The Billionaire’s Handler

Chapter Eleven

Carolina parked in front of the old, redbrick house with a feeling of doom and gloom. Naturally, the wind was blowing up a tempest, shaking all the red-and-gold leaves, slapping her cheeks, sneaking down the neck of her old plaid jacket. She loved her parents, she reminded herself.

She was just looking forward to this particular visit on a par with, say, a double root canal.

She pulled a satchel, packages and bottle of wine from the backseat, then had to juggle them as she walked up the familiar brick path to the back door. “Mom! Dad!” she called out.

She’d spent a couple days feeling sorry for herself… and trying to face that she’d never likely see Maguire again. The woman he’d kidnapped wasn’t the kind of woman who belonged in his life. Things might have been different if they could have met like normal people. But they hadn’t.

It just didn’t pay to be kidnapped.

Rather than pine and whine any longer, she figured she’d better face her demons.

Her mom showed up in the doorway first, her dad stepping on her heels. Her mother was wearing a tiger print, had new highlights in her chin-length bob, wore snazzy red-framed glasses-and hurled herself at Carolina with a sob, a hug and a fog of Chanel No 19.

“Honey, I’ve missed you so much! I don’t understand why you went off like that! Why you’d ever shut us out! I was so worried and upset! I just don’t understand!”

Then her dad took over, enveloped her in a giant hug with tears in his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re home again, princess. Your mom was terribly upset. Not me. I know you’re a big girl, and can take of yourself. We’re just used to being able to talk to you whenever we want to.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, both of you.” Actually, Carolina knew they’d been told where she was, and how to contact her in case of an emergency. Her parents just couldn’t conceive of any occasion where they couldn’t immediately reach her. She wasn’t about to get into Maguire and the kidnapping, but they needed some explanations.

And she needed to face them as well.

Wine got poured. The wailing went on for a while. Apple pie slowed it down. So did the presents she’d brought for both of them. Eventually they all sat in the rust-and-brown den-no one ever sat in her mother’s living room; life revolved around the TV. Family pictures dominated the walls, her mom’s angel collection dominated the bookshelves and her father’s latest model took up half the coffee table. All of it was as familiar as her childhood, evoked equal amounts of love and stress.

As did the conversation.

Her father hunched forward at a gesture from her mom, making Carolina guess that they’d choreographed this talk ahead of time. “Honey, your mother and I have been thinking. We think it’s a good idea for us to move in with you. Or, if you’d rather, that you move in with us.”

“Dad, that’s not necessary,” she said quickly.

“We think it is. We understand that you’re grown up, that the last thing a young single woman would normally want is parents looking over her shoulder. But this whole inheritance business has been too much for you.”

“We can protect you,” her mother chimed in. “Take care of things. Your dad could handle the finances, and I could take charge of your place, redecorating or whatever you need. We’ll take the stress off…”

Before this got any hairier, Carolina stood up, opened the satchel she’d brought in. “You two are both right. I wasn’t handling stress well. But actually, one thing I needed to figure out had nothing to do with me. It was about you two. And, Dad, I need to ask you a favor.”

“Anything, princess.”

Carolina pulled out the sheaf of papers. “This is the paperwork for a trust that I created for you and Mom. It’s set up to give you two a monthly discretionary allowance, but there’s a lot of give-and-take in the setup. You might want something bigger now and then-like a car or a trip or something? Then you’d have to figure out how to work that out with taxes and social security and all.”

Before her parents could say anything, Carolina said quickly, “It’s just all too much for me. I needed some expert advice. That’s partly what I’ve been doing for the past two weeks. Getting that advice. Getting a crash course in finances from experts. That wasn’t hard. But it would be hard for me to handle this trust on top of everything else, so I was hoping that between you and Mom-”

“Carolina,” her mother said firmly, “I still feel you need us close by. This whole new lifestyle has put so much pressure on you, and-”

“Ruth Marie.” Her dad had been looking over the papers, had homed in on some of the bottom-line numbers.

“Don’t interrupt me,” her mother started to say, but her dad sank back on the couch and grabbed her mother’s hand to make her sit down with him.

