The China Doll (7 page)

Stephen winked. "Don’t worry—I’m the only who
knows the lengths you’re ready to go to, and your secret is safe
with me." He hit Alex’s knee. "I’ll take care of it."

"How? I didn’t think Gerry had quite warmed
to you yet."

He winked. "Well, I’ve got an in."

"Oh great! I didn’t think Annabelle had
warmed to me quite yet either."

"Maybe not," Stephen said with a grin. "But
she has warmed to me. Once she sees the ring I got her, I don’t
think I’ll have a problem getting her to do my friend a small
favor."

Alex raised his glass. "Ah, true love."

~~~

It was after six the next Friday evening.
Alex sat in the waiting room of Gerald Hendrickson’s office. The
secretary looked resentfully at Alex before she announced him to
Gerald.

At last, Alex was shown in at six-thirty.
Gerald, in his sixties with graying, receding hair, looked up from
his glasses. "Thank you Jenny. You can leave now."

"Thank you sir," she said, then passed Alex
without a word.

Gerald stood up and shook Alex’s hand. He was
taller than average, but not as tall as his son. He was also in
admirable shape for a man his age, although gravity was beginning
to stoop his posture.

"Good to see you, Mister Sheldon," Gerald
said, gesturing for Alex to sit down. "I can’t tell you how pleased
I am, in fact. I was very surprised when Annabelle—oh, did you
hear? They’re engaged!"

"I did hear, sir. Stephen told me he was
planning to ask her. I assume, of course, that he told you
first?"

Gerald laughed. "Of course, of course. I
think I’ve been a little bit hard on that young man, but I’ve been
known to change my mind. Stephen will, I’m sure, make a wonderful
husband for my Annabelle."

"That is his intention."

"Good, good," Gerald nodded, smiling, leaning
back. "But I don’t think you wanted to see me today to talk about
Stephen and Annabelle, did you?"

"No, I didn’t." He lifted his chin. "I’ve
been made privy to some information about a project in South Korea
that, I am absolutely positive, is going to be successful beyond
most people’s imagination. And, unlike most good investments, the
returns will be realized very quickly."

"I see," Gerald said without betraying any
emotion. "And what kind of project is this?"

"Electronics, sir."

"Ah, yes." He put his hands together as if in
prayer and leaned his chin on his fingertips. "And how, might I
ask, did you come across this information?"

"One of my classmates was a Korean national.
He went back after graduation to help his father run their family
company. I was helpful to him in school, and we kept in touch."

Gerald nodded. "It’s what I’ve noticed about
you. You certainly understand someone’s potential. Your classmate,
Stephen—"

"No, sir." Alex couldn’t help himself.
"Stephen is my friend."

Gerald waved his hand in acquiescence. "Of
course, of course. I didn’t mean that he wasn’t. But he certainly
has been helpful, hasn’t he?"

"I suppose. But I prefer not to think of him
that way."

"Very well. So, young man, how much money are
we talking about?" Alex named the same figure he’d given Stephen.
Gerald didn’t move. "That’s a lot of money."

"It is. And it will be a lot more in five
years."

"What kind of terms are you offering?"

"Twelve percent interest until the principal
is paid back."

"Generous terms."

"Yes sir." Gerald smiled as if he were a cat
who’d just caught the proverbial canary. Alex raised his eyebrows.
"Sir?"

Gerald folded his hands. "Normally, if
someone came into my office and asked for that much money, I’d
throw them out. If, by some chance, they stayed, I’d want to know
everything that they intended to do with that money."

"I’ll tell you anything you want to
know."

"But I’m not asking, am I? I believe you. I
have no doubt that whatever your friend has planned will yield a
very handsome return on an investment. And I find myself inclined
to agree—it would be a good investment."

Alex stayed silent; he could hear the "but"
already.

"However, if I were to make such a
substantial investment, I’d want different terms."

Alex blinked. He hadn’t been sure he’d
actually get this far. "I’m willing to negotiate, certainly."

"What if we said five percent interest, and
just for about, oh, a year and a half? And you could keep the
principal."

Alex repeated that to himself. "That’s very
generous of you," he said slowly. "But why would you even suggest
such terms?"

"Because I think you could give me something
