Paradise Read online

  Matt’s heart froze at the thought of the details of the divorce being divulged. Meredith had divorced him on grounds of desertion and mental cruelty, which, respectively, would make his proud young wife look pitiful and helpless when the press got through with her. Neither image was anything but devastating for the temporary president of a national corporation who hoped to be permanently appointed to that post when her father retired.

  The story was continued on page three, and Matt yanked the page over and ground his teeth at what he saw. Beneath a bold caption that read Menage à Trois? there was a picture of Meredith smiling at Parker as they danced at some Chicago charity affair, and a similar picture of Matt—dancing with a redhead at a charity ball in New York. Beneath those was a story that began with a report about Meredith having snubbed Matt at the opera a few weeks before, and then went into the details of their individual dating habits. Matt punched the intercom button just as Eleanor hurried into his office. “What the hell’s happening with those calls?” he demanded.

  “Pearson and Levinson aren’t expected in until nine,” she recited. “Your pilot is doing a check flight right now with the new engine, and I left word for him to call the instant he lands, which should be in about twenty minutes. Joe O’Hara is on his way back here with the car. I told him to wait in the parking garage, to avoid the reporters in the lobby—”

  “What about my wife?” Matt interrupted, unaware that he’d automatically called her that for the second time in five minutes.

  Even Eleanor looked tense. “Her secretary says she’s not in yet, and that even if she was, Miss Bancroft’s instructions were to tell you that all future communications between the two of you are to be handled through your lawyers.”

  “That’s changed,” Matt said shortly. Reaching up, he ran a hand around his nape, absently rubbing the tense muscles, wanting to get to Meredith before she tried to deal with the press on her own. “How did her secretary sound when you talked to her—did she sound like everything was normal over there.”

  “She sounded like she was under siege.”

  “That means she’s getting the same calls you’ve gotten this morning.” Moving out from behind his desk, Matt grabbed his coat, and headed for the door. “Have the attorneys and the pilot call me at her number,” he ordered. “And call our public relations department. Tell whoever’s in charge to keep the press on ice here and not to antagonize them. In fact, treat them very nicely and promise them a statement this afternoon at—one o’clock. I’ll call from Meredith’s office and notify P.R. where to tell them to assemble this afternoon. In the meantime, give them a damned brunch or something while they’re waiting.”

  “You’re serious about the food?” she said, knowing his normal method of dealing with the press when they intruded on his private life was either to avoid them or to tell them, in slightly different words, to go to hell.

  “I’m serious,” Matt gritted out. He paused at the door for one last instruction. “Get through to Parker Reynolds. He’ll be surrounded by press too. Tell him to call me at Meredith’s office, and in the meantime tell him he is to tell the press exactly what we’re telling them here.”

  At 8:35 Meredith stepped off the elevator and headed toward her office, glad of the chance to work and escape the thoughts of Matt that had kept her awake most of the night and then made her oversleep. Here, at least, she’d be forced to put her personal problems aside and concentrate on business.

  “Good morning, Kathy,” she said to the receptionist, then she glanced around at the nearly deserted area. The executives, who worked late hours, rarely came in before nine o’clock, but the clerical staff was normally in evidence long before now, ready to go to work promptly at 8:30. “Where is everyone? What’s going on?” she asked.

  Kathy gaped at her and swallowed nervously. “Phyllis went downstairs to talk to security. She’s having your phone calls held at the switchboard. Nearly everyone else is in the coffee room, I think.”

  Frowning, Meredith listened to the persistent ringing of unanswered telephones up and down the corridor. “Is it someone’s birthday?” she asked. It was a ritual for everyone on the two administrative floors to wander up to the coffee room sometime during the day to have coffee and cake on the occasion of an employee’s birthday, but never before had that created such an unusual and unacceptable dearth of needed personnel. Her own birthday was two days away on Saturday, Meredith realized, and for a split second she wondered if there was some sort of early surprise party being given for her.

  “I don’t think it’s a party,” Kathy said uneasily.

  “Oh,” Meredith said, dumbfounded by this unprecedented negligence on the part of a normally conscientious clerical staff. Stopping in her office to drop off her coat and briefcase, she headed directly for the coffee room. The minute she walked over to the coffeepots, two dozen pairs of eyes riveted on her. “It sounds like a fire drill out there, ladies and gentlemen,” Meredith said with a matter-of-fact smile, dimly surprised by the taut silence and gaping stares of the assembly, who all seemed to be clutching newspapers. “How about answering some of those phones?” she added—needlessly, because they were already stampeding out of there, mumbling “good morning” and “excuse me.”

  She’d just sat down at her desk and was taking the first sip of her coffee, when Lisa raced into her office, clutching a huge armload of newspapers. “Mer, I’m so sorry!” she burst out. “I bought every damned copy from the newspaper stand out front so they wouldn’t have any more to sell. It’s the only way I could think of to help you!”

  “Help me?” Meredith asked with a startled smile.

  Lisa’s mouth fell open, and she clutched the newspapers tighter, as if to hide them. “You haven’t seen the morning paper, have you?”

  Alarm traced a finger up Meredith’s spine. “No, I overslept and didn’t have time. Why? What’s wrong?”

  With visible reluctance, Lisa slowly laid the stack on Meredith’s desk. Meredith tore her eyes from Lisa’s pale face, looked at the paper, then half rose from her chair. “Oh, my God!” she breathed, her stricken gaze flying over the print. She put down her coffee cup and stood up, forcing herself to read more slowly. Then she turned to page three and read the more sensational and personal article on that page. Finished, she looked at Lisa with glazed panic in her eyes. “Oh, my God,” she whispered again.

  They both jumped as Phyllis slammed Meredith’s door and rushed toward them. “I’ve been in security,” she said, her short hair disheveled, as if she’d been raking her fingers through it. “We were swarming with reporters at the main doors, waiting for us to open. They started getting in at the employee entrance, so Mark Braden let them all in and told them to go to the auditorium. The phone has been ringing off the hook. Most of the calls are from reporters, but you also had calls from two of the board members who want to talk to you immediately. Mr. Reynolds has called three times and Mr. Farrell called once. Mark Braden wants instructions. So do I!”

  Meredith tried to concentrate, but her insides were trembling with sick dread. Sooner or later a reporter would dig up the reasons for her marriage to Matt. Someone would talk—a servant, an orderly at the hospital—and the world was going to know that she had been a silly, pregnant teenage bride of an unwilling husband. Her pride and her privacy were about to be torn to shreds. Other people made mistakes and broke rules, she thought bitterly, and got by with it. But not her—she had to pay again and again and again.

  It suddenly hit her then, what else everyone was going to think when that sham lawyer revealed the details of her divorce, and she felt the room tilt sickeningly. Because her father hadn’t settled for something nice and decent like irreconcilable differences, she was not merely going to be portrayed as some promiscuous teenager without enough sense to use birth control, she was also going to be the pathetic object of desertion and mental cruelty!

  And Parker—dear God, Parker was a respectable banker and the papers were going to drag him into this