The Reconstruction of Carla Millhouse (15 page)

Aunt Louise couldn’t understand why Jessie didn’t want to see Thomas again. In fact, as far as she and her Canasta friend were concerned, it was time to start planning a wedding. The first thing her aunt asked her when she got home from the date was when she and Thomas were seeing each other again.

“We’re not.”

“He’s so nice, isn’t he?”

“Have you heard a word I’ve said, Aunt Louise?”

“Mary and I are so happy we’ve gotten the both of you together. You’ll be comfortable for the rest of your life.”

Making a letter T with her two forefingers, Jessie cried, “Time out! Aunt Louise. I’m
not
going out with Thomas McNally again.”

“What did you say?”

“He’s annoying and incredibly dull.”

“So what’s your point?”

“Agh!” Jessie squawked, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You’re not looking at the big picture. You’ll have everything you want in life.”

“Except love.”

“He’ll grow on you.”

“Yeah, like a fungus.”

Jessie wasn’t able to make her aunt understand and when she told Louise she wanted to marry Jake, Louise thought she was doing it out of spite.
No, Aunt Louise, I did it because I loved him and still do, despite all the stupid, asinine things he’s done over the years. My life would be so empty without him. He’s just not a habit that I can easily break.

In the past two weeks Jessie had compiled a list of all the banks within a twenty-five mile radius from home in a desperate attempt to save Jake’s hide and the life attached to it. Using her vacation days, she visited every single one, willing to take out any type of loan, from home improvement to education. How she wished there was still some collateral left in the house.

She hadn’t cared what they labeled the money. When they all turned her down, she groveled and begged before widening the radius. Those banks had deemed her a poor risk, too, and flatly turned her down, as well. Again her pleading had proven ineffectual and none of the bureaucratic pencil pushers felt inclined to lend her a dime. From the way they were acting, you’d think it was their own money that she’d wanted to borrow. She had a decent job, but no collateral, so that was that.

After extensive whining, Jessie left the last bank just as it was closing, with the gut-wrenching realization that she’d just exhausted the last normal avenue to raise the money for Jake. She hurried to her car.

Once inside the car, she’d let her tears fall. She was hungry and tired. She couldn’t remember the last solid meal she’d had or when she’d had two consecutive hours of sleep. Her mind mercilessly replayed the events that happened last night. Neither she nor Jake had been asleep when the shrill ring of the telephone pierced the silence of their bedroom at 2:15 am. Just the sound of the phone had unnerved them. She knew who was on the other line before Jake answered it.

Jessie watched her husband become unglued. The hand that held the phone receiver shook as the other one continually ran through his hair.

“I need more time,” he’d pleaded. “Please listen…I’m begging you.” The man at the other end of the line obviously said something threatening. Jake paled, even more, and bobbed his head as he replied, “Yes. I understand.”

Jessie went over and placed her hand on his shoulder. He quickly turned and burrowed his head into her chest and sobbed. Her tears fell silently along with his. She felt as if the death sentence had been handed down to both of them. Now all they’d have to do was wait for it to be carried out by two goons wearing cheap polyester suits.

The next day Jessie sold her car.

Chapter Twenty-One

Richard stood before the door of Myron Cohen’s office. He raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. Cohen was one of the partners in the law firm of Boyle, Slotkin, Horton and Cohen. After a sleepless night of dissecting his life as meticulously as a biologist with a specimen, Richard had come to the overwhelming conclusion that his present existence sucked and was going to get worse if he remained in Phoenix.

He’d intended to give Cohen his two weeks’ notice without having any job prospects or idea where he’d move to next. Richard felt he’d been a slave to his work way too long, using it as a substitute for a social life. As a result, he’d accumulated enough billable hours to keep him afloat for a short period of time while he worked out the next chapter of his life. He’d travel around the country, shake some trees and see what fell out.

Now as he was about to change his life, he found his resolve crumbling. He grabbed on to a mental toehold to stop his slipping back into the status quo by reminding himself that in less than another week, Carla would be back with her husband on a more permanent basis and he’d be history.

There was nothing left for him here.
Except a partnership
, a little voice piped from within. Even that wasn’t a definite, he realized. Leaving might be the route taken by a coward, but he didn’t feel very much like the hero type at the moment.

Taking a deep breath, he rapped on the door. The knock might not have had the conviction he’d wanted behind it, but at the moment it was enough.

“Come in,” a deep voice boomed. The voice hardly fit the body it emanated from. Myron Cohen was a short, squat man who resembled a furry pickle barrel.

Richard entered the roomy, corner office. It was the kind he’d always wanted, with large windows and a panoramic view of the city. His office boasted a partial glimpse of an alley and another less attractive building. Cohen’s desk was a large black walnut one so highly polished that he was able to see his own reflection in it as he approached. Two walls were covered by bookcases filled with law books. Pictures of Cohen shaking the hands of prominent legislators and plaques covered the remaining beige walls. The thick velvet, plush carpeting was a rich shade of brown and added to the room’s tasteful decor.

Cohen sat behind the massive desk dressed in his usual attire, a three-piece, navy-blue, pin-striped suit. Richard had never seen him in any other color. He imagined the man owned a huge walk-in closet with dozens of navy-blue suits hanging in a row. Cohen’s thick, bushy black eyebrows, which met in the middle to form a complete line, were raised at the sight of Richard. Though it was 10:15 in the morning, the man was already sporting a dark shadow on his face. His fingers, matted with a coating of black hair were sorting papers in a manila file.

“I was about to call you, Stein. Have you become clairvoyant?”

