Crossroads (25 page)

Chapter Thirty-two

F
or two days Stan waited to hear the results of Mark Scotto’s investigation into the inflated figures in the JeffSon newsletter. There was nothing from the man. Not even an e-mail.

When Stan tried to call his office he was told that Mr. Scotto was in yet another meeting—which was interesting, because Stan himself wasn’t going to any meetings. They were still being held every day—he could hear his colleagues walking down the halls to the conference room—but he was not asked to join them.

Instead, he was informed by various secretaries and assistants that those meetings he had been scheduled to attend had been cancelled. They said he would be told when they were rescheduled, but that never seemed to happen. And there were no more deliveries of the reams of paperwork that usually appeared in his office. None of this would have bothered him—certainly he didn’t miss the busywork or the useless meetings—but there was no other work for him to do.

On the fourth day he was summoned to Jeff Henry’s gray and chrome office. His boss looked weary. And angry. He got straight to the point.

“Stan, I understand from Mark that you’ve been poking around in some areas of the company that—to be perfectly frank—are way off your turf.”

“I just noticed that there was a problem with the newsletter—”

“Get this through your head, Stan, okay? There is no problem. Mark vets that newsletter personally and so do I. Now, thanks to you, he wasted hours of his valuable time going through the whole thing again. Only to discover that there’s nothing wrong.”

“But the figures—”

“Stan, we have one of the best accounting firms in the country. These guys are tops—we’re talking MBAs from Harvard and Yale with years of experience at Fortune 500 companies. With all due respect, do you really think that you with your high school diploma and a couple of night courses at a trade school could catch a mistake that slipped by them?”

Stan didn’t. Not really. But he didn’t like the sneer on Jeff Henry’s face. Or the contempt in his voice. “I know what I saw,” he said stubbornly. “I know that the profits we’re claiming are bogus and—”

“Oh, that’s a great technical term, Stan.” The voice was dripping with sarcasm now. “ ‘Bogus profits.’ I’ll be sure to remember that. In the meantime, let me explain a few facts of financial life to you. A company the size of JeffSon—which is not to be confused with a little penny-ante electrical shop that rewires Aunt Millie’s old lamp—depends on its good image. We have worked hard—way too hard—to build the reputation of JeffSon to . . . ,” he paused, “to allow our reputation to be damaged by a disgruntled employee.”

“I never said I was—”

“I’ve cut you a lot of slack, pal. I paid you in cash when you didn’t want to take JeffSon stock for your business—and given what it’s worth today, what a brilliant move that was. You have never been a team player and I looked the other way. But when it comes to spreading rumors . . .”

“I asked a question!”

“You didn’t know what the hell you were talking about! And now you’re too damn stubborn and arrogant to admit that you were wrong!”

And that was when Stan quit.

*                           *                           *

“You quit your job?” Gwen cried. “Why, Stan?” She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice but she couldn’t control it. She’d been so happy, and now this. And Stan was getting that stubborn look on his face that meant he wasn’t going to explain. He was just going to expect her to accept one more time that he was right. “You didn’t think you should talk it over with me?”

“It wasn’t something I planned. It just happened.”

“That kind of thing doesn’t ‘just happen.’ You did it. You quit.”

“But it was almost as if I didn’t have any choice.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been thinking about it, Gwen, and I think Henry was trying to make me quit.”

“Oh, come on!”

“I’ve seen him in action, and when he wants something to work, he’s smooth. But he was insulting me—treating me like something he’d scrape off the bottom of his shoe. He had to know I wouldn’t put up with it.”

She couldn’t believe that. Not of Jeff Henry. “You’re not making any sense. Why would he want you to quit?”

“Because I started asking too many questions, and he wanted me gone. Now, if I should try to tell anyone what I know, I’ll just be a former employee who couldn’t cut it and left.”

Stan had already told her his suspicions—that there was something going on at JeffSon that was, to use his word, dicey. She definitely couldn’t believe that. Not about a huge, prestigious company that was lauded in all the media. Obviously Stan was in over his head. He’d seen something that he didn’t understand, and he’d gotten all worked up about it.
I don’t think
Stanley is sophisticated enough to be involved with a group of smart
people who are on a fast track,
Cassie had said. And Gwen had been so proud of Stan for proving she was wrong. Now he was proving that Cassie was right. And what about Jewel Fairchild Henry? She was going to be thrilled to think that Gwen’s husband couldn’t make it at JeffSon.

