5. Sweet Revenge Read online

  “No, thank you. Where is everyone?”

  “We’re here!” Kathryn said, bounding down the steps, closely followed by Alexis. Both women were still in their flannel pajamas. “I’m starved!” she said.

  “Me too,” Alexis said, looking around for some sign of food.

  “Charles had to leave early this morning. We must fend for ourselves. How does fresh fruit and a bagel sound?”

  “Terrible. I was thinking more along the lines of a breakfast of champions,” Kathryn said as she headed for the refrigerator. “Bacon, sausage, pancakes, scrambled eggs. Toast with soft butter and jam. I’ll make it. Alexis, you do the coffee and the toast.”

  “I have good news,” Yoko said.

  The three women turned in her direction. Yoko rarely volunteered anything. They were all eyes and ears.

  “My husband left me!”

  “That’s good news?” Alexis said.

  “I don’t understand,” Myra said. “Are you saying you are happy that your husband…ah…left you?”

  Yoko’s almond-shaped eyes sparkled. “I am delirious with joy over his leaving. Actually, he is gone already. That is why I wasn’t able to be here these past few days.”

  Kathryn slapped bacon onto the griddle. “Did he leave because of us? Because you spend so much time out here at the farm?”

  “No, not at all. He was always glad when I wasn’t around. It was an arranged marriage. My aunts negotiated with my husband’s father. Money changed hands. It is our way. The old way. My husband and I had no say. He was unhappy. I was unhappy. He went to St. Louis where he has friends. He shook my hand when he left. It is so wonderful not to share a bathroom with him. I cleaned and scrubbed for three days. There is no sign now that he ever lived in the house.”

  “I’ll be damned! Why didn’t you ever tell us you weren’t happy?” Kathryn asked.

  “You never asked,” Yoko said smartly. “I am telling you now.”

  “What about the nursery, the flower shop? Do you get to keep it?”

  “Of course. My husband does not like working with manure. He doesn’t like to smell the earth, the scent of the flowers. He said he got sick every time he had to go into the greenhouses. He’s going to be a dancer on the stage. He’s very graceful. And he doesn’t like women.”

  “Uh-huh,” was all Kathryn could say.

  “I am now free as a bird. I love the feeling. I plan to ask Nikki to handle our divorce. How long do you think it will be before I can seriously start to look for a boyfriend? The kind who will shower me with love, appreciate my new…ah…boobs and hold my hand when we walk in the rain. It is not necessary for him to bring me flowers. I do like chocolates, though.” Yoko rolled her eyes and started to giggle.

  Kathryn eyed her sister. Tongue in cheek, she said, “Any day now, kiddo. If he’s gone, you can start looking today. Who’s going to run the business?”

  “Lu Chow, Myra’s gardener. Don’t you remember? Myra loaned him to me back in the beginning when I first joined the Sisterhood. When it comes to the earth and plants, Mr. Chow has magic in his hands. And he has a very handsome nephew, as well as many uncles and cousins. My business is in good hands. It frees me up so that I can be more active with the Sisterhood.”

  “You little devil,” Alexis said, clapping Yoko on the back.

  “That is a compliment, no?”

  Alexis laughed out loud as she hitched up the bottom of her pajamas. “The best kind, girlie.”

  “My goodness,” Myra managed to say.

  “I was hoping we could celebrate later today when I return from town. I have been looking forward to this day since the day I got married. I want to celebrate with my friends.”

  The women hooted with laughter, Myra’s laughter the loudest.

  It was five minutes shy of ten o’clock when Yoko, dressed to the nines, walked down the stairs of the farmhouse to seek Myra’s approval.

  “Allow me to introduce Mrs. Kim Yee, who is wealthy beyond wealthy and who has an appointment with one Bobby Harcourt at eleven o’clock. There, she will be asking him to design a western-style house that she wants to have built in Yokohama, Japan, as well as a beach house on the Chesapeake for when she and her husband are in the States. Mrs. Kim Yee is also a not-too-distant relative of the Yee royal family in Japan,” Alexis said.

