Fortune Is a Woman - Elizabeth Adler [177]
“Oh God, Francie, I’m sorry.” He sat beside her on the bed staring anxiously at her. “I had it copied from the photograph you keep in the bedroom. Annie has the same photograph and she lent it to me. I thought the artist had caught his expression so beautifully, I really thought it would please you. Oh God, Francie, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She shook her head, her eyes still brimming. “It is Ollie, and that’s why I’m crying. It’s just the most wonderful, wonderful present.”
Somehow the time didn’t seem right to speak of the new baby and the next morning she watched sadly as Buck hurried back to San Francisco. She knew he was staying at Aysgarth’s as usual and she waved good-bye to him again, envying Annie who was free to speak to him and even dine publicly with him without causing a scandal. The ranch felt lonely and impulsively she decided to return to San Francisco too.
Harry Harrison saw her car pull up outside her house later that day. He was just leaving and he stood at the bottom of his steps watching as she strode quickly indoors without glancing his way. She wore a simple jacket and skirt and she drove an unpretentious Ford, but she had the easy confident air of a woman rich in her own right, which, goddamn it, she was.
He fumed silently about her as he walked to the Pacific Union Club, thinking about the Lai Tsin Corporation and how, thanks to the Mandarin’s astute business brain, it had only been mildly affected by the stock-market crash while he himself had damn near gone under. He supposed by most standards he was still considered “rich,” but not by his own. Thanks to decent management—again not his own—the Harrison Mercantile Bank had survived, but he was no longer chairman of the board and had little say about its day-to-day affairs and he certainly couldn’t touch its assets; but his commodities brokerage business had taken an irreversible beating and his investments had disappeared like melting snow.
He had what was left of his trust fund and his remaining blue-chip stocks but his major investment, the phosphate mines in South America, were not coming through as promised. Still, he was certain they would soon, if only he could hang in; one day he would recoup the Harrison fortune and he would be like his grandfather and stash it away in gold bars in the bank vaults where nobody could touch it. Meanwhile, his father must be turning in his grave, seeing Francie flaunting her ill-gotten gains and her illicit relationship with that damned Chinese.
The club was crowded but his restless eyes immediately spotted Buck Wingate in conversation with a couple of prominent San Francisco businessmen and he strolled over and slapped him on the shoulder.
“Afternoon, Buck,” he said genially, nodding a greeting to the other men. “I can see you’re busy right now but I’d like a word with you later, if I may?”
The last person Buck wanted to see was Harry, but his firm still handled his trust and he had no choice. “I’ll be back at Aysgarth’s around five,” he said coldly. “Why don’t you call me then.”
Harry nodded. He’d caught the chill in Buck’s voice and it angered him. As he turned away and ordered himself a bourbon he asked himself what goddamn right Buck Wingate had to be so goddamn superior when he was the client, goddamn it. The Wingates had made a fortune handling the Harrison affairs over the years. Wingate had just better remember that. He sat brooding over his drink thinking that first it was Francie looking so goddamn superior and then Buck, and he asked himself who the hell they thought they were.
Buck was in San Francisco alone and Annie was surprised when later that day she saw Maryanne Wingate walk into the lobby and speak to the desk clerk. She knew she wasn’t expected because when Mrs. Wingate accompanied