off and the rest of the attacking squad shot their sticks up. “It’s in!”
Jared gleefully looked around. “Goal, coach! Goal!”
“It’s a goal!” Hauck confirmed, signaling with a point toward the ice that it was in.
The members of the power play all skated over, smirking at the goalie, patting Jared on the helmet. Even Purdo came up and tapped his stick against Jared’s pads. “Sweet one, dude!”
Jared made his way along the boards to where Annie was seated, bundled in a knit cap and muffler. “I scored a goal, Mom!”
“I saw! I saw! Yes, you did, babe.”
Hauck skated over. He affectionately patted Jared on the back. “So whaddaya think, you ready to take a regular shift?”
“I don’t know, Ty. Maybe it was a little lucky.” He had a smile as wide as the Long Island Sound.
And so did Annie, beaming, except there was a hint of tears in it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I n the stylish dining room of her Normandy on Dublin Hill Road, Merrill Simons sat around the dinner table with her guests.
On her left was Ralph Tamerin, founding partner of Tamerin Capital, a large hedge fund in town, and his wife, Kitty; Tom Erkin, a wealthy investor in biotechs; Ace Klein, the flamboyant president of U-Direct! who had his own cable show; and George and Sally Ravinowich, wealthy investors whose famous yacht was one of the largest schooners in the world.
Dani was holding court as well.
Merrill had assembled the evening for him; he was hoping to stir up a little interest for the buyout of an auto-parts company in the Baltic he was trying to put together. She watched how he worked the table. Charming and worldly, he created confidence by painting a picture of prior deals he had done over there, along with their dazzling returns.
Deals, Merrill was now realizing, she had never quite seen.
She’d decided not to confront him with any of her suspicions just yet. She’d asked about certain things, and for each question Dani always had a glib reply. She decided to wait until something firm from Talon came back.
And for now, everyone seemed suitably dazzled. Except for George, who was even more dazzled by the Del Dotto cabernet.
“Merrill, this is first-rate juice,” he said, tipping over the third empty bottle. Dani had made sure the wine steadily flowed.
“I bet there’s another one or two down there,” Merrill replied. Wine was always Peter’s thing, not hers, and his cellar, from which they used to entertain a who’s who of industry, was one of the perks of the divorce. She smiled impishly at Sally and Kitty. “I’m sure Peter wouldn’t mind.”
Normally, she would have asked Louis, who handled things like that, to bring it up, but he was overseeing the desserts in the kitchen, so she headed out of the dining room to the door leading down to the basement.
On the way she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She knew she looked good for forty-four. She’d had a little work done, like most of her friends. Eyes smoothed, tummy tucked, a little Botox, of course. But she still looked perfectly natural. She worked out regularly and had her own private yoga instructor. She smoothed out her ruffled, white off-the-shoulder blouse and headed down.
One thing you could definitely say was that Merrill Simons knew how to entertain.
In the basement, she passed through the gym, the yoga studio, the private surround-sound theater with fifteen seats. The accumulated toys of her twenty-two years with Peter. While he was growing in the firm, they were able to share each other’s rise into means and importance. They were invited to lavish parties, traveled to exotic places. Had the kids in prestigious schools. They had science wings and squash centers named after them.
But once Peter reached the top, everything seemed to change. He grew to think he was the most important man in the universe, and the people he surrounded himself with usually verified that fancy. He no longer seemed to recall that she knew him as an
Jared gleefully looked around. “Goal, coach! Goal!”
“It’s a goal!” Hauck confirmed, signaling with a point toward the ice that it was in.
The members of the power play all skated over, smirking at the goalie, patting Jared on the helmet. Even Purdo came up and tapped his stick against Jared’s pads. “Sweet one, dude!”
Jared made his way along the boards to where Annie was seated, bundled in a knit cap and muffler. “I scored a goal, Mom!”
“I saw! I saw! Yes, you did, babe.”
Hauck skated over. He affectionately patted Jared on the back. “So whaddaya think, you ready to take a regular shift?”
“I don’t know, Ty. Maybe it was a little lucky.” He had a smile as wide as the Long Island Sound.
And so did Annie, beaming, except there was a hint of tears in it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I n the stylish dining room of her Normandy on Dublin Hill Road, Merrill Simons sat around the dinner table with her guests.
On her left was Ralph Tamerin, founding partner of Tamerin Capital, a large hedge fund in town, and his wife, Kitty; Tom Erkin, a wealthy investor in biotechs; Ace Klein, the flamboyant president of U-Direct! who had his own cable show; and George and Sally Ravinowich, wealthy investors whose famous yacht was one of the largest schooners in the world.
Dani was holding court as well.
Merrill had assembled the evening for him; he was hoping to stir up a little interest for the buyout of an auto-parts company in the Baltic he was trying to put together. She watched how he worked the table. Charming and worldly, he created confidence by painting a picture of prior deals he had done over there, along with their dazzling returns.
Deals, Merrill was now realizing, she had never quite seen.
She’d decided not to confront him with any of her suspicions just yet. She’d asked about certain things, and for each question Dani always had a glib reply. She decided to wait until something firm from Talon came back.
And for now, everyone seemed suitably dazzled. Except for George, who was even more dazzled by the Del Dotto cabernet.
“Merrill, this is first-rate juice,” he said, tipping over the third empty bottle. Dani had made sure the wine steadily flowed.
“I bet there’s another one or two down there,” Merrill replied. Wine was always Peter’s thing, not hers, and his cellar, from which they used to entertain a who’s who of industry, was one of the perks of the divorce. She smiled impishly at Sally and Kitty. “I’m sure Peter wouldn’t mind.”
Normally, she would have asked Louis, who handled things like that, to bring it up, but he was overseeing the desserts in the kitchen, so she headed out of the dining room to the door leading down to the basement.
On the way she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She knew she looked good for forty-four. She’d had a little work done, like most of her friends. Eyes smoothed, tummy tucked, a little Botox, of course. But she still looked perfectly natural. She worked out regularly and had her own private yoga instructor. She smoothed out her ruffled, white off-the-shoulder blouse and headed down.
One thing you could definitely say was that Merrill Simons knew how to entertain.
In the basement, she passed through the gym, the yoga studio, the private surround-sound theater with fifteen seats. The accumulated toys of her twenty-two years with Peter. While he was growing in the firm, they were able to share each other’s rise into means and importance. They were invited to lavish parties, traveled to exotic places. Had the kids in prestigious schools. They had science wings and squash centers named after them.
But once Peter reached the top, everything seemed to change. He grew to think he was the most important man in the universe, and the people he surrounded himself with usually verified that fancy. He no longer seemed to recall that she knew him as an
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