  Myra gaped as she fiddled with the pearls around her neck. “You look the part, dear. My diamonds look so well on you. It is my understanding that Miss Hershey is a designer’s dream and it has been said that jewelry stores call her on her private number when a new piece comes in. The woman has very expensive tastes. But she can’t hold a candle to you, my dear, and she will know that the minute she sees you.”

  Yoko giggled. “Thank you, Myra. My chauffeur-driven limousine will be here within minutes to pick me up. What if Miss Hershey isn’t there?”

  Kathryn clucked her tongue. “You only do business with the owner, meaning Miss Hershey. Mr. Harcourt is a partner and that’s all well and good, but before you make a decision, you want to talk to both partners. You want her to think you have money to burn so you can be as demanding as hell. Play it up. Also, don’t forget to wave that little Post-it with Isabelle Flanders’s name and phone number on it. You will not be making a decision until you speak with a second architect. You tell them both you’ve lived here long enough to know that’s how it is done in America. Two bids; two estimates. Neither one of them can fault you for that. Rosemary might, however, bad-mouth Isabelle,” Kathryn said.

  “You’ll be getting to her office just about the time the mail is delivered. Keep your eyes and ears open. Today she will be getting the newspaper clipping of the picture the Post ran of the Myers family funeral. We think that picture is really going to spook her. Especially since she didn’t attend the funeral. She was out of the hospital by the time the coroner released the bodies for burial and there was no reason for her not to attend, since her claim was that Isabelle caused the accident. The newspapers made more than a few snide comments. The grandmother just said she was disappointed.”

  “I can do this,” Yoko said, slipping into a pure-white cashmere coat that shrieked dollar signs. The diamonds that Myra had loaned to Yoko sparkled under the overhead lighting. Yoko picked up the ostrich-skin briefcase that shrieked just as many dollar signs as the cashmere coat.

  “Go get ’em, girl,” Alexis said and grinned as she pointed to the overhead security monitor. “Your chariot awaits. In other words, your limo is here. Call us the minute you leave the office.”

  “I will do that,” Yoko said as she sashayed out the door to the waiting limousine.

  When the car had driven back through the gates, the women looked at one another. Kathryn and Alexis burst out laughing at the same time.

  “I had no clue that Yoko…I thought she was happily married. And she’s in the market for a boyfriend. Who knew?” Alexis quipped, laughing heartily.

  “There is more to that little lady than meets the eye. She’s got that martial arts stuff down to a science. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to meet up with her in a dark alley even if Murphy was with me. Did you ever see how she can freeze Murphy just by staring him down? When she does that, he whines.”

  “It’s the inner peace that is instilled in those who study martial arts,” Myra said. “I saw a documentary on it a while back. The mindset of the student was incredible.”

  “How’s it going with Isabelle?” Alexis asked.

  “Very well. She called yesterday to say they’re doing the pretty stuff today — installing the carpeting, polishing the marble, hanging the drapes and delivering the furniture. She thinks everything will be completed by the end of the day. Tomorrow morning, if things go well, she’s open for business.”

  “Let the games begin!” Kathryn said.

  Thirteen

  Yoko garnered more than one appraising look as she walked through the lobby to the receptionist in the architects’ office.

  “I have an appointment with Mr. Harco
urt. My name is Kim Yee.”

  “Ah…yes…well, Mr. Harcourt isn’t…”

  The lobby door swooped open. Footsteps could be heard on the tiled floor. “Ah, Mrs. Yee. I’m Bobby Harcourt. If you’ll follow me, please.”

  The receptionist reared up and was half out of her seat when she said, “But Miss Hershey said…”

  Bobby waved airily, his woodsy cologne trailing behind him as he ushered Yoko down a carpeted hallway. He knew that Rosemary already knew he was in the building with a client. He had no doubt there would be a blowup any second now. Within moments of seating Yoko in the conference room the phone on the wall rang.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Yee.”

  Yoko nodded as she opened the ostrich briefcase. She strained to hear Bobby’s end of the conversation, but the words were indistinguishable. Bobby excused himself again and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.

  Yoko was off the chair in the blink of an eye and ran to the door. She cracked it open a mere inch as she strained to hear what was going on outside. A shrill, ugly-sounding voice ricocheted down the hall. Rosemary. Then she heard Bobby’s voice, deep and even, explaining that Mrs. Yee was his client.

