Chasing the Wind (32 page)

"Yes. C. T. Realty."

Bingham leaned back and gazed at the ceiling. "Why?"

Robert shrugged. "I don't have any idea."

Straightening, Bingham looked at Tom, then at Robert. "I thought things were under control. What are we paying that investigator for if he can't keep track of one girl, warn us ahead of time?" Despite his rising fury, Bingham's voice was low and controlled.

Tom interjected. "He did keep track of her, Bingham. And I don't like what we're seeing."

Bingham's eyes swung back to Robert. "So give me the details."

There wasn't much to tell. Robert repeated in a monotone what the investigator had already reported. When he'd finished, he stretched his hand out on the table, cigarette burning between his fingers, and looked away. "Our guy figures she arranged this yesterday when she disappeared into the bank for two hours."

Bingham clicked his tongue against his cheek.

Tom studied his hands, clasped together on the table. "She must have offered a pretty good price to get this done so fast, more than the place was worth."

Robert sucked on the cigarette and blew smoke. "The seller probably figures he struck gold. She'd have bought it 'as is,' like we'd have. No inspection. No conditions. Minimum title work, maximum price." He rolled his tongue around in his cheek. "She'd have had to pay cash. There wasn't time to arrange a mortgage."

Tom glanced at Robert. "How'd you find the deed so fast? City records aren't usually that efficient."

Robert leaned across the table and pointed to the date stamp at the top on the right-hand side of the first page. "It was recorded yesterday, late afternoon, a couple hours after she left the bank. Our guy had a feeling whatever was going down had something to do with that house. He checked the property records this morning. The clerk still had it on her desk." The corners of his eyes tightened. "It cost us to get that copy."

Bingham gave him a reflective look. "What do you think this means?"

Tom interrupted in an exasperated tone. "It means she bought the house." He turned to Robert. "But why would she take such a risk? A deed is a public record. She must have known we'd find out sometime." Tom's voice was hard, brisk.

"She doesn't know we're looking."

"If it weren't for the fact she put it in her own name, I'd say she's looking to make some money on the deal. Hold us up for an outrageous price." Tom leaned back, extended his legs and stuck his hands in his pockets. "But this doesn't make sense. There's no way an associate at Mangen & Morris is going to try holding up one of the firm's clients and their best customers."

"Maybe she bought it for those friends of hers," Bingham said.

"So
they
can hold us up?" Tom shook his head. "Still doesn't make sense."

Bingham pursed his lips as they both looked at him. The room went silent. One minute ticked by, then two. When he spoke, his voice was firm, resolute. "It's too close to the closing to cause a commotion over this right now. We'll wait it out and deal with it later. The closing's our priority. Complaints and accusations will only stall things. We'll keep an eye on her and keep things moving."

Robert leaned toward Bingham. "I say we expose her now. We go to the management of the firm. Get her off the deal, have her fired."

"No, Bingham's right." Tom's voice was a lazy drawl. "We can't afford to shake the bushes now. Let's see what she's up to. Right now the only person with a real problem is Miss Catoir." His expression turned cold. "She needs a lesson after this is over."

Robert picked up the report and slipped it back into his briefcase. Bingham watched in silence as he stood, yanked open the door, and disappeared into the hallway. With a look at Bingham, Tom trailed him from the room.

When they were gone, Bingham turned this new problem over in his mind. He tipped back the chair in which he sat and stretched his arms lengthwise until the tips of his fingers touched the edge of the table. And then ramrod stiff, he balanced like that, mulling over Amalise Catoir's recent actions.

There was more to come, he was certain.

She was so outrageous, he could almost laugh.

Almost. But not quite.

Amalise had spent most of the
day revising the wire transfer memo according to comments received from the working group. At three o'clock Ashley Elizabeth distributed the revised draft, and then Amalise turned to the stack of purchase agreements. She wondered how Rebecca was coming along with hers.

At 8:30, with about two-thirds of her allocation still to be done, she placed the agreements and related title commitments into a large box her temp had dredged up and turned out the light. She'd work on the remaining agreements at home where she could relax. She picked up the box and left the office, smiling.

