Diamond Girl

Chapter 26



“Twenty five million dollars may sound like a great deal of money,” Herbert began his recitation. I looked over at Daddy to share an eye-roll but he didn’t meet my eyes. Instead he kept his gaze fixed on the portrait of his grandfather, Kells III.

Herbert, in a never-ending effort to suck up to Daddy, kept a life-size oil portrait of my great-grandfather in his private office. People might think that he would have preferred to display a portrait of one of his own ancestors in his inner sanctum but they would be wrong. Herbert, like his father before him, was a smart lawyer who knew which side his bread was buttered on and, in addition to pleasing Daddy and the previous Kells IV, the portrait of his grandfather served as a visible reminder to newer clients with newer money, and less of it, that they were seated in the presence of a man whose firm handled the Kellehers’ money and it prodded them to realize that they were lucky to be there.

I sneaked a glance at Great-Gramp's portrait while Herbert droned on about my new responsibilities, to see if Kells IV looked like he might have sympathized with a small, semi-wild great-granddaughter being forced to listen to what amounted to a lecture on how, if I didn’t start to toe the family line, I might find myself in difficulties. But his painted eyes, though Kelleher blue like mine and Daddy's, seemed to hold no warmth for me.

Herbert sensed that I wasn’t hanging on his every word and he must have given Daddy some kind of secret squirrel men-in-power-over-a-girl look, because daddy said in the sharp tone he had started to adopt with me, “Carey, are you listening to Herbert?”

I shook myself back to the moment. It wasn’t easy. My head hurt.

I hadn’t gotten to bed until six that morning, and when my alarm had gone off at nine, I had come awake dazed and shaky. My diabetes pump had run dry in the night, and so, in addition to having to apply massive amounts of make-up and chug down a gallon-sized bottle of coke for severe hangover dehydration, I had also spent fifteen sweaty, shaky minutes hunting for an insulin syringe and performed the hated self-injection with hands that trembled so badly I had to hold one wrist to make a clean shot.

I had wanted to cancel this trust meeting but had been too afraid of Daddy’s reaction to do it. I justified the swallowing of two Vicodins as a medical necessity because of my headache so, if I seemed bored to Herbert and Daddy, they were wrong. I was just fighting the effects of no sleep, pain medication and a scare with my insulin levels, but I wasn’t so far gone that I thought sharing those little gems with them would go over well. So I straightened up in my chair, fighting vertigo and wishing I had not forgotten to brush my teeth.

I dimpled at Daddy. “I’m sorry, Daddy, Herbert. I’m not bored at all. I guess I’m ...” I shrugged in what I hoped was a show of appealing helplessness and waited for one of them to rescue me, to say that of course this meeting was a little overwhelming, but neither of them smiled or said a word.

I looked down into my lap and saw that there was a cigarette burn in the skirt of the brand new black Chanel dress I had worn especially to impress Daddy with how seriously I took the grown-up nature of this meeting. I watched Daddy’s eyes follow mine and knew that he saw the hole too. He shook his head and looked away. I tried again to charm him. At that time I still hadn’t learned to take Herbert seriously or to fear him, which was just one of my many thousands of errors in judgment.

I leaned towards Daddy, hoping I wasn’t close enough to knock him out with my breath and said, “Daddy, I really am sorry. I promise I’m not bored. I guess I’m … you know, confused, a little overwhelmed. I mean I turned twenty-one six months ago and you never said a word about my trust then, so I ...”

My voice trailed off. Daddy remained silent and exchanged another meaningful look with Herbert. Giving up on him, I turned to face Herbert and stared at him helplessly, hoping for sympathy, or at least his usual sycophancy. He studied me seriously and, instead of his usual servile reassurance, I think I saw pity in his gaze. Maybe not; it’s hard to tell with lawyers.

I thought I must be mistaken. After all, why would he feel sorry for me? Hadn’t Daddy called this meeting to show his trust in me? After a long pause, Herbert steepled his fingers and smiled reassuringly at me. I decided I had been wrong about the pity and flashed him my dimple. His smile wavered and firmed when he said, “Of course, Carolyn, this must seem a little overwhelming to you. Both your father and I understand that. As to why Kells has decided to turn over control of your trust to you now, well, it was my idea.”

“Your idea? I don’t … Daddy?”

