Turning Point(40)

    “I had no idea that’s who he is. I never made the connection with the name. He’s very discreet and only interested in his work, and ours,” she said in praise of Bill. She was impressed by what he’d said to Moutier too.

“I’m surprised he’s not staying at the Ritz or the George V,” Bruno said, smiling at her. Moutier had done her research well, and come up with some very interesting information about Bill. He was of “the” Browning Oil family, one of the two principal heirs of his generation, with a younger brother in New York. It said that Bill Browning was a physician specializing in trauma, with considerable experience, lived in San Francisco, worked at San Francisco General Hospital, and stood to inherit one of the largest fortunes in America, estimated at many billions of dollars, and she’d taken a wild guess at how much. It mentioned their major holdings, and the list was long. The article then said that he was divorced and had two children, and had been married to the daughter of a British lord. The article closed with one of his more passionate quotes in admiration of the Paris emergency teams. “At least she gave us a decent shake for once,” the police captain said. “It won’t last long. She’ll be stirring up some other crap about all of us by dinnertime tonight. She can’t stand favorable stories. I think she was just excited about who he is, and to have discovered it, since, as you say, he’s discreet. He’s going to have every woman in Paris chasing him after they read that article. Maybe she did it to annoy him,” Bruno said, and stood up. He had to go back to work, and his real purpose in coming there that morning had been to check on Marie-Laure, and make sure she was all right.

    She thanked him for coming, and after he left, she walked over to the desk Bill was using. “Thank you for all the nice things you said about us to the press,” she said gently, as he looked up in surprise.

“Did that awful woman print them? She followed me to the Metro last night, and I lost my temper. I can’t stand her, she’s a muckraker, digging for dirt, at everyone’s expense. I told her what I thought about it, and how great I thought you all were in the crisis, including the police. She didn’t want to hear it, so I’m amazed she printed it.”

“So am I,” Marie-Laure admitted. “I can translate the piece for you if you want,” she offered.

“My French is good enough to read it, even if I can’t hold a decent conversation to save my life.” He smiled at her. He followed her to her office so she could give it to him and went back to his desk to read it. They were going to be in meetings that afternoon about the aftermath of the lycée shootings, but the morning had been easy and unscheduled for the Americans for the first time. A moment later, when Marie-Laure glanced at him, she could see he was furious and very upset. He came back to her office and was nearly shaking with rage.

“What right does she have to print that? Who my family is has nothing to do with my professional life, nor what I’m allegedly going to inherit, that’s nobody’s business. I’ve been working for thirteen years as a doctor, and that has never come out. I was careful that it didn’t. It’s totally irrelevant, and all it can do is complicate my life. No one is going to take me seriously if they think I have that kind of money behind me, and I’ll have every gold digger on the planet on my ass,” he stormed at Marie-Laure although it wasn’t her fault, and he looked like he was near tears. She could see how much it meant to him not to have anyone know who he was or how much he had, but it was too late now, thanks to Jacqueline Moutier. The secret was out. Marie-Laure tried to calm him down, but he was all wound up and left the office a few minutes later to take a walk and cool off.

    The article circulated around the office after that, and everyone was startled to realize how wealthy he was. Gabriel commented reasonably that it was nice for him, but it really had nothing to do with the work they were doing together, or their dealings with Bill. He was still the same man, no better or worse than before they knew his family was Browning Oil. And for his part, Gabriel didn’t care. The others didn’t either, but it was something to talk about. Paul Martin said he thought he was lucky, and Gabriel said not necessarily, that it probably would draw the wrong people to him if word got out. He said that it changed how people felt about you, with that kind of fortune. Jealous people were out to trip you up and take something from you, or be nasty about you, and the greedy ones were out for what they could get. It was easier if people didn’t know. In that sense, Bill was right.

Bill was still upset when he came back from his walk. No one paid attention to him, they had all read the article and were trying not to show it. If the piece got syndicated to the States, which it might because he was who he was, he dreaded everyone at SF General knowing about his tie to Browning Oil and their fortune. There was nothing good it could add to his life. Silence had been golden for all these years, but there was nothing he could do about the exposure now.

    Wendy came across the room to talk to him as he sat at his desk, looking like a storm cloud. She decided to approach anyway and spoke in a low voice. “I know you’re not happy about the piece, Bill, but they didn’t say anything bad about you. It makes you seem serious and hardworking, and news dies eventually.”

“Not that kind of news, they’ll pull it up anytime anyone wants to write an article about me. It makes it sound like my only accomplishment is having a family with money. And that’s no thanks to me.”