“Right away.”
“And I want to see Marty Tribble now. This marketing scheme is for old ladies, for chrissake. I’m not trying to market the Bible Belt.”
“Will do.”
“And tell Hillary it’s going to be a long night. These skirt patterns are all wrong and we’re going to be here until we get them right.”
“Got it.”
“And send Sandy up in about an hour. I have an idea for a new product line.”
“Sandy. One hour.”
“And tell accounting I want to see a tabulation of all transactions that took place during my absence. Something is wrong with my figures.”
“Right. Anything else, Laura?”
“I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”
“A cup of coffee it is.” Estelle turned to leave and then stopped. “Laura?”
“Yes?”
“It’s nice to have you back.”
“Thanks, Estelle.”
Estelle left. Laura looked at her desk and shook her head. What a mess. She scanned the piles, wondering what she should tackle next. Distribution was screwed up. The winter fashions were in disarray, and they had to be finished up in the next couple of days.
Laura sat back. Had coming back to work been a good idea? She was not sure. Yes, it was a welcome distraction. It kept her mind occupied. But everything felt a little out of place to her, as though she were returning to her hometown after a long absence—familiar and yet foreign. If work was therapeutic, it would be a long, slow healing. Her hands still shook. Her heart still felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. But as Serita had told her, she would take one step at a time.
The phone buzzed.
“What is it, Estelle?”
“Visitor for you. A Mr. Stan Baskin.”
“Send him in.”
Estelle opened her door and ushered Stan in. He greeted Laura with a warm smile. “Good morning, kid. Nice to see you back at work.”
“This is a pleasant surprise, Stan. Sit down.”
“Are you sure I’m not interrupting?”
“Actually you are. But you are a most welcome interruption. I needed a break anyway.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” Laura noticed that his right hand was all bandaged. “What happened to your hand?”
“Oh, this? I slammed a car door on it. I’ve always been the klutz of the family.”
“It looks painful. Can I get you something?”
“No, it’s fine. Really.”
Laura stood from behind her desk and moved toward the chair next to Stan. “Why weren’t you at the lawyer’s office yesterday?”
Stan hesitated. “I appreciate your invitation, but it wasn’t my place.”
“You were his brother.”
“That might be true,” Stan allowed, “but I wouldn’t have felt right going. It was supposed to be for those David loved and cared for. I . . . I don’t fit into that category.”
“That’s not so,” Laura insisted. “Whatever happened between you two does not erase the fact that you’re his brother. Think of the childhood you shared with him. Nothing can take that away. You belonged there, Stan. You’re entitled to some of his estate.”
Stan slowly shook his head. “I threw that all away, Laura. I don’t want anything from David, except some- thing he can never give me: his forgiveness.”
“If he were alive, I know he’d forgive you.”
“I’m not so sure.” He paused. “Listen, Laura, I know you’re busy, so let me tell you what I came here for. I wanted to know if you’d have dinner with me tomorrow as a sort of bon voyage.”
“Bon voyage?”
He nodded. “I’m heading back to Michigan the next morning.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked. Over the past month, she had gotten used to having Stan around. He was part of the family now, David’s sole blood relative. She relied on him. “Why? I thought you liked Boston.”
“I do. I love it. But the mall deal fell through. I can’t raise the capital. And . . . I don’t know. . . . I feel like I don’t belong here—like I’m intruding on David’s family.”
“You’re not intruding.”
“Be that as it may, will you join me tomorrow night?”
Laura leaned back. She clasped her hands together and leaned them against the bridge of her nose. “Would you do me a favor, Stan?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t know if you know this or not, but David did not have a legal will. The letter of the law leaves his entire estate to me. I want you to have some of it.”
“Laura, I can’t.”
“I want you to build your mall with the basketball theme. How much do you think you need to get started?”
“Forget it.”
“Why?”
“I already told you. I don’t deserve anything of David’s.”
“Then do it for me. I need some new outlets for Svengali in this area. Your mall will be perfect.”
Stan shook his head, but Laura did not stop. “You can name it after David, Stan. Think of it as a memorial to your love for him, a way of showing the world what he meant to you. Would a million dollars get the ball rolling?” Even as she said it, Laura felt a pang of discomfort. David’s words came floating back to her: “We don’t get along....” But she ignored the voice.
“Look, Laura, I don’t feel right about this. . . .”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll have my attorney write you out a check tomorrow afternoon. One million dollars of your brother’s money will be yours. Agreed?”
He chuckled lightly. “Laura, have you ever been called stubborn?”
“Frequently. Agreed?”
Stan shrugged. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes,” Laura urged, while her mind churned in confusion. Was she doing the right thing? “Say you’ll cancel your flight back to Michigan. Say that you’ll get cracking on this mall idea. Say that you still want to be part of this family.”
“Of course I still want to be part of this family.”
“Then say yes.”
Stan lowered his eyes and then slowly raised them toward Laura. “You won’t regret this, Laura.”
Laura smiled uneasily. Wouldn’t regret this? She thought that maybe she already did.
CLIP Arnstein put out his cigar. He glanced across the table at his two star players. Earl was in his late twenties and just at the pinnacle of his career. He had led the league in scoring twice and rebounding once. He was also a consummate shot blocker. But he had scored a lot of those points off great passes from David. He had been able to get open for many of those points because teams had often concentrated on trying to contain White Lightning.
