by Turner, Lori
Rachel said…
“Sahara…we shouldn’t be pushy. If Ona wants someone to go with her, then we should let her make that choice for herself.”
Ona wanted to ask them both to go, but she couldn’t bring herself to form the words. For months now, she had tried not to have feelings for Lucien, and she had lied to herself, pretending that her emotions were rooted in admiration. But last night when she called him, confirming that she would meet him at the end of the day; she hung up the phone seeped in an over consuming knowledge. She wanted this meeting; and she wanted to meet with him alone.
Ona braced her hand on the counter, while faking a smile.
“I’ll be all right. You two go home and have a good holiday weekend.”
Sahara said…
“Are you sure because…”
Rachel interjected, cutting her off.
“Come on Sahara. We’ll stay and wait with her—but as soon as the driver arrives, we’ll part ways because this is something Ona needs to do for herself.”
Sahara glared at Rachel when she said…
“Look…for the record; I think she’s making a huge mistake. We’re getting along fine and I don’t see the problem.”
“Of course you don’t see the problem because you’re tucked away behind a soundproof glass, teaching music classes; while Ona and I are out here, turning away teary eyed kids.“
Rachel had embellished her point for added affect, but on her next point; she simply repeated information that Sahara had shared with her earlier.
“Didn’t you say that Judd is prepared to put in more hours, and that means additional classes.”
This was news to Ona, and she said…
“Sahara, when did he say that?”
Sahara pursed her lips, then she snidely said…
“My brother realized that dating a selfish, rich, think that she’s a princess bitch, wasn’t all he’d thought it would be.”
“Cool it with the language.” Rachel warned her, and Sahara rolled her eyes because in her mind, the title fit. She said…
“Bottom-line…Judd is breaking up with Fawn Gustafson. He plans to tell her in a few days. I think she’s out of the country or my brother wants to go out of the country…”
Rachel positioned her hand in Sahara’s face, giving her a full view of her palm. The gesture said it all, and Sahara cooled her jets, giving Rachel the floor to lend a brighter light to the situation.
“Judd is flying to Montreal but when he gets back, he plans to end his relationship. His girlfriend had been against the idea of him volunteering his time, and since she won’t be in the picture anymore; that kinda makes him a free agent again.”
Ona nodded because now she understood and she wanted Sahara’s support but she didn’t have the willpower to debate the issue.
Ona powered down the computers, then Rachel turned off the lights. As they walked out of the warehouse, the alarm was set, then they stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was spring, and the center had closed early. Ona needed time to make her meeting and get to the dock before that last ferry left. When the women stepped to the curb, a long black town car turned at the corner. When the car stopped in front of the building, a driver jumped out, then rounded the vehicle to open the curbside door. Ona felt a rush of foreboding. A thousand questions raced in her brain. She stood frozen, until Rachel touched her elbow saying…
“Don’t be nervous. He likes you and not for the reasons you might think.”
Rachel’s words had been a declaration of something she’d speculated for months. She’d seen it in his eyes, and the way he addressed her. She also knew that she shouldn’t give him false hope. She knew how to discourage unwanted suitors because Geff had not been the first man circling and plotting how or when he would take his chance. In spite of this, there was something about Lucien that fascinated her and she didn’t want to discourage him.
Ona gathered her wits, composing herself when she said…
“Thank you Rachel.”
Sahara said…
“This is a bad idea. Maybe we should go with her.”
Rachel braced her hand on Sahara’s elbow, then she said…
“Ona will be fine.” Her eyes bore into Sahara when she added… “Come on…let’s go home.”
Rachel was practically pushing Sahara down the block when she said over her shoulder…
“Goodbye Ona. Call me.”
They were moving at a steady clip. Ona watched them, and she contemplated her life. She had never had a girlfriend much less, a girlfriend that wasn’t a Samaritan. Deep down, she hoped that Caleb saw in Rachel all the fine characteristics she’d come to treasure. Her lungs released a swell of air because she knew that her friendship with Rachel would live far beyond her project.
“Ma’am…” The driver said, gaining her attention. Ona briefly looked at him because she was treading on new territory; grounds that her parents would not approve of. She smiled at the driver, forcing images of her family in the rear of her brain. When the driver closed the rear door, she rode in the car, completely unaware of her surroundings. If her heart beat any faster, she would faint and the only thing that helped was the contrived images of children’s faces. The children that her program could not accommodate. That was the reason she was doing this. She told herself this; even though the utterance was a mistruth intended to sustain her.
Lucien paced the width of the room because nervous energy was all that he had. He couldn’t abide the fact that she might change her mind, deciding not to come. All sense told him that something would interfere; given that she lived by a strict set of rules. He’d paid a staff of people to search the internet for months, digging up whatever they could find pertaining to the Samaritan Religious Sect. He had made it his personal mission to learn all that he could and with each revelation; his spirits would dive, because the knowledge never seemed to be in his favor. This had been his fate and for months and weeks, he’d endured this. That is, until last night, when Ona Zelle called him, requesting that they meet to discuss her charity program. From the moment the conversation ended, he’d not had one moments rest. Lucien had demanded a great deal from his staff and he still couldn’t still his nerves. Everything that could be done had been done, yet he still felt a sense of unpreparedness.
