Della

by Julie Michele Gettys

  “You think I don’t know my own son?” she said.

  He chuckled. “It’s me. It was taken when I was nineteen. A number of years before we met. I’ve changed some, don’t you think?” He turned his head from side to side. “Steven will, too, as he ages.”

  Haughty and annoyed, she said, “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying Steven is my son.”

  She bolted from her chair, headed for the door. “You’re full of crap, Phillip Henshaw. Steven is Wes’s son. I should damn well know.”

  “We were screwing at the time you got pregnant. You were probably screwing Wes, too. You only know what you want to know, Carrie. That kid is mine. Why don’t you do a DNA test on us? Like the one you did on Della.”

  She clenched her teeth. Steven wasn’t Phillip’s son. She wouldn’t have it. He was Wes’s boy. A Gates.

  “You’d do anything to drag us into your mess! Even sink to these depths.” She shook her head in dismay.

  “You’re in denial. Always have been. I’ve known it all along. I didn’t care, as long as you took good care of me. It’s been my marker.” He blew more smoke. “You’ve forced my hand, Miss High and Mighty. So, how about that help I need? You wouldn’t want to see your son’s father go to jail, now, would you?”

  “You’re despicable!”

  “I’m respectable. With your help, I intend to stay that way. If you’d like to keep this between us, I’d advise you to get busy and start pulling strings to save my hide.”

  Carrie, shattered again, picked up the picture from Phillip’s desk, studied it. My God, she thought, Steven was the spitting image of Phillip when he was younger. Amazing, how easy it had been to black out that moment in time. Thinking back, she realized she and Phillip had been phasing out their affair when she went to the doctor for morning sickness and learned she was pregnant. She hadn’t contacted Phillip for several months after that. She’d just shut the door on their affair. By simply brushing the whole episode aside as a fling, she convinced herself the baby was Wes’s. And together, she and Wes were building a dynasty. Now the thought of Phillip, a lowlife, as the father of her son, threw her into a state shock. The moment this leaked, she’d be a social pariah. And more shattering was the possibility of Steven rejecting her.

  “Well?” Phillip said, annoyed.

  “I’ll call you,” she said, seething inside.

  She regained her composure leaving Phillip’s office.

  On the drive home, she burst out in bitter laughter. All the time she was screwing around on Wes, he’d been screwing around on her. He had a daughter by a different woman, and she had a son by a different man. The two kids grew up apart, met as adults, and voila, they fell in love.

  Checkmate!

  Phillip had her.

  * * *

  Della paced her office. Nothing had come through from Phillip. He must have thought she was bluffing him. Then, Sarah announced Carrie on line one.

  In a firm tone, Carrie said, “I want you to give Phillip a two-week extension. He’ll give you the information. It’s just going to take some time to pull it together.”

  Without hesitation, Della said, “He can have the two weeks.” If she cooperated, Carrie might come around, though she doubted it.

  “As you well know,” Carrie continued in a cool, detached tone, “I have a special interest in Henshaw and Associates.”

  As if she didn’t already know that.

  “I want to see that Phillip has a fair shot at clearing up any differences. We can’t use any bad publicity at this time. You understand, don’t you, dear?”

  Della let the air she had pent up in her lungs flow out. “I do, indeed.”

  Tuesday morning at LAX, Della waited in the crowded terminal for Steven’s arrival. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t let him go without watching him board his plane. This lack of control was sick, but so be it. She was surprised when she saw him arrive alone. Where was Carrie?

  Her heart fluttered at the sight of him in his snappy business suit. He carried a briefcase in one hand and a raincoat over his other arm. After glancing around, he took a seat, pulled a paperback from his raincoat pocket and started reading.

  The next thing she knew, he looked up from his book and singled her out of the crowd and curled an index finger, beckoning her to come to him. With an embarrassed grin, she moseyed over to him, sitting in the empty chair next to his. She removed her hat and glasses. “I feel like a spy, hiding in the crowd wearing Jackie O sunglasses and a floppy hat to hide my face. A lot of good it did me.”

