Hands On (20 page)

The old man cleared his throat.

Harry leapt to his feet, all apologies. “Mr. Kenton, forgive me. Please sit down.” Harry all but held the chair for him until the man waved him away.

“After yesterday’s excitement, I decided it might be a good idea to pay a personal visit.” Norbert squinted at him, evaluating.

Harry had expected it. Hardly thinking about it, he launched into an automatic explanation of the vagaries of the market, the unpredictability of the high-risk investments Norbert had insisted upon and the importance of keeping a balanced, conservative portfolio.

A few minutes into his spiel, Norbert cut him off. “Yes, yes. That sounds fine.” It was then Harry realized the man had something else on his mind.

“Sir?” Harry waited, at a loss.

Norbert smoothed his pants for longer than necessary. Finally he leaned forward as if confessing a dirty secret. “I’d like to invest in a very risky venture. So risky that it might be a total loss.” His eyes sparkled and a smile played about his thin mouth. “My own vineyard. Not just a tiny hole-in-the-wall place either, but a respectable thirty thousand-case, prime-location establishment out near McMinnville, or maybe in Washington, with a tasting lodge, tours, bed & breakfast—the works. And I want the best equipment and full-coverage national distribution. It’s going to be grand. If there’s a way to swing fifteen million up front, that’s what I’ll need, mostly for building, land and packaging costs.” Norbert’s excitement escalated until it seemed to beat at Harry in waves.

Harry was flabbergasted. “But, Mr. Kenton. That would leave you…let me see…” He did some rapid calculations. “That would tie up nearly three-quarters of your portfolio. This isn’t just another speculation to add to your already overly aggressive profile. It’s quite possibly throwing money away, at a time when your retirement has to be considered. I have to strongly advise you against this.”

The light in Norbert’s eyes dimmed. “Strongly? Are you sure?” He wilted back into his chair. The old man suddenly looked irritated, and all his seventy years of age. “Absolutely sure? I have to confess, I’ve always wanted to own a winery. It just…it never did seem to be a secure investment. I suppose it still isn’t, technically speaking.”

“No sir. It isn’t.”

Harry felt uncomfortable with Norbert’s ire. And he really didn’t like the older man’s obvious disappointment.

Harry cleared his throat. “I don’t believe it’s a good investment, but if you like, I’ll call in a second opinion.”

“Yes, do that.”

Harry buzzed Todd in. He gave Todd the overview of Norbert’s proposed investment. As he explained the scope and scale of it, Todd began shaking his head. “Bad idea. At roughly fifteen million for a prime thirty thousand case winery, with building and land costs accounting for the largest percentage of total investment costs and cooperage accounting for the second largest percentage of total investment cost, you might see a positive cash flow by year three. Or, depending on your harvests, it might never operate as a self-sustaining entity. In other words, you’d be tying up money that should be more conservatively invested. Bad idea,” Todd repeated.

“I concur.” But Harry suddenly wasn’t sure that he did. “Except…”

Norbert sat up.

“It depends on what makes you happy,” Harry said slowly.

Todd glanced at him, eyebrows raised.

Harry continued. “One purpose of investment is financial return. If the winery has the ability to meet operating costs and debt obligations and be self-sustaining in three or four years, great. And if it doesn’t…if it takes longer than expected, but you’re happy, Norbert…then the loss is offset, in a manner of speaking.”

Norbert looked at him quizzically.

“It’s not optimal, or even marginal, but it’s an investment.”

“Unless the grapes don’t grow, or they taste terrible,” Todd said.

“There is that.” Harry nodded. “It’s not an investment I can recommend. But it’s not one I can recommend
against
, either.”

Todd moved in his chair, as if about to say something.

“You want to own a winery. Well, why shouldn’t you? Why should you be afraid? You have plenty of money, it’s not as if you’ll end up destitute even if you lose your shirt on this.”

Todd cleared his throat, but it was Norbert who spoke. “You don’t recommend…against it?” The older man’s face creased into a thoughtful frown.

“Every investment is personal choice. The question to ask is, what do you want from it? What do you want from life? There’s more to life than financial security.”

His words hung in the air. Harry could feel the weight of Todd’s stare.

