“Hello, Elena,” Neal said.
Elena raised her eyebrows, “Hello, Elena?”
Neal chuckled nervously, “I thought that was a good way to start. Can I carry that for you?”
Elena looked down at her small grocery bag. She had to buy sparingly, so that she could stretch what little money she had for the rest of the week. Nine days if she could manage it. She was about to turn him down, but she was side-tracked by the change she saw in him. She couldn’t put her finger on it. It was something about his expression.
“OK,” Elena said, handing over her groceries.
“Can I come in?” Neal asked, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t tell him to get lost.
Elena did in fact think about it, but somehow, the new-found change she saw in him gave her pause. It was definitely his expression, she decided at last. He didn’t look so smug and self-satisfied as he had the night they had met. He didn’t look like he had everything in control. There was more to his visit than trying to get tangled in her sheets with her.
“OK,” Elena acquiesced, leading him to the top of the stairs, where she let herself in and led him to the staircase.
“No elevator?” Neal asked, looking around.
“It’s been broken as long as I’ve lived here,” Elena replied. “Don’t worry, it’s only five floors up.”
Neal sighed inwardly, and started the climb. Elena seemed unconcerned and climbed without looking back at him. He was grateful for that, she would avoid seeing him pant. When they finally reached the apartment, Elena led him inside, taking the groceries from his hands and setting them down on the kitchen counter. It was a studio apartment, Neal realized, after his initial shock of seeing her bed positioned just a couple of feet away from her stovetop.
“You’ve got a nice place here,” he said lamely.
Elena rolled her eyes at him, refusing to dignify that comment with an answer. She knew that he was simply trying to get off on the right foot today, but the compliment was so transparent that she wasn’t about to go along with it. There was no room to move, and she hated herself for being so ashamed of the apartment.
“What are you doing here, Neal?” Elena asked.
Neal collected himself. He took a deep breath and leaned against the kitchen counter since there didn’t seem to be any other place to sit, apart from the bed, and frankly, that would be supremely awkward.
“I… this is… I--” he stumbled through his mission.
“Wow,” Elena interrupted his stuttering. “This must be big.”
Neal stopped for a moment, and then he decided just to do it, like ripping off a band-aid.
“My brother may be dead,” he said in a rush.
Elena raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean by ‘may’?”
Neal swallowed. “He was in a plane crash a few days ago. They haven’t found his body yet. He’s presumed dead.”
Elena was taken back. Of all things, she had not expected that.
“I’m… so sorry,” she said quietly, “but I still don’t know how this concerns me.”
Neal nodded. “My brother is the president of Hargrove Brothers and Company. My father held the controlling stock in the business, and when he died, it passed to George. The board has just declared that if George is not found in ninety days, they will declare him dead and take his stock, and essentially the whole company.”
Neal paused there, letting that sink in while Elena tried to process what she had heard. She was still not sure why he was telling her all of this. It had no connection to her whatsoever, but she was starting to feel sympathy for him. He looked so distraught. So lost.
“So… you will lose everything if the board takes control of the company?” she asked.
“Yes,” Neal said softly.
“Does that mean you would lose your shares?”
“No,” Neal admitted. “I’d still keep my investments. I’d still get my money.”
“Then… why do you care what happens to the company?”
Neal knew what she thought of him. She had made it very clear the last time, and he knew now that she would have expected him to not have cared about losing the business. He would still have his fair share of money and his inheritance, and the running of the company would be another person’s responsibility.
A tiny voice in Neal’s head told him that there was precedent for him taking that course and allowing the board to take over Hargrove Brothers, but for some reason, he just couldn’t let it happen. Not because he thought he could actually run it, but because he knew his brother would want him to.
“Because this company… my father built it up from nothing. He built it for George and for me. I could easily walk away and let the chips fall where they may… but I can’t do that to George, or the memory of my father. Not after everything they have done for me.”
Elena was aware that her dislike for him was slowly receding into the background. He may have been a moocher, but he was grateful and appreciative, which was more than she could say for several other people she had known. It was obvious he had loved his father, and it was obvious that he loved his brother. It struck her that he was dealing with all of this only days after finding out that his brother might be dead. She found herself moving closer to him, and she placed a hand on his shoulder.
The pressure of her hand was deeply comforting. Neal realized that no one had touched him that way since the news of George’s plane crash. Everyone had relayed their condolences, they had told him how sorry they were, but no one had been there to comfort him. No one had just sat with him so that he would not be alone in his mourning. It struck Neal that he had not really mourned at all. He corrected himself fiercely; he didn’t know yet if there was anything to mourn at all.