  His body shook with laughter. “I’m glad you came. I would have invited you, but knowing how we feel, I assumed you wouldn’t want to.”

  “Shouldn’t assume. I thought Carrie would see you off.”

  “Shouldn’t assume.” He grinned. “She was going to, but I told her I wanted to be alone.”

  “You mean, you can stop her with a mere statement?”

  “I don’t think she really wanted to come. She’s in a snit about something.”

  “Me. I’ve told Henshaw to turn his investment records over to me by tomorrow, or I’d press charges against him and his company.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got him.”

  “Not quite. At your mother’s request, I gave him two weeks to get his house in order.”

  “You didn’t?” He frowned, put his book back in the pocket.

  She nodded.

  “Big mistake,” he said. “She’ll go to work on you.”

  “Steven, I can’t stay enemies with your mother forever. It’s the least I can do. The world won’t come to an end. Maybe she’ll come around.”

  “Don’t count on it. I’d watch my backside.” He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a pen and a business card. “Here’s a number where you can reach me if you need me. Don’t hesitate to call.”

  On the overhead, they announced his flight. He rose, picked up his briefcase and coat. She stood. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him, but she didn’t.

  He kissed her on the forehead. “Bye, sweet thing. You take care. I still love you, too.”

  He moved down the jetway without looking back.

  She watched him disappear down the long, narrow tunnel. With each step, she felt screams of frustration mount at the back of her throat. She thought she’d felt pain with Kent and Rick, but neither compared with the hurt of losing Steven. She’d never find anyone like him again. He was perfect. Now, she had a perfect brother.

  * * *

  Carrie was ready to jump into the fray. To preserve her relationship with Steven, she must help Phillip, do as much damage to Della as humanly possible, then sell her shares in the company and get the hell away from this stress before she herself became the victim.

  Her first order of business was to amass shares. Unfortunately, she and Steven didn’t have enough to turn the tide, but she had friends. Lots of friends. Friends with shares in the company who’d gladly turn their votes over to her. The trick was getting a proxy from Steven without any questions. He’d go to the wire for Della. Why her son had fallen for that little tramp boggled her mind. A real fucking chink in her armor.

  With enough shares, she could call a special board meeting and put Della out of business.

  Once and for all.

  Della was rich now. There was nothing she could do about that; but at least, she might be able to push her out of the company. Della and Steven must never learn they weren’t related. This was one secret she had to take to her grave, leaving Della and Steven nothing more than loving siblings.

  Her first order of business was to meet with Jack Davis. Have a nice little chat. Talk about an evil son of a bitch, he’d do just about anything to see Della fall on her keister. Jon Clarin was out of the picture. The fairy turned on her when she needed him most. Once she cleared up this mess with Della, she’d see to it Jon got his due. The weasel.

  Jack Davis arrived at Carrie’s home later that afternoon. He was dressed in slac
ks and a golf shirt, which showed off his tanned arms. She ushered him into the solarium, where soft music played and cool air circulated through the plants, giving off a sweet jungle scent.

  “The town is buzzing.” Jack took a seat in a white wicker wing-back chair. “Since that piece in the Times about Wes’s death and the discovery of a long-lost daughter, it’s being blown all out of proportion. You think you’ll have to do any explaining?”

  She poured them a drink and sat across from him. “What’s the buzz?”

  “Nobody knows where she came from. Only speculation, a previous wife, an illicit affair. You name it, it’s being whispered.”

  “Damn! As if I don’t have enough to contend with, without covering up Wes’s pecker tracks.”

  “Blew my socks off,” Jack said. “You know Della told me the whole story about her mother, the abortion, everything except who the father was. When she was a kid, she did a little prostituting, too. Got herself arrested.”

  “More bad news.” She sank deeper into her depression. “It’s not news I can use.”