But Norbert nodded. “You’re right. It’s a risk I’m comfortable with, so why shouldn’t I do what I want? I’d like to talk specifics now. Wine grape acres planted, and accessing the proper funds to purchase the wine grape acres, and the costs of construction and operation, and the rest.”

Harry had never seen Norbert look so happy.

Or Todd look so worried. “Uh, sir.” He looked directly at Harry. “Are you comfortable with this particular investment advice?”

It was pointed criticism, but Harry just smiled. “Yes. I think I am. If Norbert is?” Norbert nodded. “Well, then, everybody’s happy.”

Todd nodded too, but Harry was pretty sure it wasn’t agreement. “It’s okay, Todd. Thanks for the second opinion.” It was a dismissal.

His assistant rose, clearly hiding his troubled expression. With his long familiarity with the young man, Harry could almost recite his list of worries. It made him second-guess his decision. What had happened to giving conservative advice? What on earth had gotten into him? Had he completely lost his business acumen? “It’s okay, Todd,” he said as much to reassure himself as Todd both. “Though we appreciate the conservative take on matters.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Todd gave him another penetrating gaze. “I hope I helped.”

After Todd left, Norbert detailed his dream purchase with rapture in his voice.

For his part, Harry began to doubt. He wondered whether he’d completely lost the very thing he’d prided himself on most. Lost his killer instinct. Lost his reputation as a wise old owl. Why on earth was he advising his richest client to throw his money away?

Norbert chattered on, clearly excited and happy, and Harry nodded and smiled and cursed himself for a fool.

Ginnie had returned his money unexpectedly. That wasn’t a valid reason to become sentimental. Not when his clients’ savings were on the line.

He opened his mouth to tell Norbert he’d made a mistake, that he couldn’t possibly allow such an irresponsible investment. But Norbert sat all the way forward on the edge of his seat, as excited as a schoolboy as he talked over the winery project.

Harry closed his mouth. He wouldn’t crush Norbert’s dreams, even if they cost the man his entire life savings. He couldn’t.

Ginnie had changed him.

Harry sat back in his leather office chair and listened to his client.

Though he heard himself responding professionally to Norbert’s questions, Harry was appalled. He didn’t recognize himself anymore.

That night, Harry went down to his basement, flipped on the light and tried not to look at the bare workbench where Ginnie had worked. He went straight to his workout equipment and threw himself at the machines with a vengeance. He did three sets of twelve reps just to get warmed up. Then he did another, more aggressive, circuit. He counted. Aloud.

But this time, his numbers didn’t help him. His numbers weren’t helping him much at all lately, he realized. He counted more loudly, frustrated, flexing and pushing until his muscles felt hot and exhausted.

Still Ginnie lingered in his mind.

Despairing that he’d ever get rid of her image and her influence, he threw himself into another circuit, flinging his body against the resistance.

He didn’t usually work out so hard, and he found himself gasping for breath before long. Maybe if he fatigued his body, his mind would tire of its fixation as well. Maybe he could forget about Ginnie.

Something gave in his arm, with a sharp, rubber-band-snap of pain. He yelled, held his arm. He moved it with a grimace. It wasn’t too sprained.

Harry sat, breathing hard, waiting for the pain to subside. At least the one in his arm would eventually go away.

He wasn’t so sure about the one in his heart.

Ginnie peeked through the curtains at the audience. For such a large auditorium, there wasn’t much noise.

Then she saw the children in the semi-darkness and smiled. A feeling of pride welled up in her. Their expressions were wide-eyed, opened-mouthed and totally thrilled. The adults seemed riveted too. Sure, some of them fidgeted, and some of the kids did too. But the faces of the children in the auditorium proved the story felt utterly real and immediate. Her show was a success.

Again.

The puppet shows were a much-needed source of satisfaction in a post-Harry world. In the weeks since he’d tossed her out of his house and out of his life, she’d flung herself into puppet theater as if her sanity depended on it. As perhaps it did.

Without Harry’s brand of magic coloring her life, puppetry felt like all she had. Theater was magic. There was something about the community experience, the dark, the mystery, the shared adventure with audience members. Together everyone agreed to take a voyage into another world.

Ginnie concluded with her always-popular The Magic Show, where the puppets tried to out-do each other with the best magic trick ever. This time The Fat Lady puppet won with her trick of blowing bubbles out of her ears.

