A PERFECT RENDEZVOUS

Stocks

"There must be some mistake," Emily said as she looked from her husband to his accountant. "My father would never buy stock or invest money in anything Tony Austin touched, not if he knew Tony was involved."

"The facts prove otherwise, Miss McDaniels," Edwin Fairchild said mildly. "Over the last five years, he's invested over $4 million of your trust fund in TA Productions, which was owned by Mr. Austin. It was all quite aboveboard. I assure you, although it certainly was unprofitable and ill-advised on your father's part, since Austin apparently used the money exclusively to pay his living expenses. I'm not implying there was any wrongdoing on your father's part," he assured her when she continued to frown at him. "Your father purchased stock for you in TA Productions, and the stock is in your name. My only reason for bringing this up at this time is that as your new financial advisor, I think it's time to sell the stock back to Austin's heirs if they'll buy it or else give it to them for a penny a share, so that we can take a loss on your next joint tax return."

Emily struggled to put her thoughts into coherent order. "What did my father say about all these bad investments in TA Productions?"

"It's not my place to discuss it with him or question his judgment. He's handled your trust fund since you were a child, I understand, and how he chose to invest the money for you has been exclusively his province. All that is rightfully between you and him. The only reason I'm involved now is that I've handled your husband's financial Liam ers for years and since you're now married, there are questions of joint income tax returns and so forth."

"My father couldn't possibly have realized that Tony Austin was TA Productions," Emily stated firmly.

Fairchild's white eyebrows rose at what he clearly thought was incorrect. "If that is what you prefer to believe."

"It's not a question of what I prefer to believe," she said with a ragged laugh, "it's just that my father being tricked into buying stock in Tony's company is utterly ... Machiavellian. He despised the man."

"I can't see how he would have been tricked," her husband told her in a carefully neutral voice, knowing how sensitive she was about her father. "Edwin and I discussed this earlier on the phone today, and it's clear your father had to have purchased the stock directly from Austin."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because TA isn't traded on the stock exchange. As Edwin mentioned a few minutes ago, it's a privately held company, and the only way to buy stock would have been from Austin or his representative."

Emily looked from her husband to his accountant. "Did he have any representatives?"

Edwin Fairchild shook his head and put on his glasses, perusing a photocopy of some document. "He certainly never paid anyone to represent him or work for him in any capacity. According to TA's corporate charter, which is a matter of public record in Sacramento, Austin was the only officer, director, and shareholder. I checked some sources of mine, and he was also the only employee." Removing his glasses, he glanced at the heavy gold Rolex on his wrist and said, "I see it's already after six o'clock. I didn't mean to keep you so late, but we've gone over everything that needed to be discussed. If you intend to try to sell the TA stock back to Austin's heirs, the sooner you approach them the better, otherwise they'll very likely be all wrapped up in probate court proceedings. As soon as you let me know whether you intend to keep or sell the stock, I'll be able to finish your tax liability projection for the next year."

Dick nodded and Fairchild turned to Emily, his tone conciliatory. "Don't look so upset, Miss McDaniels. Even though your father lost $4 million of your money in Austin's company, we'll be able to take that as a tax loss against profits from your other investments. The tax benefits from doing that will reduce your loss to less than $3 million."

"I don't understand finances or taxes," Emily told them both. "My father's always handled all that for me."

"Then you ought to discuss the TA stock with him. He made almost twenty separate purchases over the last five years, and he must have had some profit motive in mind that we don't know about. Perhaps he'll be able to give you some reason why it would be wise to hold the stock a little longer."

Reaching out, Emily shook his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Fairchild, I'll do that."

"Before you go," Fairchild said as Emily tucked her hand in her husband's arm, "I want to make it clear that in every other respect, your father's trusteeship over your funds has been above reproach. He's invested your money wisely and accounted for every penny that was spent for the last fifteen years, including the money invested in TA Productions."

Emily's face stiffened. "I don't need you or anyone else to tell me that my father has acted in my best interests. He always has."

In the car, Emily watched her husband maneuver the shiny BMW through rush hour traffic. "I was rude to him, wasn't I?" she asked.

Dick shot her a wry look as they stopped for a red light. "You were defensive, not rude. But then you're always a little defensive where your father's concerned."

"I know," she sighed, "but there's a reason."

"You love him and he devoted his life to you," Dick recited.

Emily lifted her gaze from his hand on the gear shift. "There's another reason, too. It's been a well-known scandal that, in the old days, a lot of the parents of child stars squandered, and even stole, every dime the child earned. My father was just the opposite. Even though there are laws to prevent all parents from doing that now, a lot of people have still treated my father as if he lives off of me and very grandly."

"Obviously, they haven't seen his condo, or they'd know better," Dick said, shifting from second into third gear as traffic began to move again. "He hasn't painted a wall in ten years, and he needs new furniture. The neighborhood is on the downslide, and in a few years it's not going to be safe to live there."

"I know all that, but he hates to spend money." Reverting to the earlier topic, she continued, "You can't imagine how humiliating it's been for him at times to be my father. I can still remember when he went to buy a car five years ago. The salesman was happy to sell him a Chevrolet until I got there to help Dad pick out a color. As soon as the guy realized who I was, ergo who Daddy was, he said in this nauseating, presumptuous voice, 'This changes everything, Mr. McDaniels! I'm sure your daughter would rather you have that sharp Seville you liked, wouldn't you, honey?""

"If what people thought of him bothered your father," Dick said, forgetting for the moment to hide his distaste for the man, "he could have gotten a nice, respectable job doing something besides looking out for his little Emily. Then maybe he'd have something to do besides get drunk and wallow in self-pity because little Emily grew up and got married." From the corner of his eye, he watched her face fall and he stretched his arm across the seat, curving his hand around her stiff shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "I am obviously a jealous jerk who gets bent out of shape over my wife's unusually close relationship with her father. Forgive me?"

Nodding, she rubbed her cheek against the back of his hand, but her pretty face remained pensive and he saw it.

"No, you haven't," he said, trying to tease her out of her unusually somber mood. "An apology wasn't enough. I deserve a kick in the ass. I deserve"—he hesitated, thinking—"to have to take you to Anthony's tonight and buy you the most expensive dinner in Los Angeles and sit there while everybody gapes at my wife!"

She smiled at him, her famous dimples peeking out, and he touched his hand to the side of her face and said quietly. "I love you, Emily." Jokingly, he added, "Even though you've got those funny dents in your face, I love you anyway. Not every guy would be able to overlook a manufacturing defect like that, but I can."

Her laughter bubbled out and he grinned at her, but his grin faded as she challenged, "Do you love me enough to take me by my father's place before we go to dinner?"

"Why?" he said irritably.

"Because I have to talk to him about the money he invested with Tony. I can't figure it out, and it's driving me crazy."

"I guess," Dick said, flipping on his turn indicators and changing lanes so he could make the turn toward her father's neighborhood, "I even love you that much."