  “She hooked an undercover cop her second or third time out. Her mother thought she was turning out just like her, so she gave the twit some money and sent her uptown to start a new life. I’m sure Wes had a little to do with that.”

  She cringed, took a sip of her drink. “Do you think Della will talk about her life to anyone?”

  “Hell, no, she’s so ashamed, she’d die before she’d give a statement. It’ll all pass.” He patted her hand. “How are you holding up?”

  “All right, except for Della. Now, she’s after Phillip. Rick Courtney’s in jail, and he knows plenty. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she didn’t have something to do with that. We’ve got a couple of bases to cover.”

  “What can I do? Anything you ask.”

  “I need proxy votes. I’m calling a special board meeting. If I can get enough votes, that’ll be the end of Della. At least, in the business. Phillip’s a special friend of mine. I don’t want him in jail.”

  “Can she do that?”

  “Looks like it. He was involved with Rick. And he’s–” She stopped. She was telling Jack too much. Though he had always been there for her when she called on him, she didn’t trust him fully. However, she was comforted, knowing she and Jack shared the same enemy. “Let’s just say, she’s got enough on him that she could cause him serious problems if she’s not stopped.”

  “What can I do?”

  “See if you can round up some shareholders’s votes. Surely you’ve made a few friends in the company who would help you out.”

  “I’m on it. When do you need them?”

  “I have two weeks. The sooner, the better.”

  * * *

  The cold midnight air whistled in off the ocean. Della had come home early to catch up on a backlog of paper work. The phone rang, startling her.

  Who would dare call her at this hour? The threatening calls had stopped since Rick’s arrest. The machine was the perfect solution. On the fourth ring, it clicked, and her voice came on: “I’m not here, leave a message.” She heard a long beep, which meant her machine was loaded with messages she hadn’t checked.

  A moment of silence elapsed.

  Then in a loud, scratchy tone came the dreaded computerized voice. “I know you’re there, Della. You don’t listen, do you? This is your last chance. If you don’t back off, I’ll make good on my threats. Those bodyguards following you around won’t do you a bit of good. I’m better than they are. Trust me. Imagine not being able to enjoy all that money after living such a shoddy, deprived life–”

  Click!

  The machine ran out of time, cut him off.

  She bolted up. “Shoddy, deprived life?” Who knew? Jack Davis. Jesus Christ. It was Jack Davis. She picked up the phone. Instead of calling the police, she called McKinley. “I have another job for you.”

  Between her and McKinley, she’d pick them all off, one by one.

  Like sitting ducks.

  The next few days were quiet. Della went to work, continued her audit of Henshaw’s and waited. The threats frightened her. If Jack was going to make a move, what the hell was he waiting for? Even with all the protection, she was still edgy. What if he caught up with her in some unsuspecting place and turned violent? She’d heard horror stories of corporate kidnapping, murders, and God knows what else.

  She shivered.

  Was all this worth it?

  She seriously wondered.

  Iris poked her head in Della’s office. “May I bring in my coffee and chat?”

  She had never been so happy to see a familiar face. “You’re back!” The lady who’d been through it all with both her and Wes. If ever there was anyone able to help her through this crisis, it was Iris Hartman. In spite of the sadness in her eyes and her sudden weight loss, she looked exceptionally well. She was a link to Wes, a link that had been abruptly severed. “Come in, and bring your coffee.”

  They pulled their chairs up in front of Della’s desk and set down their cups. She reached over and clasped Iris’s hands. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

  “Yes, I do, because I feel the same about you. I’m sorry about Steven.”

  “You know?”

  “Everyone knows. It blew through this place like a tornado. The tongues are wagging. Especially about you being Wes’s daughter.”

  “I still can’t believe it.” She glanced down at her lap. “I wish he’d told me. My mother and I are at odds. They both lied to me.”

  “Have you opened the envelopes Wes left you? The ones you were to put in a safe deposit box?”

