So About the Money Page 19

  “When are you coming to Seattle?”

  It had been ages since she’d last crossed the mountains. All too soon, snow in Snoqualmie Pass would make the trip treacherous. “I’m working my butt off trying to stage Mother’s company. It doesn’t leave me much free time.”

  “Next time you visit, you need to meet Erica.”

  Visit? Erica? “Oh?”

  “Erica Ruda. She started about a month ago.”

  Started.

  A month ago.

  The words echoed and mocked. The partners wouldn’t casually bring in additional people. There was only one possible reason they’d hire a new analyst.

  A cold fist tightened around Holly’s chest, squeezed the air from her lungs.

  The team had replaced her.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Devon chattered away, oblivious to Holly’s stunned silence. “Erica was great on our last transaction. She totally uncovered a partnership the target was using to hide losses.”

  Spots danced at the edge of Holly’s vision. She clutched the receiver with one hand and the edge of the desk with the other. The team filled my place?

  She took a leave of absence. She didn’t quit. That was her spot. The position she was going back to.

  Devon paused and she found her voice. “I’m glad to hear business is so good.”

  “It was off for a while with everything spooking Wall Street. When the market picks up, things will go crazy. Some players are looking to snap up companies whose stock’s in the crapper. Jeez, stock values were below book for a while there.”

  Holly’s shoulders relaxed and her breath came easier. They were busy. Of course they needed more people. Hadn’t she suffered through that with the project work she was bringing in to Desert Accounting? Erica was an addition, not a replacement. “Sounds like I’ll be getting back at the right time.”

  Devon’s pause was short, but she caught it.

  “It’ll be great to see you,” he said.

  She noticed the ambiguous phrasing. It was why he wasn’t a partner. He gave away too much in his tone and his expression. “What are you not telling me?”

  “Look, I heard Arashiro plans to call you. You have to make a choice.”

  Her stomach cramped.

  She wrestled the panic and held her voice steady. “Thanks for the heads up on the boss’s call. And for the info on Alders.”

  “Sure.”

  Don’t babble, cut it off. “I have to run. A meeting to prep for. You know how it goes.”

  “I’ll call if I find anything on the proxy guy,” Devon said.

  Don’t call us, we’ll call you.

  She fumbled the receiver into place with a shaking hand. Trying to swallow the huge lump in her throat, she stared at the instrument. What if her boss said, “If you want to stay part of the team, you have to get back over here. Now.”

  He’d promised her a year.

  If she didn’t go back, she’d lose everything she’d worked so hard to achieve.

  She’d given up friends, fun…dammit, she’d given up her life for that team. She’d put her career ahead of everything.

  She had to go back.

  But if she left, her mother would lose everything. The accounting firm…her livelihood.

  How was she supposed to choose?

  She could look for another position in Seattle later, but the team was the best. Going anywhere else would be an admission of defeat. She’d start in a hole and have to prove herself all over again. It would take dozens of deals before every attorney, broker, and peon quit thinking they could pull a fast one on her.

  And for what? To make the partners richer? The team members were well paid, but it was a fraction of what the principals raked in.

  She buried her face in her hands. What did she want? Really want? She’d always believed it was her career and everything that came with it. Challenge, respect, affluence. But it was all an illusion.

  Step away and it vanished.

  Remove the job and she had nothing.

  Tears filled her eyes. Blindly, she grabbed a tissue.

  Her independence amounted to nothing more than solitude. She’d end up an old lady at the senior center, recycling used greeting cards.

  She dropped her hands and glared at the office around her. Why was she killing herself bailing out her parents, anyway? Her father deserted them. Her mother blew off an important meeting without explanation. Did they even care if Desert Accounting prospered?

  Holly dragged in a deep breath and released it.

  She cared about the business. She’d done solid work for the clients, trained the staff to handle the more challenging assignments, and built the firm’s reputation. Other companies were noticing.

  What if she stayed?

  She flattened her hands on the desk and stared straight ahead, stunned she’d even considered the possibility.

  After a beat, she measured the pros and cons. The bookkeeping side of the business—her mother’s realm—brought in steady income, but for her, it defined boredom. It was the project work that challenged her. Working with clients, getting to know them and their business needs, added a surprisingly satisfying aspect to her professional life. With the mergers and acquisitions team, the owners had simply been interchangeable faces eager to sell for the largest pile of dollars possible.

  She shot to her feet. What was she doing even thinking about staying in Richland? She didn’t know her real job was in jeopardy. She was jumping to conclusions with no evidence to support the theory—the mark of a rank amateur.

  Until her boss told her she no longer had a position with the team, she refused to worry about Erica or who did what on the latest transaction in Seattle.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The clatter of a dozen conversations filled the restaurant where Holly had arranged to meet a friend for lunch. The newest restaurant in town, Fat Olive was doing a brisk business. She bypassed the hostess stand and slid into a seat facing a rangy blond man. “I’m buying, since you’re about to give me free legal advice,” she declared without preamble.

  Walt Chambers laughed. “Consider it payback for the client you sent me last month.”

