Drawing Close: The Fourth Novel in the Rosemont Series (20 page)

Chapter 43

John Allen got out of bed each
weekday morning by four fifteen in order to be at Westbury Animal Hospital for
morning surgery by five thirty. October twenty-fourth was a busy surgery day.
He slid quietly out of bed, as was his custom, so he didn’t disturb his
sleeping wife, and padded noiselessly toward the bathroom.

“It’ll be starting in an hour,” Maggie said from
the wing chair in their bedroom, not more than four feet from him.

John started and grabbed his chest.

“Sorry. Did I scare you?”

“Yes, you scared me!” John said, doubled over and
breathing hard. “I didn’t hear you get out of bed. When did you get up?”

“About an hour ago. I came over here and started
reading emails on my phone. I didn’t want to go downstairs. The minute you do
that, Eve and Roman want to go out and those cats insist on being fed.”

“Too nervous to sleep?”

Maggie nodded, even though he couldn’t see her in
the dark.

“Are you going back to bed, or can I turn on the
light?”

“I’m up. I may as well get ready and go to work.”

“Will you track the auction online?”

“No. That would drive me crazy. Besides, I have
another transit committee meeting.” She rolled her eyes at him in the mirror.
“You know how riveting those are. But it’ll force me to stay away from the Internet
and focus on something besides this auction. And our future at Rosemont,” she
concluded glumly. “Gordon Mortimer is attending the auction, and he promised to
call me as soon as it’s done.”

“I think we’re going to get all the money we need.
And if we fall a bit short, I’ve got some savings I can get to.”

Maggie turned and smiled at him as he stepped into
the shower. “You’re as kind and generous as you are good-looking. If only the
appraisal of Rosemont hadn’t come in so high,” she said, raising her voice to
be heard over the running water of the shower. “We’ve got to come up with two
million four hundred seventy thousand dollars in order to buy out Frank’s
share.”

“The good news is,” John yelled, “that this place
is worth almost five million.”

I hope we’ll be able to continue to call it
home,
Maggie thought as she glanced at the clock on her vanity.
We’ll
know soon enough.

***

Mayor Maggie Martin called the
meeting of the transit committee to order promptly at nine o’clock and did her
best to pay attention to every speaker. If later asked to summarize what was
discussed, she would have been hard-pressed to supply any details. When the
meeting finally adjourned shortly before eleven, she darted out of the room and
back to her office before anyone could detain her.

She asked her assistant to hold her calls and shut
the door to her office firmly behind her. She dug into her purse for her cell
phone and was gratified to see a missed call from Gordon Mortimer. He hadn’t
left a message, and she punched in his number. He answered on the first ring.

“Mayor Martin,” he said, sounding chipper. “The
auction has been completed and all items sold.”

Maggie remained silent, willing him to get to the
point: How much money had they raised?

“You’ll be wanting to know the winning bids. Do
you have your bid sheet handy?”

“I don’t need to know the amount for each item,”
she said, stopping herself from snapping. “You can email that to me. Right now,
I’m most anxious for the total.”

“Of course. The silver that I recommended you
place in this auction did rather well,” he said officiously. “Our joint
efforts—Sotheby’s and mine—produced a lot of interested bidders.”
He sounded pleased with himself.

Maggie wanted to scream at him.
Get to the
point!

“Taken together, your share is one million five
hundred and sixty thousand dollars.”

Maggie’s pulse raced. “That’s more than you
predicted on its best day.”

“It is indeed. We know how to place things for
auction.”

“So what did the Martin-Guillaume Biennais go
for?”

“That, madam, was a disappointment. As we advised,
waiting for the Paris auction—”

“What did it sell for, Mr. Mortimer?” she asked,
cutting him off.

“Your share will be eight hundred seventy thousand
dollars.”

Maggie did a quick sum on a scratch pad and
slumped into her desk chair. That left them forty thousand short. She knew she
and John could scrape together the remaining money, but they wouldn’t be able
to offer more than the required minimum to buy out Frank Haynes. He would
almost certainly offer two million six or seven, to assure that he ended up
with Rosemont. She had wanted to beat him at his own game, but that was now
impossible. She should have forced him to sue her so that she had time to wait
for the Paris auction. Then she might have had the money she needed. But the
die had been cast. Her ace in the hole—the Martin-Guillaume Biennais tea
set—had sold for less than she needed.

“Mayor Martin? Are you still there?”

Maggie forced herself back to the present. “I’m
here,” she said, fighting back tears, “but I have to go. Please send me an
email with all the details, and thank you for all you’ve done,” she said before
she ended the call.