Ginnie bowed the puppets in response to the applause and, when they were safely offstage, announced a question-and-answer period after a short break. It pleased everyone, adults and children alike, to have her as puppet master take questions from children about the art of puppetry. She put her puppets away, pleased with the night’s success.

“Hello, Ginnie.”

The deep, masculine voice made her jump, before she realized it wasn’t the voice she wanted. She turned to see who had snuck up behind stage to surprise her.

Tailored suit, ash-brown eyebrows over liquid chocolate eyes, soft wavy blond hair, chest and shoulders to die for. If she hadn’t already been shot down dead by Harry, she might have been interested. But he looked younger than Harry, a baby in comparison, though his steady gaze reflected a strange soulfulness that intrigued her. Not as worldly or experienced as Harry, she thought. He did have the same clean-cut, banker-guy clothes.

“Todd,” he introduced himself when she only stared.

“Sorry,” she said, then paused to take her hand out of The Fat Lady so she could shake his hand. “Ginnie. But, ah, you know that. Have we met?”

“You’re exactly what I expected,” Todd said, examining her. “No wonder Harry took it so hard.”

Her heart gave a leap that she felt up to the crown of her head and down to her toes. “Harry took it hard?” She had to restrain herself from shaking this perfect stranger for more information, now, immediately! Then she remembered. “He did mention you. Todd. You’re his right-hand man.”

“Yeah. That’s kind of why I’m here. Can we go for a walk?”

“I have to be back in five minutes.”

Todd waved his hand. “Sure, sure.”

She picked her way over the props she should be putting away, not sure she liked Todd. He seemed distracted. But he knew things about Harry. That made him more alluring company than he knew.

Todd led slightly, taking her through the double doors to the side parking lot. Ginnie stopped walking, needing to focus everything on the answer to her question. Why was Todd here? What did he mean, Harry took it hard? Hadn’t Harry forgotten her completely? It seemed probable.

She still felt a killing ache in her heart just from hearing his name. And yet there was no indication that she’d been anything but a brief, unfortunate mistake to him. None, unless…

“Todd, what are you doing here?”

“Harry’s distracted, emotionally. He’s in pretty bad shape.”

Her heart contracted painfully and her body flooded with adrenaline. She wanted to run to Harry, heal him, make everything okay. But he’d made it crystal clear she wasn’t welcome in his life. “I’m not sure how I can help. He doesn’t want me.” She felt the old wound open and start to bleed. “Look, I have to get back.”

“Wait a sec.” Todd frowned. “I’ve been his friend for years. And after Jaye Rae, I never thought he’d hook up with anyone, not ever again. Then you came along. And now he’s worse than ever. He’s acting strange.”

“What do you mean, strange?” But just then, Ginnie heard a sound that had her performer’s instincts piqued. The audience was applauding.

“Uh, Todd? I’m sorry, but I have to get back.”

She was already walking, her ears cocked at the unexpected applause. What were the kids applauding? She glanced at her watch. There was still a full minute before question-and-answer time.

This time, she led the way. As she re-entered the auditorium, she glanced at the audience, confused. Then she looked at the stage.

And froze in astonishment.

“Told you he was acting strange,” Todd said from behind her. Ginnie turned, stared at Todd, who looked smug, then looked back at the stage.

Little Jeffrey was on stage. Harry was behind stage?

Her puppet spoke with Harry’s voice. “So, I heard there was a Magic Show competition for Best Magic Trick. Is that here? Am I in the right place?”

The kids yelled back that it was.

“Well then. I have a trick. If it’s not too late…”

The kids yelled back that it wasn’t.

Ginnie felt a little faint and leaned against Todd. “Is that really Harry back there?”

“It’s really Harry,” Todd confirmed with a pat on her shoulder. “And he’s really not himself.”

Ginnie straightened, glancing at Todd, who just grinned.

Little Jeffrey spoke again, with an inappropriately deep voice, but Ginnie didn’t think the kids cared. “Okay then. For my trick, I will pull my own heart out of my chest. And I’ll give it to the woman I love. Bet you’ve never seen that before.”

Shaking her head, tears beginning to form in her eyes, Ginnie murmured, “He isn’t really doing this, is he? Not Harry. He just wouldn’t do this. He hates kids.”