The Tolling of Mercedes Bell: A Novel (15 page)

A
S MOTHER AND DAUGHTER DROVE
out of the city onto the Bay Bridge, with the illuminated city skyline on their left, Mercedes let her hair loose and opened the window.

“So what do you think, Sweetness?”

“Mom, it’s like a fairy tale.”

“It kind of is, isn’t it?”

T
he sight of brown pelicans cruising low over the lake reminded Mercedes how close they were to the ocean. She and Caroline were out walking on their lunch hour. The morning’s rain shower had subsided just in time. She cinched the belt tighter on her navy trench coat, thankful for the wool liner, and took a deep breath of the chilly salt air.

“Nice coat. You must be changing your image,” Caroline remarked.

“I was very partial to that old rain coat, and there was certainly no need to worry about messing it up.”

“Yes, plus it probably reminded Darrel how underpaid you are— never a bad thing. So may I assume the new model is a gift from our friend?”

“You may.”

Caroline shook her head. “Tisk, tisk. Didn’t your mother ever caution you about accepting expensive gifts from gentlemen?”

“You haven’t met Eleanor. That thought is not part of her playbook. She’s more in the take-what-you-can-get camp, and set your sights on the richest man in the room.”

Caroline laughed. “So things are going well, then.”

Mercedes sighed. “With Jack? I keep expecting to wake up.”

“It’s clear that Germaine’s crazy about him,” Caroline added. “Every time she comes over it’s Jack this and Jack that. Very sweet.”

“They’re pals. Last time he came over they got into a heated checkers game. Before that it was Scrabble Junior, and of course the ubiquitous crossword puzzles. He drove us down to San Simeon so Germaine could see the Hearst Castle.”

“She told us all about it.” Caroline watched Mercedes’s face. “Are you beyond the point of no return?”

“Not quite. We’ve managed not to go to bed together yet, but I don’t know how much longer that will last.”

“I’m impressed. That can’t be Jack’s idea, so it must be yours.”

“I’m trying something new. It’s called restraint.”

“Must be difficult. But perhaps it makes it easier to accept gifts like gorgeous Burberry trench coats.” She looked down. “And new boots—Ferragamos, no less. He must really be in dire anticipation.”

Mercedes admired her footwear. “They are beautiful, aren’t they? He does love to spend money. Took us shopping a couple of weekends ago, again. He bought Germaine a globe, as she always asks him about his trips. And he bought her new shoes. Which reminds me. Have you been able to find out anything from the lawyers Jack used to practice with?” Mercedes asked.

“I spoke with Martin Macey. He was pleasant and rather open about the group. They met in law school, decided to hang out their own shingle, shared overhead, and did a bunch of deals together. He praised Jack highly—just what you’d expect to hear, all the stuff we know already. He said he had the highest respect for Jack’s skills as a lawyer. When I asked him the first word that came to mind when he thought of Jack, he said right off: ‘Strategic.’ And then he said: ‘Just make sure you stay on his good side. He has a ruthless streak and
does not suffer fools. People don’t see it coming. They don’t know what’s hit them and it’s over in an instant.’”

“That’s a bit ominous.”

“Martin said he’d known Jack for over twenty years and that the trail of broken hearts stretches around the block.”

“I wonder why he’s never mentioned any of them.”

“Have you ever asked him?”

“I don’t really care to know the details. But anyone who looks like that has got to have a past.”

“I’ll keep snooping. One thing more: I didn’t get the feeling they’re in touch or that Martin is particularly eager to see Jack. I didn’t press it. Maybe they had a falling-out of some kind.”

“I know I’m losing it, because I’ve been telling Eleanor about him and I don’t even mind.”

Caroline chuckled. “I have to meet your mother someday.”

“Just go to a Joan Crawford movie. It’s a lot easier.”

“Any plans for the holidays?”

“Jack’s going to the Philippines for some snazzy wedding. It must be some high-society shindig. The family is putting up all the guests at the swankiest hotel in Manila and paying all expenses.”

“Has he asked you to go with him?”

“No. He knows I would never leave Germaine for that long, especially over the holidays.”

“So have you met any of his friends, other than the Belvedere people?”

“I’ve met two. One of them is a close friend—a psychologist named Damon Vanderveer. He’s a lot of fun. And a psychiatrist they both know, Murielle Hand, who has known Jack for many years. She has the most loving and perceptive eyes. When I met her, it was as though she immediately knew all about me.”

“Jack probably told her about you. What’s their relationship?”

“Maybe Jack used to see her professionally. They’re friends, is all I know.”

They returned to the office rosy-cheeked and refreshed from the brisk walk.

Darrel summoned Mercedes into his office when she passed by.

Jack and Stuart were in with Darrel. Jack acknowledged Mercedes without missing a beat. He reported that he had finally made contact with Rand Taylor’s elusive former fiancée, AnneCharlotte Anderson, PhD. She was now married and going by a different name, and was no longer a consultant at Franjipur. She had agreed to meet with Jack “off the record,” but said she wouldn’t testify.

“Why would she meet you at all?” Darrel asked.