“I’m stunned, honey,” he said. “And of course I’ll take this on. You’re the most wonderful daughter…”

She wasn’t sure Maguire would give her the same heaps of credit. She’d narrowly escaped having her parents live with her. Much as she loved them, it was that kind of suffocation that made her so crazy…weeks ago? Was it really only weeks ago?

It was dark when she left her parents’ place, but she had one more thing to do before going home. The drive to Kalamazoo was a long two hours, but it was a city where she knew no one. It only took a few extra minutes to find an outside U.S. postal box.

She slipped the package in, and finally headed home.

“Sir.”

Maguire woke at the sound of the phone, and glanced, bleary eyed, at the hotel bedside clock. Maybe it was only eleven at night, but he’d been running nonstop for almost a week, had been sleeping like the dead. Naturally he immediately recognized Henry’s voice.

“Okay. Two immediate things, Mr. Cochran. Tommy insisted I call you and tell you that he won a prize for ‘most improved in speech.’”

“Thank you, Henry. That’ll take a reward, I’m thinking, when I get back.”

“That’s why I thought you’d want to know, sir. In case you wanted to contact him tomorrow.”

“And?”

Henry reeled off a number of business issues, none of which really required a call, and then suddenly suffered a dry cough. “A package arrived for you. I opened it, sir.”

“You’re telling me this why?”

“Well, sir, I wouldn’t have opened it if it had been marked Private. Obviously. I was just going through the regular-”

“Tell me what was in it, Henry, before I fall back asleep.”

“A T-shirt, sir.” Another discreet cough. “Gray. Light gray. A nice cotton. With a logo. It says, For the Sexually Gifted.”

Maguire’s eyes startled open. “What!”

“It’s postmarked Kalamazoo, Michigan.”

“I don’t know anyone in Kalamazoo, Michigan.”

“Well, Mr. Cochran, someone in Kalamazoo seems to think quite highly of you. In that one regard. I mean, if they don’t know you, they’re certainly making some interesting assumptions. And if the person does know you, then she seems to feel a unique motivation to applaud your, um-”

“That’s enough, Henry. You’re sure there’s no note?”

“No note. No return address. Just the postmark.”

“Quit laughing, Henry.”

“I’m not laughing, sir. I just couldn’t think of anyone in the universe who would have sent you this. I mean, no offense, sir. It’s not the grade score I was thinking about. It was the humor of it. I don’t know anyone in your circle of people who would have-”

Neither did Maguire. He had many, many acquaintances and business friends and family connections and work and charity people he knew. Most, he had a cordial relationship. Some, more.

None, though, with that kind of irreverent sense of humor.

None. Not a single soul.

It didn’t make sense.

When Carolina opened the door, her sister strode in, handed her a package, started talking and never stopped. “I don’t know who delivered this thing, but you must not have heard them knocking. Isn’t it crazy? And, Caro, why on earth are you still living in this dump?”

Carolina was momentarily stunned at the package-M &M’s in a glass apothecary jar, labeled Tough Pills. She believed in miracles. Always had. But the only person who could conceivably find a way to leave that particular present on her doorstep-well, it was a stunner, that’s all. It made her heart suddenly thump like a jackhammer.

Donna, in the meantime, was shedding leather jacket, shoes and scarf, still talking. “Come on, Carolina. You don’t even have the security you need here. This place is ridiculous for someone with the money you have now.”

“Actually…I intend to move. There just hasn’t been time.”

“That’s so you. Your priorities are never like anyone else’s. Some of us have a tougher road, you know. I’d rather be like you. Do what I want, when I want. I never planned to be a realist.”

When Carolina had asked Donna for a visit, she’d expected trouble. “Things not going so well with Mike?”

“He lost his job. Again.” Donna rooted in the fridge, emerged with a soda, popped the top. Her blond hair was shoulder length. She still had the cheerleader body, the great smile, the gorgeous skin. The red-piped sweater and jeans fit her perfectly. Growing up, Carolina had always known Donna was the beauty in the family, but lines had settled in around her sister’s eyes and mouth.

“You’ve been dealt your share,” Carolina said sympathetically.

“I have. I swear to God. I look back now, and wonder how I could have ever believed Mike would hold a long-term job. I mean, he’s the same guy I married. Lots of fun. Great with the kids. Always happy to play. Just doesn’t have a single responsible bone in his entire body.”

