“What’s this ten-thousand-dollar cash withdrawal in December?” a man at a computer terminal asked Mr. Von Bizmark, who had emerged from the library to resume pacing and making phone calls. “From your personal account.”
“You expect me to know?” Mr. Von Bizmark said. “Marco?”
Marco broke out into an instant sweat bath. He nearly fell off the edge of the windowsill while pulling a laptop from his briefcase, which he then precariously balanced on his knees. All eyes turned to him. Here was the moment he had dreaded for at least two hours, if not his entire life. “Give me a second,” he said.
Noooooooooo, Anna thought, knowing before Marco could find it in his records that this was the money Chef had used to bribe customs officials in Colombia. While this $10,000 was unlikely to have anything to do with Peony and could therefore be overlooked, providing cash to staff for illegal payments was certainly a gray area in terms of professional behavior. Phil wasn’t here to take the fall, and Anna would never throw him under the bus.
As realization dawned on Marco, he cast a glance in Anna’s direction. She gave him a nod and, feeling it was the right thing to do, stood to deliver her explanation: “We unexpectedly had to fly Chef back from Colombia over the New Year’s . . .” Everyone in the room paused to gape at her. Anna reached for euphemisms. “And this required greasing a few wheels at immigration. But her presence was required. Obviously, I don’t have a receipt, but I’m sure Phil, the estate manager, will back me up.”
“That is also my understanding,” Marco added.
“Wait, what’s this twelve-million-dollar American Express charge in January?” another data cruncher inquired. A moment earlier, Anna had been sorry she could not be a more active participant in the investigation; now she wished for nothing more than to just disappear back into the couch.
“It was for the opera. Tonight,” Anna said.
“Oh, right,” Mrs. Von Bizmark said, dazed. “For the points.”
“And . . . ,” the same guy said again. Young and in his twenties. His greasy complexion reflected the glow from his screen. “This one just today for four million, seven hundred and three thousand, four hundred and twenty-five dollars and sixty-three cents?” All eyes were on Anna.
“That was a necklace,” she said, her voice growing weaker and almost dying in her ever-tightening throat. Mrs. Von Bizmark looked at her quizzically. “I got you the points,” she whispered to her.
“That’s a huge flag to men like Derpikoska,” the head suit said disapprovingly. “They see this size transaction, and they know you can access that sort of money instantly.” He exchanged meaningful glances with two other suits nearby, wordlessly processing the severity of this bad news. As if just remembering something, the head suit turned back to Anna. “Wait a second,” he said. “Where were you from eleven a.m. on today?” Anna felt every single person in the room watching her, assessing her reaction. So self-consciousness and distressed, Anna could not for the life of her remember where she had been that morning!
Just then, the elevator dinged behind this giant, and out stepped Peony Von Bizmark herself, holding a lavender Bergdorf Goodman bag and an ice cream cone. For the first time in her life, joy overcame both her parents when they laid eyes her. They rushed to her and fell to their knees. Mrs. Von Bizmark threw her arms around her daughter, and Mr. Von Bizmark wrapped the two of them in a tight hug.
“Hey, you’re smushing my ice cream,” Peony said, pressing the cone into the back of Mrs. Von Bizmark’s unflinching head. She kissed her daughter’s face a dozen times. Mr. Von Bizmark gripped the little girl’s arm as if she might suddenly evaporate. The household staff hovered, everyone smiling and shedding happy tears.
“Where were you?” Mr. Von Bizmark asked, wiping away his own tearlet before anyone could see it.
“I went to get you an anniversary present. I know how much Mommy likes the frames at Bergdorf’s.” Peony peered around her parents at all the people and equipment.
“Oh! That’s lovely,” Mrs. Von Bizmark gushed. “So that’s where you’ve been this whole time?”
“Well, then I went to the zoo. And I got an ice cream,” she admitted, licking it.
“But how did you get out without being on the security cameras?” Mr. Von Bizmark asked.
“There’s a window at the bottom of the back staircase you can’t see.”
“How did you know that?”
“I saw Miguel do it.” That explains the cigarette smell! Anna, Julie, Cristina, and Mrs. Von Bizmark all thought at the same time.
“Well, aren’t you a quick study,” Mr. Von Bizmark said. The suits started to make their quiet exits, each clapping Mr. Von Bizmark on the shoulder before leaving their personnel to pack up the room. Anna watched as some twentysomething ripped the duct tape off the hand-painted floor. Several green leaves and layers of varnish went with it.
Nanny embraced Peony. “You scared me!” she said, tears still running down her face.
And then it dawned on little Peony that she had worried quite a few people and, worse, gotten Nanny in trouble. “Oh. I’m sorry,” she said to Nanny and hugged her. Over Nanny’s shoulder, she saw all the activity in the living room, all those workers huffily packing up and the red faces of all the staff, tissue pressed into the corners of wet eyes and smiling at her like maniacs.
“I’m sorry, everyone,” she said quietly and then started to cry herself.
“It’s OK, sweetheart,” Mrs. Von Bizmark said, again taking her hand. “We’re just all so glad you’re home right now.” She cried harder. “Listen . . .” But Peony’s crying only intensified. “Listen . . . ,” Mrs. Von Bizmark said, with a hint of sternness. She looked into Peony’s eyes until her daughter took a deep breath and met her gaze.
“I want you to come with us tonight, OK?” Mrs. Von Bizmark said for the first time ever. She pressed their foreheads together. Peony’s eyebrows shot up into her blonde hairline. Definitely a first. “You too,” Mrs. Von Bizmark said, twisting to look at Nanny. “And you two!” to Anna and Julie. “You’ve worked so hard. You can have my seat,” she said to Anna, really on a euphoric roll. “I don’t care! Julie, get some dresses from Bergdorf’s . . . actually . . .” Mrs. Von Bizmark thought, holding her daughter’s hand and looking around at the staff. She met Mr. Von Bizmark’s eye. He seemed uncharacteristically tickled by her kooky behavior.
“I don’t care, get a limo—everyone’s going!” Mrs. Von Bizmark said. “Josefina, call Ilana. Anna, tell Richard to set out another table for some unexpected guests. Nanny, get dressed, get Peony dressed—everyone, we are all going to the ball!” As she went upstairs with Nanny and Peony, Mrs. Von Bizmark called back to Anna, “And I can’t wait to wear my lariat!”
Blind panic. The Harry Winston bag! Anna rushed into the living room against the tide of hard plastic rolling trunks aggressively dragged by annoyed staffers. Any one of them could have snatched the necklace and the check. Should she sound an alarm and search everyone? Already, at least a dozen people had left. She looked around the couch where she’d spent most of the ordeal with Mrs. Von Bizmark. Nothing. She scoured her desk, in a full-body sweat. Anna was vaguely aware of Julie trailing her, offering to help; she was so frantic she could hardly hear or see beyond what was directly in front of her. Not knowing what else to do, Anna retraced her steps from the foyer to the living room to her desk and back to the foyer. Meanwhile, Julie waited by the elevator, and when the door slid open, she picked the Harry Winston shopping bag up off the little bench inside like a magician.