Summer on the Cape (25 page)

The tears filled her eyes again and she turned away, hoping the chairman was too busy with his papers to notice as she wiped them away with nervous fingertips. This job was important. Too important to mess up with personal problems. There would be time to cry tonight, at home, in her own bed. As she had all last night.

She started on the next set of sketches, background studies of some of the room details. What has happened, she wondered mournfully, to the old Allie Randall, the girl who hadn’t cried since she was eleven years old? In her mirror that morning, she had seen that hours of crying did not improve a girl’s appearance. She knew she looked dreadful. Not that Zach would care if he did see her. He was even angrier than she was, if that was possible, and he wouldn’t care at all if she looked like a sack of worms.

And it was going to be even worse if Adam was here, too. They’d all be lucky if Zach didn’t kill him. What must he have thought seeing Adam come into her apartment like that? Well, she already knew what Zach thought. And why should she care what Zach thought?
Oh, God, this is awful.
Her mind was in turmoil. He would never speak to her again. He would never hold her in his arms again. And she didn’t want him to, not after what she knew about him now. So why these tears? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Why did she want to explain to him about Adam and that key? He wouldn’t believe her anyway.

She glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes to nine. They didn’t really need fifteen minutes to pack up the gear, but the chairman probably would be just as glad if she left a little early. As it was, he’d cleared his calendar just barely enough to accommodate her and only to please his art selection committee.

“I think I have everything we need for today,” she said, standing up and putting her palette into the aluminum paintbox. “We’ll get our things together now and get right out of here.” She was about to turn to Davey, who had been ensconced in the corner of a couch, studying his photography assignment for his ten-thirty class, when Ms. Richman put her head in at the door.

“Mr. Eliot is here. He’s a little early for his nine o’clock appointment.” She saw that Allie was standing, apparently finished with her work. “Shall I send him in, or would you like him to wait?”

Allie’s knees folded under her, and she sat down abruptly, unable to stand. A child could have read the distress on her face, and Mr. Nakamura was no child.
How interesting
, he thought. “Do you mind, Ms. Randall?” Mr. Nakamura always tried to learn as much as he could about the men he did business with. He had seen that obviously there was some connection between the young portrait painter and the fellow from Cape Cod, and he thought it would be a good idea to take advantage of this opportunity to learn some more about Mr. Eliot. He decided to allow them to come together in his office at the same time. “Perhaps, as you are finished, this gentleman and I can begin our meeting while you collect your things. It may save us a bit of time.”

What could she say?

“Of course. We’ll pack up as quickly as we can.”

She stood up as abruptly as she’d sat down, her knees banging against the easel. She grabbed at it as it began to tip, and she was able to avert at least one disaster that was about to happen.

But she was not able to avert the other.

“Tell Mr. Eliot to come in,” Mr. Nakamura said.

Ms. Richman stepped back into the anteroom.

“Mr. Nakamura can see you now, Mr. Eliot.”

And he was there. In a deep gray suit, and white shirt, and dark tie, and highly polished black shoes, he was there, crossing the room. His hand was out to shake the chairman’s proffered hand, and he saw Allie. He stopped dead in his tracks.

He saw her distracted face and her fingers, nervously clutching at her brushes, and he knew she hadn’t wanted to see him there. He saw the easel and the lighting gear, and he saw Davey, already dismantling the diffusion umbrellas, and coiling up the mass of wires, and he knew why she was there. And he saw her eyes and he knew she’d been crying. He wrenched his eyes away from her and continued toward Mr. Nakamura. They shook hands.

“Good morning,” he said. “Good of you to see me so early.”

“Well, I think we have much to talk about. It is good to begin early. But first,”—he turned to Allie, who appeared to be having difficulty closing her tubes of paint and packing her things—“I would like you to meet Ms. Randall, who is here to paint my portrait. Ms. Randall, may I introduce Mr. Eliot?”

They looked into each other’s eyes, but neither made a move to shake hands. Allie said, “We’ve already met.”