“The kids?” Carolina watched her sister throw herself on the couch with a major sigh. Apparently the kids weren’t going to be an easy topic either.

“The kids are just like all the other teenagers today. Spoiled rotten. None of them appreciate how hard I’ve had to work, what I do for them. Mike gets to be the fun parent. I haven’t been fun in a long time.”

Carolina plunked down in the microfiber chair, still holding the apothecary jar. Slowly, she unsealed it, and popped in one of the tough pills. Her sister was still going on.

“Carolina…maybe this isn’t the right thing to be honest about. But I resent your money. I resent that you suddenly got real estate on easy street without having to do anything for it. I just don’t know how to act around you.”

“What’s wrong with being like we always were?”

“No. It’s not the same. It’ll never be the same again.”

Carolina popped another tough pill. Then reconsidered and scooped up three, all red ones. “I’ve got the papers I told you about. The kids’ education account. A nest-egg trust for you, with me as cosigner, that your husband has no access to. No matter what happens, you’ll be okay.”

“That’s nice. That’s a big thank-you. But what if I can’t make payments on our house? What if Jimmy gets in trouble with the law again? What if my car breaks down?”

“You’re strung tighter than wire, Donna.”

“I know I’m being bitchy. I know. I’m just exhausted all the time. And you’ve got all this money, while I feel like a nothing and a no one. Mike says I should ask you for a house. Like, why should he have to work when he’s got a rich sister-in-law?”

“And what did you tell him?” Carolina considered another tough pill, but decided the ones she’d had were working.

“That I wasn’t asking you for a new house.” But she was. It was in Donna’s eyes, not greed, but the pain of envy. “Mike got really mad at me. He said you were selfish. All about yourself. While we’re the ones with growing kids and job troubles.”

Carolina doubted that Mike had actually said that. Donna was the only one in the family who’d ever called her selfish. Donna, who married the high school football star and always expected her life would be golden.

“Donna, you’re not going to agree with me on this. But I don’t see the inheritance as totally mine.”

“Of course it is!”

“Legally,” Carolina agreed. “But the exciting part for me is getting to do something. Having enough money to make a difference. Having the chance to do something that matters to me.”

“Your family doesn’t matter to you? I don’t matter to you?”

“Yes. Of course the family matters. Of course you do. But no amount of money would make you happier with Mike, would it? Or make the kids any more appreciative?”

“Maybe it would. Maybe money would do all those things. For sure it would take away all the worry and heartache, let us live easier. I don’t understand you, Caro. You’re just thinking about what you want! What matters to you!”

When her sister left, Carolina threw herself on the couch and winced-even though there was no one there to see. She’d handled that on a par with an elephant in a china shop. Predictably, her sister had made her feel guilty and small and selfish. She’d wanted to cave in with every harsh word.

But she couldn’t have Maguire believing that his tough pills hadn’t worked.

She didn’t want him believing that he’d made love to the Wimp of the Universe.

Maybe she hadn’t suddenly turned into a brilliantly strong person. But she hadn’t caved. She’d done what she thought was right and reasonable. And now, Carolina considered, she deserved a reward.

So she jumped to her feet, grabbed a coat and car keys, and hightailed it to a bookstore. She had just the thing in mind.

There was a spit of snow in the area when Maguire arrived back at the lodge. He’d worked himself crazy for the last two weeks, but now he had a break. It’s not as if there was ever a complete shutoff button on responsibilities, but he planned some Tommy time, some walk-in-the-woods time-and some serious rest.

His eyes were stinging tired, his stomach restless. Henry barely spoke to him on the ride home-but then Henry had barely spoken a civil word to him since he’d let Carolina go.

It was pitch-black-except for the shards of ice coming from the sky-when they stumbled from the car with their gear. Maguire had the key out and ready, pushed open the door, flipped on a light.

Par for the course, Henry had left the current mail on the table, where Maguire could go through it over coffee the next morning. He saw the pile, and wouldn’t have hesitated to leave it, except for the box on top.

The postmark was Elkhart, Indiana. No one he knew or had ever known was from Elkhart. The box was square, bigger than a shoe box and heavy.

Behind him, Henry carted in bags, locked up, aimed for the fridge. Normally he’d have gone straight to bed, but he’d obviously seen Maguire pick up the package.

