Chapter Eleven
I felt good the morning of the Harrington meeting. That should've been my first warning.
Mona was as good as her word. She'd spent the last two days turning the entire New England engineering world upside down, shaking the coins out of their pockets until she found one she could use to call Tallulah Harrington's people.
The meeting itself turned out to be easier to book than she'd expected—the name Ramsey apparently still had some cachet with those people, even after whatever had happened with Victoria.
While she'd been working on setting up the meeting, Marcie had been preparing to ace it.
She put her head together with Yukiko, working her way through pages of my princess's notes full of all the little details about the Avery Company.
She shifted from housework to work work, leaving Yui and the cheerleaders to (gratefully) pick up the slack.
We had a plan. It was a good plan, frankly.
I felt great about the whole thing. Marcie was finally growing into her own, taking the mantle of her father's legacy, and I’d spent the last two days having a couple of conversations with Marcie's mother Vanessa that jogged my memory about Carl and Tallulah Harrington. We were both ready to be our best.
I showered, threw on a suit, and made my way downstairs to find Marcie already dressed and waiting for me. She stood at the kitchen island in a charcoal dress, running through business statistics and the high points of her pitch while Kiki sipped coffee and watched approvingly.
“Morning, angel,” I said, giving Marcie a kiss on the cheek. “You look incredible.”
“Thanks,” she said, blushing cutely.
“Where's Mona?” I asked, pouring myself a cup of coffee.
It was Kiki who answered. “Out. She's on the warpath somewhere.”
“Destroying our enemies,” I guessed. “Marcie's going to be a big help with that today.”
Marcie glanced up from her last-minute perusal of her notes. “I know,” she said, smiling nervously.
I know. No hedging, no second-guessing.
“You really are Daniel's daughter,” I said, shaking my head.
“You've got this in the bag,” Yukiko assured us both. “You'll get to Tallulah's mansion in time for lunch and have the contract by dinner.”
Marcie gave a little start like she'd just realized something. “Oh! We need to make a stop, Uncle Jack.”
I took another sip of coffee. “Sure thing. Where?”
“The office. I need to get Dad's Rolodex.”
I blinked. “You have Daniel's Rolodex?”
I remembered it. A big, bulky creation of paper and metal that used to squat on my mentor's desk like a toad.
Daniel used to idly scroll through it in the middle of conversations sometimes, as if reminding himself of all the people he could depend on and who depended on him.
No matter that the whole thing had been digitized over a decade ago: Daniel liked having the analog method close.
“He gave it to me,” Marcie said with a smile. “Around the same time he gave you twenty million dollars. I've got it in my desk at the Avery Company.”
“And this will convince Tallulah that we're serious?”
“She mentioned that thing every time she was in Dad's office,” Marcie explained. “If I put in my purse and pull it out when I'm talking to her, she'll laugh. It'll break the ice.” Marcie grinned. “It'll get us halfway there all on its own.”
I thought about it. I liked it. “Alright. We'll stop and get it. It shouldn't be much of a side-trip.”
I did a bit of mental math. If we left soon, we'd still have plenty of time to spare between here and the Harrington residence. Besides, it would be good to check in at the office.
“Good morning,” a voice said.
All three of us glanced up. Caroline stood in the kitchen doorway, her makeup bag slung over her shoulder and a pair of sunglasses low on her nose.
She wore a yellow dress with a big black belt and what looked like black combat boots.
“Marcie, Kiki. Jack.” She smiled warmly at me.
“I'm ready to head out whenever you are.”
“It's going to be a long drive,” Marcie said. “Tallulah's mansion is like three hours from here...”
Caroline shrugged. “Then we'll have plenty of time to get your face perfect,” she said, joining both of my wives at the kitchen island. “First impressions are important. Tallulah Harrington sounds like the kind of woman who'll notice.”
I shared a glance with Kiki, who nodded. “As long as you're alright with this taking up most of your day,” I told the makeup artist.
“Of course! There's nowhere else I'd rather be.” Caroline gave us all a smile that made me think of the Mona Lisa. “I mean that. Genuinely.”
Yukiko shrugged. “I'm sure Marcie could use the help.”
And the company, I thought. And it might give us a little time to figure out what the hell your deal is, Caroline.
Little did I know I was going to find out her deal a lot sooner than I expected.
