Perhaps it was because he was finally moving forward. Regardless of how it would end, the process had begun.
Im gonna knock your fuckin ass to kingdom come if you dont put that shit down! /Now!/ Bennett stopped and spun around in his tracks at the sound of the shrill female voice. The object of her scorn was a child no more than five, who was clutching some kind of action figure in his hand, eyes wide from the harsh scolding.
Put it down, you moron! Didnt you hear what I said?
Bennetts heart cracked. He couldnt help but recall Margot at that age, all golden perfection and smiles, one hundred percent human potential.
In essence, no different from the little snotty fellow whose own mother just called a moron.
The woman caught him staring.
Take a picture, why dont you?
A pitiful wail rose from an infant car seat perched precariously on the handle of the womans shopping cart.
Bennett continued to stare at the trio.
Look, asshole, dont fuck with me. Im not exactly having the best day of my life.
We all have bad days, Bennett said softly. But we should do everything in our power not to take it out on the children.
The woman was so offended she nearly spat. She rested a fist upon a roll of flesh that may have once been her hip, then gave him a fierce once-over, from his four-thousand-dollar custom-made lambs wool sport coat to his Gucci moccasins.
What the fuck do you know about bad days?
This was exactly why Bennett had come to Wal-Marthe wanted to tone down his look. He wanted to be just another person on the road, sitting in a rundown Buick, going somewhere or nowhere with his sodas and his sandwiches and his USA baseball cap, not registering in anyones memory for any reason, whatsoever.
Pardon me for intruding on what is clearly a private matter, Bennett said. Its just that I recently lost my daughter. Its been difficult.
The mother, who was hardly more than a child herself, gave her neck a few back-and-forth rotations, then huffed. She die or something?
Yes.
She get the cancer?
She died from injuries sustained in a motorcycle accident.
The woman ran a hand through her rather greasy-looking light brown hair and nodded. My kids daddy has a bike. Hes gonna kill himself one day, I keep telling him.
Bennett nodded. He noticed that the little boy had put down the action figure and cautiously moved closer. Hello, young man, Bennett said.
Whazzup? the youngster said.
His mother thought her sons disrespect was hilarious. When her laughter subsided, she looked at Bennett thoughtfully, then said, Well, mind your own business, is all Im saying.
He had no idea what possessed him, but he reached in his wallet and pulled out a crisp hundred. Buy your son the toy, he said.
She frowned. You some kind of sick fuck or something?
Bennett had to laugh, because, technically, the answer to that exceedingly vulgar question was a resounding /yes/. He was on his way to commit premeditated homicide, after all. But he meant the child no harm.
Here. He handed her the money.
The young woman squinted at him. Are you shitting me? She took it in her hand, turned it over, examined the bill for signs of forgery. By this time, her baby was flat-out screaming.
Have a good day, Bennett said, steering his cart in the opposite direction and walking away. He heard the little boy ask if he could hold the money.
Bennett moseyed into the grocery area and picked up some peanut butter and a six-pack of single-serving mixed fruit. He got some bottled water, some root beer, a loaf of whole-wheat bread, and some sliced turkey breast. He paid for his purchases with cash, then went into the mens room where he put on his new ensemble, including the ball cap. He stuffed his expensive clothing into a trashcan overflowing with damp paper towels.
His destiny called.
I wasnt expecting you, Gwen.
Regardless, the executive director of his charitable foundation was now standing in the middle of Ricks office, so he motioned for her to take the seat recently occupied by Teeny.
Timothy, a pleasure to see you as always, she said.
Miss Anders. Teeny acknowledged Gwen with a nod, then shot Rick a sharp look. Talk to you later, he said, walking out and closing the door behind him.
I had no choice but to barge in on you, Rick. Youve been avoiding me.
Gwen made herself comfortable in the leather-and-steel side chair, crossing her legs for maximum effect. Gwen was dressed, as usual, in a flawless custom-tailored pastel-colored suit, three-inch-high pointy-toed pumps that fell somewhere between basic business and overtly sexy. Shed worn her hair down, however, which was unusual for her, as she usually pulled it back in a bun or put it up in some kind of twist at the nape of her neck. Rick wondered if Gwen had something special planned for this particular visit.
I havent been avoiding you, Gwen. Rick returned to his desk chair. Ive been a little preoccupied lately.
Havent we all? Gwen gave him a tolerant smile. Then she reached into the portfolio case at her feet and pulled out an ultrathin laptop. She placed it on the surface of her tight skirt, opened it, clicked a single key, and spun it around to face him. On the screen was a colorful bar graph with a pronounced downward slope.
The Meadowbrook Foundation has lost eleven percent of its net worth in the last six months, due to the volatility of the market. Ive desperately needed your direction these past three weeks but youve ignored all my calls, e-mails, and text messages. So, Im here today to inform you that in the last thirty days alone, youve lost seven million dollars. In all good conscience, I should probably tender my resignation.
Rick shook his head slowly. Spare me the histrionics, Gwen. You know youve done nothing wrong.
Rick sighed. When his father died, he became the sole beneficiary of an estate so huge that seven million seemed like loose change. At first, all Rick could do was stare at the stack of papers his fathers legal team had delivered, baffled by the gibberish. He was still in severe pain and going to outpatient physical therapy five days a week. He had no idea what to do with all the money. In fact, he hadnt decided what to do with his life, or even if he deserved to have one.
The size of his fathers estateand the responsibility it entailedwas mind-boggling. It took Rick a few months, but he eventually decided to sever all ties with his past. His parents were gone and he had no brothers or sisters, so there was no reason to stay in Rhode Island. He sold the importing business to his fathers lifelong competitor. He cashed out his fathers investments, stashing most of it away in offshore accounts. And he began the long process of healingbody, mind, and spirit.
Even before his move out west, Rick took fifty million off the top to establish his foundation. He named it for the country road where he wrecked his bike and his life. One of his fathers attorneys recommended Gwen Anders to run it and Rick heartily agreed. She was brilliant, impeccably honest, and willing to do whatever was necessary to keep his name out of the public domain. His only interest was in helping people with traumatic head injuries receive the care they needed. He did it to ransom his spirit. He did it in Margots honor, because it was the only thing hed ever be able to do for her.
Well? Gwen waited patiently as Rick studied the graph. Then he met her gaze.
We start from here and do the best we can, he said. Its only money.
Gwen laughed, tossing her hair back as she did so. Interestingly, when hed hired her six years before, Rick barely noticed her beauty. It was as if hed cut himself off so thoroughly from the world of women that her stunning looks didnt register. Of course, his respect for her business acumen had grown over the years, and hed long ago privately acknowledged that she was extraordinarily good-looking.