“Just came in yesterday,” Henry said.

“It’ll wait until morning.”

“Sure will.” But Henry didn’t move because Maguire didn’t. Damn, but he couldn’t stand mysteries or undotted i’s. So he peeled off the wrapping. Three hefty books fell in his lap. Plans to Build Your Own Tree House, How to Build Your Own Tree House, and Tree Houses-Hideouts for Grown-ups.

Maguire felt something knot, tight and thick, in his throat, as he paged through them. There was no note. No signed anything. Eventually he glanced up to see Henry staring at him.

“That damn woman,” Maguire said.

“That’s what I was thinking, sir,” Henry agreed.

“She doesn’t play fair.”

“She certainly doesn’t.”

“This isn’t honest warfare. She’s being sneaky, even sneakier than me. It’s just not right. It’s under the table. It’s a low way of getting to a man.”

“I thought the same thing, Mr. Cochran. The minute I laid eyes on her, I thought, well, no one like her has ever been in Mr. Cochran’s life. She doesn’t play by his rules.”

“She misled me, Henry. I thought she was a good woman. A decent woman. An honest woman. And then she does something like this. It’s unconscionable.” Maguire paced around, shot a finger at Henry, then paced some more. “This changes things. I’ve tried to do the right thing. I’ve tried. But damn it, if she refuses to play fair, why should I be the only one suffering?”

“Now you’re talking, sir.”

Carolina was just pulling a major chunk of mail from her mailbox when she saw her brother pull in to the driveway. She jogged over to give him an enormous hug. “Come on in, you sweetie! Want some coffee?”

Gregg had on his old high school jacket, and was wearing his hair a little long. He was the one who’d found her weeks ago, raised all the flags for help, got her to the hospital. Back when they were in high school, he’d started football, quit. Started college, quit. Started one job after another, quit. Gregg never heard of an idea involving quick money that he didn’t fall for-but Carolina loved him, warts and all.

“You’re looking good. For a sister.” He ruffled her new haircut while she thumped down the mail and started a fresh pot of coffee. “Hey. I had an idea.”

“Yeah?” She paged through the heap of mail, tossing out the junk mail, separating the bills…and then stopped. Her heart, her head, everything stopped.

She saw Maguire’s Washington return address. Opened the heavy envelope, found a fat, thick catalog. It was for an auction in Paris, of last year’s designer shoes. She paged through, her throat thickening. There were pages and pages and pages of frivolous, uselessly, miserably uncomfortable, gorgeous shoe designs.

My God. How dirty could Maguire get? How ugly? And by using his real return address, he’d of course identified himself as the culprit-upping the ante.

“It’s just…” Gregg knew where her mugs were, poured two cups. “I’ve got an idea for a start-up business, sis. A coffee shop. I know, there’s lots of those. But most of them are really expensive and fancy. What if I started a place that served really good coffee, but cheap. I’ve got a friend…”

Her head shot up, although her finger was still stroking the page with the ostrich sandals.

“He’s got the coffee. He’s got the plan. We just need some seed money to get it going-”

Temporarily, only temporarily, she closed the shoe catalog. “You know what, Gregg? One of the cold hard truths I’ve tried to face in the last month is that I’m just plain terrible with numbers.”

“That’s not a problem, sis. See-”

She carefully interrupted again. “So I decided I’d better not make financial decisions myself. I’ve researched some really good people, with terrific reputations. If you want to give them a business plan, I’ll tell them you’re my brother. But actual decisions on issues like this, I’ve moved out of my hands.”

Gregg’s jaw dropped. “But it’s your money.”

“I know. But I wouldn’t do my own brain surgery. Or fill my own cavities. Same with this, you know. This isn’t something I’m good at, so I found people who were.”

“But I’m your brother.”

“And I couldn’t love you more in a million, thousand years.”

Her brother left twenty minutes later, not too happy with her, but that was okay. Someday maybe family could have a conversation with her without asking for money-but if not, not.

She had more interesting things to worry about.

She jogged back to the catalog, thumbing through it again, page by page. That damn man. Tempting her with shoes. How low could a man get? What happened to Maguire’s integrity, his honor?

And if he’d sink this low…just maybe she could entice him to sink a wee bit lower.

Like down to her level.