Madam of Maple Court (3 page)

A year and a half earlier

"Dam," Mark Redmond said, "I don't quite know how to tell you this, but I've gone over all the records I could find since Vin's death and, well, there isn't a great deal of money." Mark had been Pam and Vin's accountant for more than ten years. "You won't starve, and if you live frugally you can get along okay for several years, but I had hoped for more."

"I'm sorry, Mark," Pam DePalma said, shaking her head slowly and tightening her stomach muscles as if to ward off a blow. "I'm having a hard time taking this in. We're not filthy rich, but we're pretty well off. Right?" She'd been trying to come to terms with the reality of the automobile accident that had killed her husband of twelve years on a snowy road in Westchester County, New York. It had happened two weeks before and the numbness hadn't lessened.

She'd just turned thirty-three. Attractive. Educated. Charming. So what? What was she going to do for the rest of her life without Vin? Her life had been so tied up with his, entertaining his clients, traveling to meet with wives of business associates, attending the right clubs, losing at bridge to the right people.
My God, what now
? What would she do all day? His death had left a gigantic hole in her life. Vin's business entertaining and the charity work he had insisted would improve their image had occupied so much of her time since he'd started his own firm that she had virtually no life of her own. Neither she nor Vin had any family to speak of, so now with his death she was truly alone. How was she going to keep going? She was usually so practical, so on top of things, but this had thrown her into a tailspin. She couldn't take it in, make it make sense.

Not much money? How could that be? It had been Vin's decision, one that Pam reluctantly concurred with, to leave Haskell & Roth and form his own advertising agency more than three years before, and DePalma Advertising had been an immediate, raging success. He'd taken several of his largest clients with him when he left H&R and just last month, although he admitted that things were in a momentary dip, he had assured her that he was about to land several major new accounts.

Now Mark was telling her that she didn't have a lot of money. Would she have to get a job? What did she know how to do? She could live frugally. She didn't need much, but she and Vin had enjoyed good living: expensive restaurants, lavish meals with expensive wines, frequent trips to Europe, designer clothes, an exclusive country club, all to enhance their image—his image—and she'd grown used to that lifestyle. What had gone wrong? Unless Vin had been painting a rosier picture for her than reality would have dictated, there should have been more than enough money to carry her through. To what? Without her husband could she just sit around and await Social Security?

"Pam?"

She refocused on what the accountant was saying. "Sorry, Mark, I guess I was somewhere else. What about the agency? Aren't there assets there?"

"I can't give you any specifics. You'll have to talk to Oren Stevens about that. He takes care of the corporate books. However, from what he tells me, after all the corporate debts are settled, there's not much left there, either."

Mark's look was almost pitying. "Unless there's money in the company that I don't know about, and that's always possible, of course, you have enough in the bank to last for two to three years if nothing changes and you live within your new means. The one bright spot is that much of the mortgage will be paid up, so those payments won't drown you. When Vin refinanced last year, the bank insisted on mortgage insurance, so that will pay off much of the remainder of that debt. However, in addition to what's left of the mortgage there are still taxes on the house, which are exorbitant, homeowner's insurance, and maintenance, in addition to general living expenses."

He leaned forward in his leather chair and propped his elbows on the desk. "You don't have to do anything for a while. Take some time and figure out what you're going to do with the rest of your life. You're a young, attractive woman with many, many years ahead of you. Relax and think everything over. You've got plenty of time."

She looked upon Mark as a friend, so she had to believe that his awful news was the truth and not exaggerated to make some point or earn an extra fee somehow. Still incredulous, she whispered, "What you're telling me can't be true." Vin had assured her time and again that he was making well into six figures a year and if anything ever happened to him she'd be well taken care of. He did have a habit of painting dreamy pictures for her, however. She had always been the practical one, he the eternal optimist.

