Page 27

Chapter Twenty-Three

C laire stepped off the plane and walked down the corridor into a cacophony of noise, scents, and people.

Her body was trembling. Unlike escaping from Keith and arriving in Florida by bus with no money weeks ago, her return to New York was first-class all the way.

KnightGuard Security had made the reservations for her.

The irony of her original escape from New York was not lost on her.

Claire had protested the expense, but Sam said it was the least she could do.

Besides, she didn’t have access to Keith’s money.

Even in death, memories of Keith made her shudder.

The police were not looking at her as a suspect anymore since she had an alibi for the days he might have been killed.

No one knew who the woman was. However, Claire had been summoned to New York by Keith’s lawyer to discuss Keith’s will.

Claire didn’t care one way or the other about his will or any of his possessions.

However, the lawyer told her she had decisions to make.

She’d booked a room at The Plaza. There was no way in hell she was going to stay at the penthouse that had been her personal house of horrors for four years. She only had her carry-on. She wasn’t planning on staying in New York any longer than she had to.

“Claire. Claire.” She looked over and saw Sheri waving frantically at her. A friend. It was good to see her. Sheri ran over, grabbed her bag and hugged her.

“It’s so good to see you,” Sheri exclaimed. She looked Claire up and down. “You’ve gained weight and look happier.” Sheri nodded to herself.

“Yes. Florida’s been good to me,” Claire said. “I’m so happy you got the time off to stay overnight with me.”

“Me too. So, when do you meet the lawyer?”

“Tomorrow at nine. Then the day after next, I’ll head to my parents’ house.” She sighed.

Sheri looked at her sympathetically. “You never told them what was going on, did you?”

Claire shook her head. That would be the most challenging part of her visit.

She’d called them not long after she arrived in Florida to tell them she was okay.

They had filled her in on what Keith had told them and said they didn’t believe him.

But now she had to confess to them what had really happened.

She hoped they wouldn’t be too disappointed in her.

They walked out into a frenzied scene of people milling around, whistling for cabs, laughing and hugging family and friends who greeted them.

“Come on. Let’s catch a cab,” Claire said. The next cab in line whizzed up, and they were off.

New York City never ceased to amaze Claire.

On the ride over, she and Sheri caught up on their lives.

Finally, they were in Manhattan by Fifth Avenue and Central Park South.

The Plaza. They got out of the cab and stared up at the iconic French Renaissance architecture.

The elite shops surrounding The Plaza were busy, and the sidewalks were packed with tourists taking pictures or piling into horse-drawn carriages for tours of Central Park.

She stared at the several flags surrounding the top of the hotel.

They were waving in the gentle breeze, but she only recognized the stars and stripes and wondered which countries the flags represented.

They walked over the checkerboard sidewalk and up the short flight of stairs to the heavy revolving gold glass doors, where a bellhop tried to take their bags.

They stopped in the lobby, admiring the crystal chandeliers, the gigantic fresh flower arrangements, the ornate white and gold mirrors and decorative moldings on the wall.

They kept walking toward the lobby and the wood-paneled front desk.

After checking in and getting the room key, they stepped into the elevator that would take them to their room.

They passed the floor to the ballroom, where Keith had wanted their wedding reception.

He’d been disappointed because Claire’s father insisted on a less expensive venue.

Keith never let her forget that. However, she had fond memories of participating in a high tea with her mother in the Palm Court while a trio of musicians played and also visiting the decorated hotel during holidays.

She’d always wanted to stay overnight here, see if the rest of the hotel was as opulent as they claimed.

The law firm was thankfully paying the bill because she didn’t have any extra money.

They got up to their floor, and Sheri stopped short when they opened the door to the deluxe king room.

Then she lost it. Squealing, she ran into the room, tried out the lounge chair, jumped on the bed, and exclaimed over the gold fixtures in the bathroom.

Claire smiled. It was nice to see her friend so happy, and she got caught up in Sheri’s enthusiasm.

“If you like the room, you’ll be happy to know we have carte blanche at the restaurant downstairs.”

“Oh my God, this is beautiful,” exclaimed Sheri .

Claire had to agree. The Plaza knew how to do class well.

“Come on, let’s change and walk around the city.”

It was a comfortable fall evening, and they explored the shops around Fifth Avenue, took a carriage ride through Central Park, then headed back to the hotel for dinner.

They had coffee and dessert in the room and talked for a while. It was a pleasant evening, but Claire couldn’t help wondering what the next day would bring.

Fitzgerald, Hopkins, and Fine was located several blocks from The Plaza.

Sheri was going window-shopping at The Plaza’s mall while Claire met with the lawyers.

She decided the walk to their offices would calm her down and it would be fun to window-shop on the way down.

Maybe she’d stop at MoMa on the way back.

It had been years since she’d enjoyed The Museum of Modern Art.

Arriving at the glass-front, granite building, she took the elevator to the twentieth floor and got off.

She stood in front of two hefty frosted glass doors.

Her heart was beating so loudly, she thought they would hear her before they saw her.

She had met Carl Fitzgerald once at a dinner.

He seemed congenial at the time, but he was Keith’s lawyer. Enough said.

Opening the doors, she faced an impressive front desk.

Two petite black-haired women were handling the phones and reception.

One looked up, and Claire introduced herself.

The receptionist told her the lawyer was waiting for her and walked her back into a large, wood-paneled conference room.

A long, glossy, black table held court in the middle of the room, surrounded by a dozen chairs.

Carl got up to greet her when she arrived.

She shook her head when asked if she wanted coffee, then the receptionist left.

“First, let me say, I’m sorry to hear about Keith. He was a good client.”

She nodded. She wasn’t sorry and wasn’t going to lie.

“He left clear instructions about what he wanted in his will.” Carl picked up the will and flipped through a few pages.

“Okay, the bad news is that his partners will be buying his portion of the company. I’m sorry.”

“Why? That isn’t a problem for me.”

“Well, it’s less money for you.” Less money?

“The good news is that Keith left everything to you.”

“To me?” she squeaked. “I thought he was leaving everything to his father.”

Carl shook his head. “He was, but he never got around to changing his will, so here we are.”

He went down the list of everything Keith owned.

Much of it was a surprise to Claire. She knew he owned the penthouse but had no idea he owned several investment apartment buildings, owned the vacation condominium at the Art Deco hotel, had a huge savings account and quite a few stocks and bonds.

Not that he ever confided in her or let her handle any of their finances.

She sat there for a few minutes, processing everything he said.

“I have a good investment banker who can help you manage this. I can give him a call later. You’ll be wealthy for the rest of your life.”

Claire rubbed her brow. It would be more money than she ever had.

Keith wouldn’t be able to tell her how to spend it, but did she want his money?

She hadn’t married him for his money. The other side of the coin was that she was broke.

Had no immediate prospect for making money and was living at Joe’s house. She looked at her hands, then at Carl.

“Sell it all.”

Carl blinked hard and stammered. “Sell it all? ”

He looked down at the figures, then up at her. “Claire, take a day. Think about this. You’ll be set for life. Either way you’ll be set for life, but investments pay way more money.”

“I don’t need to think about it. I don’t want anything of Keith’s. Not his buildings, not his penthouse, not his money, not the stocks and bonds, and not the jewelry or clothes he gave me. Sell it all and let me know how much you get. I’ll need some to live on, but that’s all I want.”

“Are you sure? It might take some time. I’m not sure what the market is like. If we wait, you might get more.”

Claire sat back in her chair. More money? Money never made anyone happy. She wasn’t happy. But she knew what to do with what she received to make up for all of Keith’s transgressions.