  “Before you stomped out of this office, Mrs. Yee would have been our client. You left, Bobby. That means Mrs. Yee is my client now. She’s sitting in my building, in my conference room. Your half is half of the business, not half of the building. It was your decision to leave. You said you were filing for divorce. You can’t just walk back in here and act like you belong. Get out! I mean it. I want you out of here.”

  “Fine, but Mrs. Yee goes with me.”

  “Oh, no. She stays. I’ll deal with Mrs. Yee.”

  “Why don’t we ask Mrs. Yee what she wants to do? It is, after all, her decision. By the way, Rosemary, before you meet my client, I suggest you do something about your appearance. I would hate to have her frightened to death. What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

  “You wish I was sick, you bastard. And don’t tell me what to do.”

  “Whatever you want. I hate to keep new clients waiting. Either you join us or I will take Mrs. Yee with me when I leave. I didn’t have a number to call her, otherwise I wouldn’t have met her here. It’s your call, Rosemary.”

  Yoko scurried back to her seat at the conference table, her hands folded demurely in her lap as she waited. She hoped she could remember everything she’d just heard. She turned when the door opened, a small smile on her lips. She made a production of pulling back the sleeve of the cashmere coat to reveal a diamond-studded Presidential watch. She allowed a frown to build on her face. Both architects correctly interpreted the frown. The prospective client was rapidly getting pissed off.

  Bobby took the initiative. “Mrs. Yee, I’d like to introduce my partner, Rosemary Hershey.”

  Yoko turned to stare up at the tall woman standing next to Bobby Harcourt. She looked nothing like the pictures Charles had shown her. In those pictures Rosemary Hershey looked glamorous, well dressed and bejeweled. What she saw now was hair whose roots needed touching up, makeup that looked like it had been put on with a trowel, dark half-moons under both eyes, a manicure that was chipped at the tips, and a sloppy outfit that looked like it had come out of a thrift store.

  “I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Hershey.” Yoko made no move to offer her hand. Instead, she inclined her head slightly to acknowledge the woman’s presence. She waited to see what would happen next. She let her gaze drop to the diamond-studded watch again. When nothing happened, Yoko asked if there was a problem.

  “In a manner of speaking, Mrs. Yee, the short answer is yes,” Bobby explained. “Technically, I am still a partner in this business and will remain so until the partnership is dissolved legally. You contacted this office and specifically asked to make an appointment with me. You had no way of knowing I would be leaving the firm when you made the appointment. That’s the reason I came back this morning to meet with you. Miss Hershey feels and believes you should stay here. I am willing to work with you at my new quarters. The decision must be yours,” Bobby said.

  “My husband, unfortunately, does not like dealing with women. He is…how do you say…stuck with me. He allows me to do these little things from time to time because I have become a little Americanized whereas he has not. Let me show you what I want. Perhaps when you see the pictures I brought with me it will allow you both to decide who is best to represent me and do what my husband and I wish.”

  Yoko opened the ostrich briefcase and withdrew several pictures that Charles had gotten from somewhere. He’d told her the minute the architects saw the pictures they would immediately translate them to square feet so they could compute their fee. She wasn’t sure but she thought Rosemary Hershey sucked in her breath at what she now saw. Bobby Harcourt, on the other hand, was staring at the pictures with questions in his eyes. He was seeing a challenge. His wife was seeing dollar signs.

  “How big is the lot in Japan, Mrs. Yee?” Bobby asked.

  “What you here in America would call fifteen acres. My husband and I were thinking twenty-five thousand square feet for the house. A suite for my husband and me. Another for our two children, a boy and a girl. One for my husband’s parents. We would like a tennis court and a swimming pool for the children. A pool house and all of the things the resorts have here in America. With an outside kitchen. In addition to the main house, we will need separate structures on the property for our servants. A six-car garage. Privacy is our primary concern. We would want security fencing, but it must be decorative. While my husband has not adopted American ways, he does like American architecture. My husband would like a home theater and a large library. My own personal wish is for a magnificent bathroom. I love to indulge myself.” Yoko tittered behind her hands, holding them at an angle so that Rosemary couldn’t miss the diamond rings on her fingers.

