Alligators in the Trees (46 page)

“Probably a fan,” Tobias said, all but pushing Priscilla toward the revolving door.

“Tobias. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days,” Marvin huffed, eyeing Priscilla curiously.

“Oh Marvin, hi. What a coincidence running into you here,” Tobias said with feigned nonchalance. “We were just passing through.”

“I need to speak to you, Tobias. It’s urgent,” Marvin said, zero humor in his voice. “Alone, preferably.” Tobias’s smile faded as the three stared each other down. He started to make excuses, but Priscilla preempted him.

“You go ahead. I’d rather do this alone anyway, if you don’t mind.” Tobias stood there, unable to argue with her in front of his business manager. He knew Marvin wouldn’t track him down to give him good news, so he didn’t want her around to hear what he had to say. The only thing he could do was let her go by herself. He discreetly reached for his wallet, but Priscilla’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“I’ll see you later,” she said to him, giving him a cautious smile.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you back here,” Tobias said as nonchalantly as possible. He watched her as she passed through the revolving door and out into the sunlight.

“Beautiful weather we’ve been having,” he said to Marvin, a man who would have been hard-pressed to describe the conditions he just stepped out of, be it snow, sleet or sunshine.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” he said, letting the weather report pass without comment. Tobias glanced around the lobby, searching for a nice, darkened corner. He didn’t think it wise to take the disgruntled moneyman up to his extravagant digs in his current frame of mind. Finding what he was looking for, he led Marvin to a secluded spot, conveniently sheltered by two towering ficus trees.

“Coffee?” Tobias asked hospitably. “I’ll buy.” Marvin shook his head, all business. “Okay, what’s on your mind, as if I didn’t know,” he said, positioning himself on the settee as if Marvin’s mission was nothing but a bore to him.

“You need to generate liquidity, Tobias. I don’t know if you bother to keep any running tally of your monthly expenses, but you’ve far exceeded what you’ve taken in these past few months.”

“What about the cushion?”

“What cushion? The remodel blew through that weeks ago.” Tobias’s jaw dropped.

“That’s impossible. There was over half a million dollars in that account,” he stammered, a ripple of nausea churning his stomach. There was no way Monique could have possibly burned through that much money on the limited amount of remodeling and redecorating she had done, no matter what outrageous prices that crook Smythie had charged her.

On top of the queasiness, a jackhammer of doubt began to throb. “So, if that’s all gone, where’s the money been coming from?” Tobias asked. Marvin’s smug smile showed appreciation of Tobias’s sudden interest in his own finances.

“As of April 19
th
, it’s all been borrowed against your principle in your money market account, at a rate of one over prime.” He let this reality sink in for a moment.

“Why would I want to borrow against my own money?” Tobias asked, as if regarded the notion as an act of fiscal stupidity. “I never authorized that,” his tone suspicious and accusatory.

“You didn’t, but Monique did. As she has the authority as a signatory on all your accounts, I assumed she was doing it at your behest. I know how you dislike dealing with financial matters,” Marvin added, having a go at Tobias.

“How much has she borrowed?”

“As of yesterday, she’s borrowed twenty-five percent against the principle.”

“Twenty-five percent?”
Tobias’s color had gone from blotchy red to a sickly green.

“Do you need some water?” Marvin asked solicitously.

“How much are we talking about?” Tobias croaked weakly.

“Three million.” Tobias nearly went limp. “The bank’s called the margin. They need a principle reduction or they’re going to have to liquidate some of your holdings.” Tobias buried his head in his hands.

“Let me get you something to drink,” Marvin said, alarmed by the way Tobias was taking the news. In the back of his mind, he had suspected Tobias was the one behind the outrageous expenditures. Now that he thought about it, it had been Monique’s subtle hints that had led him to believe this. Tobias tugged at his sleeve, lowering him back down to his level.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” he asked, clearly aggrieved by the seeming complicity to financially ruin him.

“I tried. I couldn’t get hold of you anywhere. I left messages…lots of them.” Marvin was now beginning to feel a certain culpability, a feeling he didn’t enjoy. “Honestly, Tobias, I thought she was acting on your directive. After a while, I started to get uneasy, which is why I tried to contact you…”

“How’d you find me?” Tobias asked, the realization of being located belatedly occurring to him.

“Through the hotel charges. I contacted American Express and got a printout of your recent charges.”

“You didn’t let Monique know, did you?” Tobias asked, becoming more anxious.

“No, of course not…I just got the information myself…Where’re you going?”

“I have a few things to sort out with my wife.”

“What about the margin call?” Marvin reminded him.

“You’re my business manager—you deal with it,” Tobias said before vanishing through the revolving door.

Priscilla read through the first page of the
New York Times
the way a starving person would gobble down a cheeseburger and an order of fries. It had only been three days since she picked up a paper, yet she felt as if she had been cut off from the world for months.

