I sat in his summer room, looking out for hours, undisturbed. I thought back to the day he had found me, rescued me and Travis from a life on the streets. He had been the first adult to care for me, the only adult who had ever hugged me that I had hugged back and I remembered that day. I didn’t like to be touched, the only contact I’d had were the beatings. To have someone, especially someone I viewed as my father, pull me to his chest, place his arms around me and comfort me was strange but I had embraced him back. I now wished that I had done that more. I wished that I had told him how important he was to me, how I had loved him. And that feeling came back, that emptiness in my stomach that I had felt when my parents had died. I knew then what it was, it was grief.
No one came and spoke to me. They understood that I needed that time alone to gather my thoughts, to come to terms with losing him. It was inevitable that he would die one day, we all did. I guess I had not thought what affect it would have on me, how it would make me feel, and I felt very alone. It was strange because I still had Travis and Evelyn but Joe had been the only parent I had really known. The one who had brought me up, who had taught me another language, had taught me about his way of life, had trained me to become the man I was. Now he was gone and I mourned him greatly.
Whether my upbringing was right or wrong, he’d had morals, a code of conduct so to speak. He gave and earned respect and taught me some of the greatest lessons I was ever to learn. He gave me the opportunity to become who I was, to be the successful businessman and have wealth. He taught me to respect that success and wealth and to never take it for granted.
His funeral was a lavish affair, just what he deserved. Many people came, some from his past, like Massimo, who had been released from prison for that day, and some from the neighbourhood. The old Jew, Joseph, who he had befriended many years ago and had helped set up in business, Ted and the guys mourned him also. There must have been over a hundred people. Because of the nature of some of the mourners, there was a police presence, something I objected to, an intrusion in the day. Mallory and Jones were there leaning against a car with a sneer on their faces. Jones had a pad and seemed to be writing, perhaps a list of names, I wasn’t sure. Whenever one of the many security guys got close enough to see, he whipped it away.
He was buried with Maria and after the coffin was lowered people made their way over to me, offering their condolences. Some I had met, many I hadn’t, but all viewed me as his son, his successor, the head of the family. In honour of him, I wore my customary black suit but this time with a red tie.
I remembered a time he would mock me. “Always in black, Rob, you need some colour in your life,” he would say, laughing.
I saw Joey standing in the distance, away from everyone and I saw the look of hatred in his face as people filed past me, shaking my hand. I had told Evelyn to invite him, Joe was his father after all but it was his choice to stand on the sidelines. I also noted that Mallory and Jones had spotted that he was not with the main party. At no time had he come close to the grave and I wondered, was he there to grieve for his father or just for confirmation he had died?
A reception was held at the hotel we owned, a private dining room closed off for us. I paid my respects to the older members of the families that had come.
“Robert, can I introduce you to my uncle?” Massimo said.
“Roberto, I am sorry for your loss. Guiseppi was a good man, he spoke fondly of you,” an elderly gentleman replied.
I had learnt from Joe that some of the older members of the family referred to me as Roberto. There was a time when they would not accept a non Italian at the head of a family but trusting Joe and his choices, they christened me with an Italian version of my name. I found it slightly amusing, Travis found it hilarious.
His name was Gianfranco and he had brought his wife, Sofia, with him.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, finally,” I said to him before kissing Sofia on her cheeks.
“And of course, my son Luca and his family,” Massimo added.
I shook the hand of a guy as tall as I was. In another life we could have been brothers, we looked so alike.
“I never had the pleasure of meeting Guiseppi, I hear he was a great man,” Luca said.
“He was, Luca. A great man indeed. Thank you for coming, I know he would have been pleased.”
I sat with them and listened to their stories, how they knew Joe. Sofia spoke no English and it was fortunate that I had, many years ago learnt Italian, partly to be able to talk to Joe without anyone else understanding.
I made my way around the guests, shaking hands, kissing cheeks and listening to each tell their story of their friendship with Joe. I sat for a while with Joseph, he was accompanied by Evelyn.
“Robert, you have done my friend, Joe, proud today,” he said.
“Thank you, Joseph. It’s the least he deserves.”
At one point I tuned out, I just sat and watched the people in that room. Some laughed, regaling each other with stories from the past, some wiped a tear from an eye. Everyone had their memories of Joe and from the snippets of conversations I could hear, he would be sorely missed.
“Ev, when you’re ready to leave, let me know,” I heard Travis tell her and I saw her nod her head.
The day had really taken its toll on her, she had cared for her father and her sister for many years, now they were gone, whether that be physically or mentally. She said she felt a little lost and not sure what to do. I took her hand and after saying our goodbyes we made our way to a waiting car.
“How are you holding up, Ev?” I asked.
“I don’t know to be honest. I feel relieved that he’s out of pain and I feel guilty that I feel relieved,” she answered.
“I know what you mean,” I replied.
I took her hand in mine and we travelled home in silence.
