Storm Surge

by Melissa Good

  "Hah."

  Chapter Seven

  "SO, IT IS agreed."

  Dar watched in utter relief as Sir Melthon and Alastair clasped hands. She avoided looking at her watch, resting her chin against her fist instead as she waited for the rest of the niceties to be finished. The negotiations hadn't been that lengthy, but it was late, and she was tired, and she was very much looking forward to that nice big bed with its fluffily soft pillows.

  "Good deal," Alastair said, briskly. "It's been a pleasure spending the evening with you good folks, but now it's time for me to get my team some rest so they can start planning the integration transition tomorrow."

  Sir Melthon nodded, looking tired himself. "Right," he said. "We can pick up tomorrow at lunchtime. I will have my lot set up a workroom, and we'll put a spread on. Mimosas will start the day off right, eh?"

  "Sounds great." Alastair waved at his group. "Let's go people." He picked up the signed contract paper in its folder and tucked it under his arm as the rest of the ILS team stood up and started their goodbyes.

  Dar stretched her back out, and let her hand rest on the back of her chair. She waited for Alastair to move toward the door, then followed him with a casual wave toward the rest of the team. "Goodnight, gentlemen."

  "Good night, Dar," Francois responded. "See you tomorrow."

  Hans caught up with them as she reached the door. He smiled, as he opened it. "It was a good day, yes?" he asked Dar in German. "Long, but good."

  "Long, but good," Dar agreed. "I think everyone pretty much got some of what they wanted."

  "That is very true." Hans was at her shoulder as they walked down the long, curving staircase that led to the ground floor of the big mansion. "I think he is happy. He likes your boss."

  "I like my boss." Dar smiled. "In fact, today he's on my A-list."

  Hans chuckled.

  They reached the outer door that was opened for them by a uniformed doorman. Another was standing by, holding their jackets. Dar took hers and escaped in the chilly, very early morning fall air and took a minute to shrug into the soft leather as they stood waiting for their cars.

  "Damn good way to end the night," Alastair commented.

  "Any way you'd have ended it would have been good at this point," Dar said, dryly. "I thought we were going to have breakfast over foxhounds or something at this rate."

  Alastair chuckled. "He's a tough negotiator, but I think we'll do all right." He stepped forward as the first of the cars pulled up. "C"mon, Dar. We're in the same place."

  Dar didn't argue. She settled in the back seat of the sedan and pulled out her cell phone, checking the time on it before she dialed.

  It rang twice, and then was answered. "Hey." Dar listened, but heard only a quiet humming in the background.

  "Hey, sweetie," Kerry responded. "Are you finally done?"

  "Mmhm." Dar leaned back as Alastair shut the door on his side and the car started to pull away. "How'd it go?" She guessed not that bad, just from her partner's tone.

  "Not bad," Kerry promptly confirmed. "We're on our way to the pub now."

  "Glad to hear it."

  "How'd your part go?" Kerry asked, after a moment of quiet.

  "You've got your work cut out for you," Dar informed her. "Bring your pencils and a bucket of patience."

  Kerry's smile was audible through the phone. "Don't worry, I will. Were they tough?"

  "A little."

  "Want anything from here?" Kerry asked. "I have some shopping time tomorrow."

  "You."

  "Anything else?"

  "You."

  Kerry chuckled. "Okay, you got it." She exhaled and there was a faint sound of traffic that floated through. "That really wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be," she admitted. "I think I worked myself into a lather for no reason."

  "Well." Dar glanced at Alastair, who was peering out the window with deep and abiding interest. "It's a good thing for them they didn't give you a hard time," she said. "I'd hate to think I was stuck here babysitting Alastair when you needed me to kick some ass."

  Her boss turned his head and looked over at her, eyebrows hiking.

  Dar grinned at him.

  "Is he there?" Kerry asked. "You didn't say that in front of him did you?"

  "Sure did," Dar cheerfully acknowledged. "What the hell. It's 2:00 a.m., and I'm so wiped if we had a problem I'd have to FedEx myself a box of brain cells to take care of it."