  “It’s all doable, Mrs. Yee. What about the beach house?” Bobby asked as he continued to scrutinize the pictures on the table.

  “Ah, yes, the beach house. Something comfortable. Not too large, perhaps ten thousand square feet. Some Japanese flavor to the interior but not overdone. We won’t spend all that much time there, with the children in school. We are prepared to give you free rein on the building but we do want to see the design before we sign off on it.”

  Bobby straightened up and met Yoko’s gaze. “That’s also doable.”

  Yoko nodded as she gathered up her pictures to return them to the ostrich briefcase. “Then what is our next step? Oh dear, I forgot to tell you, I have another appointment at one o’clock. I would like an estimate by the end of the week if that’s possible. Our decision will depend on the price you give me and the price the other architect gives me. Now, where is that slip of paper? Oh yes, here it is. Miss Isabelle Flanders will be your competition.”

  Bobby didn’t miss a beat. “She’s an excellent architect, Mrs. Yee. I believe I can have what you want by the end of the week. Let’s say Friday morning around this time. We can meet for a late breakfast or an early lunch. You’ll have to give me your phone number, though.”

  Yoko felt a twinge of fear when she noticed the hatred spewing from Rosemary Hershey’s eyes. She nervously rattled off the number of the cell phone that Charles had given her. Bobby copied it down. Yoko stood up and gathered the cashmere coat closer about her person. Suddenly she whirled around, her eyes narrowed, her voice colder than steel.

  “I have no desire to get caught in the middle of whatever machinations are going on between the two of you. I want it understood that I will be dealing with Mr. Harcourt and not you, Miss Hershey. If that is clear, we can go ahead. I have no desire to return to this place. There is no serenity here, no harmony. If you’ll excuse me now. It was very nice meeting you, Mr. Harcourt.” Yoko inclined her head slightly as she made her way out of the office. She totally ignored Rosemary Hershey.

  When the door closed behind Yoko, Bobby sat down and propped his feet on the conference table. “
Guess she told you, huh?”

  Rosemary’s arm swept Bobby’s feet off the table. “You’re a weasel, Bobby. Legal is legal. I get half and you get to do all the work. Assuming she picks you over that…that other architect.”

  “Say her name, Rosemary. Say ‘Isabelle Flanders.’ If I have to give you half, I’ll take a pass and let Isabelle have it. Unless, of course, my lawyer tells me I have a shot at it. You look like you’ve been rode hard and hung up wet, dear. You might want to do something about your appearance. I think you scared off Mrs. Yee. Oh well, gotta run; I have things to do and places to go. Don’t even think about pitching one of your fits because I’m not interested in your theatrics.”

  “You snot! You slimy snot! You don’t care if Isabelle Flanders gets the job! Just to spite me, you’d give it up to her!” Rosemary screeched, her voice ringing throughout the offices. “You’re seeing her again! I knew it! I knew it! I’ll get you for this! Count on it!”

  Bobby blinked, shrugged, and left the office. His wife was becoming unhinged. He passed the secretary in the hall. She was carrying the mail. “Anything for me?”

  “No, Bobby, just stuff for Rosemary. I’ll forward your mail as it comes in.”

  “I put a change of address in at the post office, but a few pieces might slip through from time to time. I’d appreciate it.”

  Inside her office, Rosemary was staring at her reflection in the mirror. Bobby was right, she looked haggard. With no sleep in four days, what did she expect? She whirled around when she heard the knock on the door, and then the sound of the door opening.

  “Mail!” her secretary shouted cheerfully.

  “OK, put it on the desk,” Rosemary called from the bathroom. The minute the door closed, Rosemary sprinted to the desk. Her breathing was ragged as she flipped through the mail. She knew there would be another white envelope, another article or picture referring to that awful time in her life. She tossed bills, flyers and announcements on the floor as she sought the plain white envelope. When she saw it, she dropped it straightaway. What was in it today? What would she find when she got home to still another envelope? Deal with this one first, she told herself. She started to shake as she bent down to pick up the letter. In the end she had to sit down because her legs wouldn’t hold her upright. She ripped and gouged at the envelope and was rewarded with a photocopy of a newspaper article along with a picture. She stared at it, her eyes rolling back in her head. She dropped the article so she could grasp the arms of the chair.