“Can I make you boys something to eat?” she asked as we arrived back at the house.
“I’ll do it,” Travis replied.
Evelyn and I stared at each other before giving in to a small laugh, Travis had never cooked a meal in his life.
“What? I can cook something,” he said, indignant.
We sat around the kitchen table, the same table that Evelyn had sat for most of her life, the same table Joe and I had sat having discussions late into the night and we reminisced. We ate the meal Travis had prepared and for a simple pasta dish, it was surprisingly tasty.
Travis and I stayed at the house for a couple of days until Evelyn finally told us to get back to our apartment, to get back to work. It was what Joe would have wanted, not a long period of mourning.
Life carried on, it had to in his memory and I was more determined than ever to be a success, to build my company in honour of him. We named the park in the New York complex after him, Guiseppi Gardens. I had arranged for a small plaque to be placed on one of the benches, just his name and the years he had been born and died. We sat on that bench for an hour after the opening, just the three of us, watching kids test out the new play equipment, each with our own thoughts and memories. The thing I thought of the most, when I looked at that memorial plague on the bench, was the dash. That little line between the date Joe was born and the date he died. That dash resembled his whole life, his achievements and his family. That dash was more important that the dates themselves.
Chapter Five
The first new company I bought came about more by mistake than anything. I was twenty-seven and until then had been content with what we already had. Richard had been talking about a couple of properties next door to each other, one was an empty warehouse and the other a manufacturing factory. We decided to take a look at the empty one. The area was mainly industrial but could have good letting potential and in the future, perhaps conversion to apartments. It looked out over the river with good access. The owner was an elderly gentleman, wanting to sell up and cash in his pension.
Next door was a larger warehouse and I wanted to know more about it. We found out that the
company had four shareholders, one main and three smaller ones. It was just about breaking even with no real profit and no future but the site was good. We quietly approached each of the smaller shareholders offering them a good price for their shares until we then owned the majority. Now all we had to do was persuade the larger shareholder to sell up. Not something that he wanted to do initially.
In the end he had no choice, I had put Richard in there temporarily and we eased him out. I paid him a fair price for his shares, perhaps a little more than they were worth and closed down the manufacturing. It was hard to put people out of work, but the property had more value than the business itself and it wouldn’t have been long before the business would have to close anyway. We sold off all the machinery and eventually some of the land, making a large profit. That deal caught the attention of the financial papers and I experienced my first exposure to the press.
“Rob, take a look at this,” Travis had said one day. He was holding a newspaper.
In the financial section was a photograph of me, I was shielding my eyes and leaving a restaurant with a woman. I had to think to remember her name. The article was about Vassago and an up and coming businessman. I had no idea where they had got their information from, they had my name and age correct but no personal details about me. The article questioned how I had started and where my money had come from. The journalist had alluded to crime. I would have to find out about him, who he had been speaking to, to gain what little information he had obtained.
“Famous at last bro,” Travis said, waving the article around.
Fame was not something I wanted at all. I didn’t need anyone to go poking around in my background, and I had no desire for someone from the past rearing their ugly head.
“Find out who wrote this, Trav. I don’t like what he’s referring to,” I said.
“Already did, someone by the name of Guy Rogers, think he’s an independent.”
“What do we know about him?”
“I’m working on it but not too much at the moment. Seems to be a bit elusive.”
What came from that though were offers, invitations and requests for donations to various causes. I refused most, I wanted a private life and not one in front of the media. However, something had caught my eye one day. It was a request for a donation to a children’s home. A blanket letter, probably sent to hundreds of businesses in DC. The home was for children, like Travis and I had been, homeless, who needed shelter and I wanted to know more.
“Trav, what do you think of this?” I asked him, showing him the letter.
“Sounds kind of cool,” he replied. “I wonder what would have happened if we had found one of these,” he said.
“Well, I doubt we would be sitting here, probably working at the local grocery store now,” I laughed.
“Come on, let’s go and check it out,” I said.
We drove to Arlington and I rang on the way, an appointment was made for us to visit. There was never going to be a refusal, knowing who we were. We arrived at a run-down old house, most definitely in need of a few repairs and with a large garden. We noticed a sign just outside, Stone House, fate perhaps? An elderly woman opened the door and she extended her hand to us.
“Thank you for coming, I’m Nancy, Nancy Pearson,” she said.
We followed her into the lounge, again, a room in serious need of redecoration. The ceiling was stained from an old water leak and rivers of condensation ran down the windows soaking into the rotten frames. Although the house was clean and tidy, it was clear it would need some money spent on it.
“Tell me, Nancy, about the home,” I asked.
“It started out as my family home, my parents died a long time ago and as time went on I got a bit lonely I guess. A couple of lads used to knock on the door, wanting jobs, mow the lawn and such, and I realised they were homeless. I felt sorry for them and occasionally I would feed them, let them stay. I liked their company. They stole from me, obviously,” she said with a chuckle.