Maggie rose and walked to the window of her
office. She should be grateful for all that Rosemont had brought into her life.
If it weren’t for Rosemont, she wouldn’t have found Eve in the snow outside her
library doors that first fateful night in the house. Eve had led her to her
wonderful new husband. She was mayor of Westbury because she had moved to
Rosemont. Even with all of its headaches and challenges, being mayor was the
most fulfilling job she could imagine. Not to mention that, if she had to sell
her half of Rosemont to Frank Haynes, she’d suddenly have more than two million
dollars in cash.
Why in the world do I feel like my heart is being ripped
from my chest?

Maggie returned to her desk, shut down her
computer, and said goodnight to her assistant on her way out the door. Dr. John
Allen would have to make time for an unscheduled visitor. The only thing she
needed right now was to have his arms around her.

Chapter 44

Frank Haynes looked up from the
spreadsheet he was studying on his computer. Loretta Nash had been on the phone
all morning and from the snippets of conversation that he’d heard from his
office, she was not attending to company business. Although her back was to
him, something in the tone of her voice drew his attention. He rolled his chair
closer to his door and leaned toward her, straining to hear the conversation
she was making an effort to conceal.

“The transplant has been scheduled for the Tuesday
after Thanksgiving,” Loretta stated. “We’ve already found the donor, and
everything’s been scheduled. My daughter’s half-sister is taking time off of
work to donate her kidney. It’s all arranged.”

Loretta’s back stiffened as she listened to the
lengthy reply.

“What do you mean, my insurance won’t authorize
the transplant? How can they disapprove it? You’re the ones that tell them it’s
necessary, aren’t you?”

Again, Loretta listened, clicking her pen
repeatedly.

“No, I don’t understand at all. You told me Nicole
needs a transplant. How can they say that it’s premature—that she should
stay on dialysis longer? Why can’t you explain it to them?”

She stood and swayed from side to side as she
listened.

“I don’t agree that you’ve done all you could do!
Where does this leave Nicole? She’s not going to get a lifesaving transplant
because some pencil pusher wants to save the insurance company money? Why would
I give a damn about that?” she asked, her voice hard and shrill.

“No, I don’t want to schedule Nicole for dialysis.
We can do that here in Westbury. I want the transplant booked. I can pay for it
myself—without insurance,” she said, thinking of Frank’s promise to help.
Haynes strained even harder to hear. “How much will it all cost?”

Loretta listened. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”
She sat down in her chair and picked up a pen to scribble numbers on a piece of
paper. “That’s just the acquisition cost?” she asked, writing furiously. “I
didn’t realize everything wasn’t included.”

Frank Haynes watched as she took down a long list
of numbers.

“That’s more than a million dollars!” Loretta
shrieked. “No. I don’t think my guarantor can pay all that.” She stifled a sob.
“So I’m supposed to put her back on dialysis and wait for her condition to get
worse? Is that what you’re telling me?” Loretta stabbed the pen into the paper.

“I’ll be sure to do that,” she was losing her grip
on her self-control. “Have yourself a great day while my child suffers,” she
yelled into the phone before she slammed it down on its receiver.

Loretta spun around quickly and caught sight of
Frank Haynes as he tried to wheel his chair back behind his desk. She threw her
pen onto her desk and stalked into his office.

“Did you hear that?” she demanded.

He knew better than to deny it. He nodded.

“So my insurance company says she hasn’t been on
dialysis long enough. They want to see if she’ll recover.”

“I thought this was a birth defect and wasn’t
something she could recover from.”

“That’s exactly right. That’s why the doctors
recommended a transplant now.”

“Can’t they tell that to the insurance company and
convince them to change their mind?”

“They said they tried. We now have to appeal the
denial, which they’ve already started. But that will take months,” she said as
she crumpled into the chair across from his desk.

“The transplant is set for the end of November,
isn’t it?”

Loretta nodded.

“Surely they’ll process the appeal by then. Is the
transplant center giving them all the information they need?”

“They promised that they will.”

“There you are. Everything is in the works,” he
said, amazed at himself for being the voice of optimism.

“Do you really think so, Frank?” she said in a
small voice. “Susan has agreed to be the donor, and it’s all set up. What if
they postpone it and she changes her mind? Or Nicole gets really bad and dies
before she can get the new kidney?” Tears began to course down her cheeks. “I’m
so afraid, Frank.”

He came around his desk and took her hands in his.
“We won’t let that happen, remember? You keep that November surgery date, and
I’ll pay for anything that isn’t covered by insurance.”

Loretta wiped at a tear that had fallen onto their
joined hands. “That’s a very sweet offer, Frank, but a kidney transplant costs
way more than you know.” She brought her face up to look at him. “It’ll cost
more than a million dollars, Frank.”