“Neal?” Elena’s voice cut through his thoughts. He knew she was curious as to why he had tracked her down to tell her all of this.
“I know we’re strangers to each other,” he said finally. “I know that I’m nobody to you… but the reason I’m here is that I need to ask you for your help.”
Amazed, Elena looked into his pleading, desperate eyes and she felt her heart quiver a little.
“I don’t know how I can do that, Neal,” she said honestly.
Neal took a deep breath and jumped in.
“There is a way I can keep the company under my control,” Neal started, his heart beating faster as he came to the root cause of his visit. “You see, if my brother had left behind an heir, a child of his own, that child would inherit his controlling stock.”
“I don’t understand.”
“And until that child turns twenty one, I would retain control of the company.”
Elena shook her head, “I still don’t –"
“My brother dedicated himself to this business completely, Elena. He wasn’t involved with anyone; he left behind no children.”
“Then how –"
“I would like you to claim to be his girlfriend. I would like you to claim to be carrying his child.”
The silence that filled the little studio apartment was palpable. Neal looked straight at Elena, waiting for her reaction. Elena stood frozen, blinking hard and trying to make sense of what he had just said. After a few moments had passed and Neal hadn’t taken anything back, Elena backed away from him slowly.
“You’re joking, right?”
Neal’s face remained impassive. “I’m afraid I’m not.”
Elena looked imploringly at him, trying to make him see some sense, see logically.
“Neal,” she said gently, “even if I agreed to make that claim – wouldn’t they check it out? Wouldn’t they check to see if I am actually pregnant?”
“They would,” Neal said calmly.
Elena raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to explain to her how this plan could possibly work.
“I’m not pregnant, Neal.” Elena said slowly, so that it would sink in.
“I know that,” Neal replied. “I am asking you to become pregnant.”
Elena stood in shock, frozen in place. When she had finally recovered from the audacity of his words, she looked at him with wariness.
“I think you should leave now, Neal,” she said as gently as she could manage.
“Elena, please…"
She had reached the edge of her patience. “You want me to get pregnant,” she said skeptically, “so that you can keep your company?”
Neal tried to keep his voice calm and reasonable, hoping that would induce Elena to think the same way. He was aware that what he wanted from her was a huge favor, but he was willing to make it worth her while.
“Elena, just listen.”
“No, you listen!” Elena said insistently, “I don’t want a baby. I don’t want to be a mother--”
“I’m not asking you to be a mother,” Neal interrupted urgently, “I’m only asking you to be the egg donor and the surrogate. Once the baby is born, I will be the child’s legal guardian. You can relinquish all parental rights to me.”
Elena fixed him with an intense stare.
“Who’s going to be the sperm donor, Neal?” she asked pointedly
.
Her question once again made Neal aware of the fact that his plan was insane. So many things could go wrong, but he was also painfully aware of the fact that his capabilities were limited. This was the only path that he could see forward. He felt a stab, knowing that George might have come up with a far more efficient plan. One that didn’t involve a complete stranger, who had less than kind opinions about him.
“Umm… I am,” Neal said quietly.
“Of course,” Elena replied sarcastically, “of course you are. How stupid of me, and how do you intend to get me pregnant?”
Again, Neal questioned everything, but he had gone too far to turn back now. He pushed his reservations aside and battled on ahead. Elena watched him struggle. She knew that he understood that what he was asking her was crazy, but the fact was, he was still doing it, which proved how desperate he was. Somehow, incredibly, she understood how he felt. She knew what it meant to be desperate.
“We… we would… have to have sex,” Neal said, his face turning red, “but only until you get pregnant.”
Elena held her head in her hands. Her head was starting to hurt.
“Neal, why on earth would you think I would agree to this?” she asked disbelievingly.
“Because,” Neal said quickly, “I don’t intend for you to leave this deal with nothing.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I will pay all of your student loans. I will give you one million dollars, and I will make sure that you have your pick of jobs. I know a lot of wealthy people and at some point – they all want sculptures. It's the way they are.”
Neal watched her absorb this. He hoped that it would be enough to get her to agree to his proposal. He had no back-up plan. If Elena said no, he could attempt to find other women to agree to his plan, but he needed to find someone who would be believable as George’s girlfriend.
He needed to find a woman who was intelligent, pretty, and capable, and he had no idea where to look for one. He waited breathlessly, hoping to God that Elena would be swayed.