“But I thought, I had this big old rambling house, why not open it officially as a home. I have all the registration papers, it’s all in order. What I don’t have, Mr. Stone, is enough money to keep it going. The state provides some, but it’s never enough,” she added.
We took a walk around. The house had six bedrooms, two lounges and a large kitchen diner. There was a porch area to the back of the property and a good couple of acres of garden. It needed a new roof, some new windows and most certainly a lick of paint. I met a couple of the kids who were staying there, they were clean and respectful. A social worker came weekly to check on them and Nancy made sure they went to school.
“Do you know how many children are homeless in this city?” she asked, showing us around.
“Thousands. It’s disgusting that in these days children are still on the streets, especially in one of the richest countries in the world,” she said, shaking her head in anger.
A look passed between Travis and I. Arriving back in the house, we settled in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and a plate of homemade cookies.
“Do you look after the kids yourself, is there any help?” I asked her.
“I have someone come in and clean but other than that, I do most of it myself,” she said.
Without needing to think anymore, I offered her a proposal.
“Nancy, this house needs a lot of money spent on it, repairs, redecoration and some modernisation,” I said, looking around the out dated kitchen.
“We want to buy this house from you. It will stay as a home and I would like for you to stay here, but with help. You already have a good way with the kids and I think it would be important for you to continue to live here.”
“We’ll have the house valued and give you a fair price for it,” Travis added.
Without hesitation she agreed and we arranged for our lawyer to contact her with all the details. I don’t think her fund raising had gone too well and this was probably the best offer she was ever going to get.
As we left Travis said, “Rob, let’s do this together, just you and me. Keep it outside of Vassago, this is personal,” and I agreed.
We made the purchase and organised the renovations. It was hard going, renovating a building with as little disruption to the kids as possible, but we ended up extending the property a little. We made ten bedrooms, all en suite and one with its own lounge area for Nancy. We installed a new kitchen and larger dining area, one large lounge, an office and a room for the social workers to use, a private space for any therapy that was needed.
The grounds were reorganised, lawned to create play spaces and although a boundary fence was erected we didn’t want gates. We wanted the kids to be able to walk in from the street. We met with the social workers and explained what we were doing, how we would take on 12 kids at a time and best of all, Evelyn wanted to be involved.
“Rob, I would like to do something at the home, maybe I can help cook and clean,” she said when we had told her about it.
“Sure, if you want to. However, we plan to put in a manager, the kids need a male presence as well, someone who will be tough but fair with them,” I replied.
Maria had been placed in a home, her dementia getting bad and Evelyn felt like she rattled around her house with no purpose. She wanted to help Nancy and between them they would make a fantastic team. However, there was one other person I wanted on board, someone I thought would be great, especially for the boys, so I called him.
“Ted, I have a little project I want you to be involved in.”
“Sure, Rob, anything for you. Now, tell me all about it,” came his reply.
The boxing club had been closed down a long time ago and although we made sure Ted had a flat of his own, he was lonely and bored. Some of the kids would need a bit of tough love and I wanted a man about the house. I wanted the kids to have a balanced upbringing.
Once the works were complete and the home ‘reopened’ we had six boys, two per bedroom and two girls. We had a set of rules doc
umented and each child had to sign one and keep a copy, a kind of contract between them and us. Rule number one was to always feel that they could talk openly about how they felt. They had their games, their toys, electronic stuff and if anyone broke something through neglect, it would not get replaced. I wanted them to learn to respect what they had. Each had little jobs to do for which they would get a weekly allowance, although we monitored what they spent it on. They needed to learn to handle money, to spend wisely or to save for their future. And that’s what the home gave them, a future.
Travis and I would go there once a fortnight, meet with the kids, listen to them and just chat about what they had been up to. We made sure they went to school, they saw the doctor when necessary and we helped them to prepare for later life. As they got older, some went on to college, some we found jobs for and some would just disappear, maybe we would hear from them occasionally, others we wouldn’t.
Evelyn went to the home every day, she cooked and supervised. She had a cleaner and a kitchen helper and of course Ted, who had moved in after Nancy decided she wanted to retire. Ted was amazing with the kids, although an old man, he was still strong, still fit enough to separate a scuffle every now and again. He was someone the kids respected because he understood them. He got how hard their life had been and although he was tough, he was a fair man.
I’d missed Ted and although Travis and I still worked out, I missed the old club. We decided to turn the basement of the office building into a gym, install some high tech equipment and a boxing ring. Neither Travis nor I had fought for years, we had no need, but I wanted to get back in the ring, just for old times’ sake.
I also wanted for the kids to experience what we’d had. Being in the boxing club, all those years ago, had taught us some discipline and how to defend ourselves. Although I didn’t want to promote violence, I wanted them to have the confidence that came with the knowledge that they could protect themselves if needed.
Robert (Fallen Angel Series Book 1) Page 13