Shirley, Goodness and Mercy(20)
Their eyes met, and embarrassed, Greg glanced away. “What happened?” he asked, still in a daze.
“You passed out.”
“I did?” Abruptly Greg sat upright. He would have fled, but the room had started to swim in the most disturbing fashion.
“Take it slowly,” Edward advised, then helped him stand up. “I’ve asked one of the nurses to take your blood pressure. Tell me, when was the last time you had anything to eat?”
“I’m fine. I had breakfast this morning.” It was a lie. He wasn’t fine and he hadn’t eaten breakfast. “I just don’t happen to like needles.”
“Then it’s a brave thing you did, coming in here like this.”
“Brave?” Greg repeated with a short laugh. “I’m the biggest coward who ever lived.”
Seven
On Monday morning Greg recognized that he had no other options left to him. It wouldn’t be easy to apply for a loan at Pacific union Bank, but he had nowhere else to go. He’d never been a person to beg. Never needed to beg until now, but if begging would help him hold on to Bennett Wines, he’d do that and more.
The worst of it was that he’d have to go begging to his own brother. Phil, who’d like nothing better than to call him a failure. He wouldn’t be far from wrong; Greg felt like a failure.
Despite his mood, Greg prepared carefully for the interview, wearing his best suit. He was about to head out the door when his phone rang. Caller ID told him it wasn’t a creditor.
“Hello,” he snapped.
“Hello, Greg.”
It was Tess, his almost ex-wife. Ex-wife number three. “What’s the matter? Are you after another pound of flesh?” he sneered. The last thing he needed right now was to deal with spoiled selfish Tess.
“I heard about your money problems.”
“I’ll bet you’re gloating, too.”
He heard her intake of breath. “I don’t wish you ill, Greg.”
He didn’t believe her for a moment. “What do you want?” He was facing an unpleasant task that demanded all his attention, and he didn’t want to be waylaid by an even more unpleasant one.
“I called because I didn’t realize the extent of your money problems until now and, well…I’m sorry.”
He said nothing.
“I wish you’d told me earlier. If I’d known, perhaps—”
“Would it have made any difference?” Their troubles had started long before the fan leaf virus had destroyed his vines. Long before he’d been confronted with one financial crisis after another. He knew when he and Tess got married that they were probably making a mistake. Still, that hadn’t stopped him. He’d wanted her, and she’d wanted the prestige of being married to him. True, they looked good together, but at the moment it seemed that was all they’d had going for them.
He didn’t like living alone, but he figured he’d get used to it eventually.
She didn’t answer his probing question right away. “If I’d known about your troubles, I like to think it would have changed things.”
All women preferred to believe the best about themselves, he thought cynically. “Think what you like,” he muttered.
“Oh, Greg, do you hate me that much?”
Her words caught him up short. “I don’t hate you at all,” he said, and realized it was true. He was sorry to see the marriage end, but he hadn’t been surprised and, in fact, had anticipated their divorce long before Tess moved out.
“You don’t?” She sounded surprised, but recovered quickly. “Good, because I was thinking we should both do away with these attorneys and settle matters on our own. I can’t afford three-hundred dollars an hour, and neither can you.”
Greg wasn’t sure he should put too much faith in this sudden change of heart. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course I do.”
“All right, name a date and a time, and I’ll be there.” Greg hated the eagerness that crept into his voice, but he wanted the attorneys out of these divorce proceedings as much as Tess did. Without them—stirring up animosities, asking for unreasonable concessions—he and Tess had a chance of making this separation amicable.
“How about next Tuesday night?” she suggested.
Greg noted the time and place and, with a farewell that verged on friendly, they ended the call.
Well, well. Life was full of surprises, and not all of them unpleasant.
The drive into the city, however, could only be called unpleasant. Traffic was heavy and Greg soon lost his patience, particularly when it took him nearly an hour to find parking, and that wasn’t even close to the financial district. The cost of parking in San Francisco should be illegal, he grumbled to himself. This was his third trip into the city within ten days; he hadn’t been to San Francisco three times in the entire previous year. Greg preferred his role as lord of the manor—a role that was about to be permanently canceled if he couldn’t secure a loan.