The Philanthropist's Danse (2 page)

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The lawyer turned to meet his next guest as Jeremy escorted her into the room. Caroline Smith extended her hand, which he took as he struggled to raise a genuine smile. She greeted him coldly, irritated by the lies he had told about her meeting. It gave her one more reason to despise William Bird.

Smith realized on the drive north from the City that her limousine had become one in a larger convoy, and had immediately become suspicious of what lay ahead. She had spent the rest of the journey imagining scenarios in preparation for whatever lay ahead. She, along with the others would soon be shocked by how little she knew.

She saw Junior standing alone, quickly assessed that he was the senior Thurwell in the room and took a position at his side. He was annoyed at having to share his commanding position at the fireplace, but she ignored his coolness. Smith was pleased that she had chosen to wear flat shoes. She would not have dared to stand next to Junior if she had appeared taller than him. He did not forgive such slights.

She studied the people in the room, paying particular attention to two unfamiliar faces, a ruddy-faced old lady and a dark beauty smoking a heavily scented cigarette. Strangers bothered Smith. They were unknowns, perhaps even threats. Her eyes flicked to the door as another guest arrived, yet another stranger. This time the doorway filled with the huge frame of a tall black man.

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William Bird greeted Judge Ronald Freeman and tried not to show his feelings as they met face to face for the second time. The Judge stood six inches taller than Bird, and his voice filled the room with a deep, southern baritone. “Mr. Bird. I’m happy to see you under better circumstances, sir.”

The lawyer regretted the Judge’s lack of discretion but politely asked him to take his place at the table. Freeman agreed without fuss. He had an excited idea about the reason for his invitation to the famous philanthropist’s home, though a cold finger of doubt nagged at him when he saw a room full of people who clearly had no idea who he was.

A hiss from Bethany made everyone look toward the door where William Bird greeted a short, neat woman. Freeman could tell she was familiar to the lawyer, they held hands long after the formality of their handshake. William chatted easily with Betty Freah as they exchanged pleasantries, but she was nervous. “Bill, this is awkward. I was never to be around JT’s family.”

The lawyer squeezed her hand and tried to reassure her. “You’re here because he wants you here Betty, that’s all I can say.”

She looked skeptical, but released his hand and walked to the table, conscious of Bethany’s unfriendly eyes. She found her seat and was relieved to discover she would be next to Dennis Elliot, a familiar face. She smiled warmly, but he flinched and looked away. Betty knew the reason for his reaction and nodded at Janice, who stared back with open hostility.

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William waited for his final guest with increasing nervousness. The atmosphere in the conference room had become charged by Betty’s appearance. Every woman that had loved or desired the philanthropist universally loathed Betty Freah. The last guest would have a similar effect on those who cared about Johnston Thurwell’s business affairs.

Jeremy led a tall and obviously powerful man into the room. Bird greeted Freddie Hagood warmly but heard cries of surprise from the others. Junior and Caroline Smith exchanged words in a busy whisper as they saw who had arrived in their midst.

Freddie Hagood ignored the others and greeted the lawyer as if they were old golf partners. Hagood was Johnston Thurwell’s greatest rival and controlled a personal fortune estimated to be near equal to the great philanthropist. “I don’t know what Johnston’s up to, but I see he’s ruffled some feathers.” Bird smiled at Hagood’s pronunciation of feathers as ‘fevvers’. Freddie had never lost the London accent of his childhood but wore it as a badge of honor of his humble beginnings.

Bird ushered Freddie into the room and walked him to the large table, seating the billionaire between Camille Jolivet and Bethany. The lawyer gave a nod to Jeremy to signal he was ready. The major-domo gave the lawyer a solemn smile as he left the room and closed the doors behind him.

