The Prodigal Daughter (Kane & Abel 2)

“She says you would remember her as Mary Bigelow.”

Richard smiled, wondering what she could possibly want. He hadn’t seen her since leaving Harvard. He picked up his phone. “Mary, what a surprise. Or are you only phoning to complain about bad service at one of the Baron hotels?”

“No, no complaints—although we once spent a night at a Baron if you can remember that far back.”

“How could I forget,” he said, not remembering.

“No, I was only calling to seek your advice. Some years ago my great-uncle, Alan Lloyd, left me three percent of Lester’s. I’ve had a letter from a Mr. Jake Thomas asking me to pledge those shares to the board and not to deal with you.”

Richard held his breath and could hear his heartbeat.

“Are you still there, Richard?”

“Yes, Mary. I was just thinking. Well, the truth is—”

“Now don’t start a long speech, Richard. Why don’t you and your wife come and spend a night in Florida with my husband and me and then you can advise us.”

“Florentyna doesn’t return from San Francisco until Sunday—”

“Then come on your own. I know Max would love to meet you.”

“Let me see if I can rearrange a couple of things. I’ll call you back within the hour.”

Richard phoned Florentyna, who told him to drop everything and go alone. “On Monday morning we will be able to wave good-bye to Jake Thomas once and for all.”

Richard then informed Thaddeus Cohen of the news. He was delighted. “On my list the stock is still under the name of Alan Lloyd.”

“Well, it’s now in the name of Mrs. Max Preston.”

“I don’t give a damn what her name is, just go and get it.”

Richard flew down on Saturday afternoon and was met at the West Palm Beach airport by Mary’s chauffeur, who drove Richard deep into the countryside. When he first saw the house Mary was living in he wondered how they could fill it without about twenty children. The vast mansion stood on the side of a hill in a thousand acres of its own land. It took eight minutes to drive from the Lion Lodge gates to the imposing forty steps in front of the house. Mary was standing on the top step waiting to greet him. She was dressed in a well-cut riding outfit. Her fair hair still touched her shoulders. As Richard looked up at her he recalled what had first attracted him more than ten years before.

The butler whisked away Richard’s overnight bag and ushered him into a bedroom large enough to hold a small convention. On the end of the bed was a riding outfit.

Mary and Richard rode around the grounds before dinner and although there was no sign of Max, she said he was expected about seven. Richard was thankful that Mary never went beyond a canter. It had been a long time since he had ridden, and he knew he was going to be stiff in the morning. When they returned to the house Richard had a bath and changed into a dark suit before going down to the drawing room a little after seven. The butler poured him a sherry. When Mary floated into the room in a slight off-the-shoulder evening dress the butler handed her a large whiskey without waiting to be asked.

“I am sorry, Richard, but Max has just phoned to say he’s been held up in Dallas and won’t be back until late tomorrow afternoon. He will be very disappointed not to meet you.” Before Richard could comment, she added: “Now let’s go and have dinner and you can explain to me why the Baron Group needs my three percent.”

Richard took her slowly through the story of what had happened since his father had taken over from her great-uncle. He hardly noticed the first two courses of dinner, he became so intent.

“So with my three percent,” said Mary, “the bank can return safely into the hands of the Kanes?”

“Yes,” said Richard. “Five percent is still missing, but as we already have forty-nine percent, you can put us over the top.”

“That’s simple enough,” said Mary, as the soufflé dish was wisked away. “I’ll speak to my broker on Monday and arrange everything. Let’s go and have a celebration brandy in the library.”

“You don’t know what a relief that will be,” said Richard, rising from his chair and following his hostess down a long corridor.

The library turned out to be the size of a basketball court with almost as many seats. Mary poured Richard a coffee while the butler offered him a Rémy Martin. She told the butler that that was all she needed for the evening and sat down next to Richard on the sofa.

“Quite like old times,” said Mary, edging toward him.

Richard agreed as he came back from his daydreams of being chairman of Lester’s. He was enjoying the brandy and hardly noticed when Mary rested her head on his shoulder. After she had poured him a second brandy he couldn’t miss that her hand had shifted onto his leg. He took another sip of cognac. Suddenly and without warning she threw her arms around Richard and kissed him on the lips. When she eventually released him, he laughed and said, “Just like old times.” He stood up and poured himself a large black coffee. “What’s keeping Max in Dallas?”

“Gas piping,” said Mary, without much enthusiasm. Richard remained standing by the mantelpiece.

During the next hour he learned all about gas piping and a little about Max. When the clock struck twelve he suggested it might be time to turn in. She made no comment, just rose from her seat and accompanied him up the vast staircase to his room. She walked away before he could kiss her good night.

Richard found it hard to sleep, because his mind was a mixture of elation at having secured Mary’s 3 percent of Lester’s and his plans for how the takeover of the bank would be carried out with a minimum of disruption. He realized that, even as ex-chairman, Jake Thomas could still be a nuisance and was considering ways of controlling the man’s anger at losing the takeover battle when he heard a slight click from the bedroom door. He glanced toward it to see the handle turning, and then the door itself pushed slowly open. Mary stood silhouetted, wearing a see-through pink negligee.

“Are you still awake?”

At first, Richard lay motionless, wondering if he could get away with pretending to be asleep. But he was aware that she might have seen him move, so he said, sleepily, “Yes.” He was amused by the thought that this could not be a time for thinking on his feet.

Mary padded over to the edge of the bed and sat down. “Would you like anything?”

“A good night’s sleep,” said Richard.

“I can think of two ways of helping you achieve that,” said Mary, leaning forward and stroking the back of his head. “You could take a sleeping pill, or we could make lov

e.”

“That’s a nice idea, but I’ve already taken the sleeping pill,” said Richard.

“It doesn’t seem to have had the desired effect, so perhaps we should try the second remedy,” said Mary. She lifted the negligee over her head and allowed it to fall to the floor. Then without another word she slipped under the covers and drew herself close to Richard. Richard could feel that her firm figure was that of a woman who did a lot of exercise and had had no children.

“Hell, I wish I hadn’t taken that pill,” said Richard, “or at least that I could stay another night.”

Mary started kissing Richard’s neck while running a hand down his back until she reached between his legs.

Christ, thought Richard, I’m only human. And then a door slammed. Mary threw back the covers, grabbed her negligee, ran across the room and disappeared faster than a thief when a light is flicked on. Richard pulled the sheets back over his body and listened to a murmur of conversation which he couldn’t make out. He spent the rest of the night in a fitful sleep.

When he came down to breakfast the next morning, he found Mary chatting to an elderly man who must once have been very handsome.

The man rose and shook Richard by the hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Max Preston,” he said. “Although I hadn’t planned to be with you this weekend, my business finished early and I managed to catch the last flight out of Dallas. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted you to leave my home without having experienced true southern hospitality.” Max and Richard chatted over breakfast about the problems they were both facing on Wall Street. They were deep into the effects of Nixon’s new tax regulations when the butler announced that the chauffeur was waiting to take Mr. Kane to the airport.

The Prestons accompanied Richard down the forty steps to the waiting car, where Richard turned and kissed Mary on the cheek, thanked her for all she had done and shook Max warmly by the hand.

“I hope we shall meet again,” said Max.

“That’s a nice idea. Why don’t you give me a call when you’re next in New York?” Mary smiled at him gently.