Elena kept repeating the three things that Neal had just promised her, over and over again in her head. She was on the verge of giving him an unequivocal no when he made his offer. She couldn’t deny that it was a lot. It was not something she could afford to refuse without really considering it. She was close to broke, her career was flat lining and her bills and loans were piling up.
Her only other option was to take her parent’s help. Her only option was to move back in with them and allow them to pay off her loans. She reminded herself of what she would have to go through if she took Neal’s deal. Nine months of pregnancy. The child would be hers. Elena had never thought of herself as a mother, but it was one thing to decide never to have children. It was an altogether different thing to have one and then be expected to give it up. Elena wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about anything.
“Neal,” she started hesitantly, “you can’t expect me to answer you right away.”
Neal sighed. “I understand Elena, but this problem is obviously very time sensitive.”
“I’m not asking for much,” she cut in, “just give me three days?”
Neal stared for a moment. Then finally, reluctantly, he nodded in agreement.
“You’ll get back to me in three days? You promise?”
“I will,” Elena said. "I promise."
Chapter6
The house was immaculate. The garden sprawled out, flanked by brilliant rows of neatly pruned hedges and rose bushes that held large red blossoms. The cab pulled up right in front of the long, intimidating driveway. She could see her mother coming down the path, dressed in chinos and a beige sweater set. She always looked so put together that she never really looked real. She looked more like an actress in a movie than an actual person in the real world.
Elena got out of the cab and quickly rummaged through her purse to pay the cabbie before her mother reached her.
“How much do I owe you?” Elena asked urgently.
“Sixty-two fifty,” the cabbie replied coarsely.
Elena nearly did a double take. She had expected the cab fare to come in at around fifty dollars. She didn’t have to look to know that she didn’t have the money. Her face flamed red, knowing that she would have to ask her mother for the balance.
“Don’t worry, dear,” her mother’s voice beat her to the question, “I’ve got it.”
She already had the money in hand, and she passed it to the cab driver easily. She gave him a tight smile and motioned him away. He complied readily, leaving Elena standing there, feeling terrible.
“Thanks, mom,” she mumbled.
“I know money’s tight, darling,” she said, leading her up the walkway.
Elena wished that sometimes her parents would just help her out without making such a show of helping her out. It was bad enough to count on other people for help, but when they made you feel helpless and incapable, it just increased the humiliation of having to take their help at all. She followed her mother into the house, and after a small obligatory chat, she excused herself and walked up to what used to be her room.
It no longer resembled the room that Elena had when she was growing up. When she had lived there, three of the four walls had been a bright turquoise blue. The fourth wall had nothing pushed up against it. It was left free and clear so that whenever Elena felt a surge of artistic inspiration, she could go to work on the wall, transforming it into whatever she felt like in that moment. She had changed that wall eleven times over the course of her adolescence, alone.
After she had moved out, her parents had promptly turned her room into the uniform beige and white interior that pervaded through the rest of the house. Elena put down her small suitcase, filled with just enough for her two-night stay. Already, she felt the familiar sense of claustrophobia that usually settled over her whenever she was close to her family.
She managed to stay in her room until evening, but eventually she forced herself downstairs. She heard her parents’ voices from the kitchen and the higher, shriller pitch that belonged to her sister. Elena sighed in resignation and walked in. They turned to her with big smiles and bright faces and she felt a momentary prick of guilt for how badly she wished to be away from them.
Her father was a tall, balding man with a generous potbelly and twinkling, warm, dark brown eyes. Emily looked just like their mother, dressed in beige and tailored to perfection. They looked like they could be in an elite clothing catalogue or something. After she had hugged and kissed her father and sister, she settled around the massive, black marble, kitchen island with them.
“Juice, darling?” her mother asked.
“No, thank you,” Elena replied politely.
“It’s so good – try some,” Bridget insisted.
“I’m not in the mood, Mom,” Elena said. She had to work a little harder to
be polite this time.
“How’s work?” her father asked in his deep baritone.
Louis Parker was an impressive man. He had been born wealthy, but stayed that way by being smart, shrewd, and unapologetic about his fortune. He had married a woman who was just like his mother, and perfected the life that his parents had lived before him. He had been blessed with twin daughters, but only one of them was wired the same way that he was. Sometimes Elena felt that his disappointment was the hardest to bear.
“It’s… well, it’s not going so well,” Elena was forced to admit. “I always manage to get clients somehow, but it’s never enough.”
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