T
he guests moved to their seats, and Bird waited for them to settle. He reached for his prepared notes. He did not normally use reminders, but he had to cover specific points in this first meeting and did not want to forget anything. The
Danse
would begin with what he would say in the next moments, so he had prepared carefully and was grateful for his own foresight.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome. Thank you for accepting my invitation and for your cooperation at the regrettable short notice.” He took three measured breaths until he felt his rising anxiety subside. “Most of you know me, but for the others, my name is William Bird and I’m Mr. Johnston C. Thurwell’s attorney. It is my duty to oversee the business that has brought you here, until its conclusion.

“Before I explain why you are here—”

Junior shot to his feet. “Goddamn it Bird! Get to the fucking point. Explain why you lied to get me here. I expected to meet my father privately and find instead that you’ve assembled a goddamned circus. My time is money, Bird, so enough bullshit. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

William raised his hand. “Please, Junior. Take your seat. I will explain, but first—”

“Do NOT interrupt me Bird, you goddamn shyster!” Junior’s face turned from red to deep scarlet, a danger sign his siblings recognized. They readied themselves for the fury to be unleashed. “YOU take your orders from MY father. Now what the fuck is HE thinking, dragging ME up to his godforsaken country house? Where is he anyway, I demand to see—”

“Junior, shut the fuck up. Now.”

William did not raise his voice, but the effect of his admonishment was as if he had physically slapped Junior, who stopped talking mid-sentence and stared at the lawyer, stunned. His mouth worked, but no sound came. The others stared in turn at Bird, then at Junior. Shock was registered on every face. William let the group absorb what had happened for another second and then continued. His voice was firm but calm.

“Junior, sit down and shut up. Or I will eject you from this meeting and you’ll learn about what happened here in the newspapers.”

Johnston Thurwell and his lawyer had realized early in planning the
Danse
that Junior could be a thorn in William’s side if he was not controlled. The philanthropist had decided how to handle his eldest son and assured his lawyer that a sharp, public attack would send Junior an unmistakable message about who was in charge.

The lawyer had to admit that, despite his misgivings about confronting Junior, the Old Man had been right. Junior sank into his seat without a word, but his eyes were dangerous as he glared at Bird.

Bethany leaned forward, her pretty face had lost its pallor. “William, perhaps you had better continue… please.” Her eyes were wide, and Bird could see she was forming an idea in the back of her mind too terrible to contemplate. She desperately needed to hear that she was wrong.

William did not answer her but made a point of returning Junior’s stare until the furious son dropped his eyes, defeated. As soon as victory over Junior was assured, he continued immediately. “As I was saying, I must cover the formalities before we begin.” The room was silent. He had achieved complete control over the group.

“Each of you was told you would be Mr. Thurwell’s sole guest, so I understand you are unhappy to find this is not the case. However, you all agreed to identical conditions for your visit, and I must remind you of those conditions.

“First, you agreed to be here for up to one week but no less than two days. Second, you agreed to surrender your mobile phones, blackberries, laptops and other communications devices. There is to be no contact with the outside world. If you break this rule, you will be removed without discussion or appeal. Emergency communications are available through me, in the event they are needed.

“Third, you understand this meeting is extraordinary to the normal business of the Thurwell Foundation and Thurwell Industries, Inc.

Finally, I must clarify my role. I am operating under instructions that allow strictly limited discretion. You should understand that whatever occurs, I am bound foremost by oath and contract to my employer, Johnston C. Thurwell II.”

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Bird finished reading from his notes and looked at the faces staring back at him. Junior was still furious, but curiosity had overridden his anger for now. Camille Jolivet lit another cigarette and ignored her neighbor’s disapproval of the smoke.

William looked at Bethany as she absently bit her knuckle. Her eyes were wide with growing fear. He hated what came next and had argued bitterly with his employer about this moment, but had failed to sway the Old Man’s resolve. “Since you are all bound in this agreement, it’s time to reveal the purpose of your invitation.”

He took a deep breath and spoke the words that changed their lives forever. “Your task is to decide who among you is to inherit the late Johnston Thurwell’s fortune.”

