Unforgiving

by Patricia Haley

  “And what is that, Ms. Tamara?” Madeline asked in a tone that came across as sarcastic.

  “He chose Joel to run DMI over Don. Now you’re choosing Joel over me. What’s the difference?”

  Tamara’s comment cut Madeline like a sharp knife. Her eyes began blinking rapidly. She felt warm. She stared into space, wanting to find the right words. The longer Madeline stared, the less she had to say. She never wanted her children to feel secondary to anyone, but putting Tamara in a role she wasn’t equipped to handle was a recipe for failure. To do so would be to replicate Dave’s ill-advised appointment of Joel when he was barely twenty-three and too immature and inexperienced to run DMI. Madeline wouldn’t repeat the same mistake.

  She had to make her daughter understand; otherwise their relationship might be forever rendered unrepairable. Before she could articulate her rationale, Tamara stormed from the office in complete silence.

  “That didn’t go too well,” Don said.

  “But it’s what we should expect when dealing with Tamara,” Madeline said, aggrieved.

  Chapter 6

  Joel had emerged from Madeline’s office, riding a wave of excitement and confidence. He couldn’t remember the last occasion when he’d received news this good. Joel continued walking and wearing a grin, this time speaking to the few people he passed on executive row. Might as well get comfortable, he thought, because this would soon be his domain again. Nothing would give him more joy. He was close, thank God.

  Joel was about to exit the floor but then stopped. He hadn’t seen his old friend since his last rare visit to the office. On that occasion Abigail had told him she was resigning from DMI to open her own firm. He’d asked to join her, but she had flat out declined his offer. Thankfully, his circumstances were changing. Back then he was desperate to find a business venture. Now his hopelessness had been converted into sheer adrenaline. He was fired up and found it difficult to contain his exuberance.

  Joel casually walked into Abigail’s office without fanfare or an announcement, like he’d done thousands of times, but she wasn’t there. He stepped back into the hallway and approached the administrative desk. “Where is Ms. Gerard?”

  “She’s in the break room,” the assistant told him.

  He tapped the desktop and thanked her, then sought out Abigail near the front of executive row. He found her in the break room, which was off to the right of the elevators. “There you are,” he said. She was leaning on a counter near the hot beverages and sipping from a mug. “You’re tough to find these days.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be looking,” she responded.

  “Now, now, Ms. Gerard, let’s play nice.” Joel reached around her to grab a mug and pour some decaf coffee. His hand brushed against Abigail’s arm, causing her to move away from the counter.

  “What brings you here?” she asked, leaning against the wall about ten feet away from him.

  “To see you.” Joel closed the gap between them and leaned on the same wall.

  Her eyebrows rose as she took another sip. “I’m amazed you have time to worry about me. Last time I saw you, there was a lot going on with you and your pregnant wife.”

  Joel nodded several times and gulped the coffee in his mug.

  Abigail continued. “You were getting divorced and moving to Chicago or something like that.”

  “Yeah, something like that.” He didn’t elaborate. Keeping the conversation light was best.

  “I see; typical Joel sharing the bare minimum.” She eased away from the wall and went over to one of the tables but remained standing.

  “What do you want me to say?” he asked, grinning.

  “Are you still married?”

  “Let’s just say that I’m not divorced.”

  “I see.”

  Joel sensed a change in her voice. It was subtle, but having a conversation about relationships with Abigail was like lighting a match near a powder keg. An explosion was inevitable. He quickly sought to diffuse the situation to avert disaster. “I don’t mean to aggravate you.”

  “Aggravate me? Please. I’d have to care for this to matter. Fortunately for me, I stopped caring when you eloped and brought a wife back from India to Detroit.”

  “I admit that wasn’t handled well. I learned my lesson.”

  “Oh, really?” She traced the rim of her mug repeatedly with the tip of her finger without looking at Joel.

  “I know that’s hard for you to believe, but it’s true,” he told her.