“Isn’t this all a little far-fetched?” Gwen demanded. “A little like all those conspiracy theories about the grassy knoll?”

“I know what I saw, Gwen.”

“I’m sure there’s some logical explanation for it.”

“I asked for one and no one would tell me anything. They’re cooking the books!”

“I just don’t believe a man like Jeff Henry would do something like that!”

“But you do believe your own husband is too stupid to understand basic math!”

“I didn’t say that!” But of course it was what she’d been thinking. Close anyway.

“I just meant that Jeff is a great businessman—a genius—he doesn’t have to do things like cook the books, or—”

But now Stan was angry. “Oh, yes, I know how you feel about Jeff Henry!”

“What is that supposed to mean?’

“You have a crush on the man.”

“That is not fair!” But maybe the reason it stung so much was that it was just a little bit true? “And it’s a lousy thing for you to say.”

“Okay, maybe you don’t have one on him, but he sure has a thing for you. His tongue hangs out when he looks at you. And what’s more, you enjoy it.”

“What!?”

“You know how he feels, Gwen, and you like it. He’s Jewel’s husband and you’ve always been jealous of her.”

“Jeff Henry is my friend—all right? I do like him. And what’s more I owe him.”

“Because he gave your stupid husband a job? The kind of job people like you understand?”

“ ‘People like me’?” She’d never been so furious. But she’d never seen Stan so furious, either. Obviously he’d been thinking this for a long time. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Snobs like you and your mother!”

“I am not a snob and I am not anything like my mother.”

“You could have fooled me.”

She wanted to slap him.

“The first time you saw this apartment,” he went on scornfully, “I thought you were going to pass out. You thought if Jeff Henry gave me a job at JeffSon—and by the way, could anyone be more egocentric? Naming his damn company after himself?— you’d get back the lifestyle you deserve. That’s why he’s your dear good friend.”

“He is my friend because he helped
me
! Not everything in my life revolves around you, speaking of being egocentric.” And then she told Stan, biting off the words in her anger, about the collection of glass animal figures Jeff had unearthed for her to see. “I wouldn’t have started writing if it hadn’t been for Jeff,” she finished breathlessly. And then she looked at Stan’s face. And if she could have, she would have taken it all back. Because Stan, who knew her so well, understood better than anyone what seeing those glass figures had meant to her. He knew what Jeff had done for her. Her husband, who had been so proud of her writing career, and so proud of his part in it, was deeply wounded. “Stan, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, you did,” he said quietly.

“You called me a snob and you said I was jealous of Jewel. You said I was like my mother so I got angry . . .” She trailed off. Then she tried again. “You were the one who got the book published and—”

But he didn’t let her finish. “Look, I don’t think I’ll go with you to Langham tomorrow night.” And he turned and walked away.

She wanted to call after him, but she was starting to get angry again. This reading at the library was one of the most important things she’d ever do, and she had been counting on his support. Now he was abandoning her when she needed him because of a dumb fight. Suddenly she felt like a little girl again, knowing that if she did one thing wrong, made just one mistake, her mother wouldn’t want her. But she hadn’t done anything wrong—the fight hadn’t been her fault. He had started it. “Fine,” she called after him. “It probably would be better if you didn’t come tomorrow.”

Chapter Thirty-three

J
eff ’s head was pounding; it had been ever since the little scene he’d staged yesterday when he’d pushed Stan Girard to quit. If the man hadn’t taken the bait, Jeff would have been forced to fire him, which would have looked far worse later on if Stan was in court testifying against the officers of JeffSon . . .and its owner. Not that there was going to be a court case. There weren’t going to be any investigations, either, and no one was going to be testifying against the officers of JeffSon, or Jeff Henry. None of that was going to happen. There was still a chance that JeffSon wouldn’t collapse, that a bailout would come from somewhere—Tokyo, or London, or Dubai. And if there wasn’t one, by the time all the smoke had settled, it would be too late for anyone to piece together what had gone on. As long as Jeff and Mark and the accountants had had enough time to take care of all the loose ends. That was what they needed now—time.