She was smiling because before she went home, she had a pleasant task before her. Driving down Decatur toward the Marigny, she almost laughed in anticipation. When she opened the gate of the house on Kerlerec Street, she left the box of work behind her in the car along with all the worries they represented. She couldn't wait to see Caroline and Ellis's faces when she told them the news.

The porch lights were on and windows glowed. Damp wind blew in from the river. Amalise shivered, pulling her coat tight around her as she walked up the steps. There was a large pumpkin on each side of the front door, and over the door, fragrant boughs of pine, and pyracantha loaded with orange berries. She took a deep breath and knocked.

Ellis answered right away. He opened the door wide when he saw her. "This is a pleasant surprise," he said, stepping aside. Pulling her in, he took her coat and hung it in the closet, alongside many smaller ones. "Caroline said you were working day and night. How'd you escape?" He went to the foot of the stairs and called up, "Caroline, we have a visitor!" Then he turned back, gesturing toward the kitchen. "I'm making coffee. It's bedtime for the children. Come join us."

"I apologize for the late hour," she said, eyes roving over paper cutouts of Thanksgiving turkeys and pilgrims and pumpkins taped to walls near the kitchen door. She wondered if any of these were Luke's, and with a rush of emotion she thought of a thousand questions she'd like answered about the child.

But now was not the time. And so, following Ellis into the kitchen, she quieted her thoughts, enjoying the moment.

"How about a cup to warm you up?"

She nodded. "That would be great." The kitchen, still full of cooking smells, was warm and pleasant against the cold, dark night.

Ellis held out a chair for her. "The kids will be sorry they missed you." He rummaged in the cabinets for cups—red enameled mugs for the coffee—and in the refrigerator for cream. He set everything down in the middle of the table, picked up the coffee pot and poured two cups.

"Thanks. I take mine black."

"I remember." He sat down and added cream and sugar to his. Then he sipped the coffee, watching her. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yes." She set down the cup but molded her hands around it, feeling the warmth. "I'm sorry I didn't call first."

"Caroline will be glad to see you. She enjoys this time of night, when the children are in bed and we can sit here and relax and talk without being interrupted."

"Is Luke sleeping well these days?"

Ellis's brows drew together. "Not really. Something's locked away in that little head." He looked at her over the coffee cup. "Caroline says he's taken to you."

She knew. He'd called her Mak.

Caroline swept into the kitchen. "What a nice surprise!" She squeezed Amalise's shoulders on the way to the stove. Picking up the coffee pot, she poured some into the empty mug and sat down beside her husband. "I'd have thought you'd be working all night, with that schedule of yours."

Amalise laughed, clasped her hands together, and leaned forward. "I would've, except that I have news that couldn't wait."

They looked at each other, smiling, and then back at her.

"Bear with me now."

Caroline nodded. Ellis's face went blank.

She took a deep breath. "This may take a moment to explain."

Caroline picked up her coffee cup and sipped. "Shoot."

So she began, telling how when Phillip had died she'd been the surprised beneficiary of a large insurance policy. Some of it she'd just spent buying a house uptown, in the university area.

Ellis's face lit up. "Congratulations! A house of your own. That
is
good news."

She shook her head. "That's not why I'm here." Unable to suppress a grin, she looked from Caroline to Ellis and threw up her hands.

"I'll just say it. Yesterday I used some of that money to also buy this house." When neither Caroline nor Ellis said anything, she paused and pointed down, to the floor. "
This
house."

"I don't understand," Ellis said. Expressionless, he crossed his arms over his chest and tilted back the chair. "Do you mean that you're our new landlady?"

"No." She giggled. "I mean that I've bought the house for
you
. It's yours. Or it will be after we sign some papers tomorrow."

Ellis's expression exuded patience, wisdom. He sometimes reminded her of Jude. His tone when he spoke also reminded her of Jude. He was being kind, reasonable, but firm in the face of what he saw as chaos. "Well, that's a nice thought, Amalise. But we can't do that. We don't have the money to buy a house." He gave Caroline a sideways glance.

Caroline said, "Ellis, we've been saving."

