by C. E. Hansen
She went into her office, shut down her computers and NASDAQ machine, then walked into the ladies room. She splashed her face with cold water and taking a face cloth wiped away the stress of the day. Opening her purse, Lisa took out her lipstick, mascara and powder, reapplying lightly, liking when her baby blues were center of attention. She shoved the makeup back into the drawer and grabbed her purse. Pulling her camel cashmere coat from the coat hook on the back of her office door, Lisa slipped it on and made her way to the elevators.
She rushed from her building, her mind made up to meet her friends. It was freezing, but she didn’t mind; the cold air smacking her in the face was invigorating and she needed to wake up after working since 7:50 this morning; she was literally tired enough to sleep on the street. Now.
Her thoughts strayed to Tyler.
Now that face can make even me forget about the relaxing bath I was planning to take.
Walking down the steps of 55 Water Street, she passed the row of taxi’s lining the curb. She glided down the street toward Hanover Square, a quaint Wall Street bar, turning onto Stone Street, the narrow alley-like road which would bring her out right in front of the bar. She stopped just short of the square. Pulling the scrunchie off of her wrist, she pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail.
She quickly pulled her compact out of her bag and lightly rubbed the powder across her nose and forehead, removing the shine and giving her skin a glow. She rummaged through her purse and found her “212” perfume…she spritzing some on her wrist and across her chest then shoved the small bottle back inside. Lisa looked up, about to step out into the square. She never saw the gleaming silver blade or the handsome man with the haughty smirk.
Tyler...I’m coming, baby.
She crumbled. Her knees cracked on the sidewalk sounding like twigs snapping. Her hand slowly rose to her neck, feeling the warm liquid pulse through her fingers. She panicked for a moment, then silence took hold of her and she felt no more pain, no fear, just peace.
Chapter 20
The next morning I woke up alone. I heard Cole talking in the next room. Then the delicious aroma of fresh brewed coffee drew me out of bed. I walked into the bathroom to perform my morning ritual. I slipped into the matching robe to my negligee and walked down the hall into the living room. The fireplace was roaring, its warmth spreading through the cavernous room. My silk robe clung to my skin, caressing my legs with each step. Cole glanced up as I approached, thrusting both hands through his hair. He looked exasperated.
“Hey,” he said softly, holding his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “You okay?”
“Yes. What’s up? You look like you’re really stressed.”
“Good morning to you, too.” He poured me a coffee as he decisively altered his expression.
“Here, sit and drink this. You look like you are still asleep.” He put my inquiry on hold. “I’ve got a few calls to make. Drink your coffee then we’ll eat.”
“Sure.” I grabbed the proffered cup adding sugar and cream then lifted the steaming cup to my mouth and moaned in ecstasy. “I love the coffee here. I may never leave.”
Watching his face for a reaction, any reaction...I got nothing.
He was visibly anxious as he walked out of the dining area through the swinging door that led to the kitchen, a room I’d not yet seen. Curious, I stood up and tiptoed toward the door. I heard him talking; he was irritated, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying or who he was talking to. I was tempted to put my ear against the door, hoping to hear something that would give me a clue.
I listened intently but it seemed, from what I was able to ascertain, he was giving directives to someone, and didn’t sound happy. Must be work related. His voice was somewhat muffled but I could swear I heard him say security 24/7, start immediately, team together. Out of context I had no clue what he was talking about.
You don’t have to know every single thing, Nosey Nellie. I admonished myself sounding eerily like my mother.
I walked back over to the table and sat down. I lifted my feet onto the seat across from mine and took another sip of my delicious coffee praying the caffeine would wake me up. Yawning again I looked around noticing the open newspaper. I pulled it over to me, trying to get a clue to what got him all moody…stock prices falling?
The story of the recent murders in the City was front-page news. Suddenly remembering the headlines the day Cole left, I shuddered. The woman murdered in Central Park, along with two others, were pictured. I heard him coming back and for reasons unknown to me, I quickly pushed the newspaper back to where it was.
If there is something he wants to share with me, he will.
“Are you hungry?” He seemed to be back to his cheerful sexy-as-hell self, albeit mercurial.
“For what exactly?” I asked him, my nipples hardened. He could do that to me, just saying something, anything, in that smoking sexy voice and I’d get all hot and bothered.
“Food, Grace,” he chided me, all the time smiling. “I want to take you on an outing today, out of the City. Providing you have no other plans.”
I quickly smiled. “I’ve cleared my calendar, Ace. Whatever you have in mind is more than fine with me.”
I should call both my mother and Michelle to let them know I was still breathing; I felt a little guilty for leaving the charity event the way I had. I should call and apologize. “‘Very unbecoming,” she would say. In my defense…I had no defense, but knew they must both be worried about me.
“I don’t have plans but I do need to call my mother and Michelle to let them know I’m still alive.”
I saw the look on his face. It was lightning quick, there and gone, but I saw it. Fear…but afraid of what?
