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With only a moment’s hesitation, she offers me the pack.
* * *
“One bed. And nothing else. So there I am, exhausted, stressed, snow running down every crevice of my body. I want to murder this man and leave him in the woods for wolves to find. And now I literally have to get in bed with him.”
Four espressos and half a pack later, Marie and I are both lounging on lawn furniture and being kept warm by half a dozen heaters the hotel staff brought us without a prompt. It’s nice to be rich.
As it turns out, Marie isn’t so bad. Her walls aren’t down, but at least the armed guard has dropped its rifles. And despite my initial comparison, I can already tell she’s nicer than Sloane.
Of course that’s not saying much.
“I would have made him sleep on the floor,” she says.
“Honestly? Wasn’t worth the fight,” I say. “Rhett can be incredibly stubborn when he wants to be.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “And you can’t?”
I have to give it to her. “We shared the bed equally.”
“So no funny business from Mr. Westing?” She laughs at the look on my face, though thankfully she doesn’t interpret its true meaning. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you’ve heard the stories.”
“He was a perfect gentleman,” I say. A Spanish inquisitor couldn’t have pulled the truth from me.
Before I can stop myself, I add, “What stories?”
Marie’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Come on. The drunken escapades? A new woman on his arm every night? You have to have seen that motorcycle crash on the news a couple weeks ago.”
I have no comment, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. It wasn’t that long ago that I was saying practically these exact same words to Rhett. What had changed? I’d been so sure of Rhett’s sliminess before but now that I know him better I’m finding it difficult to relate the legend to the man.
Then again, Rhett and I really haven’t known each other for that long.
Thankfully, Marie doesn’t seem to notice my hesitation. “If Bill had been like that we never would have made it past the first date.” She chuckles. “Actually I doubt there even would have been a first date. I wouldn’t have been Rhett Westing’s type.”
“What was Bill like?” I ask.
Marie sighs deeply. “He was funny. Kind. He was the type of man who’d drape his coat over a puddle without any sense of irony. And my god was he smart.” A smile plays at her lips, but she extinguishes it with a pull on her cigarette.
There’s nothing I can say that will comfort her, so I just say, “I’m really sorry, Marie.”
“Me too,” she says. The sadness in her eyes fades and she gives me a crooked smile. “I misjudged you, Liz.”
“Well, Mr. Morgan isn’t my biggest fan,” I admit.
“Actually he is. I’ve known Paul long enough to know he’s mad that Sloane got to you first. But that’s what he gets for being slow on the draw. And I wish he hadn’t been because I like you too.
“And because of that, I’m going to give you an answer to bring back to your boss.”
I perk up in my seat.
“Even though I don’t particularly care for her, Sloane is not the reason I won’t touch the Westing Bank. I’ve seen the numbers. The Westing Bank gives Paul a run for his money at every turn. But Sloane is nearing retirement, and she’s already made it clear that the bank will pass on to her son. I’m not crazy enough to put my money into the hands of a trust-fund man-child who’s never worked a day in his life.”
Oh the irony. If Marie keeps her money out, then Rhett is out. If she puts it in, then all her fears come true.
“What if there was a situation where Rhett was no longer a part of the business?” I say.
That gets her attention. “Is Sloane disowning Rhett?” she asks sharply.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” I say quickly. “I’m just wondering. If it were the case, would you at least hear my pitch?”