  Alastair snorted, and leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Glad that fella didn't tell us to meet him for breakfast."

  "Me too," Dar agreed. "Anyway, I just wanted to find out how your speech went," she addressed Kerry again. "Go have fun, and buy your sibs a round on me, okay?"

  "Absolutely," Kerry said. "Bye hon, get some rest."

  "I will. Later." Dar closed her phone and put it away. "I think he was trying to see if he could wear you down and get those last set of concessions."

  Alastair snorted again. "Listen, he may be a big shot royal whatever, but lady, I've played poker with slicker men than he ever will be," he said. "They're big here, and I like their setup. Good properties, good business model, but in terms of volume it's one of our smaller contracts."

  "I know," Dar said. "Didn't think it paid to mention that though."

  "Not at all," her boss cheerfully agreed. "And besides, I like to think we give all our customers top notch service, no matter what size the contract." He glanced at Dar. "I don't recall you ever asking if any of your high wire act shenanigans were worth the size of the deal."

  "Huh," Dar grunted in agreement. "Yeah, never really mattered to me," she said. "But all in all, it's been a good day."

  "Sure has," Alastair said. "Everything go all right for Kerry?"

  "Yep."

  They were both quiet for the rest of the ride to the hotel, and they got out in the subdued quiet of early morning to a mostly empty street and a dim, very sleepy lobby.

  "Evening," Alastair greeted the doorman as they entered. "Well, Dar, I think it's safe to say we can all sleep in. Give me a buzz if you want to do brunch before we go over. If his menu tonight is any indication we'll probably get whole pheasant or something for lunch."

  "Sure." Dar got her key out as they rode the elevator up and walked down the stately hallway that held their rooms. She left Alastair at his and went gratefully to her own. She pushed the door open and let it shut behind her.

  It was cool inside, and quiet, and smelled unnervingly like chocolate. Dar smiled as the scent hit her nose, and she rested her hand on the back of the chair in the room as she kicked her shoes off and looked around for its source.

  Near the bed, she spotted it. A small tray was sitting on the table, a silver pot squarely in the center of it. Even from where she was, she could see the faint steam coming from the spout and as she walked over. She recognized little dishes of condiments meant to be added to the waiting cup.

  Dar pushed these aside to retrieve a small, white card, turning it over to read the words on the back with an already knowing smile. "Thank you, Kerrison." She put the card down, and inspected the dishes, selecting a few mini marshmallows and a gummy bear, dropping them in the cup, then pouring the steaming hot chocolate over them.

  She left the gooey tidbits to melt as she removed her suit and returned it to its hanger, trading it for her long T-shirt and bare feet.

  She glanced at her laptop, then deliberately turned her back on it and went back to the bed, pulling aside the already turned down comforter and sliding under it, appreciating the smell of clean linen mixed with cocoa surrounding her.

  She picked up the cup, lifting it toward the window. "Here's to you, Ker," she said. "Hope you like the cake at the pub." She took a sip and smiled, and wiggled her toes in contentment.

  KERRY LEANED BACK in her bench seat, resting one arm along the back of it as she picked up her frosty mug and took a sip of her second beer. Having traded her suit for a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and having
her speech behind her, she found herself to be in a good mood, and happy with the world around her.

  "What in the hell was that one chick's problem?" Mike asked, around a mouthful of jalapeno popper. "Did she have a tulip stuck up her butt or something?"

  "Who, Stacey?" Kerry tried to remember just what had been Stacey's problem. Her first beer had put enough of a displacement between her and the event that it took an effort, and she used the arrival of her coconut shrimp appetizer as a delay tactic while she rummaged in her memory.

  "She was the one you beat in that debating championship your senior year, wasn't she?" Angie spoke up. She had a luridly colorful fruit drink in front of her and she was happily sucking the pineapple from it. "I remember she pitched a hissy fit at the Palace afterward."

  "You remember that?" Kerry found she did also, but very vaguely. She hadn't known Stacey that well. They'd gone in different social circles, just one of the many girls not too different from her and her sister that she'd known. "I sort of remember that debate." She put her beer down and selected a shrimp to nibble.

