Читать книгу The Magnate's Takeover: The Magnate's Takeover - Mary McBride - Страница 13

When Libby got back to the Haven View at a little after nine the following morning, David’s kisses continued to linger on her lips, on her throat, on…Well, everywhere. She felt such a warm and nearly tangible glow inside. It was like a fire that seemed to burn and caress at the same time.

By ten o’clock, however, the fire had fizzled out, most likely because of her tears. The roofing inspector had arrived, looked at all the cabin roofs and then handed her an estimate for forty thousand dollars plus tax.

“Keep in mind,” he’d said while shaking his head, “that’s just for the roofing, Miss Jost. It doesn’t include the new gutters and downspouts this old place badly needs. Otherwise, you’re going to see more damage in the future. You can count on it.”

After he left, Libby walked inside the apartment behind the office and crumpled on the floor of the shower, letting the hot spray from above blend with her tears. It had been a long, long time since she’d wallowed in self-pity. The last, and probably the only other time she’d given herself permission to break apart, had been when she was ten years old and her cat, Joey, went missing. This morning she felt the way she had when she was ten, as if something so very close to her heart had just been run over or blown to smithereens.

She cried for a long, long time, until she had no more tears to shed, then she dried off, got dressed and went out to the main room of the office where she found Doug wearing his favorite and ancient St. Louis Cardinals sweatshirt while he flipped through a stack of mail. Funny, she thought. If her memory was correct, he’d been wearing a Cardinals T-shirt all those years ago when he’d consoled her about the loss of Joey.

“Morning, honey,” he said cheerfully. “Did you have a good time in Hannibal?”

“I had a great time in Hannibal.” Libby walked around to the other side of the desk, wrapped her arms around the elderly man’s neck and planted a loud kiss on his balding head. “I love you so much, Doug,” she said.

“Well, I love you, too, sweetheart.” He chuckled. “But what’d I do to deserve such an enthusiastic greeting?”

She flopped onto the ratty floral couch across from the desk. “You were so sweet to me when my little Joey ran away.”

Doug scratched his head with the sword-shaped letter opener he’d been using. “Joey. Just a minute. Now let me think back. Was Joey the gerbil or the cat?”

Oh, jeez. She’d completely forgotten about George the gerbil who’d scampered beneath her bed one day, never to be seen again. Well, now she really was depressed.

“Joey was the cat,” she said. “He was black with little white slippers on his feet.”

“That’s right.” Doug’s whole face seemed to sadden, every line and wrinkle turning downward. “I’m sorry about that, Lib. I remember. You were so unhappy, honey. I’m just glad I managed to soothe your heart a little bit.”

Libby let out a long and weary sigh, thinking her heart could surely use a bit of soothing right now. When she was a little girl, she’d always gone to Doug for his comfort as well as his advice. He was patient and kind and incredibly smart. So why not seek his advice now, she wondered. She wasn’t exactly doing a stellar job all on her own. She probably should have consulted him from the very beginning of this fifty-thousand dollar debacle.

“Doug…” she said, then hesitated. No, maybe it wasn’t such a great idea. He’d tell Aunt Elizabeth every last detail and then all hell would break loose. Libby chewed on her bottom lip, still tender from last night’s kisses.

“What, honey? What’s bothering you?” Doug asked. “I know something is.”

“Am I that transparent?” she asked.

“You are to me, kiddo. You always have been. Want to tell me what’s up?”

Libby crossed her arms over her chest, feeling about ten years old again and horribly vulnerable. “What’s up, huh?” She forced a little half-embarrassed laugh. “Well, let’s see. It’s such a mess that I hardly know where to begin.”

But somehow she began, first with the arrival of the mysterious check for the enormous sum.

Doug stopped her right there. “Wait. Hold it right there, Libby. You’re telling me that somebody, some complete stranger, gave you fifty thousand bucks just because he liked your book about dying and dead motels? It was a wonderful book and all, but that’s a hell of a lot of money just to say thanks for a good read.”

“That’s what I thought, too. I thought it was a joke at first. But the money’s completely legitimate. The bank had no problem with it at all. There’s fifty thousand dollars sitting in my checking account right now just waiting to be spent.”

She followed that amazing bit of news by telling Doug of her hopes and dreams of using the money to revitalize the Haven View. She explained her carefully thought-out plans for both interior and exterior repairs, trying to be true to Aunt Elizabeth’s original plans and color schemes.

When she got to the part about the painters, however, it was a bit tricky to maneuver around the facts because she wasn’t really ready to disclose anything about David or her feelings for him. There was no sense complicating this with the mention of a lover who might not even be here in a week or two.

