Never Too Rich (28 page)

R.L. groaned inwardly. Now he also had to leap
onstage, and he disliked nothing more than having to make public
speeches. But what choice did he have? He accepted the microphone
from Antonio and thanked the women and the designer profusely.

At last the show was over.

R.L. slipped out as the women converged on Antonio,
and immediately took the escalators up to the eighth-floor
executive offices. During the ride, he kept a sharp eye peeled on
the shoppers laden down with the store’s glossy dove-gray shopping
bags imprinted with blood-red lettering. Each floor he passed was
doing a brisk lunchtime business. Computerized cash registers
chattered and spewed out receipts. In the linen department, the
White Sale had customers lined up to plunder the stacks of designer
sheets.

As soon as he reached his office, his secretary
looked up and held out a stack of messages. He waved them away.
“Later, Sally,” he called out, strode into his large windowless
office, and shut the door. Dropping into his leather swivel chair,
he got busy on the phone.

After three rings, Ruby answered. “Robinson
residence.”

“
Ruby, it’s R.L. again. Did Eds get
back yet?”

“
Yes. She just walked in. I told
her you said you’d call, but she told me she wasn’t to be
disturbed. Even by you.”

His knuckles tightened around the receiver. He knew
a runaround when he got one. What
was
it with Edwina,
anyway? Didn’t she want to see him anymore? If that was it, why
didn’t she just come right out and say so? She was normally frank,
brutally so in fact.

“
Ruby, what the hell is going on?”
he demanded. “I’ve been trying to get hold of her for days
now.”

Ruby’s voice was sympathetic. “I know, honey.”

“
Is she avoiding me?”

“
Honey, it isn’t just you. She’s
been avoiding everybody.”

He felt a heavy sense of isolation steal over him.
“Thanks, Ruby,” he said, his voice knotted up, and put down the
receiver. For a long while he just sat there tapping his
fingernails on the desk while he stared at the telephone. He
couldn’t understand it. Half the time Edwina clung to him as though
she were terrified he might disappear. The other half, she was cool
and withdrawn. His brows descended in sudden anger. Well, if that
was the way she wanted to play it, then why the hell should he keep
running after her?

Why indeed?

The buzzing of the interoffice intercom intruded
upon his thoughts. Wearily he depressed the talk button. “Sally,”
he said with annoyance, “I thought I told you I wasn’t to be
disturbed.”

“
I know, but Miss Gage is
here.”

He sighed to himself. Catherine Jacqueline Warren
Gage. The youngest of the three philanthropists who had sponsored
the de Riscal fashion show. Part icy New England WASP, part
hot-tempered Irish Catholic, and rich as all get-out, she had been
twice married and was now widowed and single again.

“
Send her in, Sally,” he said
wearily, and sat back gloomily.

His office door opened. “Darling,” the familiar
voice cooed. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but I told Mummy to go
on without me. What a horrible scene that fashion show was!”

He looked across his desk at her. Catherine
Jacqueline Warren Gage. Young, tall, extremely elegant. Her rich
honey-blond hair was thick and wavy. Her suit was pink silk and
severely cut, and triple strands of heirloom pearls glowed around
her taut throat. She was more than just beautiful—with her Roman
nose, wide mouth, and hollow cheeks, she was uniquely chic as well.
She held a long, slim cigarette between two slender fingers.

Moving with lithe grace, she came forward and sat on
the edge of his desk, half-twisting around to face him.

Like a cat on the prowl, he thought.

“
I hope you won’t be angry, R.L.,
but I asked your secretary if you had lunched yet. She said she
didn’t think so. Well, I haven’t eaten either, and I’m absolutely
famished.” Her eyes were blue and luminous. “Care to take a girl
out, R.L.?”

He stared at her silently. Even before the death of
her husband, Catherine Gage had made no bones about being attracted
to R.L.: she’d come on to him countless times, only to be firmly
rebuffed. The last time had been downstairs at the fashion show,
not half an hour earlier. He could say one thing for her: she never
gave up.

He glanced at the telephone, willing Edwina to
ring.

