Tom foolery

Sara closed her eyes and fought to suppress a whisper of dread that was trying to push its way to the front of her mind - tonight had to go well. She was sitting in front of the mirror in their guest room; the natural light was better here thanks to the big bay windows overlooking the gardens. In the master suite the windows looked out onto the forest, and the big, leafy oaks and ash cast shadows across the room all summer long.

She loved the solid, ancient presence of the trees. The life they represented and all the creatures who had made a home in their bountiful branches. And the birdsong! Sara could hear it now; the twilight chorus of starlings, chaffinch, sparrows and the occasional call of a wood pigeon. She loved that sound. As busy as the birds were, their musical chatter somehow made her feel peaceful and calm.

She sighed, opened her eyes and studied her reflection in the mirror of the large Victorian dresser here in this bright and airy bedroom. The grand old country manor had eleven such guest rooms, although the other ten had largely been sealed off and were rarely used. The furniture in them was covered in white dust sheets, lending a somewhat tragic, abandoned feel to the rooms and Sara avoided them whenever possible.

Tonight they would learn if dear old uncle Saul was going to help her and Jerry out of the financial hole in which they’d been languishing for over a year. It had been quite the lesson in humility and the precariousness of one’s position in life! A few bad investments and here she was, in a draughty old manor with a fraction of its rooms actually in use. No Mrs. Keenly and her team of quiet and efficient housekeeping staff each week. No Mr. Egbert keeping the gardens and grounds in tip-top shape.

She knew uncle Saul had very little time for Jerry, although he had always seemed to have a soft spot for her. No-one in the family knew the extent of their fall from high society; they had managed to keep details vague and kept up a pretence of ‘just a minor setback’ as best they could.

Jerry was already talking about a ‘sure thing’ investment he would use the majority of any funds they were able to secure, so that they could further boost their coffers. Get back to the levels of wealth to which Sara had long been accustomed.

Sara sighed again. She wasn’t sure how she could safeguard any piece of a loan (should they get one!) to prevent it being lost. She didn’t want to doubt Jerry but he had burned through vast amounts of their wealth in a remarkably short space of time. And he seemed alarmingly blaise about his lack of discernment in such matters.

He was just so very trusting of people, infuriatingly so sometimes; always seemed ready to believe that his ‘financial advisors’ (and why did he never seem willing to go through reputable investment companies? Why did he think they were out to swindle him?!?) really did have his best interests at heart. He genuinely believed that it was just bad luck and unfortunate market forces that caused him to lose his investments time and again. He was such a cheerful and good individual himself. But dear god he was an idiot sometimes! Though Sara could and would (or so she thought) never say it to his face. Or even behind his back. She was steadfastly loyal and supportive, if exasperated and frustrated at times. 

He was always so devoted to her, and despite all they had been through, he remained cheerful and charming and kind. He’d be heartbroken to think that he was causing her such anxiety about their future. He had come from very little, they had fallen in love and he had married into her not-inconsiderable wealth. And that of her not-inconsiderably wealthy family.

She sighed again. There were crows feet at the corners of her eyes and the skin on her upper lip was beginning to wrinkle slightly too. Her lines were slightly deeper generally and she wished for the days when weekly facials were the norm. When lotions, potions and serums littered her bathroom cabinet shelves, promising a youthful glow and deep skin cell restoration. 

These days, whatever was on special offer at the time became her lotion of choice. And it was remarkable what one could find in the bargain brand make-up section too, she thought, as she set about minimizing the flaws she so readily saw in the twilight light of the spare room.

Once she decided it was likely as good as it was going to get, Sara slipped on a dark green silk dress she’d had for years and knew uncle Saul liked. He said it made her eyes sparkle. Dear old uncle Saul. Sara felt the stirrings of doubt about asking him for a loan. He was a very wealthy man, but she knew that almost certainly, his money would go the way of Jerry’s other investments and Sara wondered at the pointlessness of asking him at all. Wouldn’t they end up exactly where they were now? One wrong move away from having to sell the family home. The very thought sent icy daggers of dread lancing through her entire being. It had been in Sara’s family for generations, and as the sole surviving heir, she had inherited everything when her parents died in a car crash some 15 years ago.

Her parents. Sara hung her head; how furious her father would be if he could see her now. 