“Of course,” he answered, looking thoughtfully down the long hall then back to where I was standing. “I need to check on a few things downstairs. Use my office,” he said pointing. “The second door on the left, down that hallway.”
I was surprised there were other rooms beside the rooms I’d seen. This place was tremendous. I’d love to go exploring.
“Thanks. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“Take your time. I’ll be back.”
I unplugged my cell, tossing it into my pocketbook, and picked up my coffee on my way to Cole’s office.
Opening the door to the office I stepped in, noticing immediately the noiselessness within. I turned around, stunned to see such a large room. It was bigger than my living room and far grander. The walls on both sides were covered floor to ceiling with built in bookcases made of beautiful dark cherry. A large beautiful cherry wood desk, the centerpiece of the room, had a backdrop of floor to ceiling windows.
The elegant burgundy and gold jacquard curtains and gossamer cream-colored silk sheers, the frame, the view of Central Park below, the artwork. The carpet an antique Persian I believe was thick beneath my feet. Behind the incredible desk stood a burgundy tufted leather chair with a curved high back. I spun around and spotted four armchairs, two in front of the large majestic fireplace and two in front of the desk, and between them a lovely carved table topped with an exquisite antique lamp. The wide, highly polished wooden mantel was of the same beautiful dark cherry as the bookcases.
I heard the front door close and presumed Cole left the apartment.
On the table in front of the fireplace stood a beautiful bronze sculpture of a nude woman holding a baby to her breast. I looked up and on the mantle I saw a three delicate glass sculptures alongside a small collection of elegant picture frames. My curiosity was piqued so I walked closer to get a better look.
The faces staring back at me were both familiar and captivating. Cole never spoke of any, but here were pictures of what appeared to be his family. One of a very beautiful woman with a familiar smile, and intelligent green eyes, the same color as Cole’s. She sat straight, her arms wrapped around the waists of two handsome boys, devilish delight on their faces; the older boy was Cole, somewhere around ten to twelve. Behind them stood a ta
ll, broad shouldered, ruggedly handsome man, his large hands resting possessively on the woman’s shoulders. His kind smile touched his warm brown eyes, his hair the same thick black as Cole’s. It was a charming family picture. Everyone looked contented to be with one another. The pride in the man’s eyes was clear. I felt a strange longing to know them, to meet them.
Another picture stood next to it, a picture of the same man and woman in wedding attire taken much earlier. The man was dressed in a crisp brown suit, the woman in a beautiful simple cream colored gown, her dark brown hair piled high on her head. Her beautiful green eyes stared unwaveringly at the man and his gaze was locked on her, both so in love. I wanted to feel like that. I wanted to know that depth of love. My mother had it with my father, but became someone I didn’t know after marrying Franklin.
I was curious why Cole never mentioned them. Where was his brother? His parents? Why no pictures after the one of the four of them? Were they estranged? I felt a bit voyeuristic. I had to force myself to turn away, a strange feeling of emptiness flooding my heart.
I composed myself quickly, remembering what it was I came in here to do. I fumbled inside my pocketbook, found my cell and pushed the button turning it on. I gasped when I saw thirty-two missed calls from my mother. Holy hell, that has to be a record, even for my obsessive, crazy mother. I only hoped nothing happened to her or her “husband.” I also had six missed calls from Michelle. I pushed send; hearing the phone ring, I braced myself for her anger. She picked it up on the first ring.
Chapter 21
He was angry, his head pounding with each heartbeat. He picked up the untraceable cell phone he’d bought, flipping it open and closed. His hands sweaty, the tick in his eye became noticeable as he stared at his reflection. He dialed the number.
“Hello.” A woman with a slight Spanish accent answered.
“Katherine Chancellor,” he demanded.
“Who is calling, please?”
“Spencer Harrington.” He got the name from the internet; Spencer and Katherine both chaired some charity or something like that.
“Hold one minute, please.”
Wiping his sweaty hands onto his pants, he shuffled from foot to foot.
“Hello, Spencer.” It was her voice. He shook with anticipation.
“Katherine.” He used his whisper-like raspy voice.
“Spencer?” She seemed confused. “You don’t sound well. Are you ill?”
“No.” He now spoke in his own voice. “Let me warn you, if you care about your daughter Grace, you will not hang up.” He heard her intake of breath and smiled.
“Who is this?” Her voice sounded stressed. “Where is Grace? Have you done…” She trailed off, realizing what she just asked.
“Who am I? I’m the bastard you gave away, like trash many years ago.” He admired his perfect teeth in the mirror. They were white and perfectly straight as he smiled.
“Excuse me?” Her voice was shaking; he could tell she was getting nervous now.
“Please, Mother dear,” he spoke the endearment sardonically, “you must remember me.”
“I’m sorry, I am very confused. Has something happened to Grace?” Panic…he wanted to hear her voice full of panic.
“Not yet…I just wanted to reintroduce myself, so to speak. Mother, ” he paused letting it sink in. “You do you remember me, don’t you?”