$

Junior paled to a parchment color as he absorbed the news of his father’s death. Bethany rocked in her chair, hugging herself and shaking her head. Tears streaked her cheeks as she realized she would never see or speak with her father again. Philip was uncertain what to do. His eyes darted between his brother and sister, but he sat frozen in his chair.

Larry MacLean held his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his silver hair. Only the elderly Mrs. Tremethick showed no reaction. William saw his guests trying to absorb the news, but his instructions allowed them no time to grieve. His client had insisted that he be merciless.

He raised his hand to signal for silence and was rewarded with immediate compliance, save for muted sobs. “Johnston Thurwell died one week ago, here in
Litore
, his country mansion. His death remains a secret that until now has been shared only by a few. There has been no announcement, and there will be none until your business is concluded.

“Mr. Thurwell had time to make arrangements before he died and this meeting is the culmination of his plan. In a moment, I’ll leave you to your thoughts, but first you must understand what is expected of you tomorrow.”

William checked to see everyone was paying attention as he dropped the hammer. “Mr. Thurwell’s fortune is to be shared among the twelve of you. Your task is to determine who gets a share, if any, and how much.

“You begin tomorrow morning at 9.00 a.m. If you have not reached an agreement by midnight, the fortune will be reduced by twenty percent. The penalty will be repeated each midnight until you either reach an agreement or the entire fortune is transferred to the Thurwell Foundation. I will see you tomorrow, good night.” He gathered up his notes and laptop and had left the room before his guests fully comprehended the implication of everything he had told them.

J
unior walked to the window and rocked on his heels as he stood with his back to the group with his fists balled tightly in his pockets. A casual observer might have seen that Junior trembled, but what the observer may not have guessed was that Junior Thurwell was furious, not grieving.

He was angry at William Bird for humiliating him. He was angry the family had learned of his father’s passing in a room filled with strangers and servants. But what made Junior tremble with rage was his father’s decision to force his own flesh and blood to compete for their rightful inheritance.

$

Larry MacLean was devastated by the loss of his closest friend. He wanted to know what extraordinary circumstances made his friend choose to die without saying a word of goodbye to his friends and family. MacLean could have understood if it were only he who had been excluded, but what the lawyer told them made no sense. He looked across the table and realized Bethany and her brothers had been informed of their father’s death in the coldest imaginable manner.

MacLean could not reconcile the callous act with the man he had known since college. He knew Johnston was tough. A man needed a brutal edge to build an empire as vast as Thurwell had in one lifetime. Yet Johnston Thurwell had also been a dedicated family man, which made the rejection of his children jarring.

Larry tried to put himself in his friend’s shoes to understand what might have made him leave his children out of his life at its end, but it was too hard for him to think as a person he’d never been. Thurwell loved family, whereas Larry had preferred to live free of permanent ties. He had never possessed the patience for the emotional debris families inevitably delivered into the lives of their founders.

He looked for his friend’s family. Junior was alone at the window but appeared more controlled than when Bird had confronted him. Philip was comforting his sister, and the sight of Bethany’s grief broke Larry’s heart. The beautiful, accomplished daughter and her wayward brother were MacLean’s particular favorites. He had enjoyed being their ‘Uncle’ from the day they had been introduced to him as warm, pink babies. He had been a part of their extended family as much as his travel and natural aversion to family ties allowed. He would offer his condolences, but first he wanted to greet the man whose presence confounded him. He wanted to speak to Freddie Hagood.

$

Hagood felt a hand on his shoulder and saw Larry MacLean. “Freddie, it’s good to see you again, but what is going on? Why are you here? You and Johnston hated each other.” Freddie shrugged, and the sumptuous silk of his jacket fell naturally into perfect folds, leaving his suit as unruffled by the gesture as he seemed unmoved by the news of his rivals death.

