Marcus added under his breath, “Enjoy all your lucrative earnings while you contribute to increasing the greenhouse gases that will cause the rapid warming and the destruction of Mother Earth.”
As the brothers walked down the hall, they could hear their happy investors’ comments continuing.
“Restrictions on drilling in the Pacific Ocean are going to be lifted. There are several rigs already there and all they need is capital.”
“Did you hear our President say that ‘the golden era of American energy is now underway’? Isn’t that music to our bank accounts?”
“Don’t forget the new Canadian pipeline that’s going to bring oil across the midlands. We need to check on how we can use that venture to our advantage.”
Several of Hannah’s friends helped Charlotte move into the Brooklyn apartment on Saturday afternoon. After everyone had left and Charlotte started unpacking, she noticed the shabby condition of her new home. Charlotte’s bedroom needed paint and new carpet; there was only one old-fashioned bathroom with bad plumbing for the three of them to share. The house was spotless, thanks to Hannah’s cleaning skills, but clean couldn’t hide threadbare furniture and frayed carpeting. Then, there was the issue of walking home from the subway after dark—it was terrifying. Another huge problem was the daily commute to Manhattan. The G train on a good day would only take thirty minutes, but it was usually down for repairs. Normally, it took at least fifty minutes before she could walk into her office after leaving Brooklyn. Her other choice was the C train which is called the worst in the city. But at least here, Charlotte tried to remind herself she was safe.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
The Patsy
May 4, 2017
When Connie Trimble walked into the office on Thursday morning, she wasn’t sure if she should tell Eric what had happened last night or not. She had noticed a real change in her boss over the last few weeks—and it’s been a good change. However, he did seem concerned about his meeting with Mr. Zeigler last week, but it hadn’t stopped his momentum of contacting new clients. Business had improved greatly.
Eric was sitting in his office. Still depressed over meeting with the investors and he still had to explain to his boss what happened with the inconsistencies in his bookkeeping by the end of business hours tomorrow. So far, he hadn’t come up with a good story. Looking up when Connie, carrying two cups of coffee, knocked on his door. He invited her in. She placed a cup of coffee in front of Eric and closed the door.
“Last night,” began Connie. “I came back to the office around nine or nine-thirty. I had a lead for a new client that I was going to visit on my way to work this morning. Unfortunately, the call came in late in the afternoon, and I wrote down all the contact information, but forgot to add it to my cell phone. I was at the grocery store picking up a few items when I realized my omission. I decided to make a quick stop at the office to get my notes before going home.”
“Okay,” replied Eric. Confused and a little nervous about what his best salesperson was going to tell him.
“You can imagine my surprise to find Katie in the office at her desk.”
“Katie? What was she doing here at that time of night?”
“That’s what I wondered, but she wasn’t alone. Her boyfriend was sitting in your office on your computer.”
“What?” Eric jumped up almost knocking over his cup of coffee. “What the hell….” Eric stood up to walk out of the office, when Connie asked him to sit back down and signaled him to be quiet.
“Katie said she hadn’t entered all the contact data from her daily phone messages into her computer and wanted to do it last night. She had a dentist appointment this morning and knew she would be late. She said that Troy, that’s the boyfriend of the moment, was just Googling on your computer. When I walked into your office, I saw that’s exactly what he was doing.”
“Why my computer? How dare Katie sign him on to my computer.”
“I agree. That’s why I decided to tell you. I do believe Katie was telling the truth and what she said happened really happened. I don’t think either one of them were doing anything fraudulent or mischievous.”
Eric calmed down. “Thanks, Connie. I’m going to have to mull this over before I decide what to do.”
If Eric could dance, he would be doing a little happy dance. Slowly in his mind, an excuse for his bookkeeping deviation was forming. Katie came into the office a little before noon. Eric asked her to come into his office before she left for the day.
When Katie walked in, she knew that Connie had told Eric. “Mr. Caldwell, I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have come back to the office to finish my work. And I probably shouldn’t have brought Troy with me. But our plan was after I finished my work, we were going to catch the ten o’clock showing of The Fate of the Furious.”
“Katie, you are correct. You shouldn’t have snuck back in here after hours and your friend should never have been in my office on my computer. I keep a lot of personal information, confidential information, on our clients on my computer and in my files. I would have understood you needing more time to enter yesterday’s data after your dentist appointment. I’m sorry, I really like you Katie, but you are fired.”
Katie cleaned out her desk and left in tears. The next morning Eric called Mr. Zeigler with a plausible explanation of what happened to the missing money. He told his boss that the employee responsible for the theft had been fired. Mr. Zeigler wanted to file a report with the police. Eric the silver-tongued salesman gave his version of many valid reasons why that wouldn’t be good for business. What would their elderly policyholders think if news got out that their payments for insurance were compromised? Would the head office’s reputation be in jeopardy because of an employee who had embezzled funds? Wouldn’t it be best to take the loss and move on?
Eric felt a tinge of remorse for firing Katie, but the euphoria of the moment erased the guilt. He went back to Googling Hummel’s to replace the figures he had stolen from his mother. So far he had purchased both “Little Artist Boy” and “Shepherd Boy.” Eric had to find the other four and sneak them back into his mother’s house.