I want much more than interest."

"And what is that, sir?"

"A grandson."

Alex pulled his chin back. "I’m pretty sure
Stephen and Annabelle were thinking about children, but I was under
the impression they wanted to wait a few years."

"That isn’t the grandchild I was referring
to."

"I—um, I of course could help Jim meet
people—"

"Oh, I’m sure," Gerald said, and Alex could
hear the disdain in his voice. "Word of your exploits have reached
my office." Alex didn’t blush—he knew he didn’t have to. "But I’m
afraid I have someone less attainable in mind for my son. I believe
you know Lucy Bartolome?"

Alex sat up straight. "A little, sir." He
swallowed. "I know she was Jim’s classmate. But they’re both a
little older—"

"You’re beginning to see my point."

Alex didn’t look at Gerald. "I suppose so,"
he said slowly. "But I know Jim has...tried...on his own. Lucy
doesn’t seem interested."

"You see more of my point."

"Are you sure Lucy’s the best choice for
him?" he asked carefully. "If she isn’t in love with him—"

"Ah, you disappoint me," Gerald said softly.
"I don’t think you understood my request. I asked for a grandson.
It implies marriage, it doesn’t imply love."

"He’s your son."

"And he wants her."

"What if he changes his mind?"

"Then he’ll have a child, another
Hendrickson. I have no doubt Jimmy will love him. For most people,
that’s the love that endures anyway."

Alex licked his lips. "I see."

"I’m not asking for your approval," Gerald
said firmly. "I’m asking if you’re up for the job?"

Alex looked around at the old, well-furnished
office and the man who owned it. "Yes sir. I am actually perfectly
suited for it." Gerald smiled, but he didn’t ask why. He didn’t
need to know. On that, Alex agreed.

Emily woke up the next morning from a dream
she’d been having lately. She was back in high school and it was
freshman year. But instead of being nervous, she was smiling and
excited. She was standing by her locker talking to Charlie. She
looked into his eyes and saw that special look that she had seen
many times when no one else was looking. That he was interested in
what she had to say and that he saw someone pretty. Now he was
looking at her and he didn’t seem to care who else was looking. He
smiled. She laughed. Then they were at the fountain near the
Charles Hotel in Cambridge, talking all night long. Emily saw stars
the whole night and reached up her arms and embraced the sky.

It was then that Emily woke up. She took a
deep breath, trying to hold onto that feeling, where everything was
normal and she was happy. But it didn’t last.

She sat up feeling a twinge of guilt, then a
little stupid. Mitch was far more handsome than Charlie had been
(although who knew what Charlie looked like now?). She and Charlie
hadn’t had a whole night, just one lousy little hour while they had
waited for a late bus. She and Mitch had had a whole night, an
entire lifetime. But Charlie had asked her not to go.

Everything was so different and strange. Why
did she still feel so lonely? She looked at the baby monitor and
smiled. Not entirely.

She opened the door and heard typing. Mitch
was still home. She smiled, even though she knew she should
remember to be mad at him for getting out of bed so early after
he’d gotten into it so late. She couldn’t help it.

She opened the door to his study. He jumped
from where he was sitting. "Jesus, Emily!" he shouted. He was
angry. Her face fell, but he didn’t notice. "I guess I should be
getting into the office anyway," he grumbled as he shut down his
work.

Emily nodded, replacing hurt with anger.
"Yep, that sounds like a plan," she said. "Sorry I interrupted
you." She closed the door and hopped into the shower. By the time
she got out, Mitch was gone. He hadn’t even bothered to say
good-bye.

Emily was in the middle of getting Hellie
ready for the sitter when Miranda called. "Hey, let’s work off-site
today," she said in her usual, cheery tone.

Emily thought for a moment. She was looking
forward to seeing her friends at work today. But maybe someplace
new and different wouldn’t be bad. "What did you have in mind?"

~~~

Emily had just come out into the carpeted
lobby of the health club. She felt ridiculous. She was in her very
beaten up sneakers, a tank top and shorts. Things she’d gotten at
the thrift shop. Two years ago. Not that anyone was making eye
contact with her, but she was convinced that everyone was looking
at her. She hated Miranda right then.