Frank Haynes was proud of himself for not
flinching.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it” was
all he said.

Chapter 45

Frank Haynes looked up from his
computer screen to see Nicole Nash staring at him silently from the door to his
office. She was wearing the same long blue dress that he’d seen on a lot of
little girls in his fast-food restaurants. She was holding a Styrofoam cup and
spoon.

He cleared his throat. “Good morning, young lady.”

Nicole held out the items in her hands.

“What have you got there?” he asked, getting out
of his chair and coming to meet her.

“Soup,” she said. “Like Mrs. Walters makes.”

“Ah, I see,” he said, looking into the cup
containing two sizes of paper clips and a handful of rubber bands. “Chicken
noodle?”

The little girl smiled and nodded vigorously.

“Thought so. With extra noodles,” he said,
pointing to the rubber bands. “Just the way I like it.”

“It’s for you,” she replied.

Frank Haynes smiled and took the proffered cup and
spoon. “If I finish this, will you make more?”

Nicole beamed.

“Thank you, Nicole,” he said as Loretta Nash hung
up the phone and called to Nicole.

“We can’t bother Mr. Haynes,” she scolded. “I told
you, Nicole.” She turned to her employer. “I’m so sorry about this, Frank. Mrs.
Walters has a cold, and I can’t risk having Nicole catch anything. Not this
close to the surgery. She has to be healthy, or they won’t do the transplant.”

“I understand completely. She’s been no trouble
whatsoever.” He looked down at the cup in his hands. “It’s been a very long
time since anyone’s made me paper clip soup.” Had anyone—ever—made
him paper clip soup?

“I appreciate that, Frank.”

Haynes waved away her thanks. He stood suddenly.
“I’ve got to go out.”

“Will you be back today?”

Frank Haynes looked at his watch and an unfamiliar
warmth spread from his heart to his head. He had a plan. “I don’t think so,” he
said. “You can lock up when you make the bank deposit and go home. I’ll see you
in the morning.”

He whistled as he made his way to his car.

***

Frank Haynes pulled into the
parking lot of the big-box toy store. He’d never been inside one of these
places and almost beat a hasty retreat when he stepped through the automatic
doors. He stood, rooted to the spot, and surveyed the rows of floor-to-ceiling
racks filled with every toy imaginable. Haynes was glad that the parking lot
was nearly empty. Fighting through a crowd in this place would be intolerable.
He vowed he’d never come here on Black Friday or Christmas Eve.

A clerk at the customer service desk called, “Sir,
may I help you find something?”

Haynes tore his eyes away from the scene in front
of him and approached the young man.

“Mr. Haynes,” the man said. “I worked for you all
through high school and college.”

Haynes nodded. He didn’t recognize the man but knew
he’d employed most of the town’s teenagers at one time or another. “And now
you’re here,” he stated the obvious.

“I’m the manager,” the man stated proudly. “I got
promoted last week. I learned a lot when I worked for you.”

Haynes looked at him closely. Was he being
sarcastic? He didn’t think so. “I’m glad to hear it. Congratulations.”

“Are you looking for something special?” the young
man asked.

“I am. I want to buy toys for a little girl. She’s
four.”

“What does she like?”

Haynes rubbed his hand over his chin. “She’s got a
doll—about this big,” he said, indicating a two foot stretch with his
hands. “That doll goes everywhere with her.” He wracked his brain. “She likes
to pretend to cook. And she wears that long blue dress the little girls love,”
he concluded, looking at the man hopefully.

“How much do you want to spend?”

Frank Haynes shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not
on a budget.”

“I’ve got just the things,” the delighted man
replied. Today’s sales would look good for his first week as a store manager.

***

After he and the store manager had
somehow managed to wrangle all of his purchases into his Mercedes Sedan, Frank
Haynes drove over to Pete’s Bistro for a cup of coffee and a sandwich. Even the
front passenger seat was loaded with toys. He had books, puzzles, art supplies,
and doll clothes, but the pièce de résistance was the wooden kitchen set and
play food. Haynes was certain Nicole would love that. The manager assured him the
kitchen set’s “some assembly required” would pose no problem; he’d easily be
able to put it together in under an hour. The set came with all the hardware
and tools he needed. Haynes hoped so.

He finished his sandwich, refilled his coffee, and
got back into his car. Loretta and Nicole should have left by now. He’d bring
in all of his purchases, set up a play area for Nicole, and be home in time to
walk Sally.

Haynes pulled to the curb at the entrance to
Haynes Enterprises and quickly unloaded his car. He eyed the waiting area and
decided that there would be just enough room between the filing cabinet and the
front wall to install the play kitchen. It would even add a “child friendly”
air to his business. Why hadn’t he thought of this before?