My father didn’t look at me. He kept his eyes on the portrait, and when he answered me, his voice wasn’t sharp but it wasn’t warm either. “Yes, Carey, it was Herbert’s idea that we try this, this being giving you the opportunity to develop some understanding of finances.”

I was confused. “Try this? Aren’t you just giving me my trust now?”

Awkward silence fell. I asked again.

It was Herbert who answered. “In a sense, yes, Carolyn, that is exactly what your father is doing. As you may or may not know, Kells set up, through my firm, a trust for each of you girls when you were born. The amount is the same for all of you. As I said before, twenty-five million dollars is a great deal of money, bringing with it enormous responsibilities and we, that is your father and I, hoped with this meeting to discuss some ideas with you.” He shrugged. “For example, whether or not you would like to see the principal moved into a more flexible money market account, or possibly you are interested in real estate, in which case ...”

My head was beginning to hurt again. The hangover insidiously clawing through the pain killers, I tried to laugh. “Real estate? Why would I want to invest in real estate? You mean, like I should call up The Donald and invest in one of his projects?”

Herbert shook his head, his expression serious. “No, Carolyn, I do not advise that you try independently to invest your money yet. Certainly there may come a time in future, as it will, when you might wish to learn about financial strategizing but, for now, well, I was speaking on a more practical note, wondering if you might want to purchase your own apartment, if you plan on staying in the city, or a house of some sort, if you were to, say, relocate outside of New York. For example, your father tells me that you have been spending a lot of time in East Hampton …”

“Herbert, Daddy, I don’t … I don’t know what you are talking about. I already have an apartment, the one you bought me … the one I’ve been living in for almost three years. It's fine. I don’t need anything bigger right now. Maybe later if Michael and I ...”

Daddy interrupted, speaking impatiently. “Carolyn, that apartment is owned by me. Everything you currently possess, including your overpriced wardrobe, a wardrobe I might add that you treat with apparent disdain despite the cost of it, has been paid for by me. All your daily living expenses and your insurance and your God-awful credit card bills are paid for by me. This attempt at letting you take over control of your trust is not a reward for your behavior, Carey, it’s me at my wit’s end trying to come up with some way, any way, to teach you some sort of financial responsibility.”

I was getting pissed, so I responded by doing something I knew he would hate. I fumbled in my purse for a cigarette and lit it. Daddy hated smoking and Herbert’s office was obviously a smoke-free zone. Ostentatiously I took a long drag and pretended to flick ash into Herbert’s pen holder. “Okay, Daddy, I see where you are heading with this.” Herbert tried to speak but I shook my head at him. “I’ve been a bad girl and so, to punish me, you are, with the advice of our esteemed family attorney here …” I winked at Herbert and his face swelled, “… handing me twenty-five million dollars to teach me the value of a buck. Well, gentlemen, sounds good to me. Where do I sign, or …” I tilted my head pretending to look confused, “… are you going to give it to me in cash, because, gosh, Daddy, Herbie, I wish you had given me some warning, I would have brought a bigger bag.” I held up my tiny Chanel clutch, pretending dismay. I could actually hear Daddy’s newly-inserted veneers grinding together.

He started to rise from his chair, but Herbert held up his hand. “Please, Kells, sit down. This was my idea, and I can understand your annoyance, but if you will let me try and clarify this for Carolyn, I think you will both see that it may all work out for the best.”

Daddy nodded, saying tersely, “Fine, Herbert, go ahead, but I should maybe remind you that this was your idea and so I hope, for your sake, that it turns out well.”

I stared at Daddy, amazed. My almost always sweet, easy-going father sounded like Henry VIII talking to Cardinal Wolsey. I looked curiously at Herbert. His normally dark face had gone a pasty gray. He seemed to be remembering his history lessons too. Go Daddy, I silently cheered, forgetting for a moment that I might be playing one of O'Henry’s children in this little drama and, as I recall, he ended up cutting out his daughters totally from their share of England.

Herbert nervously cleared his throat. Seeing him sweat made me feel better. I grinned at him, trying to look attentive. “Geez, Herbert, I guess I should be thanking you, then, huh?”

He stared at me, confused. “Oh well, uhm, yes, Carolyn, I suppose you could thank me if you wished to, but before you do, there are some provisos that I think you may wish to hear.”