“Ah, of course,” said the chairman. “While you were painting on Cape Cod, perhaps. Mr. Eliot is also from Cape Cod.” He sat down again, behind his desk, and motioned Zach into a chair opposite him. No one made any explanations to him, and he didn’t expect any. He merely observed that the tall man sat tensely in the chair, leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees, his hands dangling, and unaware, apparently, that his eyes were following every movement the girl made as she gathered her materials. “I have asked Mr. Talmadge to join us this morning,” he said, noting the way Mr. Eliot’s head came up, his attention immediately and completely focused on the business before them.

“Excellent. He’ll be especially interested in this discussion.” Zach sat back in his chair and crossed one long leg over the other. “It might also be a good idea to get some of your legal people in here. You might find their input useful.”

Mr. Nakamura’s lips pursed ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed by the barest flicker. Without a word, he touched a button on the credenza. “Ms. Richman,” he said, without turning his head, “tell Mr. Barrows and Harold Winder in legal to come up. Now.”

“Yes, sir. And Mr. Talmadge has just arrived. Shall I send him in?”

“Thank you.”

The door opened immediately and Adam came in, crossing the room directly to the chairman and shaking his hand. “Good morning.” His manner was affable, but Allie, who knew him so well, recognized the signs of irritation. Adam wasn’t pleased at being summoned away from his busy morning, but he was not about to play lion tamer with the chairman of Matsuhara’s board.

He turned toward her and gave her a perfunctory “Good morning, Allie.” He had seen Davey in the anteroom, ready to leave with all the gear, so he was not surprised to see Allie packing up the last of her things. He and Zach glared at each other, and there were no handshakes between them.

“Sit down, Mr. Talmadge.” The chairman indicated another of the chrome-and-black-leather chairs facing his desk. “A couple of our legal people will be here in a moment, and then we can begin.”

And then, before he could add anything else, Zach spoke. “There’s one other thing. If no one has any objection, I’d like to ask Ms. Randall to stay.” He turned in time to see Allie look up from where she’d been locking her paintbox, her eyes suddenly wide with surprise. “This concerns her, too. If it’s not a problem for you, I’d like her to hear our discussion today.”

The chairman, who was surprised by the request, was even more surprised to hear Adam agree. “I think that’s a good idea. I’d like to have Allie here, too.”

Apparently
, the chairman thought,
everyone knows something I don’t know
. “Ms. Randall,” he said, “if you would like to remain, please do. I will have Ms. Richman bring us all some coffee.”

Allie’s eyes went back and forth between Zach and Adam. She was more conflicted than ever, in a torment of confusion. She would stay, of course. There was no way she would miss this meeting. But these men had twisted her life in unbearable knots, and all her instincts were telling her to get out of there. She ignored her instincts.

Her voice didn’t sound very steady, but she said, “I’ll just tell my assistant that he can leave.” She stepped into the anteroom and told Davey that he could take off. She’d see him tomorrow. The three men in the office remained silent until she returned.

Adam pulled up a chair for her, somewhat off to one side, where she could listen without participating. Thoughtful of him, she said to herself a little cynically. He had placed her not too far away, but safely out of the line of fire. Ms. Richman came in with a tray of coffee cups and then discreetly disappeared. She didn’t need to be told to hold all calls. The men from legal arrived and were introduced all around. Then they all got ready to hear what Zach had come to tell them.

“Before we begin,” the chairman said, “I should tell you, Zach”—Allie noticed the sudden disappearance of the formal “Mr. Eliot”—“I should tell you that only a little while ago my secretary took a call from Arthur Hadley. He will be calling back this afternoon.”

Zach’s face creased in a satisfied smile. “I expected he’d be calling you today. We met with the regulators in Boston yesterday, and it looked good. They were very receptive.”

Allie, of course, didn’t have a clue what Zach was talking about. Neither, she could see, did Adam. He was resting one elbow on the arm of his chair and with the fingers of his upraised hand, he was pinching his lips together absentmindedly, his eyebrows drawn together as he concentrated intently on Zach’s face and on Zach’s words. She had never seen Adam so focused, not even when he studied a painting or a piece of statuary or a complex contract.