He turned and shook his head. "Don't go there. We've saved a few dollars, Caro. But not enough to buy." His face was set and his voice firm as he turned to Amalise. "No. Renting's fine."

"Wait." Amalise raised her voice and held up both hands. "I'm not doing a good job of this, I know. But I'm trying to tell you that this house will be
yours
. It's a gift." She looked from one to the other. "From me to you. I'll sign the deed over to you tomorrow."

"A gift?" Caroline's voice pitched up a key.

Amalise nodded, lit with the happy feeling spreading through her. "I did it for the children, to help with the adoptions."

But she edged back a little in the following silence.

Looking from one blank face to the other, she saw that they still didn't understand. "Don't you see?" She concentrated on Caroline, since she knew her best. "You'll own your own home now. It will be an asset on the balance sheet—the financial security Francine Gebb is looking for."

And when Bingham's agents approached Caroline and Ellis to sell, they'd get a good price, money they could use to purchase another home, in a neighborhood like this one, with good schools, and yards and parks and children to play with.

But she couldn't tell them that. So she waited.

The front two legs of Ellis's chair hit the wooden floor with a bang and she jumped. He gave her a cold look, filled with suspicion. "Is this a joke?" He banged his arms on the table, hunched over them, and turned his face to Caroline. "I don't know what to think."

Amalise's good feeling disappeared like smoke. "No. Wait!" Clasping her hands, she leaned slightly forward and willed him to look at her. "This is no joke. It's a
gift
." She emphasized the last word.

Seconds passed as she held his eyes. Then, jaw set, he slipped an arm around Caroline's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Amalise. But we can't accept your . . . ah, gift."

She stared back at him, speechless. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

Caroline burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. Ellis bent over his wife, murmuring into her ear, eyes blazing when he looked up at Amalise.

Amalise watched, helpless. She should have discussed this with them first, she realized. But instead, as usual, she'd jumped right in. Still weeping, Caroline turned her face into Ellis's chest.

Amalise struggled to reorder her thoughts. This wasn't going at all the way she'd planned. "Please, let me explain." Her voice broke as she spoke.
Abba, help me explain. You know how it is. I can't tell them what's coming. I can't mention the project or the demolition.

Caroline rolled her face toward Amalise, still hunched against Ellis's chest.

And then the words began to flow. Like the perennially damp moss that absorbs nutrients from a tree, she benefited from this gift as much as they, she told them. "This is, in a way, a selfish gift." She spoke softly. "Giving you this house makes me happy. That money, the life insurance money, should never have been mine. I'll never spend the rest of it on myself. I just couldn't. More than anything, I want to help the children."

Silence was the answer.

She ducked her head and dropped her hands into her lap. "Please accept my gift," she said. How many times had she seen suffering and tiptoed around it, insulating herself, guarding against intrusions, going on with her life? But not this time. Not this time.

This time there was something she could do.

She looked at Caroline and Ellis, pressing her hands over her heart. "Please," she said again. "Think of the children. Think of the adoptions."

Caroline lifted her head and looked at Ellis. Amalise sat very still and said nothing. When at last Ellis turned to her, she saw the muscles around his eyes and mouth soften. Caroline sat up straight beside him. And then he turned to her, cradling her face, and bent down to kiss his wife.

Amalise exhaled.
Thank you, Abba.

She'd never realized that giving a gift could be so difficult.

Caroline got up to make more coffee. As she puttered about, Amalise saw a change come over her. She stood with her back long and straight. Her steps were light and quick as if a burden had been lifted. Her voice held a new note of hope—and anticipation.

"Now," Caroline said after she'd made fresh coffee and filled each of their mugs, "tell us everything!" She pulled out her chair and sat. "Start at the beginning. How'd you manage this?"

Choosing her words carefully, Amalise explained how she'd arranged the purchase yesterday. She kept the price to herself—it was high for the place. But C. T. Realty would have had gotten that price from Bingham, too. She told them how she'd signed the documents, and how the loan officer had taken care of the rest—meeting with the seller, transferring title temporarily into her name, transferring funds to the seller's account.