  “Right.”

  “Really, I’m working on things, including the marriage.”

  “Interesting. Last time you just dropped into my office,” she said as her head bobbed slightly from side to side, “you had major concerns about your faith not jiving with your wife’s. Wasn’t she worshipping some kind of energy source or something like that?”

  “There’s more to her religion than that. You make it sound crazy.”

  “Hmm. Sounds like you’ve converted to her religion.”

  Joel appeared increasingly agitated as his neck stiffened. “Nobody said anything about converting. I’m just telling you that there’s more to her religion than what you’re describing.”

  She didn’t have the details of Zarah’s religion right, but it was obvious to her that Joel couldn’t explain his wife’s faith any better. Abigail could tell he was mad by the scowl plastered across his face. She swirled the contents of her mug and stared at him. “I remember a few months ago you made it seem like Zarah’s religion had become a deal breaker. I guess you’ve worked out your problems and now you’re living happily ever after.”

  “No, I haven’t worked them out, and I don’t know that I can. God will have to help me resolve that piece of the marriage.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten married in the first place.”

  “Too late for that. We’re having a baby, and I won’t abandon my child regardless of what anyone thinks.”

  “Does that mean you’re staying married for the baby?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Joel replied with a noticeable edge. “What I said was that I’m not abandoning my child.” he added as each word resonated.

  “Good for you,” she said in a snide tone. Abigail didn’t care if Joel was irritated. Maybe he deserved some of what he’d dealt to her over the past three years. She wasn’t going to gloat, but she wasn’t feeling sorry for him, either.

  “Enough about me,” he said. “Are you still resigning and venturing out on your own?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Don has asked me to consider the CEO role,” she said, sipping from the mug.

  “And Madeline has asked me to do the same.”

  “Madeline! You’re lying,” she stated and then coughed to clear her throat after getting choked up.

  “I kid you not. Can you believe it - Me and Madeline?”

  “No, I didn’t think that would ever happen.” Abigail wasn’t thrilled. “This is silly; the two of us fighting for the same job.” She hadn’t yet responded to Don’s request. With Joel’s news, her interest in the position had diminished dramatically.

  “It’s fine with me. If I have to compete with anyone, I’m glad it’s with you. You know I respect what you bring to this company,” Joel said.

  Abigail was disgusted as she listened to his ramblings. Had he forgotten just how little she’d been valued during his reign? She let him talk.

  “You’ve paid your dues, and you’re more than qualified to run DMI,” Joel told her.

  “If you feel that strongly about me, why don’t you back out of the race and let me have the job?” she asked.

  Joel chuckled. “Now, you know I can’t do that.”

  Of course not, she thought. He was a Mitchell. They never backed down, not even when they should.

  Joel strolled closer to her and extended his hand. “I wish you the best, and I can guarantee you this will be a fair fight.”

  “Humph. Speak for yourself. You can’t make any promises about Madeline.” />
  “Good point,” Joel said, shaking his index finger at her. Without warning, he kissed Abigail on the cheek. “Everything will be okay. Regardless of what happens with the race, you’re guaranteed a job here, and that is a promise.” He said goodbye and left.

  Abigail took a seat. She thought about the kiss, the CEO role, and Joel’s newfound persona. She struggled to retain her composure, but the pressure she felt was pricking at her. She’d worked hard to escape the Mitchell family’s clutch, and she was so close to exiting the company. But now she felt Don’s corporate pull and Joel’s allure. She shook her head. Abigail hadn’t dealt with such a barrage of mixed emotions in a while, and she was better off.

  The more she considered battling for the role of CEO, the less feasible it became. She wanted no part of starting a fresh war in the Mitchell family. She’d already experienced too many family battles over DMI. However, the CEO position was her dream job, and she would have leapt at the role a year ago. But so much had happened privately and professionally since then. The notion of going up against Joel and Madeline was daunting. They didn’t fight fair, and she was too tired to go against two Mitchells, and possibly three, if Tamara got involved. That was suicidal. She wasn’t convinced that fighting for the CEO post was the right move. Don would have to do much more persuading. Actually, he might need God to come down from heaven and give her a pep talk.