Zach leaned forward in his chair. His voice was quiet. “Now let me make this very clear so that no one in this room misunderstands. There is no way I will let you go forward with this project on Cape Cod.” He paused to let that sink in. No one said a word. “I told you that when we met last week,” he continued. “I told you then, and I’ll repeat it now. My position is not subject to negotiation. There is nothing to negotiate.”

Every eye was fixed on Zach. The chairman was paying close attention, and he did not see that Allie’s face reflected her confusion. She was trying to understand, how could Zach’s words square with what the chairman had told her yesterday? She had seen Zach here only last week. And the chairman had told her—what was it he told her? She was trying to reconcile what she’d heard yesterday from what she was hearing right now.

Adam was the first to speak. “How do you think you’re going to stop it, Zach?” He had leaned way back in his chair now, his eyes warily on Zach’s face.

Zach turned to Adam, one corner of his mouth lifted in the nearest thing to a sneer that Allie had ever seen on that handsome face. “I have a long list of ways, Talmadge, but for starters, try this one on. There was a little meeting late last night on the Cape. Just the Board of Selectmen and me. The report of the committee isn’t for publication yet, but take my word for it, even the most preliminary environmental studies are going to show there’s no way the water table up there can support the increased usage this project would create.” Zach’s eyes were ice cold, the animosity on his face apparent to everyone in the room. “That’s what’s going to shoot you down, Talmadge. That’s what stopped the Pilgrim settlers in 1620, and it’s what’s going to stop Matsuhara today.”

No one said a word and Adam was silent for a long time. His attention was focused intently on Zach, as though he was trying to read Zach’s mind. A long, thoughtful minute passed.

“Zach,” he said at last, “I’ve got a lot of my own money in this deal. My guarantee is on several million. Never mind how many.” He gestured toward Barrows and Winder. “We completed all the paperwork in my office, just last week. Last Thursday morning.” Barrows and Winder, from legal, nodded their confirmation, in unison.

No one heard Allie’s silent gasp. She didn’t dare interrupt them, but she saw instantly the stupid error she had made. It was Adam who was providing the backing that Matsuhara was seeking, the American financing, the person with—what was it the chairman had said?—old ties to the Cape, someone who knows the area well. It was Adam, not Zach. What a fool she had been! Of course Zach didn’t know what she was talking about when she accused him of lying. He hadn’t been lying to her. He hadn’t been lying to her! Her mind was racing; she barely heard what Zach was saying.

“Now listen to me, Talmadge, it gives me no pleasure to say this. Pulling your chestnuts out of the fire is not exactly what I’d prefer to do, and frankly, it’s of no interest to me how many millions you stand to lose.” Zach turned away from Adam and faced the chairman across his desk. “But for the sake of expediency and good will and to save everyone a lot of trouble, and incidentally, to do an old friend of mine a favor, I’ve spent the last few days making some arrangements.”

Hal Winder lifted a pen, poised above his yellow legal pad. Mr. Nakamura leaned forward, his arms resting on the polished surface of his desk, his face impassive.

“I’m listening, Zach.”

They were all listening.

“Okay, here’s the deal. I’ve given careful thought to your predicament, and it seemed to me we ought to be able to come up with a good alternative, something that will be a win-win for everyone.” Zach looked around. No one was smiling.

“I made some phone calls and spent a couple of days driving around to likely locations. When I talked to you on Thursday, you may remember I mentioned a possibility in New Hampshire, near Hampton Beach?”

Mr. Nakamura nodded his head.

“Art Hadley is an old school buddy of mine. My roommate, in fact, for a couple of pretty wild years.” Zach paused, smiling at the memory. “Well, I remembered something I’d read in one of the trade newsletters, and I gave Arthur a call. Now this should interest you.

“They’ve got a nice little community up there, just a bit of beach stuck in between Massachusetts and Maine. Tourism is their main business. Mostly people up from the Boston area. Draws a lot of college kids. Well, believe it or not, a big amusement park was set for development there, only get this, at the last minute, their financing fell through. The financial crisis caught their lender with its pants down, and now the Fed is stuck with all this absolutely first-class development property.”

Zach paused, letting them take that in. Hal Winder said, “What advantage is there to us in shifting from our planned location?”