I stubbed out my cigarette in his eyeglass dish and nodded. “Oh sure, I’m all about provisos, and I guess it’s a no on the cash, then?”

He looked at me for a long moment and tried to catch Daddy’s eye, but Daddy had gone back to gazing at Great-Grandpa, maybe wondering how he dealt with rowdy children and nervous lawyers.

Herbert started up again. “No, no cash today, I’m sorry to say. You see, Carolyn, to all intents and purposes, your financial life will continue much as before. You will still have your credit cards etc., and the bills will continue to come through this office for payment, and I will ...”

“You will? Oh I don’t know, Herbert, no offense, but if I’m getting my own money, my own responsibility, maybe I should have my own lawyer too. I mean, you’re a great guy and all but, really, I’m young and I might want ...”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Carolyn. I’m sorry your trust in me isn’t solid. As you know, I have, as did my father before me, represented your family’s interest for ...”

He was making me feel like crap. I raised my hand for silence. “Herbert, I’m sorry, I was just joking. Of course I want you to keep taking care of me. So you were saying, the bills will come here and I think the point you were trying to make was the big difference is that now they would be paid from my trust and not by Daddy. Is that right?” I smiled brightly at them, trying once again to be the good girl.

I hated hurting people’s feelings and I hated Daddy being mad at me but, most of all, I wanted out of that office. I wanted to go home, to the apartment that still felt like mine, even though it apparently wasn’t. I wanted to cuddle up in bed with Petal. I wanted to do a line and feel the rush of it’s all going to be okay again. I wanted to say whatever was necessary to end this on a good note.

I thought I had done all right because Herbert sighed in relief and Daddy finally turned and smiled at me. Herbert answered for both of them. “Yes, Carolyn, that’s right, but of course the difference now being that you are spending your own money, your own capital which, though significant, is unlike your father’s, not vast. Do you understand that, my dear?”

“I guess. I mean, sure, but it is still a lot of money and, if I mess up, you and Daddy aren’t going to let me starve in the gutter, are you?”

They both laughed. Herbert said reassuringly, “Of course not, Carolyn, that is never going to happen. As a matter of fact, to ensure you from the need to ever work at McDonald’s, for example …” he and Daddy chuckled at his wit - I didn’t. Something red and frightening was blooming in my chest. I worked to keep my breathing steady, my face smooth, “… it is, to protect you, Carolyn, that the trust is structured in such a way that while you are the beneficiary, you are not a trustee.”

“I’m sorry, Herbert, Daddy. This isn’t making much sense. What’s the difference?”

“The difference, Carolyn, is that while the money is indeed for you, it is not you who has the power to decide on significant purchases such as real estate, etc.. It’s ...”

“It’s who, you?”

Herbert nodded. “Well, yes, me of course, but also your father and your mother, the trust ...”

“My mother?” Ignoring Herbert, I turned to Daddy. “Daddy, come on - Mom? You can’t stand her and I know you don’t think she, of all people, is financially responsible. Daddy, she told me that she can’t live on twenty-five thousand a month. That’s crazy, and besides ...”

Herbert began talking over me, like I hadn’t said anything. “When his children were born, your father set up the trust to provide financial security for his daughters. He did not, at that time, conceive a hard and fast rule. For example, he felt he might at some point turn over the money to each of you girls for your use at, say, the time you finished your education or married, or he might decide that you would continue to have trustees oversee you for a longer time. That is your present situation, Carolyn. This money is not a reward, as I said. You will, it is hoped, learn that money is finite. You will either develop a more circumspect fiscal lifestyle or, I suppose, face some rather lean times. By having your parents and myself on board to oversee and approve your outgo ...”

“Or disapprove,” I interjected sullenly.

He nodded. “Yes, or to disapprove if necessary, we are hoping to keep you from financial ruin.”