Not until she passed through the hotel’s revolving door did she realize how oppressive her voluntary confinement with Tobias had been. From the moment she stepped out of the Amsterdam Hotel, she began to breathe easier. She felt almost giddy with freedom as she sat sipping her coffee and reconnecting with her lifelong habits of reading newspapers and scribbling in her notebook.

It made her heart beat erratically to think just how narrow her escape had been. If that man hadn’t shown up, she and Tobias would have been skulking around department stores for the better part of the day, only to flee to the refuge of his spacious prison afterwards. It was a lifestyle that made her cringe with apprehension. How ironic it was that the famous often had to do without the greatest privilege of all: the liberty to come and go as you please.

She took a sip of her coffee while she turned the page. As stimulating as even the dullest items seemed to her, there was an article halfway through the first section of the paper that really got her blood pumping.

There, at the top of the page was a photograph of Philip standing in front of The Phoenix, his expression confident and resolute.
Architect Takes Bold Measures to Save His Building,
the headline proclaimed. The rest of the article didn’t tell her more than she already knew, except that the restoration would be completed by the end of the following week.

“Everyone who bought in The Phoenix will be able to return to their homes as soon as the city signs off on the stability of the retrofitting. This building will be completely sound once the caissons constructed with faulty admixture are replaced. I’m staking my reputation on it,”
Philip was quoted as saying.

The reporter went on to say that the procedure being used to jack up the structure and reconstruct the caissons was virtually unheard of in this country, but it had been practiced in Europe for over a decade with tremendous results.

Good for you, Phil,
Priscilla silently congratulated him. She studied the photo, looking for hints of the personality she knew. Examining the photo so intently made her wistful. She missed his alter ego. She wondered if the Phil she knew had been assimilated by the old one now that his career was back on track.

She figured that was probably the case. She always suspected his visits to Frank’s were an escape from his troubles, a brief interlude, a mindless way to distract himself until things got better. She turned the page and read on.

She managed to read through most of the second and third sections of the paper, but nothing penetrated as her eyes moved across the words. She was too distracted by thoughts of Phil. Without giving herself a chance to change her mind, she gathered her things and left the coffee bar and headed for Glessner & Associates.

Philip put his signature on the last of the settlement agreement documents and stuffed them back in the pouch they came in. He called for the receptionist to take the package to the special courier who had been waiting while he reviewed the changes made before he left Martin’s office only four hours earlier. When Marianne agreed to his demands so quickly, he ran with the ball and made his offer contingent on receiving the finalized agreement no later than three o’clock. It had arrived at 2:30.

All of this should have made Philip a happy man, but the truth was he felt hollow and numb. There was so much to be ecstatic about: the rehabilitation of The Phoenix and sole discretionary custody of Caitlin. Yet he found there was no joy in losing a wife, even if that wife had been insincere and conniving.

He got up and went over to the photos covering his walls, many of which contained Marianne. He would have to replace those, as he would not be able to stand the constant reminders of his failure to make his marriage work. He supposed it had worked for a while—sixteen years, to be exact.

Of course, the high point of their union had been the birth of his daughter, but he could not look back and see his time with Marianne as anything but gratifying. She had been a good wife to him, in most respects, but he now doubted his efforts as a husband.

Perhaps that was the gist of the problem right there: he had seen her just as a wife, not as an independent woman with an identity of her own. She had been an adornment to his life, a badge, something to show off and be proud of. No wonder she left him. The fact that she was willing to settle for relatively little only underscored her desire to be rid of him.

Philip took a deep breath and let it wheeze out of him. He had never seen himself as a bad man. In fact, he had always taken pains to be generous, kind and fair. Yet he had energetically discarded his principles and jumped into the fray with Martin and Marianne as soon as he found out what they were up to. He had bested them at their own game, come out with the winning hand, but he still felt like the loser.

Not that losing Marianne was really so devastating; she was, in the end, a shallow woman whose values differed greatly from his own. But because he didn’t have a vengeful heart, he found it impossible to enjoy his retribution. He was a single man now, and for all intents and purposes, a single parent. This was not how he had envisioned his life would play out.

He went back to his desk and trained his focus on the work before him. Since the article had appeared in the
Times
, the phones had been ringing off the hook. He had received over sixty calls and emails since eight a.m., most of which offered congratulations and votes of confidence. Even the mayor called to give him kudos for his triumph.

Philip chuckled as he reminded himself that everyone loves a winner.
There’s never any lack of support when you’re riding high
, he acknowledged as he began the task of replying to his good wishes. He was so engrossed in the task at hand, he didn’t realize Priscilla had entered the room until she spoke.

“Looks like you’re back on top again,” she said, causing Philip to jump halfway out of his chair.

“Priscilla!” he exclaimed, as one of the receptionists chased her down, miffed and embarrassed that she had snuck into the boss’s office unannounced.