He unboxed the kitchen set and inventoried the
parts and tools against the packing list. He cursed under his breath and
checked his watch. He’d have just enough time for a trip to Westbury Hardware
before it closed. He grabbed the parts list, circled the items he was missing,
and set out. He was back, half an hour later, with eighty dollars’ worth of
nuts, bolts, and tools. The clerk smiled when Haynes had handed him his list;
they were very familiar with this play set and had supplied missing parts and
tools on numerous occasions in the past. “The last hour before closing on
Christmas Eve? Busiest hour of the whole year, selling parts for bikes and
toys.”

Haynes secured the last bolt at ten o’clock. He
cleared away the trash and began to move the toy kitchen into place. When he’d
put the first two pieces into position, he knew he’d misjudged the space. There
wasn’t enough room. He stepped to the front door and surveyed the scene in
front of him and shook his head slowly. He’d have to move the filing cabinet
into his office.

It was fully loaded and weighed a ton. Haynes
managed to remove the top drawer of the cabinet and was able to drag and push
it into its new location in his office. He put the remainder of the kitchen set
into place and mopped his brow with his handkerchief. He retraced his steps to
the entrance to view his handiwork and nodded.

He checked his watch. Sally would be frantic
without him; he needed to get home. He stacked the puzzles and art supplies on
the coffee table and placed the stiff, plastic clam-shell packages of pots and
pans, dishes and food on the floor next to the kitchen.
I should let Loretta
deal with opening these,
he thought. He reached for his pocket knife and
slit open the package of pots and pans. He placed the Dutch oven and a frying
pan on the pretend burners and stowed the remaining pans in the drawer below
the play oven. He picked up the next package and was soon arranging fake
apples, bananas, and oranges in a bowl that he placed on top of the
refrigerator. He’d need to stop by the toy store tomorrow and buy the toaster
and mixer he’d seen. He gave the room one last glance and pushed through the
front entrance, locking the door behind him.

It was almost midnight when he pulled into his
garage. “Sorry, old girl,” he said, greeting Sally who had been anxiously
awaiting his return. She shot out the kitchen door and into her favorite corner
of the yard to take care of her business. Haynes leaned against the door frame
and rubbed the left side of his back. He’d be sore tomorrow, no question about
it. Haynes smiled. He’d had the time of his life.

This must be what it feels like to be a father
on Christmas Eve.
Haynes sighed deeply, stepped into the yard, and whistled
for Sally. “Come on, girl,” he said as she raced to her master. “We’ve got to
get to bed. I need to be there to see Nicole’s face when she walks through the
door tomorrow morning.”

***

Haynes arrived at his office at six
forty-five. His body was, indeed, rebelling from the unaccustomed activity of
the day before. Despite his aches and pains and lack of sleep, Haynes was in a
jubilant mood.

He spotted Loretta and Nicole as they got out of
Loretta’s car and made their way to the entrance of Haynes Enterprises. He
positioned himself by the door to his office, pretending to look for something
in the filing cabinet that he’d moved there less than twelve hours earlier. He
held his breath as Loretta pushed through the door and held it open for Nicole.

“Mommy. Look!” she squealed, dropping her beloved
doll and racing across the room to the play kitchen.

Loretta stood, speechless, and watched her
daughter. She turned to Haynes’ office and their eyes locked. He smiled and
shrugged. Loretta burst out laughing.

“Is this what you hurried off to do yesterday?”
she asked as they both approached the scene where Nicole was excitedly opening
doors and drawers and pulling out their contents. He nodded. “Oh, Frank,” she
said, grasping his hand and squeezing it.

He squatted down and spoke to Nicole. “Since
you’re such a good cook, I decided you need a kitchen of your own.”

Nicole spread her arms and flung them around his
neck. He rocked back on his heels, bringing his arms up to hug the little girl
nestled in his arms and drinking in the joy of holding a child. She reached up
and took his hand, pointing to his thumbnail. ‘Scratchy” was all she said.

Haynes nodded. “I gouged it when I was putting
your kitchen together. Building things isn’t my strong suit.” He gave Loretta a
sheepish smile.

Nicole brought it to her lips and gave the injured
thumb a wet kiss. “Mommy says you don’t have anyone at home. I’ll kiss your
boo-boo.”

Haynes turned his face to the floor and coughed.
“Will you make us lunch today?” he asked.

She nodded.

“And if you get tired of working in the kitchen,
I’ve got some things for you over there.” He pointed to the toys he’d stacked
on the coffee table.

Loretta gasped. “Have you lost your mind? This
must have cost a fortune.”

Frank Haynes got slowly to his feet. “Can’t
remember when I’ve ever enjoyed spending my money more than I did on this.”