  Chapter 7

  Tamara was livid. She stormed out of Madeline’s office. She couldn’t wait to get out of there and away from these people. Just as her independence was about to be realized, she ran into Joel at the elevators. He greeted Tamara, but she didn’t reciprocate. Her disdain for him escalated as she let her gaze slice him up and down. She had a few options: take the stairs and avoid him or take the elevator and ignore him. They both stepped onto the empty elevator when the doors opened. As soon as the doors closed, Tamara’s previous options were cast aside as she ignited a verbal firestorm.

  “Mother told me about this little arrangement you have with her. You know, I have obviously underestimated just how devious you are.” Joel continued staring at the elevator doors as Tamara came close to his right ear. “You are really good if you managed to trick my mother into supporting you.” She got closer to him, practically breathing in his ear. “I have to give it to you. I’m impressed, but remember that two can play this game. You have someone holding the cards at your house too, and it’s not you.”

  Joel whipped around, and Tamara was forced to take a few steps back. “You don’t want to go there.” The elevator stopped on the second floor. Once the doors opened, Joel frantically pushed the CLOSE button. “Can you please catch the next elevator?” he told the person who was waiting to get on. “We’re in a meeting,” he said as the doors closed.

  Tamara went further and pushed the big red STOP button. The elevator alarm buzzed, but it wasn’t going to deter the meeting in progress. There was too much at stake for Tamara: her independence and, most importantly, the satisfaction of knowing she’d beaten Joel at his own game, even when he had Madeline’s help. He wasn’t going to win, because she wasn’t prepared to lose.

  Joel took a step toward Tamara, but she didn’t budge. He had crossed into her personal space. That didn’t bother her. She had faced plenty of giants in her life. Joel wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. She dug in her heels and braced for whatever he might dish out.

  “Like I said, you don’t want to bring my wife and baby into this.” He repeatedly tapped the palm of his open hand against his chest. “You can come at me as much as you want. Bring it on, but back off of my wife, and I mean it,” he said with a piercing stare.

  “Your wife! Please. As if you treat her like a wife. We know she doesn’t mean anything to you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told her as his voice rose.

  “What I do know is that DMI is my legacy. My parents are the founders of this company. This belongs to Don and to me.”

  The alarm continued buzzing as a voice came over the speaker box. “This is security. Is there an emergency in the elevator?”

  “No. We’re fine,” Tamara shouted.

  “Okay. We’ll have you out in a minute.”

  “No hurry,” Joel added. Then he returned his attention to Tamara. “I guess you’ve forgotten that Dave is my father too.”

  “So that gives you access through one parent. Don and I have two parents in this discussion. News flash, two is bigger than one,” she snarled while twisting her index finger in the air. “There you have it. I win. Take your inheritance and move along.” She pointed her finger toward the door. “Leave the company to us, the rightful heirs, because you’re not running this place without a fight. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you out of here.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means exactly what it sounds like.”

  “You heard what I said. My wife and child are off-limits.”

  “Nothing and no one is off-limits. My married father wasn’t off-limits to your mother. Apparently, it’s okay when boundaries are erased if we want something badly enough. Just ask your mom. So, Zarah is fair game, mister,” Tamara said.

  “Don’t make a mistake and cross a line, because I won’t treat you like family.”

  The elevator began moving. Joel turned from Tamara and faced the doors. She moved up so they were side by side.

  “Family?” she grunted “If you’re that concerned about Zarah and the baby, why don’t you remove your name from the list of candidates?” She waited for an answer from Joel but didn’t get one. “Why don’t you run back to your girlfriend in Chicago? That’s what you do best.”