“It’s all right—she’s a friend of mine,” Philip said, calling off his guard dog.

“I guess your stock has gone up,” Priscilla commented as the girl left the room. “There’s definitely a change in your operations.

“Yeah, there’s been an abrupt about-face around here. I think everyone employed here actually knows who I am,” Philip joked. “Have a seat,” he said, slowly lowering himself back into his chair. Seeing the look of unabashed hope on his face made Priscilla question the soundness of her visit. “I’m surprised to see you back so soon. Surprised and happy,” he added, a grin spreading from ear to ear.

“I haven’t left yet,” Priscilla admitted, dampening Philip’s spirits slightly.

“Hope you’re going tell me you’ve come to your senses and changed your mind about going,” he said, unable to keep the optimism out of his voice.

“No, I had some unfinished business to attend to,” she answered. The way she said it sent an unspoken signal to Philip loud and clear. He had obviously not been the unfinished business she was alluding to. “I’m leaving this evening, come hell or high water.”

“I see. Well, that’s good,” Philip said magnanimously.

“I read the story about you in today’s paper and I just wanted to deliver my congratulations personally, before I took off.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me. But you know I really owe this all to you,” he said. Priscilla waved his praise away.

“You give me too much credit,” she insisted. Philip’s look told her to stop being so modest. “Well, glad I could be of some help, especially after all you’ve done for me.”

“Me? What have I done?” Philip said, not realizing his over-generous tips had amounted to anything of substance.

“More than you’ll know,” Priscilla said, a teasing smile on her face.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’m proud and honored I was able to help.” An awkward silence ensued, while each tried to figure out what to say next.

“How’s the divorce progressing?” Priscilla asked.

“There’ve been some surprising developments on that front, too,” Philip replied. Priscilla cocked her head, wondering if this meant his wife had a change of heart now that he was riding high again.

“You seem happy—that must mean the surprises were good,” she said. “Does this mean you and your wife will be getting back together?”

“No,” Philip said flatly. “My wife and I are history. Let’s just say something came to light which gave me a certain advantage in our negotiations.”

“Ah, I see,” Priscilla said, though she could only guess at what had tipped the scales in his favor. If he saw it as good news, that was all she needed to hear.

“Everything worked out much better than I had hoped,” Philip mused, taking stock of his victory, more positively this time. “I’m even moving back into my own house.

“Congratulations again.”

“Thank you.”

“Does this mean you’ll have more time with Caitlin?”

“It does indeed.” They shared a grin as Priscilla got a better idea of Philip’s good fortune.

“How is the junior architect?”

“Wonderful. She doesn’t know yet that I’m moving back in with her.”

“How do you think she’s going to feel about her mother moving out? She is moving out, I take it.”

“Yes, and I think Caitlin’s going to be okay with the change in living arrangements. Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, reaching for his briefcase. “I have orders to mail this to you once I get your address.” He removed a folded drawing and handed it to Priscilla. She opened it and turned it right side up.

“Oh, this is great!” she said, chuckling at the depiction of the artist in a bathing suit standing on a beach, with what looked like a colorful inner tube around her waste. “Is this you on the boat?”

“That would be me, the great white sailor.”

“What’s the thing in the tree? It looks like a green dog.”

“That’s an alligator,” Philip said, peering across the desk at the drawing.

“An alligator, in a tree?”

“Yeah, I think she got a little confused from watching the nature channel, with the halfway submerged trees in the swamps.”

“That’s cute,” Priscilla said. “Guess I better get on down to Florida. Looks like she’s chomping at the bit to go there.”

“Actually, I think she’d be even happier if you stayed here,” Philip said slyly, making one last attempt to persuade her to change her mind. Priscilla laid the drawing on the desk.

“Thank her for me,” she said, ignoring his ploy. “Maybe this summer you two can come down for a visit. I don’t have any idea what kind of accommodations I’ll have, but you’re more than welcome to stay with me if I have the room.” The expression on Philip’s face was so touched and hurt and vulnerable all at once, she had to turn her eyes away.

“Well, I should be going,” she said, retrieving Caitlin’s drawing. “You’re a very busy man these days.”

“Never too busy for you,” he said warmly. Priscilla smiled self-consciously. She didn’t understand why, but saying goodbye to Philip this time struck her as being terribly difficult. He came around to her side of the desk and walked her out to the reception area.

“Now, I realize you’ll have job offers galore,” he said, making Priscilla scoff, “but if you should ever find yourself missing the crowds, concrete and the extremes in weather, I want you to know you’ll always have a job here, doing whatever you want.”

“Thank you, that’s quite generous of you. But you seem to be forgetting my key talent is loading hot plates of food up and down my arms.”

“You’ve got more potential than you realize,” Philip said somberly. Without another word, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, then left her standing alone in his lobby. She stood there for a moment, perplexed by Philip and her life in general. She swallowed hard and made her way out.