Jeff closed his eyes. They were being careful; they were playing it exactly right. But of course there was always a paper trail. And if anyone were to start asking the wrong questions like Stan Girard had . . . but Stan Girard was out of the company, and out of the loop. The discrepancy in the figures that he’d discovered had been hidden again. And if he were to say anything to anyone, he had no credibility now. Still, Jeff remembered the day he’d hired the guy; he’d thought then that Gwen’s husband was savvier and tougher than he looked.

And I never would have hired him, if it hadn’t been for Gwen.
That was the irony of it.

Jeff looked over his desk. Back in the days when he was proud of his business and his work, the glossy surface had always been cleared off before he went home at night. No matter how late he had to stay, he finished every last piece of business. Now, there was a small mountain of paper sitting in front of him, and just the thought of going through it made him tired. He stood up—the aching in his head seemed to have abated a little—grabbed the papers, and without reading them sent them through his shredder. That was one way to take care of the potential paper trail.

Tonight he was going to play hooky. He had called the publicity department at Gwen’s publishing house and learned that this evening she would be giving her first reading at the library in Langham. He was going to be there. The hope of being with Gwen was the only thing he had to look forward to. She had to be made to realize that she was the only bright spot, that she made it all worthwhile. His headache was gone now. He’d already called Jewel earlier to tell her that he wouldn’t be coming home tonight because he had to go out of town. As he’d expected, she hadn’t bothered to ask where he was going or what he was doing, and he’d hung up with a sigh of relief. It could be a real plus to have a wife who didn’t care enough about you to know your whereabouts.

*                           *                           *

Jewel was packing her overnight bag. She’d called Jeff ’s secretary and learned that his mysterious business trip would be taking him to Langham, and she’d decided to drive over there, show up at his hotel—there was only one in the town, an old inn, which sounded romantic—and surprise him. A week ago she wouldn’t have thought about doing such a thing. It had been years since an infatuated Jeff had taken her on his trips so he could show her off, years since he’d wanted to have sexy little interludes with her sandwiched in between his business meetings.

But three days ago, he’d put the house in her name. And he’d told her that there were other assets that had already been transferred to her. She wasn’t dumb enough to think that these were gifts; she knew there had to be some business reason for the transfers. But still, Jeff wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t trust her. And more important, he wouldn’t have done it if the divorce she often dreaded was looming. So why not drive up to Langham with her prettiest negligee and her brand-new perfume? Why not try to rekindle a few of those sparks that had once burned so brightly? Maybe the marriage wasn’t dead after all. She finished packing her suitcase and went downstairs to put it in the car.

*                           *                           *

Stan had waited all day for Gwen to say she wanted him to come to Langham after all. He had looked forward to seeing her stand in front of a spellbound audience to read from her book, and he’d been looking forward to the night that would follow. A dozen times he thought of telling her he was sorry for their fight. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t forget the vision he’d had of her standing next to Jeff Henry in the glassworks museum looking at the gift Jeff had given her. Because finding those figurines for her had been a gift. The kind a man gave when he was trying to please a woman—to win her. Jeff Henry didn’t want to be Gwen’s friend; he wanted a hell of a lot more.

And what about Gwen? Stan had accused her of having a crush on Jeff Henry, one that was fueled by her jealousy of Jewel. But was it something more? She had refused to believe Stan when he’d told her that there was something wrong at JeffSon. She’d been adamant in her defense of Jeff Henry. That had shaken Stan more than he cared to admit. He’d been so sure of what he’d seen, so convinced that numbers never lie. But what if Jeff was right? What if Stan had discovered nothing more than a method of bookkeeping that he didn’t understand? And what if—and here was the big
if
—Stan had been looking for something to be wrong because
he
was the jealous one? When he was fighting with Gwen, Stan had realized that he’d been envying Henry for months, maybe even for the past two years.
So look at yourself, Stan; what if you’ve made all this trouble
for nothing?

Gwen was walking to the front door of the apartment, carrying her suitcase and the copy of her book that she had annotated for the reading. Stan started toward the door.
I’ll drive you,
he was going to say.
I want to come.

It seemed to him that her face brightened as if she knew what he was going to do. But then the words wouldn’t come. Instead there rose once again in his mind the vision of Gwen seeing her father’s glass figurines for the first time. And he couldn’t forget that she had never told him about it.

“Drive safely,” he said.

Her face fell. She nodded and walked out the door.