The three of us filled our thermoses and climbed into the McLaren. I drove, Marcie brought her notes into the passenger seat, while Caroline folded improbably into the little shelf behind us and chatted amicably about contour and lighting and what shade of mascara best matched Marcie's star sign.
It took very little time to get to the Avery Company offices. It was still early, and the streets of the business district were mostly deserted. The employees Yukiko had bragged about on national television weren't due for another half hour. I had my pick of spaces in the parking deck.
A little camera in the corner followed our motion as I scanned my keycard to get into the offices. The place still had that new-office smell: not that the building was new, but the furniture had barely been used and the paint was still fresh enough that the walls smelled faintly of it.
“This place is lovely,” Caroline said, looking everywhere at once as we made our way through the halls.
“You haven't been in here yet?” I asked. “You're an employee.”
“I mostly stick with your wives,” the makeup artist explained smoothly. “Buildings don't need people to make sure their best side is the one that's being presented to the camera.”
A fair enough point.
Marcie led the way to her office. Every member of the harem had one, regardless of how much they used them. Of the wives, only Yukiko had spent any appreciable amount of time in hers—and that had diminished as her pregnancy got further along.
We were mostly working out of the house. The offices were more about signaling wealth and prestige, along with building a place to butter up clients. So much in business was like that: you did things less to be successful than to look successful.
I felt certain Victoria Ruocchio knew all about that.
“Here we go,” Marcie said, digging around in her desk. She came up with a battered old Rolodex, the index cards all covered in her father's handwriting. Just seeing it sent a pang of recognition through me.
“God,” I said, looking at it. “I remember the days Daniel used to actually use this thing.”
“You're going to use it today,” Caroline murmured. Then she turned to Marcie. “Your father is going to be so proud of you.”
Marcie's cheeks colored. “Thanks—”
My phone rang.
I pulled it out of my pocket, hoping it wasn't one of Tallulah's people asking to reschedule. When I saw the name on the screen, I did a double-take: then froze.
Samantha.
I don't know how I knew. But my entire body went cold when I saw my babygirl's name on my phone.
Samantha's not supposed to be up, I thought, swallowing hard. She's sleeping in. Kiki and I agreed she needed it...
I waved both women in the room to silence, then put the phone to my ear.
“Babygirl? It's me. What's wrong?”
The instant I said it, my stomach dropped. Because Samantha was crying. Crying bad. She sounded ragged, hoarse, like she'd been weeping for some time and had only just managed to pick up the phone and make a call for help.
“Daddy!?” She could barely get it out. “Daddy, I... I think I need you to come home. Can you come home?”
My blood turned to ice in my veins. Both Caroline and Marcie froze, worried looks filling their faces.
“Babygirl? I'm right here. What's going on?” I didn't want to say it, but I couldn't avoid it. “Is the baby okay? Are you hurt?”
“I'm... I'm okay,” she managed, which made me relax the slightest fraction. “Physically. Daddy, I just got a call from the doctor's office. From the lab. They got the results back from the genetic thing.”
Jesus. No. This was some kind of a nightmare.
She's clear, I said, my hand shaking. They said it was negative, they said neither she or the baby had the rotten gene. They said she's not going to get sick...
“We already got the results,” I said through numb lips.
“Mona got a sample from my mom,” Samantha wept.
“I don't know how she did it—if she got whatever they originally tested or she bullied her or…
or I don't even know! They... they did some kind of science thing with it, it's like a comparison thing, it's supposed to give you a better picture of whether you're likely to pass on the dormant form of the gene...”
Something clicked in my head, and I understood.
Or at least I thought I understood.
“Dawn was lying,” I guessed, the fist around my heart unclenching a fraction. “She never had Huntington's, did she, babygirl? She's negative.”
“No, she's positive,” Samantha sobbed, sounding like she was going to pass out. “But the markers, they don't... they don't make any fucking sense...!”
What?
“Babygirl, slow down,” I said. “What the hell did they find?”
Her voice broke completely. “The markers don't match,” she repeated, sniffing hugely. “Not the way a mother and daughter's are supposed to, Daddy.”
Oh. Oh God.
I couldn't stop my brain from putting the pieces together.
Their genetic markers don't match.
Samantha never had the gene because she didn't INHERIT the gene.
And she didn't inherit it because...
“Daddy,” Samantha whimpered. “They're saying they don't think Dawn's my mom.”
The floor of the office tilted beneath my feet.
Marcie gasped. Caroline quietly put a hand over her mouth.