“I can’t explain it, Larry, because I don’t have a clue. I don’t need Thurwell’s money. I’ve got more than enough of my own. I can’t profit from an early jump on the news of his death because I’m unable to call my people, which means I won’t be able to take commercial advantage of the—” His face screwed into a frown as a thought crossed his mind and Larry knew what he had thought.

“I know what just occurred to you Freddie, but I think you’re wrong. The news about Johnston will become public after we leave, if Bird is telling the truth. So there is no loss to you for being sequestered, right? The news will still be fresh to the outside world a week from now, so you’ll still profit by it.”

Hagood considered the truth of the statement and shrugged. “Then I can’t explain it. I guess we’ll have to figure out his reasons tomorrow.” The two men chatted easily for a few minutes. There was no animosity between them because Larry was too relaxed to let his oldest friend’s sour relationship with Hagood spoil his own enjoyment of a fellow wealthy maverick.

MacLean took his leave of Freddie to join Bethany and Philip. He sat next to Bethany and held her hand and whispered comforting words. Hagood watched until he saw a tear roll down Larry’s tanned cheek and then looked around for someone to talk to. A tall black figure standing alone caught his attention, and Freddie moved to introduce himself.

$

Judge Freeman saw the media magnate’s approach and extended his hand. “Mr. Hagood, I recognize you from the business networks. I’m Ron Freeman, US District Judge from Georgia. I’m pleased to meet you, though I could wish for happier circumstances.”

Hagood had trouble getting his hand around Freeman’s huge paw to shake it firmly. The billionaire was a tall man and unaccustomed to looking up at anyone, yet the Judge stood taller than he. “A judge? How interesting.” Freddie was genuinely surprised. He had figured the large man was a retired football player. “How did you come to be invited to this gathering, Judge?”

Hagood saw a flicker of uncertainty on the Judge’s face. “I’m not certain, to be honest. I had some occasion to be involved with Mr. Thurwell’s Foundation. Perhaps that’s it?” Freddie raised an eyebrow. “Judge, forgive my skepticism, but thousands of people are involved in one way or another with the Thurwell Foundation. I don’t see any others invited to share in his fortune. Do you?”

Freeman looked to see if anyone paid attention to their conversation, and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m here. I’m as confused as you. I had suspected Mr. Thurwell invited me here to offer support for my Gubernatorial campaign.”

Hagood’s eyes widened as he remembered where he had heard of Ron Freeman before today. He had become a Judge at a staggering young age and had since made a name for himself as a gifted jurist. Freeman had been in the news for hearing the corruption investigation that resulted in the current Governor not seeking a second term.

“Well, Johnston’s no longer in any position to offer you or anyone else any support. So I wonder. What are you really doing here?”

Freeman was uncomfortable under Hagood’s scrutiny and had no desire to reveal his real connection to the philanthropist. He decided to escape. “Excuse me, I must offer my condolences to the family.”

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Camille Jolivet’s emotions ran up and down like a roller coaster. She soared on elated hope one moment and plunged into desperate despair the next. Her future had seemed so bright until she discovered she was not the philanthropist’s only guest. She looked at Bethany and watched with detached interest as the dead man’s daughter sobbed on her brother’s shoulder.

She was surprised by the American girl’s lack of composure, but also remembered how protective her father had been of her. The man’s fierce defense of Bethany was one of only two times she had been afraid of Johnston Thurwell. At his insistence, she had agreed never to communicate with Bethany. Yet now they were in the same room, and Thurwell had made it happen.

Her benefactor was dead, but she had understood the lawyer’s words well enough. The people in this room would share the man’s fortune. Camille stood to become richer than even she had dared dream. A smile crept unbidden onto her face, but she quickly realized what her expression might look like and quickly erased it. Her eyes darted around to see if anyone had seen her. She met the old woman’s eyes and knew immediately she had been caught.