CHAPTER FIFTY
A Revelation
June 6, 2017
Dr. Melinda Griffin loved her job. Gynecology/obstetrics was the best medical specialty she could have chosen. When she was an intern on rotations, she discovered how much she loved working with young mothers and babies. She felt it was a privilege to bring new babies into the world and observe the bonding of a new mother and her child. Of course, it had its downside too, some women weren’t happy to hear they were pregnant or women who couldn’t get pregnant when they so desperately wanted to have a baby; and the mothers who discovered they hated motherhood and neglected their babies. But Melinda was lucky; her practice was usually uncomplicated. Most of her patients were thrilled to learn they were expecting. In fact, just this morning before going upstairs to her office, she snuck into an exam room to watch a technician give an ultrasound that determined the child’s sex to Dawn Ryan and her husband. It was a girl. Dawn had a two-year old little girl at home and was secretly hoping for another girl so the girls could grow up together; her husband was hoping for a son, but they both were thrilled to discover were having a healthy baby.
Dr. Melinda looked at her list of appointments for the day and saw Alexis Caldwell, was coming in at two. Melinda and Alexis had met in college years ago and remained friends. When Dr. Griffin joined an established practice with two older male colleagues, Alexis was one of her first patients. Melinda even attended Marcus and Alexis’s wedding and was wondering if they had decided not to have children.
“Hello Alexis,” greeted Melinda, as she walked into the exam room. “You are a little early for your routine exam. Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure. My breasts have been sore for the last few weeks and I thought I should have them checked.”
“Anything else?” Dr. Melinda asked.
“Well, my stomach seems
to always be upset and I’m so tired. I could sleep standing up.”
“Have you taken a pregnancy test?”
“What?” a shocked Alexis responded. “No, I’m not pregnant. I’ve never miss taking my Pill—never, not even once.”
Looking at her laptop, Melinda scanned down her chart, “Hmm, and I see you don’t take any medication, except for a vitamin C and a multivitamin. Have you taken any other medications?”
“Well, in the spring I was having trouble sleeping and took some herbal pills before going to bed,” answered Alexis.
“Any chance St. John’s Wort was an ingredient in the pills?”
“Why yes,” a puzzled Alexis asked. “But it’s herbal and safe, isn’t it?”
“People mistakenly think if it’s herbal it’s natural, therefore safe to use. However, some herbs might cause serious interactions with some medications. I know for a fact that the one you took does interfere with the effectiveness of the Pill. I always advise my patients to use alternative protection if they don’t want a baby.”
“I only took the pills for a couple of weeks,” protested Alexis.
Dr. Melinda smiled, “I think we need to do a pregnancy test.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Hurricane Irma
Saturday, September 9, 2017
Pablo had watched with horror as Harvey hit Houston. Pablo was terrified of hurricanes and didn’t want to stick around to see if Hurricane Irma would actually hit Florida. He was glad he didn’t own any property and could easily pack up his artwork and leave. He had planned on leaving on Thursday, but the curator asked him to help put up storm shutters on the museum’s windows and move all the paintings, including Pablo’s artwork, into a waterproof safe on the third floor. On Friday afternoon, the curator told Pablo, he was going to Orlando to stay with his sister. He encouraged the artist to leave as soon as possible. Pablo’s plan was to fill his SUV with gas and drive to New York City.
Pablo’s mother had called him last month to let him know that one of his paintings was now hanging in the Guggenheim Museum. His mother had been on the museum’s Advisory Board for years and he suspected she had used her impressive influence to make that happen. His mother explained that a new exhibit had opened featuring new artists. For years she had encouraged the Board to allow new talent to be showcased on one or two walls of the museum. Now one of Pablo’s paintings was hanging on one of those hallowed walls. As a young child, Pablo had spent many Saturdays at that museum sketching the works of great artists, while his mother worked. Now, he couldn’t wait to experience the thrill of seeing one of his paintings hanging there.
Driving up and down the streets of the Keys, he discovered all the gas stations had signs saying, “Closed, no gas.” He had heard that the governor had requesting police escorts for the gas tankers to ensure that Floridians would have enough fuel to fill their tanks and evacuate. This hurricane was huge and meteorologists forecasted the eye would hit and destroy the Keys. Pablo wanted to get out of town. He was depressed as he looked at the highway filled bumper to bumper with red brake lights. One gas station owner said his distributor promised that he would have delivery first thing in the morning. Pablo still had time to make his escape. His plan was to get up early in the morning, fill his tank with gas, and get out of “Dodge.”
Early Saturday morning, he was packed and ready to go when his cell phone rang. It was Beth Hogan, the curator from the Hemingway house.
“Pablo, are you still in town?”
“Hi, Beth. Yes, but I’m packed and ready to leave. What can I do for you? Do you need a ride to evacuate?”
Beth laughed, “No, I’m staying at the Hemingway house along with about eight other people. We are going to do what we can to protect the cats and the house.”
“Beth, you can’t save the house or the cats. That house is built out of wood and it’s only a few feet above sea level. This Irma storm is going to bring a water surge of fifteen to twenty feet. You all need to leave.”