  "I remember because I heard her mother yelling at her in the bathroom at the Palace that night." Angie sucked her daiquiri through the straw. "She was blaming the fact that Stacey had spent the night with her boyfriend before the debate on her losing it."

  Kerry made a face. "Ah, yeah, now I remember," she said. "I forgot all about who I was debating because I was scared spitless having father in the audience," she recalled. "I could have been facing Ronald McDonald and it wouldn't have made an impression."

  "Oh yeah." Mike reached over and stole one of Kerry's shrimp. "What a big deal he made out of being there. I think every freaking paper within a hundred miles was straggling in the back of that place taking pictures."

  Kerry glanced casually around, but the pub was quiet, and she didn't see anyone she knew around them. Not really surprising given that it was a Monday night and it was fairly late. There were a few men at the bar, and two groups of younger people near the pool table, and there was a low strain of Celtic music playing she found familiar. "I think that was one of the few times we had our picture together in the paper."

  She had a copy of it that she had saved. A slightly tattered bit of newspaper tucked in a protective sleeve she'd stuck in a scrapbook of her school years and ended up taking to Miami with her. She and her father standing next to the wooden school podium she'd only recently spoke at, her father with his hand resting on her shoulder, a pleased and satisfied expression on his face.

  For once.

  She wondered what he'd have thought hearing her tonight. Would he have been able to set aside all the crappiness between them and been glad for her success?

  "Yeah, what a photo op that was," Mike said. "I remember him telling the paper he thought you might have a career in politics ahead of you."

  "Oh gag," Kerry moaned, retreating to her beer. "I'd rather have flipped burgers for a living." She stretched her legs out and crossed her ankles. "We should get drunk and show up to Mother's hung over tomorrow."

  Angie covered her eyes. "Let's not," she said. "As you reminded me, I've got to live with her now." She glanced up as the waiter sidled up. "Can I get another one of these?" She ignored Mike's snicker and held up her daiquiri glass.

  "Sure." The waiter took the glass. "Your dinners will be coming out shortly, but remember to leave room for dessert."

  "Well--" Angie waggled her hand.

  "Trust me, you'll want to." The waiter grinned and sauntered off.

  Kerry chuckled, taking another shrimp. "Worse comes to worse we can take it home for breakfast." She reminded them. "Cheesecake in the morning's great."

  "Hedonist," Mike accused.

  "If you think that's hedonism, you've got a lot to learn."

  KERRY SAT CROSS legged on the bed writing longhand in a small cloth bound book propped up on one of the pillows.

  It was quiet in her room, and in the rest of the house. A glance at the clock told her it was well after midnight, and she pondered a moment before she went back to writing.

  Sept 10th, 2001.

  Well, today went better than I expected it to. I keep saying that. What was I really expecting? Did I really think they were going to throw rotten apples at me?

  I don't know. Maybe I did. I'm glad the younger crowd showed some brain cells and class, and to be honest I wouldn't have minded talking to them a little longer if all of my old classmates hadn't been at the reception.

  Is that cowardly? I don't think so. I just think it's normal for someone not to like being insulted like what Stacey did there. What a jerk. But Angie was right. She was a jerk when we went to school here. She didn't become one just because it turned out I was gay.

  That was the one thing the kids didn't ask about. They were more interested in how to succeed in business. That's amazingly cool. I may even have to join my alumni society and start tossing them a few bucks if they're turning out people with those kinds of goals.

  Does it really matter that I'm gay? It's the 21st century. People shouldn't care at this point in humanity's history but you know, I think it does matter to the older crowd because I think they feel like they're not in control of things and life's accelerating out of control.

  I'm used to it. Technology changes every minute. If you spend your life immersed in constant change, then when the world changes around you it just seems normal, doesn't it?

  Hm.

  I wonder if that's how Mom's coping with everything. Just invest in the change, and maybe you stop stressing about how things used to be, and how you wanted them to turn out, and you just start surfing the wave and living in the minute.