Miranda breezed out a moment later in her
shorts, tank top and sneakers. Only hers fit pretty well and
looked, if not exactly new, at least well-cared for. Emily snarled
when she saw her, and Miranda laughed. "You look great," she said
reassuringly. And it was true. Three years of veganism and regular
Kundalini yoga practice had done admirable things for Emily’s body,
even in her less than perfect clothes.

"Not next to you, thank you very much." She
scowled again at having to stand next to Miranda’s curvy-skinny,
goddess-like figure in her ultra-chic workout gear.

"So let’s go shopping for some new gym
clothes."

"Yeah, and here I thought maybe we should try
to get some work done, silly me." Emily pushed the doors open and
stood back. She had never seen so much gym equipment in her life.
"Wow."

"That’s what I’m saying! Come on." Miranda
grabbed Emily’s hand and dragged her in. Innumerable treadmills,
elliptical machines, stair climbers and Cybex
paraphernalia
led to an entire room filled with about seventy-five spin
bikes.

"Why are we here again?" Emily asked.

Miranda smiled. "Because I thought this might
be a better location to have an out of the office meeting."

"But why this particular gym?"

"I talked Richard into getting us all a
membership when I came on. But he threatened not to renew it unless
we started using it. So this is really for the team—the
company."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Whatever. But
wouldn’t it be easier to have our little meeting on one of those
machines?"

Miranda smiled. "It’s too noisy in here. The
sparring ring is much better."

"Fine, because I’m going to kick your
ass."

"I thought you said you’d never kickboxed
before?"

"I haven’t. I’m still going to kick your
ass."

They walked up to the glass doors near the
outdoor deck. The blinds were down, which was unusual. Emily tried
the door. Locked. Miranda frowned, then knocked. Thirty seconds
later, one of the trainers came out through the door, which he kept
half-closed. "Hi, can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah," Miranda laughed. "We’re here to
spar."

"Oh, uh, right," the man said uncomfortably.
"I’m afraid it’s closed today."

"Closed?" Miranda asked, still smiling.
"Maybe I misread the agreement, but I thought this was something we
always had access to."

"No, it is," the man said in a reassuring
tone. "It’s just that we have a private client now."

Emily frowned. "Who needs the entire room all
to themselves?"

"Yeah, it’s kind of a special situation.
Rehab. And he reserved the whole room for the next two hours."

"Are you kidding me?" Now Miranda was angry.
"Do you think you could have posted something on your website, or
at the desk, or on the door? My friend and I moved our whole day
around to do this."

The man nodded quickly. "You’re right, ma’am.
I’m sorry we handled this so badly. So what I’ll do is have them
give you both two hours each with any trainer here—personal trainer
like myself, yoga, Pilates, Gyrontonic, whatever we’ve got. Just
give me your names and by the time you leave I’ll have it ready for
you at the desk."

"Is that standard—"

"Sounds great," Emily said quickly. She gave
him their names, then dragged Miranda away. "That’s a good deal,
dude. I’d love a private with a yoga instructor."

Miranda rubbed her neck. "Yeah, I guess so.
Alright, fine. How about we take that Gyrokinesis class you were
oohing and aahing over, and then meet over lunch?"

~~~

Ninety minutes later, Emily and Miranda were
blissfully picking at their ultra-healthy spa lunch while looking
over Boylston Street. "Wow—I’m coming back," Emily sighed before
she chewed on some escarole.

"Oh my God, I don’t remember the last time I
felt this relaxed," Miranda said as she sipped her water. "I think
we should meet here twice a week."

Emily sighed. "Three times."

"Maybe we can drag Jessie away from her
classes to join us," Miranda murmured.

That was enough to snap Emily back. "Oh my
God!" Miranda jumped. "Jessie! Do you know what she’s doing
now?"

Miranda looked at the clock on the wall.
"Sitting in class?"

Emily quickly waved her hand. "No, no, no.
She didn’t tell you about the hot TA in Joanna’s class?"

Miranda laughed. "No, but why am I not
surprised?"

"You should be. First of all, he’s
twenty-six—"

"So is Martin."

"For the last time—I never pimped her out to
him! But this new guy is an idiot on top of that."