  They’d gone out twice before deciding they made better friends and business colleagues than a couple. After ordering—calzones and a Coke—Walt asked, “What am I giving you free advice about?”

  “Divorce.”

  He raised an eyebrow, questioning, since she clearly didn’t need the advice. A moment later he said, “Ah, your parents.”

  Her parents. Marcy and Lee. Take your pick.

  He sipped his pop, then continued, “It’s called dissolution of marriage in Washington. I’m surprised your parents don’t already have temporary orders in place.”

  “And temporary orders are…?”

  “For starters, either of them could’ve filed a motion to keep the other from cleaning out their investment account or changing beneficiaries on insurance policies or retirement plans.”

  “I’m not sure Mother knows to do that.”

  Walt shrugged. “If she has halfway competent legal counsel, they would’ve taken care of it. Who’s representing her?”

  “I don’t know.” She pulled out her phone and made a note to find out.

  Had Marcy put anything in place? Was that what had angered Lee? She really needed to talk to Yessica.

  Their food arrived and they ate while continuing the conversation.

  “As far as living expenses go,” Walt said, “both your parents are capable of working.”

  “I don’t know what my father’s situation is. Job-wise. Could he really ask for alimony?”

  “It’s called maintenance here.” He tapped his finger on the table, thinking. “He can ask. If your mother disagrees, it’ll be up to the court.”

  “Wait a minute.” Holly laid down her fork. “You mean I could be over here, busting my butt, and end up having to support him while he’s playing Downward-Facing-Dog?”

 
He fought a smile and lost. “Never heard it described in quite those terms.”

  “Yoga. Instructor.”

  The smile changed to a grimace. “Ah.”

  Her mother had ducked the issue for too long. As much effort as Holly was putting into growing Desert Accounting, she wanted to know where her parents’ marriage—and company—were headed. “What about their assets? Will Mother have to give him half?”

  “Washington’s a community property state. At least in theory, everything either spouse earns while they’re married belongs to both of them.”

  “What about the new business I’ve brought in?”

  He rocked his hand in a maybe motion. “Ultimately, the division’s up to the courts. Your mother could claim it’s separate property. But both of them worked there and it sounds like the company grew while they were married. She might have a hard time making that stick.”

  “But he cheated on her and walked out. That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “‘Fair’ doesn’t matter. The court doesn’t have to divide things fifty-fifty. The judge tries to be equitable.”

  Holly wanted the information about her parents, but Marcy and Lee faced the same challenge. Devon said Lee had sold his company for forty million. Could a guy like Lee really fork over twenty million? “It doesn’t matter who actually did the work?”

  He shook his head. “It’s all community property.”

  “What if one of them wasn’t working while they were married?”

  “If one spouse stays home and takes care of that side of the couple’s life instead of holding an outside job, the courts take that into consideration.”

  She had to talk with Yessica. If Marcy had a good attorney, most likely Lee would’ve had to pay her alimony or maintenance and a substantial settlement. Both would’ve been next to impossible for a wife-beating, control-freak to agree to.

  With Marcy dead, he wouldn’t have to give up anything.

  “How are you doing?” Walt asked. “Doesn’t matter how old we are, parents splitting up is hard.”

  She was tempted to unload her worries, but innate caution held her back. Instead, she escaped the personal questioning with a woman’s all-time favorite excuse. “Excuse me a minute. I need to use the restroom.”

  The restrooms were located down a short hall behind the reception area. As she angled across the seating area, a woman called, “Holly.”

  She scanned the restaurant, then zeroed in on a well-dressed blonde. Nicole sat with several of her friends—polished women who looked as though their only job was the care and feeding of their husbands’ careers. She’d been vaguely surprised to find the type on the east side of the Cascades, but then again, it did tend to be conservative territory. Although the way Nicole blew through money—and given the way they were dressed, apparently her friends did too—she could hardly be called fiscally conservative.

  Holly approached the table. One of the women looked familiar, but she couldn’t place the other two. Tim’s wife wore wool slacks and a cashmere turtleneck, but under-eye shadows marred her usually flawless complexion.

  Should she offer congratulations? Tim said they hadn’t told anyone yet about the pregnancy. If Nicole had previously confided in her, Holly would’ve mentioned it, but she didn’t feel close enough to the woman to bring it up.

  Nicole didn’t bother to introduce the other women. Instead, she asked, “Are you seeing Walt Chambers? I thought you and Alex were exclusive.”

  “Walt and I are discussing business.” Not that it was any of Nicole’s business.

  “Ah, your parents’ divorce. How are you handling that?”

  This conversation—even if Nicole were a friend, which she wasn’t—wasn’t one Holly would ever have at a restaurant in front of strangers. “It won’t affect business.”

  “Wow. You need to stop obsessing about work.” Nicole smiled at her friends. A smile that added, Can you believe this?

  “When it’s something you enjoy, it hardly seems like an obsession.”

  “Is that why you give your clients such…personal…attention?” Nicole again glanced at the other women. “Aren’t your husbands her clients?”

  She turned back to Holly. “Do they get the same kind of ‘handling’ you give Tim?”

  Bitch.