Finally, Libby concluded her tale with the staggering price of the roof repairs, and then lifted her hands helplessly and said, “I’m still not willing to give up this dream of mine, Doug, but I just don’t know how to make fifty thousand dollars go the distance that’s required. I just don’t know if it’s possible. I’d really, really welcome any ideas or suggestions, if you have them. But, please, please don’t just tell me I’m crazy for wanting to do this.”

Behind the desk, he closed his pale blue eyes a moment and pressed his lips together as if he didn’t know what to say or didn’t even want to respond at all, which Libby could easily understand. It was her money, after all, and therefore her problem. And she’d certainly made a mess of it so far.

Then Doug cursed gruffly, something he rarely did, before he curled one hand into a fist and pounded the desktop with it.

“Dammit, Libby. I wish you’d come to me, to both of us right off the bat. I know you meant well making it a surprise, but your aunt Elizabeth and I are way too old for surprises, honey. We like to know what’s what. We need to know. It’s pretty important at our age,” he muttered. “We really need to be kept inside the loop instead of outside in the dark.”

Libby sighed. Doug was absolutely right. She should have informed them. She wished that she had.

“Well, now you know. What’s what is fifty thousand dollars is burning a big hole in my pocket. And now that you know about it, you can help me do this right, Doug, if it’s at all possible.” She narrowed her gaze on his face. “Is it possible? Or is it just a silly and impossible dream? Tell me the truth.”

He leaned back in his chair, then rubbed his hand slowly across his white-whiskered chin before he spoke. “That’s a generous thing you want to do for her, Libby. I think your aunt Elizabeth will be thrilled as all to get-out to see this old dump looking the way it did in the old days. It’s been hard on her, watching the place go to seed the way it has over the years.”

“Oh, I know,” Libby said. “And I so desperately want to change all that. I want to make her really happy.”

“I know you do, sweetie.” Doug sighed. “But fifty thousand dollars, as grand a sum as it is, just isn’t going to cut it. Not with prices like they are today, and not with all the repairs we’re in need of around here. Your fifty thousand dollars, honey, is hardly a drop in the bucket.” He shook his head so very sadly. “I’m afraid it can’t be done, Libby. Not unless you’re a magician or that secret admirer of yours plans to add a million or two to his original gift.”

Libby dragged in her lower lip and bit down on it, trying with all her might not to give way to another flood of tears. What good would they do?

“Unless…” Doug leaned forward in his chair.

“What? Unless what?”

“Ever heard that old expression, Libby, about there being more than one way to skin a cat?”

She nodded, wondering what in the world he was getting at and why he was smiling all of a sudden when everything seemed so horribly, bitterly bleak. He looked like a damned Cheshire cat, and she wanted to skin him at the moment. “What?” she pressed. “What are you thinking?”

“Do you remember the work I did a while back for Father James O’Fallon when he was organizing his halfway house and homeless shelter?”

Again, Libby nodded. She remembered it well. Doug had volunteered his time as an accountant to help the energetic young priest acquire an affordable facility and to properly set up his charitable organization. That had been years ago, but the place—Heaven’s Gate—was still doing wonderful work by providing food and shelter and hope to those who lacked all three.

“Just what are you getting at, Doug?”

“I drive into the city to visit that place pretty often, you know. Mostly just to chew the fat with Father James. He’s a bigger Cardinals’ fan than I am, and that’s saying something.”

“But what does that have to do with Haven View?” she asked. She had absolutely no idea where he was going with this.

“There’s a new program at Heaven’s Gate,” he said. “It just started a couple months ago. They’re training some of their people to work in the trades. Painting, carpentry, plumbing, things like that.”

Now a little bulb started to glow above Libby’s head as she suddenly saw just where he was going. “All the things we need done here,” she said.

Doug nodded. “Yep. We need the work done and I can promise you that Father James needs fifty thousand dollars. What do you think, honey?”

Libby stood up so fast she nearly fell over. “My God! I think you’re a genius, Doug. That is just inspired. Can we drive downtown right now and talk to him?”

The elderly man laughed. “I guess with that Closed sign on the door we can leave any time we want, Libby. Let me just give the good father a call.”

Across the highway, high above it in the penthouse, David was just getting out of bed at eleven-fifteen. He’d gotten up a few hours earlier to see Libby safely off with Jeff, his reliable chauffeur and assistant and then Jeff had immediately returned to see what else the boss needed done.

“I haven’t had time to go through all the Haven View documents yet,” David told him while trying to stifle a yawn. “Anything I should know about the situation right now? Anything about it that can’t wait a couple of hours?”

Jeff shook his head. “I think it’ll keep. I probably shouldn’t say this, Mr. Halstrom, but you look like you could use a few more hours of sleep.”

He usually maintained a fairly stern demeanor with his employees, but David couldn’t help but laugh at the remark. “I’m getting too old for this,” he said.

