Читать книгу Priceless - Nicole Richie - Страница 13

Jacob looked at his daughter across the table, a cold cup of coffee the only thing on its chipped Formica surface.

“You look lovely, Charlotte.”

It had been his first thought when she walked in. Sun filtered down a mine shaft, illuminating what seemed like impenetrable darkness only seconds before. It had been a gray blur, the men in nice suits taking him from his office, the ashen face of his secretary, the ink on his fingertips. It was a nightmare, but now Charlotte was there, and he would hold on to that.

“You look like your mother.”

She sat and reached for his hands, so cold. “Have you eaten anything?”

He shook his head.

Charlotte looked around the room. Cinder-block walls with no paint. Painted cement floors, like an old school. Mysterious dark spots on the walls suggested blood and violence. Under it all, a smell of fear and confined sweat. Suppressing an urge to run as far away as possible, she stood again and went to the wide mirror on one wall.

Raising her voice, she spoke to her own reflection. “Scarsford, I’ve watched Law and Order. I know you’re in there. If you don’t bring him some food immediately, I am leaving. He’s an old man. He has a medical condition. If I have to call for a doctor, you can be sure the press will hear of it.”

She sat back down and smiled tightly at her dad. She had been shocked to see him when she walked in, and the lost look on his face had frozen her own fear in place, forced her to pull it together. She was getting quite an education in her own strength today.

“I’m not old. Nor do I have a medical condition.” His quavering voice made it a lie.

“You’re not old, Dad, but you aren’t young, either, and this must be horrible for you. I know it is for me, and Greta and Davis look as if they could fall apart at any minute. And the medical condition? They don’t know that.” Besides, she thought to herself, I might have a coronary any minute, just from the pressure of not losing it completely. But on the outside, she was cool, and among the men watching them through the one-way mirror, only Scarsford had any idea how much pain she was in.

The door opened, and a young man came in, carrying a fresh cup of coffee and some sandwiches. He put them down without a word.

“Eat,” instructed Charlotte. “Then we’ll talk.” She looked away, trying to give him some privacy. She read a poster about her rights that was translated into four languages, none of them giving her the right to take her dad and leave, which was the only one she wanted to exercise.

The first bites of food nearly choked him, but gradually Jacob felt better, some color returning to his face. He drained the coffee cup, tucking it under the older one, neat and tidy.

“What shall we talk about, honey?”

Charlotte paused. For a second, she wondered if he’d lost his mind. His voice was just like normal, but it shouldn’t have been. Everything he’d built, everything he’d worked for, was under threat. Why wasn’t he storming around? Why wasn’t he angry?

“I don’t know, Dad. How about you getting arrested for fraud? Seems current, anyway.”

He frowned at her. “You’re mad at me.”

“No, just confused. Why do they think you did this?”

He shrugged.

“Are they listening to us? Can they hear what we’re saying?” He shrugged again. “I expect so, but I don’t want to talk about it, anyway. I want to talk about your mother.” She paused. “Why?”

“Because we’ve never talked about her, have you noticed?”

Fantastic, thought Charlotte. Years of silence on this pivotal topic, and now all of a sudden, he wants to talk about it, now that we’re sitting in front of a hostile audience. A lump started to form in her throat.

“Dad, I think we need to focus on how to get you out of here, all right? We can talk about Mom later on, at home.”

“There won’t be a later on, honey. They’re never going to let me out. I know the SEC intimately. They don’t tend to act unless they’re sure, because it’s their own hand in the drawer, if you follow me.”

“OK, but they’re wrong, aren’t they?” In the distance, she heard a man yelling, his anger abruptly cut short by a door slamming. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

Jacob sighed. “Did you know your mother had two miscarriages before she had you?”

Tears of frustration sprang to Charlotte’s eyes. “Why are you telling me this now, Dad? We need to get you out of here. Don’t you realize how much trouble you’re in?”

He nodded. “I do. But maybe now that I’m here, I can focus on what’s important, which is telling you about your mother and how much she loved you. We tried for a long time to have children, you know. All she wanted was children, to be a mommy. We planned to have lots and lots of kids and go live on an island far away from this one. You and your brothers and sisters were going to run around barefoot all day, swimming in the ocean, wearing just flowers in your hair. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.”

“Dad—”

“Don’t interrupt, honey. She was pregnant again, finally, when the car accident happened. No one knew but me. We were going to tell everyone that weekend, but she didn’t make it. And the baby was so small there was no chance. Your brother or sister.” He sighed. “All gone.”

Charlotte took a shuddering breath. Clearly, she needed some help here.

Jacob just kept going. “And then Miss Millie came, and she took such good care of you, and Greta, of course, and work just didn’t make any sense anymore. What was the point, without her? I took advantage of something. A loophole. A small thing. I just didn’t care anymore, if they saw me do it. But they didn’t see me, so I did it again. It took on a life of its own, rolled on like a snowball, and years passed before I started to feel anything again. When I did, when I saw that if Jackie were here, she would hate what I had become, it was too late. I was lost.”

Charlotte gazed at him in horror. Was he confessing? “Shh, Dad, never mind. It doesn’t matter now. Let me get Arthur, we can talk when he gets here, OK?”

She suddenly realized that if they were listening to this, which presumably they were, then without Arthur present, they could use it against her father, as evidence. Right? She stood and banged on the mirror.

“Mr. Scarsford, my father would like his lawyer, please.” A pause.

Jacob was still talking, as if she were still sitting across from him. “Your mother just wanted a simple life, Charlotte. She just wanted to be happy and quiet with her children. She would be so proud of you, of what you’ve become.”

“And what’s that, Dad? A spoiled young woman?”

He laughed.

Scarsford came in. “Mr. Bedford is on his way, Miss Williams. The more your father can tell us, the more we can help him.”

Charlotte snorted. “Mr. Scarsford, please.”

Jacob looked up at them. “You’re not spoiled, Charlotte. There’s still time for you to have the life you want to have, that your mother would have wanted you to have. You should leave Manhattan, though. It’s not a very easy place to keep things simple. Things have a way of getting out of hand.”

“Things like what, Mr. Williams? Things like the fund?” Scarsford had moved into the room.

“Don’t answer that, Dad. Mr. Scarsford, please leave the room. I have asked for counsel, and this conversation is over.”

“It seemed like a small thing at the beginning, Charlie. Just a quick thing that didn’t seem to hurt anyone.”

Charlotte was starting to cry, her body shaking uncontrollably. Where was Arthur? “Shh, Daddy, don’t talk now. We’re waiting for Arthur, OK?”

Jacob smiled up at her, just as he always had. “Honey, it’s too late for Arthur. It’s not his fault.” He reached up and stroked

the side of her face. “You look like your mom, did I tell you that?”

Charlotte sobbed. “Yes, Daddy, you told me that.”

And then she took his head in her arms and held him tightly, as he started to sob himself. “It was just a small thing, Jackie, just a small thing. I’m so sorry, Jackie.”

Charlotte held on tight and waited for the lawyer.