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Mrs. Tremethick had seen the secret smile and the guilty look when the French girl tried to cover it. She wondered what was going on in the girl’s mind that gave her reason to smile amid so much grief. Winnie Tremethick was confused because she’d been told she was in New York, yet it looked nothing like it did on her television shows. There were no towering buildings or busy streets outside the house, so she imagined they had lied when they told her where she was. She had no idea New York was an entire state, not just the famous metropolis.

She hadn’t known whom to trust since she caught a couple of men peeking through her farmhouse windows a few weeks before. The next day she had seen them again, parked in the lane, taking pictures of her house. She had hurried to confront them, but they had driven away before she reached them. She had forgotten about the incident until a week later when a well-mannered gentleman from London arrived to explain that a wealthy American wanted to meet her, but was too ill to travel. He had offered her an all-expenses paid trip to New York for her to assuage the curiosity of a dying man.

Mrs. Tremethick had called her daughter in Scotland who had been instantly intrigued and encouraged her mother to accept the invitation. So she packed her only suitcase with a broken latch and was whisked across the Atlantic in a private airplane. Now Winnie sat alone and wondered how her trip had turned from visiting an ailing stranger into sharing in a fortune. The new turn of events worried her. Someone had made a terrible mistake, and she was afraid it might have been her.

Winnie caught a movement in the corner of her eye and looked at the woman next to her whose sharp features were focused on a man at the far end of the table. She was making gestures with her head, as if to summon him. “Excuse me miss, do you know that man?”

The woman looked at Winnie, surprised by the question. “That man is my husband, and he’s too afraid to come over here and talk to his wife.” She jerked her head again to summon the hapless fellow and Winnie watched indecision play on his face until he arrived at the realization he was likely to suffer more if he stayed put than if he moved. He reluctantly joined his angry spouse and stood shuffling from one foot to the other as he looked from the chair next to her to Junior who stood at the window.

“Sit down Dennis!” Dennis Elliot whispered something to his wife that Winnie could not hear, though she heard Janice’s sharp reply. “If Junior wanted the seat, he’d be in it. Just sit down.” With one more nervous glance toward Junior, Dennis sat next to his wife and they began whispering heatedly.

Winnie was unable to hear anything they said, and they paid her no more attention so she sat with her arms crossed and wondered what to do. She was exhausted and jetlagged after her first and only Atlantic crossing. She looked at the French girl and leaned over. “Are we supposed to stay here? I don’t know what to do.”

The French woman shrugged and reached for her Gauloise cigarettes. She felt a little sympathy for the old woman, who looked completely out of place. “I think you can leave, if you want.”

The idea of a soft bed was attractive, and Winnie stood to leave. The whispering couple looked up at her and then away. They were talking about her. They were probably talking about everyone in the room
. I might too, if I knew anyone to gossip with
, she thought.

Winnie ached from too much sitting. She needed a walk to get some fresh air, but the falling snow outside was a problem, she had brought no suitable shoes. She walked to the door, but it was opened before she reached it and the man who had escorted Winnie earlier entered the room at a brisk pace. His attentive eyes scanned the room as he assessed the situation.

$

Everyone looked at Jeremy, and their conversations died. The major-domo spoke in a voice that carried throughout the large room. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a selection of hot and cold food for you. The dining room and library are available, or you may dine in your suite. Please let me know your wishes, and I will see to them immediately.”

The guests looked at each other and tried to decide if it would be acceptable to eat after receiving such tragic news. Some had no appetite at all and could barely tolerate the idea of food. Jeremy gently took Mrs. Tremethick’s arm.

“Would you like something to eat ma’am?” Winnie shook her head and said she wanted to go to her suite. Jeremy signaled a waiting staffer who instantly took his place at her side. “This gentleman will escort you to your suite.” The major-domo looked at his man. “See that Mrs. Tremethick has everything she needs.”

She smiled gratefully and leaned on the strong arm as she was led to her room, away from the strangers and the confusion of the long hours since she had left England.