The telephone was silent.

What the hell. He pushed back his chair and got to
his feet. It wasn’t as if Edwina had a monopoly on him.

“
Well?” Catherine Gage asked in
pouty, honeyed tones.

“
Sure,” he said, “why
not?”

She stubbed out her cigarette and slid fluidly off
his desk. A glow seemed to radiate from within her, enveloping him
in warmth and promise. “I know just the place,” she said huskily,
and hooked an arm through his. “We’ll have oysters before. And you
can have me after.”

Hallelujah had little appetite, not even for her
usual french fries doused with vinegar. When she pushed her barely
touched plate aside, Duncan Cooper was more than a little
alarmed.

“
Sugar, you’ve hardly touched a
bite,” he said worriedly.

“
Who can
eat?
I mean, Daddy,
I ask you. Ma’s not well.”

“
She looked all right to me, sugar.
And I invited her to join us for lunch, but she said she’d made
other plans. You heard her.”

“
Ma’s always saying that around
you, Daddy! Like you haven’t noticed? Ever since you two got
divorced, she’s been tryin’ to avoid you like . . . well, like the
ex. Y’know?”

“
Hmmmm. You are observant, aren’t
you?”

“
It takes a special gift to be able
to tell when somebody makes herself scarce? That’s what Ma does
every time the two of you are supposed to meet.” Hallelujah frowned
and dabbed at crumbs on the tablecloth with her greenish
fingernails. “Y’know, I was hoping that might change now that she’s
seeing somebody.” She looked over at him. “But so far it
hasn’t.”

“
Your mother’s dating? That’s news
to me.”

“
Daddy! You never listen! I told
you about it months ago. Anyway, get this. Ma will go out with R.L.
and then she’ll push him away. Like all the time. Is that normal? I
just hope she isn’t suffering premature menopause or
something.”

Duncan nearly choked on his Perrier. “Prema . . .
Hal! Where do you pick up these things?”

“
This is the eighties, Daddy, okay?
Everybody knows about the birds and the bees.”

“
Well . . . I suppose you’re
right...”

“
Anyway
. . .” Hallelujah
reached to pluck a fry off her pushed-away plate and munched it
thoughtfully. “That’s only part of Ma’s problem. Ever since she
quit her job, she’s been going crazy. I mean totally nuts! It’s
money this, an’ money that. That’s
all
she ever talks about
anymore.”

“
You mean things are that bad
financially?”

“
Not yet. Ma squirreled away
something over the years. But the thing is, she never intended to
be out of work this long. It’s driving her right over the edge. I
mean, you know how she loves to shop?”

“
Do I ever,” he said ruefully,
remembering.

“
Well, try this on for size. She
hasn’t bought a thing since December. Not even a scarf or a pair of
shoes.”

“
You’re kidding.”

“
Well, it’s true.”

Duncan stared at his punked-out daughter. “We
are
talking about the same Edwina G. Robinson, aren’t we?
Your mother? My ex-wife?”

“
Daddy, would you stop making fun
of this? This is serious. We have to do something before Ma drives
me batty.”

“
All right, sugar. What do you
suggest?”

“
First, Ma needs an
income.”

“
Hmmmm.” He took another sip of
Perrier. “I’m afraid I can’t help there. I mean, she could always
be a receptionist at the clinic, but I can’t really see her doing
that.” He smiled at her. “Can you?”

“
She needs a
good
income,
Daddy. She’s looking for something that brings in tons and tons of
money.”

“
So’s the whole rest of the
country, sugar.”

She ignored the gentle gibe. “R.L. offered to set
her up in business. You know, designing clothes? Like she’s always
dreamed of doin’?”

“
Sounds like he must be loaded. Why
doesn’t she just marry him?”

“
Daddy! You know Ma would never
marry for money!”

“
Sorry, sugar. That just sort of
slipped out. You were saying?”

“
She doesn’t want help, at least
not help from a boyfriend. You know Ma.”

“
Yes sugar, that I do.”

“
Well, she’s serious about
designing clothes. I found that out. You know that little bedroom
next to mine? The one that shares my terrace?”