“Pablo, we aren’t leaving. What we need is another man to help us board up the windows. David is here, but he can’t do it by himself. He tried all day yesterday, but it’s a two-man job. Is there any way you could help us? I think it can be done quickly and you will still have time to leave.”
Pablo didn’t want to help this hopeless cause. It wouldn’t make one bit of difference if the windows were boarded or not when the eye of the hurricane hit that old house. But, Beth had made such a difference in his life helping him leave his homeless, hippy lifestyle to become a legitimate artist, respected, and earning a good living. Plus, she introduced his dear friend, Alexis, to her uncle, the agent who succeeded in getting her book published.
“Okay, I’m going to stop and get gas, then I’ll be over to help David, but I need to leave before the storm hits.”
“Thanks Pablo. That’s all I’m asking. We won’t keep you from evacuating, only stay as long as you can.”
Pablo looked around his tiny apartment to make sure he had everything he needed. He wondered if he would ever be back or if the museum and his tiny apartment would be swept away by this catastrophic hurricane? He spotted Alexis’s novel on his side table and stuck it in his travel bag. He loved her book and appreciated the personal note she had written on the title page thanking him for being her friend.
The wind had picked up as Pablo drove back to the gas station. A huge gas tanker was leaving and the station owner was pulling down the “out of gas” signs. Pablo waited in a long line to fill his tank. He then drove over to Whitehead Street and sighed as he got out of the car. He didn’t want to be here, he wanted to be on his way out of Florida.
Beth came running out the door and grabbed Pablo in a big bear hug. “Thank you so much. No one else would help us.”
Pablo hugged her back, “Let’s get to work and try to save Hemingway’s legacy as fast as we can.”
The boards were massive and the strong winds made the chore even more difficult, but together the two men secured the numerous windows. The only people trying to save the house were Beth, David, Pablo, and seven women who volunteered. Pablo guessed they were “Hemingway groupies.”
“Pablo, look,” Beth, pointed as she noticed a volunteer having difficulty getting the polydactyl cats into the house, when of a sudden the cats lined up in order and marched through the door. “Usually the cats don’t like going indoors during the day, but they must sense something in the air.”
Pablo laughed, “You know sometimes animals are smarter than people.”
When Pablo walked into the house behind the cats, David clicked off his cell phone.
“David, you and these ladies really aren’t planning on staying in this house during the hurricane, are you?” asked Pablo.
David laughed, “I just got off the phone with Mariel, Ernest’s granddaughter, who begged us to evacuate. I reassured her that this house was built like a fortress and we would all be fine. Some of the ladies, who volunteered to stay, live in unsafe low-lying area and this house sits on a higher piece of land. They will be safer here.”
“Has this house ever been through a strong hurricane?”
“Yep, in 1935, when the ‘Labor Day Hurricane’ killed 485 people. It was a Category 5 too,” David said proudly.
Pablo laughed, “You know, there is something about you that reminds me of Hemingway.”
David smiled, “I get that a lot, must be my white beard. Wow, do you hear that wind? Pablo, if you want to leave, now is the time. Thanks for your help in securing the windows.”
“Do you really believe this house will survive?”
“I do. It’s made from limestone and is sixteen feet above sea level. The basement is strong and we have three generators,” David smiled.
Pablo shook David’s hand, “Best of luck to all of you, but I’m leaving.”
Beth walked up to Pablo, “I am so sorry, but they just announced on the radio they are closing the highway out of the Keys. It’s too late to evacuate. I’m so
rry I asked you to come and help us.”
Pablo panicked as he tried to smile, “It’s okay. David thinks we will be safe here.” Dear God, if there is a God, please make that true, Pablo thought.
David smiled, “Since you’re forced to stay, drive your SUV into the garage next door. That should help protect it.”
By Saturday night, the winds battered the house with 130 mph force. The palm trees were violently swaying while branches were breaking off and hitting the boarded windows. Pablo sent a quick text to his mother that he wasn’t going to make it to New York, but would be there later in the week. He reassured her he was safe, while he thought, Am I crazy or what? I can’t believe I have to stay here during the biggest hurricane ever recorded. I don’t trust David’s analysis of the house, but since I’m stuck I guess I’ll just have to make the best of this adventure.
Pablo kept busy helping with the prepping of the generators and ushering the ladies down to the supposedly secure basement. He felt useful and courageous. He also found enough nerve to sneak up to the upper floor to take pictures through a small window that wasn’t boarded. I think I may have a subject for my next painting, he thought. Looking at the pictures he had taken, he noticed how beautiful the storm was, the light, the wind, the trees, and the rain, but he also knew the storm would bring devastation and death.
Saturday night, Charlotte walked into Hannah’s house after a dreadful date with a coworker. Gus and Hannah were watching the news about the approaching hurricane in Florida. Charlotte sat down on the ragged couch.
“Hi, Charlotte,” greeted Hannah. “How was your date?”
“Don’t ask,” grimaced Charlotte. “Remind me next time not to date coworkers. He never stopped looking at his phone or replying to multiple texts. Aren’t there any decent guys left in New York?”
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