She heard a key in the front door - Jerry. He’d be full of energy and enthusiasm, sure that uncle Saul would bail them out, sure that his next investment would be the one to get them back on track. 

She smoothed the front of her dress with her hands, suddenly nervous about the enormity of the evening’s objective. What if uncle Saul said no? What if he wanted to teach Jerry a lesson and told him to find his own way out of their financial hole?

She glanced one last time in the mirror and headed out of the guest room, down the large staircase and into the entrance hall where Jerry stood. Her cheery greeting died in her throat as she caught sight of his face.

His normally cheerful countenance was replaced by one that Sara had never seen before. He looked shaken, his skin seemed grey, jaw clenched and his lips formed a tense thin line across his face.

“Jerry? Jerry, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”

He looked towards her but his gaze was vague, unfocused. 

“Jerry!? Please, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” She moved towards him and clutched at his arm.

He seemed to crumple away from her, sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry”, he groaned, “I’m so sorry”.

Sara felt a cold knot of foreboding developing in the pit of her stomach. 

“Jerry?”

He didn’t respond. 

“Jerry, please. You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong. Look at me!”

He brought his hands away from his face but didn’t lift his head. Sara reached out and cupped his chin in her hand, gently lifting his head until he was looking up at her.

“You’ll never forgive me”, he whispered. “You shouldn’t, I’ve been such a fool.” He groaned again. “I’ve done something, I’ve been so…” His voice drifts off.

Sara wonders if perhaps there was another woman? It’s a scenario she never had imagined before, but maybe he has a mistress who was bleeding them dry somehow?

“Jerry”, she begins, firmly, “Jerry, if it’s another woman…”

“No, no, no!” His body jerks as he turns to look at her. “Never Sara, never! But, but maybe this is worse. It’s,” he swallows “it’s the house…”

Her blood turns cold.

“The house?”

He nods and shuffles closer, on his knees, and throws his arms around her hips, burying his head in her skirts. She stiffens and where moments ago she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and comfort him, now her arms hang limply at her sides and she feels an urge to push him away.

“The house?”, she demands again, her voice harder, louder, and more shrill than she would have liked. She tries to disentangle herself from his arms, to step away so he’s forced to look at her.

“Please Sara! I, it was, there was...” 

“Tell me what you did.” Her tone is still cold and she struggles to keep the mounting panic from causing her voice to break.

Still he hung his head. He sighed and slowly began to drag himself to his feet. “Come and sit down with me and I’ll tell you everything.”

“No, Jerry. Tell me here. Now”

“Please”, he said, “you’ll want to be sitting down”, and he turned and headed slowly in the direction of the kitchen. She followed him dumbly, her mind whirring with possibilities. He pulled out a chair for her but she stared at it mutely, then turned her stare on him. “Please”, he said again.

She sat stiffly in the offered chair and watched as he sat next to her, staring at his crumpled suit and crumpled face dispassionately.

“That”, he bagan, hesitantly, “That ‘sure thing’ deal I told you about? The one I was going to use uncle Saul’s loan for?”

Sara nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Well the man who had first approached me, Tom Evanshaw, he came to see me again today and told me that something big was going down and the investment wouldn’t be available for much longer. That it was such a sure thing they were closing the doors early on more investors buying in. They just wanted enough investors to provide the capital that they needed, then once the stock soared, they’d split the jackpot with fewer people, making them very rich. You know, better returns for their investors so they’d be more likely to invest again in the future.” He paused, hung his head and shrugged. “I realise this sounds so stupid now. So unlikely and foolish. But Tom had such convincing schematics, recommendations, third party evaluations and predictions. He had charts on earnings and likely return on investment and the markets. He had colleagues and other investors who I talked to - there seemed to be dozens of people involved!” Again, he hung his head.

“What. Did. You. Do?”

“I had planned on the loan from uncle Saul, but Tom said he needed funds now, before the opportunity was gone. And I was so sure Sara! Sure that I was going to get all of your money back. Your family wouldn’t ever know we’d almost lost everything, you could afford the luxuries you so richly deserve…”, his voice tapered off.

“What. Did. You. Do?”

His face burned with shame.

“The house”, he croaked “I gave him the house. And now he’s gone. Everyone’s gone.”

