Free Fortune Is a Woman by Francine Saint Marie Page A

ill treatment she had received over the matter. One night on the couch, the next equal to sleeping in the doghouse. Goodness, Helaine thought, urging the cabby to drive faster. She had to make that up to her somehow.
    This would put the kibosh on the meaningful discussions she had planned for the weekend. But the truth was that no matter when she broke the news of her upcoming world tour, Lydia would still act blind-sided when departure day arrived. She might as well put it off until her suitcases were in the hall if she wished to avoid that.
    She was relieved when she returned to the penthouse to find that Lydia was out. She checked on the last known location of her own briefcase and felt lucky there, too. It was exactly where she had left it. She placed Lydia’s by the front door where she remembered picking it up.
    _____
     
    She placed her briefcase on the bar and popped it open. There was nothing left for her to do now. Everything was in order. She would be flying all Monday, in Tokyo by Tuesday, lose a day or two in the process. Tickets, cell phone, passport, plastic (never too much plastic), hotel reservations, laptop.
    She chose to add to her carry-on weight only two books. The first was her already worn copy of The Prince . That was just in case Paula Treadwell could beam herself down. The latter was a fairly recent purchase and it still looked mint. This was Dr. Kristenson’s best-selling magnum opus, which although not her usual fare, Venus felt obliged these days to study. She flipped to the inside of the dust jacket, to the black and white photo of Dr. Kristenson. Venus frowned at herself in the mirror over the bar. The doctor was undeniably wonderful. Likable, talented, beautiful, sexy. She closed the book and laid it on top of the other.
    The stakes were high and the competition was very, very hot.
     

Chapter 12
    Praise and Blame
     
    Paula had not actually given notice to the board. She had merely given them a heads-up, leaving Lydia in charge of the kingdom for a while. Several of the directors held informal discussions concerning the future governance of Soloman-Schmitt and they were impressed with the senior vice president’s record of achievement and her management style which differed so dramatically from CEO Treadwell’s sandpaper diplomacy. Not that the board had any genuine grievance with Treadwell. After all, as abrasive as they might find the woman, her techniques had definitely produced positive gains. And they couldn’t forget–and she never let them–that she had rescued the corporation from the Securities and Exchange Commission, as well as ultimate bankruptcy. Tally that in with a five-year average annual growth rate of four percent and it was all good. Their only concern was for a smooth transition in the event that Paula stepped down, which seemed more and more likely as the days turned into weeks and Beaumont still stood at the helm.
    Some members and prominent shareholders claimed, unofficially, that a smooth transition had already taken place, but the board was taking a wait-and-see approach before stamping their approval. Nothing could become official until Paula Treadwell tendered her resignation. That remained a big IF.
    In the meantime Paula acted as a cheerleader on the sidelines and praised her protégé both publicly and privately. It was a great comfort to be able to rely on her for a change. Especially under the present circumstances.
    “Paula. What can I do for you?”
    “Kristenson, I need to chat.”
    “Speak freely.”
    “I mean professionally. Death, dying stuff, you know?”
    Very admirable, but it was not the doctor’s specialty. “I can recom–”
    “Nonsense. I don’t trust anyone else.”
    “I see.” Dr. Kristenson took the compliment without comment. “You want to come in?” she asked, leafing through her appointment book. “I should tell you, though, my calendar is full till next month.”
    “That’s too long. Make time for me now. I’ll pay you