He startled when the intercom chimed, humming with the assistants voice…
“Mr. Delors…Ona Zelle is here…your three O’clock appointment.”
He cleared his throat then he said…
“Send her up.”
His eyes scanned the area. The entire floor had been gutted, the partitioned off providing office and living space. He’d decided to have her to meet him in the apartment area but now he was questioning this wisdom in inviting her here. Regardless of his indecision, it was too late to make a change. Lucien walked to the elevator, and he adjusted his clothes. He inhaled deeply, and with the intake of air, he reminded himself of the importance of this meeting. He didn’t just like this woman; somehow thoughts of her scrolled in his brain like a perpetual loop.
Cling…cling; went the elevator.
When the doors opened, Ona stood on the lift, completely out of her element. Lucien noticed this, so he was swift on the mark; greeting her and not giving her the chance to feel out of place.
“Ona…” He used a familiar term because this is what he felt in his heart. He offered her his hand, when he said…
‘Welcome to my home.”
Ona was taken aback because when she’d agreed to come, she’d thought this meeting would be conducted in an office. She looked pass him, and she could clearly see a sitting area, and the room had a homy feel. Her mind filled with misgivings but the thoughts didn’t last for long. She stepped aside because Lucien had joined her in the elevator. Now, her confusion doubled. He smiled, then he said…
“When we spoke last night, you made it clear that you had a timetable to adhere to.”
Ona tried to recall the conversation, when she noticed the
closing elevator doors. Lucien said…
“The ferry… You said that you have to be on the last ferry.”
Being in his presence was so overwhelming. His cologne. His good looks. His annunciation. Him.
Ona collected herself and she said…
“Yes. That is correct. I must be on the last ferry.”
“Fine.” He said. And in the next second, the doors to the elevator spread wide, and they were in the lobby again. He stepped off, and he waited for her to join him. When she did, they walked and he said…
“I thought that perhaps the best place to talk is at the property that I think will be the best place to relocate your program.”
Lucien’s strides were long, but he paced them so as not to leave her lagging behind. Ona didn’t know what to say, so she thought it best to remain quiet.
When they walked through the lobby, then out onto the street, they were met by another limo and another driver. Lucien spoke to the man, but the entire exchange didn’t register with her because, Lucien had overtaken her. They were entering the car, when a woman’s voice stopped them.
“Lucien…”
Ona turned and she noticed two women quickly approaching them. They were on Madison Avenue, and all around her, she could sense an air of wealth. Ona wanted to fade into the background, but she felt Lucien’s hand bracing her elbow.
He spoke to one of the women, saying
“Chantel…I didn’t realize that you were still in the city”
“Manners brother. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Lucien’s sister had seen pictures of Ona Zelle, but on the photos she’d been bandaged and broken and based on those images; the woman standing in front of her was nothing short of a walking miracle. A beautiful walking miracle at that. Now she understood her brothers sick futile fascination and when he didn’t do the introductions, she did…
“Hello, I’m Chantel Delors-Windsor and this is Marisela Pettier.”
Lucien said…
“Ona, Chantel is my sister and Marisela is a close family friend. Ladies…please meet Ona Zelle.”
Ona noticed a frown from the other woman.
Chantel said…
“And as for your question brother dear…there has been a change of plans. Marisela and I wanted to get a little shopping in, then ate lunch at Barney’s. Now we’re headed to her flat, then it’s off to the helipad.”
Chantel’s gaze set on Ona but her remark was directed to her brother…
“Clive and I are flying to The Hamptons with Marisela. We’re spending the Memorial Day weekend with her and her parents at their house. What are your plans for this weekend?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Marisela brushed aside a lock of blond hair, when she said…
“You’re more than welcome to come. Actually, I had meant to call you since our last meeting. I wanted to thank you for your advice after my parent’s dismissed their team of lawyers and investigators. If it weren’t for you, I would have given up too. But after our conversation, you persuaded me to follow my gut. So…I hired a new team of private investigators. I wanted to thank you for giving me hope. You were right to remind me that Tollin would never kill himself because he had too much to live for.”
Lucien refrained from showing his annoyance. He didn’t have to look at his watch to sense the clicking passage of time. His time spent with Ona was limited and this conversation was not a part of that plan. In spite of his schedule, he couldn’t completely dismiss Marisela because she’d taken Tollin’s death the hardest and he genuinely wanted to help if he could.
He said…
“I have a few contacts in the districts attorneys office. Call me next week, after the holiday. I’ll make a few calls if you think that it’ll help.”
