Jennifer Greene - The Billionaire’s Handler

“Sir.”

Maguire woke at the sound of the phone, and glanced, bleary eyed, at the hotel bedside clock. Maybe it was only eleven at night, but he’d been running nonstop for almost a week, had been sleeping like the dead. Naturally he immediately recognized Henry’s voice.

“Okay. Two immediate things, Mr. Cochran. Tommy insisted I call you and tell you that he won a prize for ‘most improved in speech.’”

“Thank you, Henry. That’ll take a reward, I’m thinking, when I get back.”

“That’s why I thought you’d want to know, sir. In case you wanted to contact him tomorrow.”

“And?”

Henry reeled off a number of business issues, none of which really required a call, and then suddenly suffered a dry cough. “A package arrived for you. I opened it, sir.”

“You’re telling me this why?”

“Well, sir, I wouldn’t have opened it if it had been marked Private. Obviously. I was just going through the regular-”

“Tell me what was in it, Henry, before I fall back asleep.”

“A T-shirt, sir.” Another discreet cough. “Gray. Light gray. A nice cotton. With a logo. It says, For the Sexually Gifted.”

Maguire’s eyes startled open. “What!”

“It’s postmarked Kalamazoo, Michigan.”

“I don’t know anyone in Kalamazoo, Michigan.”

“Well, Mr. Cochran, someone in Kalamazoo seems to think quite highly of you. In that one regard. I mean, if they don’t know you, they’re certainly making some interesting assumptions. And if the person does know you, then she seems to feel a unique motivation to applaud your, um-”

“That’s enough, Henry. You’re sure there’s no note?”

“No note. No return address. Just the postmark.”

“Quit laughing, Henry.”

“I’m not laughing, sir. I just couldn’t think of anyone in the universe who would have sent you this. I mean, no offense, sir. It’s not the grade score I was thinking about. It was the humor of it. I don’t know anyone in your circle of people who would have-”

Neither did Maguire. He had many, many acquaintances and business friends and family connections and work and charity people he knew. Most, he had a cordial relationship. Some, more.

None, though, with that kind of irreverent sense of humor.

None. Not a single soul.

It didn’t make sense.

When Carolina opened the door, her sister strode in, handed her a package, started talking and never stopped. “I don’t know who delivered this thing, but you must not have heard them knocking. Isn’t it crazy? And, Caro, why on earth are you still living in this dump?”

Carolina was momentarily stunned at the package-M &M’s in a glass apothecary jar, labeled Tough Pills. She believed in miracles. Always had. But the only person who could conceivably find a way to leave that particular present on her doorstep-well, it was a stunner, that’s all. It made her heart suddenly thump like a jackhammer.

Donna, in the meantime, was shedding leather jacket, shoes and scarf, still talking. “Come on, Carolina. You don’t even have the security you need here. This place is ridiculous for someone with the money you have now.”

“Actually…I intend to move. There just hasn’t been time.”

“That’s so you. Your priorities are never like anyone else’s. Some of us have a tougher road, you know. I’d rather be like you. Do what I want, when I want. I never planned to be a realist.”

When Carolina had asked Donna for a visit, she’d expected trouble. “Things not going so well with Mike?”

“He lost his job. Again.” Donna rooted in the fridge, emerged with a soda, popped the top. Her blond hair was shoulder length. She still had the cheerleader body, the great smile, the gorgeous skin. The red-piped sweater and jeans fit her perfectly. Growing up, Carolina had always known Donna was the beauty in the family, but lines had settled in around her sister’s eyes and mouth.

“You’ve been dealt your share,” Carolina said sympathetically.

“I have. I swear to God. I look back now, and wonder how I could have ever believed Mike would hold a long-term job. I mean, he’s the same guy I married. Lots of fun. Great with the kids. Always happy to play. Just doesn’t have a single responsible bone in his entire body.”

“The kids?” Carolina watched her sister throw herself on the couch with a major sigh. Apparently the kids weren’t going to be an easy topic either.

“The kids are just like all the other teenagers today. Spoiled rotten. None of them appreciate how hard I’ve had to work, what I do for them. Mike gets to be the fun parent. I haven’t been fun in a long time.”

Carolina plunked down in the microfiber chair, still holding the apothecary jar. Slowly, she unsealed it, and popped in one of the tough pills. Her sister was still going on.

“Carolina…maybe this isn’t the right thing to be honest about. But I resent your money. I resent that you suddenly got real estate on easy street without having to do anything for it. I just don’t know how to act around you.”

“What’s wrong with being like we always were?”

“No. It’s not the same. It’ll never be the same again.”

Carolina popped another tough pill. Then reconsidered and scooped up three, all red ones. “I’ve got the papers I told you about. The kids’ education account. A nest-egg trust for you, with me as cosigner, that your husband has no access to. No matter what happens, you’ll be okay.”

“That’s nice. That’s a big thank-you. But what if I can’t make payments on our house? What if Jimmy gets in trouble with the law again? What if my car breaks down?”

“You’re strung tighter than wire, Donna.”

“I know I’m being bitchy. I know. I’m just exhausted all the time. And you’ve got all this money, while I feel like a nothing and a no one. Mike says I should ask you for a house. Like, why should he have to work when he’s got a rich sister-in-law?”

“And what did you tell him?” Carolina considered another tough pill, but decided the ones she’d had were working.

“That I wasn’t asking you for a new house.” But she was. It was in Donna’s eyes, not greed, but the pain of envy. “Mike got really mad at me. He said you were selfish. All about yourself. While we’re the ones with growing kids and job troubles.”

Carolina doubted that Mike had actually said that. Donna was the only one in the family who’d ever called her selfish. Donna, who married the high school football star and always expected her life would be golden.

“Donna, you’re not going to agree with me on this. But I don’t see the inheritance as totally mine.”

“Of course it is!”

“Legally,” Carolina agreed. “But the exciting part for me is getting to do something. Having enough money to make a difference. Having the chance to do something that matters to me.”

“Your family doesn’t matter to you? I don’t matter to you?”

“Yes. Of course the family matters. Of course you do. But no amount of money would make you happier with Mike, would it? Or make the kids any more appreciative?”

“Maybe it would. Maybe money would do all those things. For sure it would take away all the worry and heartache, let us live easier. I don’t understand you, Caro. You’re just thinking about what you want! What matters to you!”

When her sister left, Carolina threw herself on the couch and winced-even though there was no one there to see. She’d handled that on a par with an elephant in a china shop. Predictably, her sister had made her feel guilty and small and selfish. She’d wanted to cave in with every harsh word.

But she couldn’t have Maguire believing that his tough pills hadn’t worked.