“
My old study.”

“
Yeah.” Hallelujah nodded. “Well,
for weeks now, Ma’s been locking herself in there for hours every
day. Nobody else is allowed in. I mean
nobody,
not even Ruby
to clean. When I tried to peek through the keyhole, I couldn’t see
a thing. So I used a piece of plastic to kind of jimmy the lock?”
She waited for him to nod. “Well, Ma caught me at it and nearly
attacked me! She starts screaming things like ‘Sneak! Wretch!
Brigand! Klepto! Larcenist!’ So I say calmly, ‘I was just curious
about what you’re doing in there, Ma. Why don’t you just tell me,
an’ then I won’t have to sneak around.’ An’ that’s when she
really
hit the roof! She even threatened to go out and buy
me a black leotard and a ski mask! Like I wanna become a cat
burglar or something. Does that sound like Ma?”

“
No, it certainly doesn’t.” Duncan
Cooper was starting to look genuinely worried himself. “Well? Did
you ever get into the room?”

“
Uh-huh.” Hallelujah grinned and
plucked another fry off her plate. “See, Ma locked the door from
the hall and drew the curtain over the window so I couldn’t see in
from the terrace. But I guess she still doesn’t realize the window
lock’s not too secure in that room, and you only have to push hard
from the outside to open it. So I climbed in from the terrace.” Her
eyes were wide. “An’ guess what I found.”

She leaned across the table and her voice became an
awed whisper. “Hundreds, and I mean hundreds, maybe even thousands
of fashion sketches. I thought I would die. I mean, Ma’s been
locking herself in there designing clothes!
Clothes,
Daddy!”

“
Well, it
is
a lot cheaper
to draw them than to shop for them,” he observed dryly.

“
Yeah, but don’t you see? She’s
been working! It’s like after R.L. offered to set her up in her own
company, an’ she refused his help, it like triggered something.
She’s been designing up a storm. She wants that business, Daddy.
She won’t talk about it, but she wants it bad.”

“
Are her designs any
good?”

Hallelujah rolled her eyes expressively. “How should
I know? Do I wear geek stuff like what most of the stores sell? I’d
die.”

“
So what do you suggest we
do?”

“
You can’t be this dense!”
Hallelujah said with exasperation. “What we gotta do is find
somebody else besides R.L. to put up the money for her company,
that’s what!” She looked at her father, her tawny eyes
shining,

“
No. No way. Not me, sugar. Don’t
look at me like that!”

“
Not you, Daddy. Ma would never
take your money, just like she wouldn’t take R.L.’s. It’s a matter
of principle with her, see?”

“
So there
is
a God.” His
voice was weak with relief.

“
We’ve got to like come up with an
outside investor. Somebody Ma doesn’t know personally. Y’know
anybody?”

“
Hmmmm. There is an investor I
fence with. His name’s Leo Flood, and he specializes in small-to
mid-size growth companies ...”

“
Daddy! You’re totally brilliant!
Let’s go for it!” She grabbed her plate, pulled it into position,
and started scoffing food. “I really
really
love
you!”

“
Not so fast, sugar. First things
first. Let’s see . . . First we have to get our hands on some of
those designs.”

“
Consider it done,” she promised,
and grinned.

“
The window again?”

She shrugged. “It worked once, didn’t it? I’ll just
sneak in an’ grab a few sketches and sneak back out with ‘em.” She
waved a french fry negligibly. “Ma’ll never even know.”

“
Sugar! I can’t believe it!” Duncan
reached across the table and grabbed Hallelujah’s hands joyfully.
“You’re wonderful, did you know that?”

“
Oh, jeez!” She snatched her hands
away. “Now you’re flippin’ out on me too.”

“
No, I’m not,” he assured her
happily. “I’ve never been healthier or happier in my entire life.
Who would have guessed that under all that Road Warrior getup of
yours, there’s a functioning brain working overtime! Care to join
Mensa?”

“
Fun-ny. Well? Are you gonna help
or do I have to run away?”

“
That’s blackmail,” he said
weakly.