“Gee thanks, Herbert, Daddy, so if I understand, everything is the same as before, except now it’s my money I’m living off, not Daddy’s, right?” Herbert began to answer but I continued to speak, “No, let me finish. I want to get out of here - things to do, new credit ratings to check, you know the gig - because I’m guessing that these …” I fumbled in my purse, planning to dramatically toss my credit cards down on Herbert’s desk but my hands were shaking and I was sweating, so I fumbled it, spilling out all the contents instead. A tampon and a pill bottle rolled across the surface. Daddy reached over and snatched up the pill bottle, looking at me questioningly. I grabbed it back. “Pain of living, Daddy. As I was saying, gentlemen, I spend the money, or I can as long as it’s approved by committee, right? Right. And if it’s not, you can cut me off and cut me out of the money I spend. If I’m right, then from now on everything comes out of this huge pile of capital, this set amount that adds up to less than a tenth of what the apartment I grew up in costs, and is less than a hundredth of the cost of, say, oh, a football team. But, and I’m curious here, if I’m a bad little girl, you Herbert, or Daddy, or my loving mama, can stop the money, and then I will be cared for by …”

Herbert scooped up the credit cards and neatly slid them into his desk drawer, confirming I was right on the money, so to speak. He tried to smile reassuringly at me. He blew it. “Carolyn, I hardly think you need to concern yourself with these Doomsday predictions. Your father has provided rather amply for you by any standards. I doubt, I hope, the time for discussing any situation where your trust would need to be commandeered for your own protection will never arise. This is ...”

I stood up. “Yeah, I got it. This is a chance for me to prove how responsible I am blah, blah, blah. Can I go now or do I need to wait for you to draw up the papers to evict Petal and me from our apartment?”

Daddy stood and tried to reach for me but I was backing away. Losing control in front of him at that time felt like something I couldn’t let happen.

“Carey, sweetheart, you know you can stay there as long as you want. I just thought, well Herbert thought, that you might want your very own home, but if ...”

“Please, Daddy, don’t blame this on old Herbie. He’s just the family mouthpiece. No, you were right, I do want my own home. Everything you both said sounds just great. Herbert, I’ll be in touch when I find something. Uhm, is my money transferred?”

Herbert nodded. “Yes, Carolyn, this is a passbook for your new accounts at Chemical. A sum of money, a significant sum, has already been deposited. If you will notify your credit card companies or, if you would prefer, our office can do so. At any rate, I am looking forward to seeing how you develop with this new, well, I suppose 'freedom' is the right word.” He dangled the passbook towards me. I didn’t want to take the passbook.

I took the passbook.

The people in the walnut-paneled elevator all looked away from the sobbing blond girl with her disheveled hair and cigarette-burned Chanel. They probably thought that I was a newly cast-off mistress dropped from financial security by one of the city's power brokers who worked in the building.

If that is what they thought, they weren’t too far off. I had been let go, discarded. My father, the one person who I had always thought would love me, had just separated my money from his. He had taken away his love with this move - that was the only way I could see it - because, in my family, things like time and affection, and the security they might provide a kid, had never been on tap, so instead there was Daddy’s wealth. The houses and planes and credit cards were the way, at least as I understood it, of saying, “I’m here for you, little girl”, and now those were gone.

Twenty-five million dollars sounds like an enormous fortune but, by the standards of my family, it wasn’t the price of, say, a once-yearly home in Vail. But I wasn’t crying about the money. I didn’t know enough about money then to gauge whether or not twenty-five million was a lot or a little. It was the separation from Daddy’s money that felt like a separation from Daddy that shook me to my already shaky core.

At the time, I wasn’t thinking of the more ominous things I had heard, or not, heard in Herbert’s office.

He hadn’t, for example, explained why my mother was one of my trustees and, worst of all, he hadn’t answered my question about what could happen if the trustees decided to cut me off from access to my own money.

I was too upset about being cut off from my father to think about either of those things, or to think about how I might need to start being more careful. I had never been taught to be careful. I was twenty-one and I felt like I was losing everything so, instead of going home and curling up with Petal, instead of calling Milan - or even Carly - for advice, I decided to do the only things that had ever helped me through a crisis.

I went to Bergdorf’s.

I picked out a hideous LaCroix dress and told them to charge every ugly twenty-two thousand dollar inch of it to Daddy’s account. I went to my dealer and wordlessly handed him one earring of a pair of canary diamond studs that Aunt Georgia had given me for my last birthday. He, in turn, wordlessly handed me a few grams of coke. I called Michael’s cell phone until his voice mail filled up. Late that night, high and lonely and sick, I called for a car to take me and my ugly dress and my cocaine out to Endpoint in the Hamptons. Herbert had loaded the gun for me, but I’ll admit I was the one who fired it.