wine the waiter had just delivered.
”It seems Danny has some things on his mind he wants to talk about.”
Angela's heart skipped a beat. Jake Lawrence must have made good on his promise. That was the only explanation for Danny's sudden desire to talk. The timing was too convenient. ”What does he have to say after all this time?”
”I don't know yet. His lawyer wouldn't be specific on the phone. He just said that they wanted to get together. I've arranged a meeting with them this coming Monday afternoon in my office.” Kate hesitated. ”I think it would be best if you let me handle this one myself. Ford might not be as forthcoming if you're there staring him down. He knows what he did to you.”
Angela nodded, gazing into her winegla.s.s. She was certain of what Danny was going to say. He was going to say that he'd lied about the affair. Jake Lawrence had pulled some very powerful strings. G.o.d, the things money could do. ”Let's a.s.sume for a second Danny admits to you that he lied on the stand during the divorce proceedings,” Angela said.
”Don't get your hopes up, Angela,” Kate was quick to warn. ”You never know. He might just be-”
”I'm not getting my hopes up,” Angela interrupted. ”I just want to make certain we antic.i.p.ate all the possibilities, then react accordingly. As quickly as possible. What if Danny looks across the table at you on Monday and admits that he committed perjury six years ago? That he lied about having s.e.x with me. That, other than in photographs, he'd never even laid eyes on me before the first day of the proceedings. What then?”
Kate thought for a second. ”We might be able to get you some alimony, and-”
”I don't care about alimony. All I care about is-”
”Getting Hunter back. Yes, I know that. I was going to say that we might be able to reopen the custody case as well.” She glanced away. ”I wouldn't be so confident except that . . . ”
Angela couldn't hear the rest. It was Thursday night and the bar was becoming crowded. Kate's voice had faded into the growing hum of conversation and music. ”What did you say?” she asked, leaning over the table.
Kate pushed her blonde bangs out of her eyes. ”It's so strange.”
”What is?”
”Remember you told me that you had once caught Sam in bed with another woman while you were married?”
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