“Wait a minute,” Lara said. “I understand that the other members of the board are willing to make the deal but you are the one blocking it.”
“That’s correct.”
Lara took a deep breath. “There is something to discuss.” She hesitated. “It’s very personal.” She was fidgeting now. “You say I’m not worried about pollution and what happens to the environment in this neighborhood if we move in? I’m going to tell you something that I hope you will keep in confidence. I have a ten-year-old daughter that I’m crazy about, and she’s going to live in the new building with her father. He has custody of her.”
Edith Benson was looking at her in surprise. “I…I didn’t know you had a daughter.”
“No one does,” Lara said quietly. “I’ve never been married. That’s why I’m asking you to keep this confidential. If it gets out, it could be very damaging to me. I’m sure you understand that.”
“I do understand.”
“I love my daughter very much, and I assure you that I would never do anything in the world that would hurt her. I intend to do everything I can to make this project wonderful for all the people who live here. And she’ll be one of them.”
There was a sympathetic silence. “I must say, this…this puts quite a different complexion on things, Miss Cameron. I’d like to have some time to think about it.” “Thank you. I appreciate that.” If I did have a daughter, Lara thought, it would be safe for her to live here.
Three weeks later Lara got the approval from the City Planning Commission to go ahead with the project.
“Great,” Lara said. “Now we’d better get hold of Stanton Fielding and Andrew Burton and see if they’re interested in working on the project.”
Howard Keller could not believe the news. “I heard what happened,” he said. “You conned her! That’s incredible. You don’t have a daughter!”
“They need this project,” Lara said. “This was the only way I could think of to change their minds.”
Bill Whitman was listening. “There’ll be hell to pay if they ever find out.”
In January construction was completed on a new building on East Sixty-third Street. It was a forty-five-story apartment building, and Lara reserved the duplex penthouse for herself. The rooms were large, and the apartment had terraces that covered a full block. She brought in a top decorator to do the apartment. There was a housewarming for a hundred people.
“All it lacks is a man,” one of the lady guests said cattily.
And Lara thought of Philip Adler and wondered where he was and what he was doing.
Lara and Howard Keller were in the middle of a discussion when Bill Whitman came into the office.
“Hi, boss. Got a minute?”
Lara looked up from her desk. “Just about, Bill. What’s the problem?”
“My wife.”
“If you’re having marital difficulties…”
“It’s not that. She thinks we ought to go away for a while on vacation. Maybe go to Paris for a few weeks.” Lara frowned. “Paris? We’re in the middle of half a dozen jobs.”
“I know, but I’ve been working long hours lately, and I don’t get to see much of my wife. You know what she said to me this morning? She said, ‘Bill, if you got a promotion and a nice raise, you wouldn’t have to work so hard.’” He smiled.
Lara sat back in her chair, studying him. “You aren’t due for a raise until next year.”
Whitman shrugged. “Who knows what can happen in a year? We might run into problems with that Queens deal, for instance. You know, old Edith Benson might hear something that would make her change her mind. Right?”
Lara sat very still. “I see.”
Bill Whitman got to his feet. “Think about it, and let me know.”
Lara forced a smile. “Yes.”
She watched him walk out of her office, her face grim.
“Jesus,” Keller said. “What was that all about?”
“It’s called blackmail.”
The following day Lara had lunch with Paul Martin.
Lara said, “Paul, I have a problem. I’m not sure how to handle it.” She told him about her conversation with Bill Whitman.