Sara felt herself physically reeling as though she had been punched in the gut and was falling, her world spinning and crumbling around her.

“Sara? Sara?!?”

The voice sounded like it was so very far away. Was she drowning? Someone was grabbing her by the shoulder, saving her maybe?

Suddenly her world swam into focus once more. She bolted upright, wrenching herself free from Jerry’s grip and spun to face him. He shrank away from the fury in her eyes. Her mind was suddenly filled with every venomous thing she’d never said to him, filled with rage and pain and a desire to lash out, to hurt him. She drew a deep breath and felt the words fill her mouth, ready to be hurled forth by her tongue.

And then the doorbell rang. 

Neither of them moved. 

It rang again followed by loud thumping on the door.

Jerry, relieved to have an excuse to turn away from the angry despair in her eyes, muttered “We should, I’ll, it might be…” and hurried out of the kitchen towards the front door. Sara felt her shoulders droop as the anger left her almost as quickly as it had arrived. 

She heard a familiar voice at the door. A cold “Jerry”, by way of a cursory greeting, then, “Where’s Sara, I need to speak to her? You too.”

“Uncle Saul! We weren’t… I mean, we were going to…” He must have been stopped short by a look as the next thing Jerry said was; “She’s in the kitchen.”

Uncle Saul, looking distinguished as ever, strode into the kitchen and Jerry followed more slowly behind, his head bowed once more. Saul embraced Sara, kissing her on both cheeks. She was pale and still looked shaken as he said,“My dear, you look awful. Do sit down. I take it Jerry has told you what happened?”

Sara looked even more confused. “But”, she stuttered, “How? How do you know? What are you referring to?”, she added, sure he must be talking about something else entirely. How could he possibly know about Jerry’s recent world-shattering news?

Saul grimaced a little, “Sara I’m sorry, I’m sorry it had to be this way but I wanted to help you. Help you both. It was extreme, yes, and I wish it could have been another way.”

Jerry was looking equally confused. “What do you mean? Have you heard? How could you possibly? I came straight home to tell Sara!”

“Tom is my man. I mean, he works for me. Please! Let me explain”, he speaks over a chorus of their exclamations and questions. “I know what you’re going through, financially, and I had to do something…”

“So you took our house!”, Sara interjected! “My home! How could you! I don’t understand!”

“Please, Sara, let me explain! I haven’t taken your home, there was no big investment opportunity! Your home was never in danger. This time. Dammit! Sara, your father was my best friend, I couldn’t just stand by and watch as everything he’d worked his life to accumulate, was slowly frittered away…”

“Well it was hardly ‘frittered’!” objected Jerry, “I was just damned unlucky with a…”

“YOU! You will BE QUIET!” roared Saul, “I do believe you’re a genuinely good, if financially inept man, otherwise I would have run you off years ago. But enough is enough. I know you were coming to see me to ask for a loan tonight, and I know if I’d given you the money, it too would have been lost eventually. Probably sooner rather than later.” He glared at Jerry, “You are a total buffoon when it comes to anything financial…”, Both Sara and Jerry protested, but weakly so. “You are a buffoon! And Sara would never say anything, she’s loyal to a fault. But you, Jerry, are not going to make another single investment so help me god. Not with Sara’s money. I’ve been looking after a trust fund her father left with me for safe keeping. I,” he glared at him once more, “Jerry, have taken the advice of an experienced financial advisor, and that trust fund is doing very well.

“I couldn’t let you have access to it until I figured out a way to keep it safe. I will not have it go the way of all your father’s other assets. I know Sara, she would never say anything to discourage you from pursuing your insane investment strategies. And so I orchestrated a scenario, a very realistic scenario, in which you lost the house. The. House Sara. I cannot let this be your future. I’ve drawn up an agreement by which any debts will be paid off and you will receive a generous weekly allowance.

“Jerry can have investment input,” he offers, “discuss any ideas he has, but as the trust’s custodian, I can and will veto anything that my broker advises me is unsound.”

Both Jerry and Sara looked confused, shell-shocked. They had collapsed into chairs around the kitchen table and Jerry held his head in his hands. Sara was the first to speak, “I get to keep the house?”, she whispered, as a tear slowly ran down her face.