  I think I like that. Life is never boring if it's full of change, is it?

  I was worrying about what Mom was going to talk to us about tomorrow, but I've decided to just not get mad about whatever it is, assuming it's something I might get mad about. The only power to stress me out she has is the power I give her.

  Isn't that great? Only took me how many years to figure that out? I bet Dar would crack up.

  Kerry reviewed her words, and chuckled.

  After a few minutes, she heard footsteps approaching, and then she looked up again to see Angie in the doorway to her room. "Hey. Thought you were sleeping."

  "Andrew was fussing," Angie explained, entering the bedroom. "And I saw your light on when I came back upstairs. Why are you still up?"

  "Oh." Kerry glanced at her little book. "I just--it sounds silly but I've started keeping a diary," she explained, a touch sheepishly. "I'm about done. Is Andy okay?"

  "Oh sure." Her sister sat down on the edge of Kerry's bed. "He's teething. After you go through that the first time, like I did with Sally, you know what to look for and what to do, but boy, the first time it freaks you out."

  Kerry closed her diary up and capped her pen. "How's Sally doing?"

  Angie paused, then shrugged a little. "She's confused," she said. "She doesn't really understand what's going on, or why she sometimes is in one place with her Daddy, and sometimes here with me, but for all his other faults Richard doesn't play the blame game so I think she'll adjust after a while."

  "Mm." Kerry tried to imagine what that would have been like, and found it hard. "We never had to deal with that," she said. "It would have been weird."

  Her sister nodded. "It would have been. Fortunately for the kids, our divorce was a lot like our marriage was--passionless and businesslike."

  Kerry winced.

  "Hey, it's true," Angie said. "Ker, when I see you and Dar, and hear you talk to each other--you have something I have no clue about, you realize that right?" She cocked her head to one side and regarded her older sibling. "The whole bit with you sending each other notes, and for Pete's sake, sending fudge covered mousse cakes? Unreal."

  Kerry made a wry face. "You know, we've always done that," she confessed. "I thought it was one of those things you do when you're--uh...dating. Or whatever." She cleared her throat. "But we just kept do
ing it. I guess we'll stop sometime. Most married couples I know don't do that."

  "But?" Angie watched her, as her words slowed to a stop.

  "Dar's parents still do." Kerry chuckled. "Oh well. It's nice though. That was killer cake." She licked her lips in memory. "I didn't even remember seeing that on the menu."

  "It wasn't," Angie said. "The manager told me it was delivered from some bakery in Detroit, hand carried."

  Kerry had the grace to look mildly embarrassed. "All I had was hot chocolate sent to her room," she muttered. "And you know what? She probably had that all planned way before I called her hotel."

  Angie covered her eyes in mock despair.

  "So." Kerry cleared her throat. "Are you going to stay with Mom long term?" She turned her pen in her fingers. "I know it's a lot quieter here now."

  Her younger sister got up and wandered around the room, pausing to look out the darkened window. "You know, I wish I was you, Ker." She turned to see a pair of blond eyebrows hiked up. "You've got guts, you're successful, you're in a great relationship--"

  Kerry remained quiet, since there was no denying any of that.

  "But I'm not," Angie concluded. "I'm a typical second child, and you know what? I don't want to risk what I'll have to risk for a sexy, adventurous life. So yeah, I'll probably stay here with Mom, unless Brian decides to make a commitment and then we'll see. Even so, we'll probably end up living with her. She likes Brian."

  "Even now?"

  Angie chuckled dryly and sat back down on the bed. "With everything that's happened in the last few years, I think she's learned to take her successes where she finds them. She wanted Brian for a son-inlaw, so if it turns out he becomes one, she'll take it even if it's not really what she envisioned before now."

  Fair enough. Kerry sighed. "I hope that works out," she said. "But anyway, if you ever do decide you want a radical change, you know where to find me."

  Angie smiled. "Sally wants to come down to see her Aunt Kerry's log cabin. Maybe we can visit for a couple of days near Christmas, when it's all snow here, and anything but there."