  The elevator finally made it to the ground floor, and both of them exited. The security guard was standing there, ready to assist, but Joel and Tamara shooed him away. The two parted bitterly in the lobby.

  Joel had left the building, but his presence was very much with Tamara. She rehashed in her mind each word they’d spoken in the elevator. She was shattered. One part of her wanted to support Zarah as a true friend and avoid adding stress to her pregnancy. Another part of Tamara wanted to shove the agenda down the family’s throat and force them to take her seriously. They owed her. The loyalty in her heart was in conflict with her wounds. Honestly, Tamara wasn’t sure how far she’d go to stake a claim on her share of DMI, but the disrespect heaped on by her family might have pushed her pretty far this go-round. If she could move Joel out of the way, Abigail would be simple. She picked up her step. There was work to be done, and she had to get to it.

  Chapter 8

  Rejection, confusion, and anger swelled in Tamara. She drifted from DMI to what had become her favorite coffee shop in downtown Detroit. A table in the rear corner was as close to a refuge as she was going to get without a plane ticket. Several of the waiters greeted her. After meeting with three Mitchells in one day, she needed something stronger than tea.

  “I’ll take a latte with a double shot of espresso,” she told the waitress who took her order. It was her version of getting wasted, since she hadn’t acquired a taste for alcohol. Hopefully, the caffeine jolt would be enough to drown out her gloom.

  “You’ll want to keep these coming,” Tamara said when the waitress set a large mug on the table in front of her.

  “Tough day, huh?”

  “You have no idea,” Tamara replied and didn’t hesitate to take a gulp of her mind regulator.

  “Let me know when you’re ready for round two,” the waitress said.

  Tamara nodded. Soon she was alone in the corner, and her thoughts refused to be contained. Joel’s, Don’s, and Madeline’s words were like bullets soaring at her from a firing squad. They were relentless, and there was nowhere for her to hide. They were ganging up on her, and she wanted to scream, but her pride was too much of a warrior to allow her to lie down and quit. The Mitchells owed her for twenty years of misery, and she would get restitution, but today was a reminder that her journ
ey wasn’t going to be smooth. Being outnumbered meant Tamara had to find a way to fight smarter, not tougher.

  She mulled over the latte longer than expected, but no solutions popped up.

  The waitress approached her table. “Can I freshen up your cup?”

  “Uh, not right now,” Tamara responded. The espresso wasn’t doing the trick. In fairness, not much was going to give her the wisdom needed to bring down a bunch of self-righteous opponents. She picked up her phone, began dialing, and abruptly stopped.

  She pondered her circumstances and fidgeted for over an hour. Finally, she rubbed the palm of her hand across her forehead and her eyelids in frustration. She’d avoided the obvious, but there weren’t any other options. Zarah was her best gamble when it came to obtaining something meaningful that could be used as a bargaining chip. Tamara didn’t rush to make the call. She simply sat at the table, with her forehead resting against her thumb and fingertips, and stared at her phone.

  The waitress appeared again. “Can I get you a fresh latte?”

  Tamara didn’t bother to look up. “No, I’m good,” she said, and the waitress walked away. She wasn’t really good, but it was easier for Tamara to send the waitress on her way than risk having to explain her dire situation to a stranger who couldn’t help. She wouldn’t take the chance. Shutting people out was her specialty, and she did it flawlessly.

  Minutes clicked by, and her decisiveness faded. Tamara’s overwhelming desire to call her only friend won out. Not only was Zarah her confidante, but she was also Tamara’s ticket back to independence. She dialed the number slowly, concerned that Joel had gotten home by now. She’d already had one heated argument with him, and she wasn’t looking for two in one day. She’d have to tread lightly. Although Tamara didn’t care two hoots about Joel, she didn’t want to cause her friend any harm. More importantly, she couldn’t alienate Zarah, not now, when there was so much on the line. Pleading her case would be a delicate endeavor, and she wasn’t quite sure how to proceed.