“Well, perhaps it’s time to settle down, boss. Or at least to think about it.”

The kid rarely, if ever, made personal observations or remarks. A few days ago such comments might’ve earned him a dark, scathing look and a swift verbal reprimand. Today, however, David felt much too mellow and too downright happy to do anything but say, “Maybe you’re right, kid. Maybe you’re right.”

Now, after a few hours of sleep, he felt somewhat restored, but that little thread of giddiness and gladness was still there inside him. Instead of his habitual Grinch demeanor, he felt almost like a little boy on Christmas morning, and that was some kind of first, he decided, because even when he was a little boy, there wasn’t much giddiness or gladness in him. None, if truth be told.

“Libby, Libby,” he muttered into the mirror while he shaved. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

After he showered and dressed, he punched her number into his cell phone. She’d written it down for him before leaving, but now he couldn’t remember if it was her cell or the front desk at the crummy motel. Either way, there was no answer, which made him feel a little sad and lost for a moment, until feeling sad and lost made him feel like a real jerk.

So, he proceeded to call the Halstrom home office in Corpus Christi. Surely there would be somebody there he could yell at in order to drive this sappiness out of his system.

Once Libby and Doug were downtown, she asked him if he’d mind if they stopped at the newspaper’s office for a minute so she could drop off some film for developing. Leave of absence or not, she’d become incredibly spoiled by the paper’s freebies. Most newspapers had gone completely digital these days, but the St. Louis paper, out of nostalgia perhaps or pure laziness, still maintained a small, cramped and cobwebby darkroom.

Inside the building, she didn’t want to waste time so she tried hard to avoid people she knew—and there were so many of them—as she made her way to the northwest corner of the third floor where her good pal, Hannah Corson, was on duty, looking harried and hassled as always. Libby plucked several film cans from her handbag.

“Can you run these for me, Hannah? No rush, but it’d be wonderful to have the prints in two or three days.”

“Sure. No problem.” Hannah took the film cans and promptly stashed them on a shelf in a little metal box labeled “To Do.” “So, it’s good to see you, Libby. How’s everything going out at the Weary Traveler?”

Libby couldn’t help but laugh. Her coworkers must’ve come up with a few hundred alternate names for the Haven View in the past decade, most of them rather risqué if not downright X-rated. A few brave souls had even come out to spend the night in one of the little cabins, and although they all claimed to have enjoyed the experience, she noticed nobody ever made a return engagement.

“Everything’s going great,” she said, surprised that she actually meant it.

“How ‘bout hanging around and having lunch with me?”

“Thanks, Hannah, but Doug’s waiting for me downstairs.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll give you a call when your prints are ready. Probably day after tomorrow. I’m backed up here for the Sunday edition. You know how it is. I miss your nice, crisp black-and-white shots, Libby.”

Already at the door on her way out, Libby blew her a kiss. “Thanks, Hannah. I owe you. Again.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Everybody owes me,” the woman grumbled. “I really should change my name to Hannah Kodak, I guess.”

When she got back to the street, Doug had moved to the driver’s seat of her ancient minivan. “Hop in, Libby,” he said, starting the engine. “Come on. Shake a leg. We’re already ten minutes late.”

She hopped in, and immediately reached for the seat belt to yank it across herself and fasten it tight. Doug had always been a very creative driver, and now that he was in his late seventies, he didn’t seem to feel the rules of the road applied to him personally. She held her breath as they whizzed three blocks north and then two blocks west to the Heaven’s Gate facility.

For all the time Libby had spent at the newspaper’s office these past years, she rarely visited the adjacent area to the north. Little wonder, because there wasn’t much there except crumbling, boarded-up buildings and vacant lots filled with weeds and every kind of trash imaginable. Ever since finishing her book about down-and-out motels, she’d been hoping to be struck by an idea for another book.

It occurred to her now that there was a strange, haunting, even terrible beauty in all this urban decay. There was a burned-out church on a corner that almost seemed to be begging her for a series of photographs. Libby filed the notion in the back of her brain, hoping that once the repairs were accomplished at the motor court, she’d have time to pursue the concept.

Doug whipped the minivan into a small gravel parking lot, hit the brakes and skidded to a stop, then turned off the engine. “Here we are, Libby, my girl. Let’s go. We don’t want to keep Father James waiting all afternoon. He’s a very busy guy.”

As she climbed out of the vehicle, she remembered to check her cell phone for messages. Good grief. There were a half-dozen calls, all of them from David. She didn’t know whether to feel flattered or alarmed. Well, emergency or not, he’d simply have to wait until she met with Father James. The fate of the Haven View seemed to be hanging in the balance of this quickly arranged meeting. She couldn’t allow anything to distract her.

Not even David.