"I've gone over everything several times," Mark continued. "He used to be well insured but, over my objections, he cashed in most of his life insurance policies about a year ago and plowed the money into the business. Since there are no children to provide for he probably thought you both would be fine until things were better financially. He kept saying that the business was about to turn a corner."

Pretty pictures. Pam sat back in the leather chair opposite Mark's desk and stared out the large window behind him.
It should be raining to match my mood
, she thought, but the November sun was bright and there was only a hint of winter in the air. Near tears but still clinging to hope, she said, "He told me he was making almost half a million a year."

"During the first two years that DePalma Advertising was in business he was, but not recently. I assumed you knew that he lost several big accounts about a year ago and had to cut staff. The firm's income dropped off quite a bit after that and he took almost no salary to keep it afloat, then plowed most of his personal savings into it." Mark looked straight into her eyes. "You must know that, of course. You're the secretary/ treasurer of the corporation and signed all the tax returns."

"Come on, Mark, be real. You know I trusted Vin, so I didn't pay much attention to any of the documents. He showed me where to sign and I signed." She stopped and thought back. Just last month she'd signed several forms. He had folded the multipage document so she hadn't really seen anything but the last page. Had he been deliberately hiding things from her? As she thought about it, she realized that he probably had. She was sure he believed that things would turn around and hadn't wanted to worry her, so she had continued to live up to what she thought his income was. They'd gone to Egypt and Israel the previous fall and had traveled through the Burgundy region of France with business associates just six weeks ago.

Mark stared at her, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Pam. I thought you knew at least some of this. I guess this comes as more of a shock to you than I'd anticipated. Vin should have kept you informed." He reached across his desk and squeezed her hand. "I'm really sorry about all this." He released her hand and pulled a typed piece of paper from his top drawer. He glanced at it. "Being practical, here's what I would advise. The Corvette was totaled in the accident, so the insurance will take care of that. Both the other cars are leased and I think you should turn in his Mercedes and pay the surrender charges." He slid the paper across the shiny surface of the maple partners' desk until it lay in front of her. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of making up a tentative budget for you from what I know about your lifestyle. If you want, give me power of attorney over your bank accounts, then just forward all your bills to me and, at least for the moment, I'll take care of paying them for you. If we do that for the short run I can polish the budget and make up some projections. We can get together in a month or two and figure out what to do next."

"I'm grateful to you, Mark," she said as she looked down at the page. She didn't really see any of the individual numbers, just the enormous total at the bottom marked Monthly Expenses. It looked like a fortune.

"What happened to the money from the refinance he did last year?"

"Vin invested the cash in the business, but in the end I'm afraid it didn't help. In my opinion DePalma Advertising was well on its way to closing shop even then and now, of course, will have to be liquidated."

What would Vin have done then? He'd have been devastated. He had put so much of himself into DePalma Advertising. Was the accident that killed him really just an accident? They didn't have any children and he must have known that the next best thing, DePalma Advertising, his legacy, was on the verge of bankruptcy. Could he have done such an awful thing? The thought that he might have driven into the bridge abutment deliberately flashed across her mind, then she dismissed it. No, he was too much of a "glass half full" kind of guy and would have thought things were about to turn a corner. Not thought, known. He'd have been sure he could make everything better by the sheer force of his will.

Pam recrossed her legs, smoothed the skirt of her dark gray wool suit, and took a deep breath. As she stared at the paper on the desk she realized that much of her monthly budget was being sucked up in the house. The house. God knew she loved it, but it was, indeed, a money pit. "I never realized how much it cost to keep the house going. Even without the mortgage the monthly outlay is amazing. There are a lot of memories there but maybe I should consider selling it. That would make things better, wouldn't it? I could move into a condo or something." She twirled her wedding ring.