Marisela placed her hand on his arm, wrapping her delicate fingers there when she said…
“You are such a dear Lucien. I really wish you would reconsider and join us this weekend. It just won’t be the same without you.” Her eyes pleaded with him, and if he’d been alone, he might have given in. But he wasn’t alone and he casually stepped back until her hand fell away.
Lucien guided Ona to the limo. He urged her towards the limo opening while distracting his sister and her friend with gracious platitudes.
“Maybe next time—but please give my best to your parents. And Chantel—tell Clive that I’m still waiting for that handball game.”
“Lucien…”
His sister called his name, but he didn’t answer. He smiled and when he was partway in the limo he said…
“Sorry, can’t talk now. I’ve got to go.”
He slammed the door, even though he accepted that he would be asked to explain his actions later.
The limo pulled away from the curb, navigating through the rush of early holiday traffic. All around them, people were moving, trying to finish their business, get home or get out of the city. This wasn’t the first time Ona had seen this, but it was the first time she’d experienced it while riding in the back of a limousine. Her brain was collecting information, and she was trying to make sense of things. Then her brain locked on Marisela—and the strange way she peered at her.
She wasn’t sure where she’d gathered the nerved, but Ona asked a question.
“That woman—is she someone special to you?”
“My sister?” He said.
Ona didn’t have any right to question him but she couldn’t shake the image; the way that woman looked at her, then at him.
She said…
“No…not your sister. The other woman. Is she your intended?”
She asked because he’d been invited to join her and her parents, and she didn’t fully understand Non-Samaritan cultures.
Lucien practically choked when he said…
“Intended?” He remembered the word from his research. Intended was a person chosen for marriage. His body revolted, because Marisela definitely wasn’t his choice.
Lucien shifted in his seat to face her. His eyes held a serious expression when he said…
“Ona…I don’t have an intended…and I am not engaged to be married.” He painted a finer brush over his point.
“That other woman is a friend to my sister. Our families are good friends.”
He didn’t say anything further mainly because her brow had been raised, and he watched as it lowered, leveling out. As he’d stared at her, he still couldn’t get over how amazedly beautiful she was. And she didn’t have on a lick of makeup.
Ona said…
“Last night when we spoke about the new building, you said that it wasn’t far from the warehouse. I only asked because I don’t want this change to inconvenience the children.”
“It isn’t far from your current location. Actually, when we purchased it, the plan was to demolish the building. Currently, we have three architectural renderings for a series of projects, ranging from housing, office space and retail space.”
“Have you decided?”
Yes, he had decided; but the project would have to wait. Lucien smiled, then he said…
“I’ll tell you after you see the space for yourself.”
Ona shyly smiled, and she sat quiet for the remainder of the ride. The limo turned off on a street that she recognized and it wasn’t too far from the Conclave Square. Her heart beat fast, because until now, she had not considered what would happen if a member of her Sect noticed her getting out of a limo with a man. She told herself, that being with Lucien was necessary for her project, and therefore her behavior didn’t violate any part of her Creed. But she’d been raised to observe a certain set of standards; and this wasn’t one of them.
When the limo came to a stop, Lucien stepped out first. He offered her his hand, to assist her, and when she stood on the street, her jaw fell slack. They were standing in front of a building that had once been a grand place.
Lucien noticed her expression, then he said…
“Wait until you see the inside of this p
lace.”
He placed a gentle hand at the base of her back, then he said…
“Let’s go inside.”
When he opened the door, they stepped inside, and they were greeted by one of his employees.
“I’ve got everything ready for you. Lights—air conditioning—heat; whatever you need. The place is good to go.”
“Thanks Mike.” Lucien said, then they walked passed the man. Ona had never gone to the Movies and she’d never been inside of a theater, so it made perfect sense that she would be awed out of her socks. As they walked, passing ornate door frames, with delicate designs carved in the wood; at every turn, something unique and unexpected caught her eye. Swirling patterns, on every imaginable surface, baffled her imagination. Overhead, large draping chandeliers lit the lobby area like stars glistening in the night sky. Ona said…
“What was this place?”
He laughed, then he said…
“An opera house—then a movie theater. In the late sixties and early seventies, for a short time it showcased burlesque dancers—striptease.” he clarified, then he added…
“After that, the city cleaned up its act, and the place sat empty. Someone bought it back in the nineties and tried their hand at debuting off-Broadway shows, but due to poor management, and bad financing, they closed after the first year. That’s when my family bought the place.”
“And what have you done with it?”
“A lot. Party planners love this place. It’s great for masquerade parties, theme parties…you know; that sort of thing.”
No—she didn’t know, but she nodded, pretending that she did. Her mind latched hold to something he’d said. “Party planners love this place”; that would mean, that they pay a great deal to use it.
Ona said…
“Mr. Delors…”
He stopped her saying…
“I thought we resolved the use of our first names months ago.”
She smiled, then she corrected herself.