  “No.” She snapped to attention. “I’ve been feeling so sorry for myself, I forgot all about them.”

  “I think you’ll find some answers in there.”

  Wes had instructed her to open them upon his death. The moment Iris left her office, she would go down to the bank and pull them out.

  “How long have you known about Wes being my father?”

  “Remember when you ran off with Rick Courtney? It was then Wes told me. I begged him to tell you and Carrie. He couldn’t. We never spoke of it again.”

  “This is all so unbelievable! I feel the same as when I was a kid.” She stared into space, her voice thin. “So different from everyone else.”

  “You are different, perfectly different. You’re one of a kind, you know.” Iris averted Della’s gaze. “You’re like him in so many ways,” she said wistfully.

  “What are you going to do, Iris?”

  “That depends on you.”

  “Me?”

  “If you stay and want me for a sidekick, I’m in. If you do something foolish like leave, I’ll retire and spend the rest of my days watching the waves come and go in Malibu.” She turned away. “I don’t know what I’ll do with myself. I’ve worked all my life.”

  “You’d work for me like you did with Wes?”

  Iris laughed. “Honey, together, we could kick ass.”

  Surprised, she said, “A little Della-ism?” She laughed.

  “It’s your influence coming out in me.” Iris reached over and buzzed Sarah. “Honey, would you bring in the pot? Della and I have a lot of talking to do.”

  Her spirits rose. She had a friend, a real friend, closely connected to Wes who wanted to help her.

  “What’s going on with Phillip?”

  “I’m auditing him. It doesn’t look good. He’s involved with Rick, plus, from what I can tell, he’s embezzling from his top artists. Carrie asked for a two-week extension on my audit. He needs time to get his act together.”

  “Yes, well, she’s hustling shareholders. She called me at home a few days ago and asked me to phone everyone under the sun and get their proxies. I think she plans a coup, like overriding you. Even trying to get you out as a vice president. If she pulls enough votes together, she could do it. That’s why I came in and started work again. I thought you might need me.”

  “That answers your question
about my following in Wes’s footsteps.”

  Iris stood. “You give up too easily, young lady! I thought you were made of sterner stuff.”

  “I’ve weakened. Too many pitfalls lately.”

  “Get over it. If you want to move up to the top here, which is how Wes wanted it, you’d better get yourself together and put on your boxing gloves.”

  Sarah brought the coffee, smiled at Della, then quietly left.

  “I needed that,” she said.

  Iris stayed with Della the better part of the morning, reviewing everything going on in the company. After a deli lunch in her office with Iris, she ran down to the bank and retrieved the two manila envelopes Wes had given her. She decided to read them at home in the privacy of her apartment.

  Weaving through traffic, she eyed the envelopes lying on the passenger seat next to her. Were long-held secrets about to be unfolded? She wondered.

  She pulled into her underground parking space, dashed to her apartment, and unlocked the door. Her heart sank; she gasped.

  Her apartment had been ransacked.

  27

  Carrie sat behind Wes’s polished mahogany desk in his study. His ashes, in a brass urn, sat on the bookshelf where she could see them every day. When she was more comfortable with his death, she planned to gather a group of his closest friends, charter a boat, and spread his ashes on the sea. That was what he wanted, though she never understood why. The thought of him floating out there on the dark, murky waters of the Pacific chilled her.

  She wasted no time in reorganizing Wes’s study to make the room hers, including repositioning the desk. The masculine paintings she’d purchased for Wes were replaced with lighter, more feminine canvases. Even the air smelled sweeter from the trail of perfume she left behind after each visit.

  Rattling around her big house, she avoided the inevitable–telephoning Steven. If she was to set up a board meeting, she needed his proxy. He’d want to know the issues and, she was sure, he’d want to know if the proposed changes helped or hindered Della. She still shuddered when she pictured Steven and Della together. There was another reason Steven must never know Della wasn’t his half-sister–he’d drop everything in New York and head right back to her bed.