  Even Nicole’s friends looked startled. The brunette Holly sort of recognized gave her an appraising look.

  Damn if she’d let Nicole run off business she’d worked so hard to bring in.

  “My clients respect my business ability.” Holly walked away with her head held high, but the restroom mirror confirmed a deep blush colored her cheeks.

  When she returned to the table, Walt asked, “What was that about?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. Nicole seems to like rubbing my nose in the fact that I’m not married or part of the pampered crowd.”

  Walt gave Nicole an assessing inspection. “She’ll be singing a different tune when she gets served.”

  “Served with what? Wait, you mean divorce, er, dissolution papers?” Holly’s mouth dropped open. She turned and stared at Nicole before remembering she should be discreet. “Tim’s divorcing her? Are you allowed to tell me that?”

  “Tim isn’t my client.” Walt shrugged. “Another attorney delivered the papers to the service at the same time I dropped off a notice. I don’t know if he’s served them yet.”

  “If he has, Nicole has balls of steel. So does Tim, for that matter.” She glanced at the women’s table and found Nicole watching intently, as if trying to figure out what they were discussing. “They were doing their lovebird routine at Marcy’s wake.”

  Walt shrugged. “Appearance and reality. Did you know your parents were having problems?”

  She raised her hand, palm up. “I live in Seattle. Other than holidays, we talked on the phone.”

  Walt shot another glance at Nicole. “She’s either taking it incredibly well or else she hasn’t been served.”

  Holly picked at her calzone. “What if Tim changed his mind? Decided not to divorce her?”

  “It happens. Counseling, whatever. People work things out. Sometimes it’s more convenient to stay together.”

  She peeked at Nicole, rather disconcerted to find Nicole was still watching them.

  What if Tim had decided to stay with Nicole because of the pregnancy?

  But if he did, where had that left Marcy and her baby?

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Tracey handed Holly a stack of pink message slips when she returned from lunch. “You had a visitor.”

  Still wondering about Tim and Nicole, Holly flipped through the slips of paper. “And?”

  “He was…intense.”

  She shifted her attention to Tracey. “Client?”

  “No. He wouldn’t leave his name, just said he’d be in touch.”

  “He didn’t say what it was about? What did he look like?”

  Tracey shuddered. “I’d say tall, dark, and handsome, but there was something about him that made me nervous.”

  Holly lowered her hand, her fingers tightening around the message slips. She ran the Rolodex in her head. What scary guy did she know that Tracey didn’t? Creepy Security Guy? Frank? Lee Alders? “If he shows up again, call the police.”

  Tracey blinked. “The police?”

  Closing her eyes, Holly shook her head. “Okay, that sounded nuts. Or paranoid. Use your judgment. You read people well.”

  Still clutching the messages, she wandered down the hall to her office. A messy stack of papers sat in the center of her desk. The attached message, written on Stevens Ventures letterhead, read, “I found these papers when I cleaned out Marcy’s desk. I didn’t know what to do with them.”

  Holly gave the pile a disgruntled glare. What exactly was Tim paying this woman to do? Make her life miserable?

  After tucking her purse—a vintage Gucci—into her desk, Holly went through the stack of papers, sorting them into company piles. Several documents concerned the four new L
LCs, and others connected to yet another new company.

  Why all the new companies?

  She placed the operating company information aside for Sammy. Staring at the unknown entities, she tapped her nails against her desktop. She had some time before the meeting with Bruce Fairchild—assuming her mother showed up. Yesterday’s vague, “I got a phone call” didn’t begin to explain why her mother had ducked the Zhang meeting.

  Holly crossed the atrium to Stevens Ventures. An attractive brunette, the woman she’d last seen cozying up to Phoua and the Shrimp, sat at the reception desk filing her nails. A new, triangular brass nameplate sat on the desk. It said, “Kaylin.”

  “May I help you?” Kaylin asked.

  Holly introduced herself. “I have a few questions, if you have a minute.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” The woman dropped the nail file in the drawer. “I found another stack of financial stuff. Do you want to take it with you, or should I drop it off?”

  Was she serious? “Usually the documents are more organized,” Holly hinted.

  Kaylin held up crossed index fingers, as though warding off a fate worse than death. “Tim hired me for property management. He mentioned some bookkeeping, but I made sure he only meant records related to the actual property.” She waved a manicured hand. “Rents, regime fees, the usual. I don’t mind helping out. I mean, see? I’ll sit up here when Brea goes to lunch, but I don’t do bookkeeping.”

  “I’m confused.” Holly propped a hand on her hip and wrinkled her brow. “Tim told me he’d hired someone to fill Marcy’s position.”

  “Marcy? Was she the woman who died?” Kaylin quirked her mouth to the side. “Poor thing. Men sure used her.”

  “Used? You mean, took advantage?” Men? Or did Kaylin mean Tim specifically? “I don’t understand.”

  Kaylin leaned forward. Her voice dropped to a confidential level. “Tim dumped some project management responsibility on her for the retrofit in Yakima. I hate to say bad things about someone who died, but it’s clear she didn’t know what she was doing.”