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Authors: Mary Higgins Clark
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Enterprises.
He was a low-key chairman and chief executive officer of the company while always totally aware of every detail. He was respected by his associates, but his painful shyness, which came across to many as aloofness, made it impossible for him to form close friendships. Over the years he had joined a few golf clubs and the Racquet and Tennis Club in New York. Never a good athlete, he didn’t much enjoy golf. But then he had realized that a relatively high handicap made it possible for him to compete, and he made himself try to participate in the enthusiasm that his golfing companions shared.
His tennis game was not bad at all now and he was a welcome partner at the Racquet and Tennis Club.
Everything Greg did had one object only, and that was to make Mariah fall in love with him. He often wondered if Jonathan had understood how Greg felt about her. Jonathan had joked that he should find a girl who talked a lot. That thought always made Greg smile. It wasn’t that Mariah was talkative. It was that she was sharp and funny and good company.
And beautiful.
When they were all at Jonathan’s dinners, it was hard for him not to follow her every move. He had loved observing the warmth between her and Jonathan. “Oh, God help us, Betty isn’t here and Dad’s the chef,” she would joke if she saw Jonathan in his chef’s apron. She was always so thoughtful of her mother, and when, in her dementia, Kathleen would pick up the knife instead of the fork and put it in her mouth, Mariah would lean over in an instant and make the substitution.
Greg treasured the evenings when the group would linger over espresso in the living room and he would happen to sit next to Mariah on the couch. Feeling her nearness, watching the expression on her face, looking into the magnificent deep sapphire-blue eyes that were so like Jonathan’s, was both thrilling and heartbreaking for him.
It’s such a damn shame that Kathleen came across those pictures a year and a half ago of Jonathan with Lily, Greg thought. When that happened, Mariah put her foot down and banished Lily from the dinners.
Before that, Lily had always driven back and forth to Mahwah with Charles, and Greg knew that Mariah had thought Lily and Charles were involved with each other. It had been better that way. Jonathan’s relationship with Mariah had suffered once she became aware of Lily, and it hurt both of them.
On Saturday morning, Greg played tennis, then went back to his apartment in the Time Warner Center on Columbus Circle. He had been in it for four years and still was not sure if its ultramodern décor had not been overdone by the interior designer.
It was a thought he dismissed as unimportant.
His avocation was his work, and he had brought home plenty of high-tech material, which he studied for a while before he finally gave up and realized he absolutely had to talk to Mariah.
When she answered the phone, her voice was strained but warm. “Greg, how nice of you to call. You won’t believe what’s going on around here.”
He listened. “You mean someone broke into your neighbors’ house in the past three weeks and cleaned out the jewelry? Do they know when it happened?”
“No, I don’t know whether they can pin the time down,” Mariah said. “And Lloyd Scott—that’s our neighbor—is a criminal defense attorney. He’s going to represent Mother. Greg, I think they’re going to charge her with Dad’s murder.”
“Mariah, let me help. Please. I don’t know how good a lawyer your neighbor is, but your mother needs top-notch representation and maybe you do, too. I’m afraid that it’s pretty common knowledge that you and your father had serious problems.” Then, while his courage lasted, Greg added, “Mariah, I’m coming over at six o’clock. I know you said your mother’s weekend caregiver is very trustworthy. You and I are going out for dinner. Please don’t say no. I want to see you and I’m worried about you.”
When Greg
He was a low-key chairman and chief executive officer of the company while always totally aware of every detail. He was respected by his associates, but his painful shyness, which came across to many as aloofness, made it impossible for him to form close friendships. Over the years he had joined a few golf clubs and the Racquet and Tennis Club in New York. Never a good athlete, he didn’t much enjoy golf. But then he had realized that a relatively high handicap made it possible for him to compete, and he made himself try to participate in the enthusiasm that his golfing companions shared.
His tennis game was not bad at all now and he was a welcome partner at the Racquet and Tennis Club.
Everything Greg did had one object only, and that was to make Mariah fall in love with him. He often wondered if Jonathan had understood how Greg felt about her. Jonathan had joked that he should find a girl who talked a lot. That thought always made Greg smile. It wasn’t that Mariah was talkative. It was that she was sharp and funny and good company.
And beautiful.
When they were all at Jonathan’s dinners, it was hard for him not to follow her every move. He had loved observing the warmth between her and Jonathan. “Oh, God help us, Betty isn’t here and Dad’s the chef,” she would joke if she saw Jonathan in his chef’s apron. She was always so thoughtful of her mother, and when, in her dementia, Kathleen would pick up the knife instead of the fork and put it in her mouth, Mariah would lean over in an instant and make the substitution.
Greg treasured the evenings when the group would linger over espresso in the living room and he would happen to sit next to Mariah on the couch. Feeling her nearness, watching the expression on her face, looking into the magnificent deep sapphire-blue eyes that were so like Jonathan’s, was both thrilling and heartbreaking for him.
It’s such a damn shame that Kathleen came across those pictures a year and a half ago of Jonathan with Lily, Greg thought. When that happened, Mariah put her foot down and banished Lily from the dinners.
Before that, Lily had always driven back and forth to Mahwah with Charles, and Greg knew that Mariah had thought Lily and Charles were involved with each other. It had been better that way. Jonathan’s relationship with Mariah had suffered once she became aware of Lily, and it hurt both of them.
On Saturday morning, Greg played tennis, then went back to his apartment in the Time Warner Center on Columbus Circle. He had been in it for four years and still was not sure if its ultramodern décor had not been overdone by the interior designer.
It was a thought he dismissed as unimportant.
His avocation was his work, and he had brought home plenty of high-tech material, which he studied for a while before he finally gave up and realized he absolutely had to talk to Mariah.
When she answered the phone, her voice was strained but warm. “Greg, how nice of you to call. You won’t believe what’s going on around here.”
He listened. “You mean someone broke into your neighbors’ house in the past three weeks and cleaned out the jewelry? Do they know when it happened?”
“No, I don’t know whether they can pin the time down,” Mariah said. “And Lloyd Scott—that’s our neighbor—is a criminal defense attorney. He’s going to represent Mother. Greg, I think they’re going to charge her with Dad’s murder.”
“Mariah, let me help. Please. I don’t know how good a lawyer your neighbor is, but your mother needs top-notch representation and maybe you do, too. I’m afraid that it’s pretty common knowledge that you and your father had serious problems.” Then, while his courage lasted, Greg added, “Mariah, I’m coming over at six o’clock. I know you said your mother’s weekend caregiver is very trustworthy. You and I are going out for dinner. Please don’t say no. I want to see you and I’m worried about you.”
When Greg
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