Mark huffed out a breath. "Actually, no. Right after he refinanced, the town decided to try to designate most of Maple Court as a wetland and no one could consider buying. The town board hasn't made any decisions about the future of the Court yet and who knows when anything will be decided. They could decide to take the land over and condemn the houses or just prohibit sales and take a right of first refusal when you're ready to move. That might be for just pennies on the dollar, but nothing's finalized yet. I did a little investigating and the town planning and zoning boards are dragging their feet. It's a real political hot potato. Each party is blaming the other for allowing the construction in the first place, so it will undoubtedly be some time before anyone's willing to make a decision. Realistically, it could be years. Meanwhile, sadly, that means that no buyer would touch the house."

The house. Vin had spent amazing amounts of money on it, starting with its construction, claiming that it was an investment in his future. Maybe if she'd been able to give him children he wouldn't have poured all his energy into a piece of land. That had started it all, five years before. She shut her eyes and dropped her head into her hands. That house.

# # #

"I'm home," Vin DePalma called to his wife. He dropped his briefcase on the table at the entrance to their small living room. Pam made her way to his side, her eyes still red from crying. "Babe, what's the matter?" Vin said, taking her in his arms.

"I got my period today." You'd think after all these years she'd be used to it, but it always disappointed her deeply. The doctors said there was always hope, but she thought they probably said that to every couple.

Vin's face fell, then brightened. "I'm sorry, babe, but it's okay. Maybe next month."

Maybe next month, maybe next month. How long had they been saying that? It just wasn't going to happen, doctors or no doctors, and it was her fault. Vin had tested fine.

"It will happen, so cheer up," Vin said, setting her away from him. "Anyway, I've got great news."

She took a deep, cleansing breath, then stood on tiptoe and bussed her husband's cheek. As short as she was, she always seemed to be standing on her toes. She forced her face into a smile. "That's wonderful. I need some good news. Tell me."

He took her hand and guided her to the sofa where they settled side by side. "I ran into Jake Preston at lunch. You remember him, the art director at H&R? Well, he heard that the promotion is a done deal." Vin had been up for partner at Haskell & Roth for almost six months but they'd been delaying any announcement for one reason after another. Pam had her doubts that it would ever happen. She knew the partners from business lunches and office parties. They were powerful, wealthy men, and she wondered whether they'd ever be willing to turn part of the profits over to a new partner. She suspected that men like that didn't like to share.

Everyone knew that Vin was landing and servicing more and larger accounts than the firm had ever had, and his annual bonuses had showed it. He earned enough that he insisted that Pam never work, but he wanted more. Always more. Always a bigger stack. This year his bonus hadn't been what he'd expected, but he'd assumed that the partnership deal would make up for the shortfall.

"That's fabulous," Pam said and, as they settled on the sofa, she kissed him again, this time with obvious enthusiasm. Why trouble him with her concerns when he obviously didn't want to hear them? "Did Jake have any idea when an announcement might happen?"

Vin draped his arm around his wife's shoulder in a familiar gesture. Since he was over six foot one, he towered over her and liked to cuddle her against him. Not yet thirty, he had straight, dark brown hair, deep-set eyes that were almost black, and a swarthy complexion that heightened his slightly foreign attractiveness.

He nuzzled the top of her hair. "I keep hoping it will be soon. There's a partners' meeting at the end of next week and I have a feeling that they'll approve my appointment then and announce it immediately afterward."

"What if they don't?" she said quietly.

"They will, but just in case, I've been quietly sounding out a few of my big accounts and they've hinted that they'd go with me if I went out on my own."

Out on his own? Open his own firm? She knew that several small advertising firms had gone under in the last year. The future of start-ups wasn't guaranteed by any means. Hadn't the dot-com bubble taught anyone anything? "That's a big step, Vin."

"I know, but I won't have to do that anyway. My partnership is in the bag."

"Oh, honey, I hope you don't get your hopes up," Pam said, resting her head of brown curls against her husband's biceps. She had been pretty in college, when she and Vin first met, all soft curves and deep hazel eyes, a girl that men wanted to cosset and protect. Vin, a bench warmer on the basketball team, had sat behind her in a history class and they'd begun dating. They'd married while in their senior year.