“And I want to see Marty Tribble now. This marketing scheme is for old ladies, for chrissake. I’m not trying to market the Bible Belt.”
“Will do.”
“And tell Hillary it’s going to be a long night. These skirt patterns are all wrong and we’re going to be here until we get them right.”
“Got it.”
“And send Sandy up in about an hour. I have an idea for a new product line.”
“Sandy. One hour.”
“And tell accounting I want to see a tabulation of all transactions that took place during my absence. Something is wrong with my figures.”
“Right. Anything else, Laura?”
“I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”
“A cup of coffee it is.” Estelle turned to leave and then stopped. “Laura?”
“Yes?”
“It’s nice to have you back.”
“Thanks, Estelle.”
Estelle left. Laura looked at her desk and shook her head. What a mess. She scanned the piles, wondering what she should tackle next. Distribution was screwed up. The winter fashions were in disarray, and they had to be finished up in the next couple of days.
Laura sat back. Had coming back to work been a good idea? She was not sure. Yes, it was a welcome distraction. It kept her mind occupied. But everything felt a little out of place to her, as though she were returning to her hometown after a long absence—familiar and yet foreign. If work was therapeutic, it would be a long, slow healing. Her hands still shook. Her heart still felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. But as Serita had told her, she would take one step at a time.
The phone buzzed.
“What is it, Estelle?”
“Visitor for you. A Mr. Stan Baskin.”
“Send him in.”
Estelle opened her door and ushered Stan in. He greeted Laura with a warm smile. “Good morning, kid. Nice to see you back at work.”
“This is a pleasant surprise, Stan. Sit down.”
“Are you sure I’m not interrupting?”
“Actually you are. But you are a most welcome interruption. I needed a break anyway.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” Laura noticed that his right hand was all bandaged. “What happened to your hand?”
“Oh, this? I slammed a car door on it. I’ve always been the klutz of the family.”
“It looks painful. Can I get you something?”
“No, it’s fine. Really.”
Laura stood from behind her desk and moved toward the chair next to Stan. “Why weren’t you at the lawyer’s office yesterday?”
Stan hesitated. “I appreciate your invitation, but it wasn’t my place.”
“You were his brother.”
“That might be true,” Stan allowed, “but I wouldn’t have felt right going. It was supposed to be for those David loved and cared for. I . . . I don’t fit into that category.”
“That’s not so,” Laura insisted. “Whatever happened between you two does not erase the fact that you’re his brother. Think of the childhood you shared with him. Nothing can take that away. You belonged there, Stan. You’re entitled to some of his estate.”
Stan slowly shook his head. “I threw that all away, Laura. I don’t want anything from David, except some- thing he can never give me: his forgiveness.”
“If he were alive, I know he’d forgive you.”
“I’m not so sure.” He paused. “Listen, Laura, I know you’re busy, so let me tell you what I came here for. I wanted to know if you’d have dinner with me tomorrow as a sort of bon voyage.”
“Bon voyage?”
He nodded. “I’m heading back to Michigan the next morning.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked. Over the past month, she had gotten used to having Stan around. He was part of the family now, David’s sole blood relative. She relied on him. “Why? I thought you liked Boston.”
“I do. I love it. But the mall deal fell through. I can’t raise the capital. And . . . I don’t know. . . . I feel like I don’t belong here—like I’m intruding on David’s family.”
“You’re not intruding.”
“Be that as it may, will you join me tomorrow night?”
Laura leaned back. She clasped her hands together and leaned them against the bridge of her nose. “Would you do me a favor, Stan?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t know if you know this or not, but David did not have a legal will. The letter of the law leaves his entire estate to me. I want you to have some of it.”
“Laura, I can’t.”
“I want you to build your mall with the basketball theme. How much do you think you need to get started?”
“Forget it.”
“Why?”
“I already told you. I don’t deserve anything of David’s.”
“Then do it for me. I need some new outlets for Svengali in this area. Your mall will be perfect.”
Stan shook his head, but Laura did not stop. “You can name it after David, Stan. Think of it as a memorial to your love for him, a way of showing the world what he meant to you. Would a million dollars get the ball rolling?” Even as she said it, Laura felt a pang of discomfort. David’s words came floating back to her: “We don’t get along....” But she ignored the voice.
“Look, Laura, I don’t feel right about this. . . .”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll have my attorney write you out a check tomorrow afternoon. One million dollars of your brother’s money will be yours. Agreed?”
He chuckled lightly. “Laura, have you ever been called stubborn?”
“Frequently. Agreed?”
Stan shrugged. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes,” Laura urged, while her mind churned in confusion. Was she doing the right thing? “Say you’ll cancel your flight back to Michigan. Say that you’ll get cracking on this mall idea. Say that you still want to be part of this family.”
“Of course I still want to be part of this family.”
“Then say yes.”
Stan lowered his eyes and then slowly raised them toward Laura. “You won’t regret this, Laura.”
Laura smiled uneasily. Wouldn’t regret this? She thought that maybe she already did.
CLIP Arnstein put out his cigar. He glanced across the table at his two star players. Earl was in his late twenties and just at the pinnacle of his career. He had led the league in scoring twice and rebounding once. He was also a consummate shot blocker. But he had scored a lot of those points off great passes from David. He had been able to get open for many of those points because teams had often concentrated on trying to contain White Lightning.
