Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry(53)

Deep in thought, she grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sat at the table by the window. Following her usual pattern, she jotted down the questions she would have asked Meg Williamson if she had had more time:

When was the last time Meg had spoken to or been in touch with Cathy?

Meg had described Cathy as a “troublemaker” at REL News. Had Cathy chosen to leave or had she been fired?

Did Meg attempt to contact Cathy’s family after learning she had died in the accident?

Her concentration was broken by the sound of her cell phone ringing. “Hey there,” Gina said, genuine affection obvious in her voice.

“I’m glad I have pictures of you on my phone. I’m starting to forget what you look like.” They both laughed wistfully.

“Well I’m not the one gallivanting around sunny California,” she said. “When will I have the pleasure of your company?”

“I’m sorry to say that I won’t be in until late afternoon Wednesday. Please tell me you’re free for dinner that night.”

“I am. I’ll make a reservation.”

“Pick some place really nice because we have something to celebrate.”

“Really? And what is that?” Gina asked.

“I know I’ve bored you a lot with my investment banker stories.”

“They’re not boring. I like them.”

“Remember how I’ve told you that when a private company is planning to go public, to list their shares on a stock exchange, they hire investment banks to do road shows.”

“That’s when they go around and present the company to the major investment funds. Right?”

“Precisely. Well our bank has been tapped to work on what’s likely to be the most prestigious deal this year.”

“Are you allowed to tell me about it?”

“It will be announced to the public on Monday. I think I can trust you to keep quiet until then.”

“This reporter’s lips are sealed.”

“REL News has chosen our bank to take them public, and I’ll be on the team doing the presentations.”

Gina felt her knees going weak. Had she mentioned to him Cathy’s email about REL News? She didn’t think so. Instinctively she took a sip of water. “That’s great. I can’t tell you how happy and surprised I am.”

“It was a surprise to me, too. I got picked over some more senior people. This is what I’ve always wanted to do. I feel like everything’s coming together for me. For us.”

“Much to celebrate on Wednesday,” she agreed.

“And I hope we’ll have even more to celebrate.”

Gina knew what he was referring to. Before she left for Nepal, he had talked about going to Tiffany’s to buy a ring for her. An engagement ring.

“Enough about me,” Ted said. “What’s up with you? I haven’t even asked you what stories you’ve been working on.”

If only you knew, Gina thought to herself. She hated lying to Ted, but sometimes the “greater good” theory made sense. “There’s a new editor at Empire Review. He’s tough. I’ve brought in a few ideas, but we haven’t settled on anything yet.”

“That’s too bad. I liked Charlie.” Gina, Ted, Charlie, and his wife had sat together at two publishing industry dinners. “I’m sure when the new editor gets to know you, he’ll love you the way Charlie did.”

“Let’s hope so,” she said.

“Got to go to a meeting. My bank doesn’t acknowledge weekends. Can’t wait for Wednesday. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

As Gina stared out the window at the gray waters of the Hudson River, her mind was far away. It was hard to underestimate how complicated her life had become. Picking up her cell phone, she sent another text to Geoff. Can you ask one of your corporate lawyers to join us on Wednesday?

His response was immediate. Will do. I assume you have a good reason for asking.

I certainly do, Gina thought to herself.





58





“Why did you have her come to your house?” Michael Carter screamed into the phone.

“You’re the one who told me to get back to her,” Meg pleaded.

“I told you to speak to her, not meet her. If you felt the need to meet her, why couldn’t you do it at a Starbucks or a Barnes & Noble?”

“I didn’t want to take a chance someone would overhear us and learn something.”

“I’m sure she learned plenty when she saw your place in Rye.”

“There were no restrictions on how I could spend my settlement money and you know it. Mr. Carter, please calm down. Remember, I was a reporter. Any reporter with half a brain would be able to find out what I paid for my house.”

“I guess you’re right,” he admitted reluctantly. “Did you tell her what I told you to say about Cathy Ryan?”

“Word for word I did.”

“And what was her reaction?”

“She was taken aback. Clearly it did not jibe with the impression she had of Cathy.”

“At least that’s a plus.”

“What do you want me to do next?”

“What are you talking about, ‘next’?”