“No. I—”

“Caught wind of it, eh? Nothing goes down around here without the grapevine finding out.” Cohen admitted scratching his chin, which sounded like an emery board.

It was obvious to Richard that they weren’t on the same page. Hell, he had a feeling they weren’t even reading the same book.

“Mr. Cohen—”

Cohen held up his hand. “Have a seat. Let me fill you in on the details first. Concord Industries has just retained our firm to defend them in a lawsuit brought forth by the city of Phoenix. They are accused of not issuing a recall on defective cribs and carriages. The partners have decided you’d be the best man to represent Concord.”

Richard wasn’t certain he was hearing this correctly. Was he being offered first chair? Representing a large prestigious company like Concord Industries and winning the case could be rewarded with the partnership he’d worked so hard for since joining the firm. He’d wanted an important case so he could show what he was made of and now he was being given the chance. As if reading his thoughts, Cohen continued.

“You realize how important this is to us as well as you. We’ve been watching you closely, Stein. Win this case and you’ll make partner.”

Richard sat there listening as Cohen continued to prattle on about the merits of this opportunity. The man was preaching to the choir. Normally, Richard would jump at such a chance. Today, however, he gave it a moment’s thought.

Why did this happen now when he wanted to move on? The timing was all screwed up. He wasn’t a religious man, but it would seem that the Omnipotent One residing in heaven was having a good laugh on him.

He couldn’t leave now to start again elsewhere as he’d liked to, not with this hard-earned opportunity being offered him. However, he never wanted to face Carla again. No. That wasn’t quite true. He
couldn’t
face the one woman he desired more than anything or anyone else in the world. What the hell was he going to do?

“Stein, have I lost you?”

“No. I was only thinking.”

“Just like you to be planning your strategy already.” Borrowing a line from the famous movie about the football coach, Knute Rockne, “Well, win one for the Gipper,” he said, laughing at his own joke.

Realizing he’d been dismissed, Richard rose quickly and left. He realized he’d just been given an offer he couldn’t refuse. Somehow, he had to find a way to balance both his personal and professional lives.

Halfway back to his office, Richard came up with a scenario that might just work. He’d call Carla and tell her he’d be traveling a great deal in the months ahead working on a mega case. Knowing her, she’d understand and not call or expect him to call or show up at the gym. He really didn’t have to worry, for she’d soon be back solidly with Martin anyway and would have forgotten he even existed.

* * *

Heather noticed a slight difference in Martin’s behavior. Being a woman tuned into the men’s channel 24/7, she noticed he was less agreeable and more selfish since his birthday celebration. It wouldn’t have bothered her had she not been affected by it. Usually, she was the one to call the shots. Now everything seemed to be up for debate.

Most times, whenever they’d go to a hotel, Martin couldn’t wait to get her naked and make crazy love to her. Now, he wanted her to entertain him first. In Heather’s experience, this meant either the man was losing interest in the woman or he was getting nookie from another source.

The other source in this case had to be his wife.

Neither scenario thrilled her at the moment. Until she knew what part if any Martin would play in her plans to join Salvatore, she couldn’t afford to lose him. He now meant more to her than sex. She needed him to remain crazy for her so he’d do whatever she wanted.

Since Salvatore’s call, Heather had thought of nothing else but coming up with a doable plan to separate Orson from his money at the same time she permanently erased him from her life. Since she hadn’t formulated such a scheme, as of yet, she didn’t know if she would need Martin’s assistance. She had to be certain of his loyalty and keep him putty in her hands. A smile brightened her beautiful face as the kernel of an idea began to form in her mind.

Heather reached for Martin and began to stroke him again.

* * *

Carla came home from walking Blondie and found Martin’s Mercedes parked in the garage. She smiled. He was home early. Perhaps, he was turning over a new leaf.

She came up behind Martin, who was glued to the TV watching a program about the lifestyles of the rich and famous, and slipped her arms around his neck. He looked up at her and smiled before returning his attention back to the screen.

“Now, that’s the place to live,” he said, nodding at the screen.

“Where?”

“Monaco. Look at that townhouse. What a view!”

Carla couldn’t mistake the excitement in his voice. He loved expensive things and only wore silk handmade suits and expensive jewelry. Working at a Mercedes dealership had been no accident. Had she not known better, she would have thought he’d been given to the wrong parents at birth.

“We couldn’t afford to live there,” Carla said trying to bring him back down to reality.

However, he refused to take the hint. “Ah, but what a wonderful life it would be if we could,” he added dreamily.

“Martin, we don’t need a fancy house in some exotic place if we have each other.”

“Ah, but think how much more exciting it would be waking each morning in some townhouse on the Riviera?” he waved his hand as if trying to make his vision clearer.

“Do you honestly want to know what’s missing from our lives?”

He pulled her down into his lap so that he could stare into her soft brown eyes. Sweeping a stray lock of hair from her face, he asked, “What?”

“Children.”

He looked at her as if she’d just dropped down from another planet. Why was he acting so surprised? Because she hadn’t brought the subject up in such a long time? Hell, they hadn’t actually had a conversation like this in just as long a time. Had he actually thought she’d given up on the idea? Was he ever going to close his gaping mouth and say something?

When Martin finally replied, it felt like an hour had passed when in actuality it had been only a minute or so.

“Do you really want a child, Carla?”

“More than anything,” she admitted hopefully.

Blondie’s ears were twitching along with her nose as she studied her masters on the couch.

Usually when Carla and Martin were there it signaled food. She’d been napping and had hoped she hadn’t missed a morsel. When she saw food wasn’t involved, she lowered her head back down on her paws and grunted.