“Because Jack asked her to,” Stuart piped up, with a slight smirk.

“I’ll fly to New York and take her to lunch as soon as we can get our schedules in sync. Since she was an independent contractor, she’ll have a clear perspective on the company’s management decisions. And of course she’s our hook to punitive damages, based on Rand’s emotional distress claims.”

“Which is why you’ll handle her with kid gloves,” Darrel said. “Mercedes, please find me that research you did on Dr. Anderson a few weeks ago. Then I have another task for you. We received Franjipur’s first response to our document requests late this morning. There are many boxes. You should get started on those right away.”

“Sure thing.”

Turning back to Jack, he asked, “So what’s she doing now?”

“Teaching at NYU under her married name. Doesn’t want us to rock the boat and made it clear she doesn’t want her prior life to interfere with her present one.”

Darrel nodded at Mercedes, who left the room. She retrieved her research for Darrel and began work on the boxes of documents
stacked in the empty office. She was so absorbed by their contents that she hardly noticed the brilliant sunset.

Until Jack called her on the office line.

“Why don’t you bring Germaine over on Saturday? I could hire a sitter for the evening, you and I can go out, and you two can stay over in the guest room.”

“I thought we were ‘taking it slow.’”

“And I want you to know you’re doing an excellent job of that,” he chuckled. “Damon’s niece would be perfect as a sitter. I’ve known her since she was younger than Germaine, and she’s now in high school. If she’s free, we could go out and there would be no late-night drive back to Oakland. Germaine would have a great time.”

“There would be no living with her after a night at James Bond’s place. And I’m not sure I could fall asleep knowing you were in the next room.”

“There’s a remedy for that.”

“That is
not
a remedy for sleeplessness!”

“Okay, an alternative.”

“Let me think about it and I’ll let you know.”

She was hot all over when they hung up.

D
AMON’S NIECE, GISELLE, WAS A
rangy redheaded girl, athletic, with a freckled nose and a ready laugh. She and Damon had the same eyes. She had three little sisters and knew just how to take Germaine under her wing the moment she arrived.

Jack carried their overnight bag to the guest room and turned on a lamp.

“Please, make yourself at home,” he said, kissing Mercedes’s cheek. “You look absolutely gorgeous.”

Her hair was wound up into a smooth French roll and she wore the crimson dress that Eleanor had recently sent her.

They left the girls bantering in the kitchen with rock ’n’ roll blaring on the speakers. Germaine was shaking her little body to the music, while they decorated cookies with colored sugars. A rainbow of sparkles glistened on the countertop.

“Stay out as late as you like, Uncle Jack!” Giselle called out as he reached for the door.

“Yeah, Mom! We’re watching a scary movie after this! Don’t come back too soon!”

Jack looked at Mercedes. “She sounds heartbroken that you’re leaving.”

“Crushed.”

T
HEY SAT AT A SMALL
candlelit table in a North Beach restaurant. Although the chef was a celebrity and the food five-star, they were scarcely aware of it. The aura of ease with which Jack surrounded himself now included her. He made her feel like an extension of himself, a queen, wherever they were, whatever they were doing.

“You’re in a pensive mood tonight, Bella.”

“I was just thinking that we could be dining at a truck stop in Bakersfield and I would be just as happy.”

“The truckers would be a whole lot happier, too. You’ve turned my world inside out and upside down.”

“You don’t look it, Mr. Bond. A little stirred, perhaps, but definitely not shaken.”

“And then there’s your charming daughter.”

Mercedes’s large eyes glowed in the candlelight above the intense red of her dress.

He reached across the table for her left hand and spread it out on his palm. “It’s a long hand,” he said.

“Look who’s talking.”

“No nail polish, no frills.” He turned it over and touched her calluses, then turned it over again. “It looks a little bare, though.”

“Jewelry just catches on things and gets in the way.”

“Very pragmatic.”

“I’m a realist.”

“So I’ve noticed. And how is that working out for you?”

Mercedes raised her eyebrows. “You tell me. We’re here, aren’t we? Not too bad.”

“What if it could be better?” His eyes were soft in the candlelight.

“I’m just fine where I am.”

After dinner they walked awhile in the crisp air and eventually arrived at his car. “My life was empty without you and I didn’t even realize it,” he said. “Now I can’t imagine it without you.”

She kissed him to stop the conversation.

“I don’t want to live without you, Mercedes.”

“Shhh. We have no control over that.”

“We
do.
We could get married.”

“You must have drunk more wine at dinner than I thought.”

“I’m serious.”

“It’s too soon for this!”

“I’m almost forty and feel as though I just woke up from a deep sleep. I don’t want to waste another year.”

“You haven’t wasted anything. You’ve been sorting out your past and becoming a great guy.”

Now he kissed her to stop the conversation. “Just tell me you’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

L
OW LIGHTS ILLUMINATED JACK’S LIVING
room when they returned late in the evening. Giselle waved from the couch, where she was watching the end of a movie on TV. She pulled on her sneakers and gathered up her things, reporting to Mercedes on the evening with Germaine.