Chapter Twenty-One #3
It was only Duncan’s diplomatic intervention that had prevented her from getting herself arrested at that point, so outraged had she been by the barriers between her and the woman she loved.
She was on a better footing now with the authorities, who had come to understand that Cosima was definitely on whatever side was against Reggie Rierson.
There were two problems, it seemed, both bad.
One, Reggie was an inside trader to a degree that guaranteed he’d spend several Christmases exchanging presents with his grandchildren over a Formica lunch table in a minimum-security prison, and, two, wresting back PFS nonetheless had to be accomplished well before government agencies could possibly get their ducks in a row to file charges and prosecute.
It meant that Cosima’s job was to cooperate with a multiagency investigation without yet cluing in Reggie or certain members of the board who supported his coup.
In addition, Cosima’s job was arranging to purchase a great deal of stock from major shareholders—many of whom had known her since she was a baby—in order to shore up her stake in the company.
And, finally, it meant getting a golden parachute approved by the board and other stakeholders to bait the turncoat into selling back his controlling shares of the company.
“I do think he’ll take the bait,” Duncan said. “I’ve known Reggie for decades. This was a fun time for him, but I don’t really think he meant it to be a long time. He’s been talking about buying an island in Dubai. What we’re offering means he could buy three.”
Cosima leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes. When she shifted, she could still smell the faintest hint of her mother’s perfume. “In any event, whatever comes next is out of our hands.”
She’d thought it would bother her to see the changes at the Castle.
Here in the study, for example, Phoebe’s things had been packed away, the papers nestled into acid-free boxes, pictures wrapped in tissue paper, art appraised and crated.
Cosima’s chair was still here, and Duncan’s, but soon Duncan would move into the house Cosima had always liked in Thousand Oaks.
Without Phoebe, the Castle really wasn’t the Castle anymore. Not Phoebe’s, but also not Cosima’s.
She wasn’t sure she’d miss it. Cosima had grown up with Phoebe and Duncan.
She’d grown up with all of the people in suits and tennis whites who she’d been talking to every day for hours, asking for what she needed and having it provided with hugs and smiles and recollections about her mother.
It was with these people that Cosima had cried about her mother’s death for the first time in company, and grieved. People who knew her.
She’d laughed a lot, too.
“You know what I’ve been thinking?” she said after a long, comfortable silence.
“What’s that?”
“How much Phoebe would have loved this. What a drama! A villain emerges in the wake of a death, the succession uncertain, a daughter’s betrayal, then the parade of badges and interrogations, and finally a trap.
It’s the best memorial we could have contrived for her.
It makes up for the reading of her will being so relentlessly dull. ”
Duncan laughed. “Good lord, I believe you’re right.”
“Also,” Cosima said, “don’t you think she would have liked where we ended up?”
Between the marathon meetings, the tearful lunches, and the tense consultations with law enforcement, Cosima had found herself at the end of two weeks’ worth of long days curled up on the leather sofa in Duncan’s room, with Duncan lounging in his favorite recliner opposite her, the two of them talking until one or both of them were too tired to continue.
One of the topics of conversation was An American Castle’s Garden.
It turned out that Duncan himself had been noodling on the topic for a long time.
When he met Phoebe, he was a somewhat rootless Scottish minor aristocrat who hadn’t found his passion beyond new women in new places.
But at heart he was someone who loved to learn, to see how something worked from every angle.
He’d learned more about the inner workings of Hollywood than most studio executives in his time with Phoebe, and in the end he was doing as much as Cosima, if not more.
Duncan had thought about what he’d like to do after losing the love of his life, and his thought was that he’d love to work in the land of make-believe that Phoebe had ruled.
He’d sacrificed his own dream to make Phoebe feel better by pulling in Cosima and changing up his original vision, which had been to start at the Castle and then travel the world, showing his audiences a new garden every season. Like a Scottish Monty Don.
It felt so good to give Duncan back his dream.
They’d learned in one of the group meetings they went to together that for many people whose loved ones struggled with addiction, grief could be complicated.
It often took longer, following paths into feelings and experiences that had been suppressed.
Cosima could feel that it would be true for her.
So many of her feelings about her mother were bundled together, thatched into layers of resentment and anger and guilt and love.
But she had discovered that she and Duncan, together, could tell each other the story of their family.
They could admit how they’d felt and say what they hadn’t been able to say.
Duncan had always been there for Cosima, from the moment he buckled her into her life vest in the French Riviera, and he’d been there for Phoebe, too.
She’d built PFS with him, asking his opinion on ambitious projects and sticky situations.
There was nothing about Cosima’s mother that Duncan didn’t know. No detail he didn’t remember.
If the trap they’d set worked the way they planned and Reggie left the board, it would be Duncan who stepped in as interim chair.
He’d agreed to steer the ship and find a replacement for Phoebe.
He’d even told Cosima, smiling with just a hint of irony, that he believed it would be “an entertaining project.”
She took a deep breath. “I wanted to tell you that my last meeting of today went well.”
“Which was?”
“With the lead investigators. I needed their clearance to leave the country tonight.”
Duncan sat up, took off his readers, and raised one of his eyebrows. “Headed to a certain English village?”
“I’ve been trying to reach Edie, and I’m not getting through.
I can’t imagine what she must be thinking.
I left her with almost no explanation. She hasn’t heard from me, despite my multiple tantrums to our friends in law enforcement these last two weeks, who are less receptive to their part in a sapphic love story than you might imagine.
If I get there and I’ve lost this beautiful Midwestern girl, I am going to personally Macbeth Reggie. ”
Duncan laughed, then cleared his throat. “You’re in love.”
“I’m in love, Duncan! And I know I may be needed here more than I want to be, at least for the next couple of years, but every single other minute, if everything isn’t royally fucked, I’ll be at Gregory Place.”
He smiled. “I didn’t hesitate when I met your mother.
I knew from the moment I talked to her on the beach.
And I know I surprised her. She thought she couldn’t love anyone again the way she’d loved your father, but I don’t think she understood that she wouldn’t have to love me like your father.
She only had to love me. Wouldn’t trade a minute.
” He looked at his watch. “Get the hell out of here.”
Shocked into laughter, Cosima stood up, and the hug she and Duncan shared reminded her of hugs he’d given her when she was a kid.
Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m going to have to insist you come down and see me once you’ve trundled over your estate in the countryside.
And, fair warning, I’m also going to have to insist you find a place in the village so you can come for long visits, often.
There’s a good church, a lovely pub, the most outrageous manor to tour, and I have a lot of people I want you to meet. Especially Edie.”
“I’ll look forward to that. As a Scot, I’ve always wanted to lay claim to a bit of English property.”
“Soon, then.” She squeezed his elbows. “Keep me posted.”
“If you do the same.”
“I will.”
Then Cosima ran.
This time, she wasn’t running away.