“No…I…I don’t understand.” The loud noise on the other end confirmed she dropped the phone.
“Hello, Mother? Are you there? Did you go and do something stupid like hang up, you fucking whore?”
“I did not hang up. Where is Grace? What is this about?” She spoke in her authoritative voice, but it didn’t cover the panicked tone. He smiled wider. He heard her crying. How sweet.
“I know where she is, where she lives, works...for now she’s fine. Grace, Grace, Grace…do you know what you did to me? Do you ever even think about me?”
Silence. Then he heard her sniffle.
“You are a fucking whore, Mother. This is what you get when you open your fucking legs, you whore.” The power he felt inside made him hard.
“Please, please…stop, please. You have not answered me, where is Grace? Please just tell me that.”
It took every ounce of his control to not smash the phone. His head was pounding harder.
“YOU ARE NOT LISTENING TO ME. YOUR PRECIOUS FUCKING DAUGHTER IS SAFE FOR NOW. OPEN YOUR FUCKING EARS, YOU FUCKING CUNT…what a fucking BITCH!” He let his anger get the best of him. He sipped the vodka and put the glass back on the table with a loud clang.
“What is it that you want from me?” Her words became shaky from the trembling in her voice.
“Stop your fucking sniveling. You’ll know soon enough, but not now. Now, I just want you to know that I know where your cunt daughter lives. That’ll give you something to think about for a while.” He paused, letting what he said sink in. He finished the vodka in the glass and poured another.
“Mother dear, are you still there? Still with me?” He banged the phone on the table several times, liking that she was scared. “You threw me away, but kept Grace…she had the life you denied me, what was mine.”
“I was very young, my parents they...they sent me away. I was forced to…they forced me to give my baby up...for adoption. They told me it would be the best thing. Karl was, he was...they would never let me keep the baby, they never let me see Karl again, they would…”
He waited for her to continue. Oddly, he was patient and was rewarded with the sound of her vomiting. He smiled and tilted the glass back, finishing the vodka. He loved feeling powerful. His hands no longer sweaty, his tick grew less pronounced.
“Still there, Mother?”
“What do you want? What do you want me to do? Do you want money?” She pleaded with him. The pain in her voice didn’t reach him. He wanted her to suffer, he wanted her to feel pain, know his pain. She would soon.
“I will be in touch.” He hung up. Triumphant.
Chapter 22
Katherine held the phone to her ear for several minutes, knowing he had hung up...she shook as she placed the phone on the base. She grabbed her cell phone from her purse, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She raised a handful of tissues to her eyes, drying them, smearing her mascara. She wiped her nose and threw the tissues away, taking more. She walked into the bathroom, bracing herself against the walls, her legs weak with fear, her mind racing, and she looked in the mirror. Who was she? She had lost herself, her identity. As if someone, some ghost, reached in and pulled out her heart. What would she do? She couldn’t tell Franklin…or Grace.
Grace...she needed to hear Grace’s voice. She needed to make sure her baby was okay. She pushed the speed dial. The phone rang until it went to voicemail. She called again, and again, each time straight to voicemail. She kept trying, her fear building each time the call went unanswered. She should call the police…but then everyone would know her terrible secret, know what she was, what she had done. All these years she tried to keep her past in her past, where it should be. She felt faint and lowered herself to the floor. Putting her hands to her face, she wept. She cried until she was dry, till no more tears remained. She needed to think, needed to figure it all out.
Katherine fell asleep, waking sometime later on the floor of the bathroom. She found her cell next to her and called Grace again, and again the call went to voicemail. She was going mad. Surely she would go mad.
“I’m so very, very sorry, Katherine dear. You will be thankful one day.” Her mother said as she hugged her. She kissed the top of her head before putting her in the car. Her bags had been packed into the trunk of the car. Her father stood behind his wife keeping his distance, a sorrowful look on his face.
Katherine got into the car, tears streamed down her face. She didn’t even bother wiping them away. Let them see how sad I am, she thought. She looked out the window. Her city, her New York, her home was soon to be a memory for at least seven months, maybe more…maybe f
orever. She turned back as the driver shut the door. Her mother backed up slowly, her eyes welled up with tears she had learned not to shed, her heart breaking. Her Katherine…her baby.
The car slowly pulled away from the curb into the traffic on 2 Avenue and Katherine started her journey to upstate New York, to the Convent of the Cherished Angel, a school for unwed mothers. She was an embarrassment to her family. She still cringed at her mother’s face as the shock registered when she heard her only child, her daughter, had found herself in this predicament. She had let a boy have his way with her and was now paying the price of that disgrace. She would have to stay at the “boarding school” until the child was born and given up for adoption.
The memory of that night had the power to turn her stomach with shame. She should have stopped him, should have screamed, instead she had let it happen, she wanted it, even liked it. Her mother convinced her he took her forcibly, took her innocence from her and left her alone with this abomination inside her. Katherine unconsciously rubbed her belly.
Katherine had been attracted to him. He was an extremely handsome and kind boy. She felt sorry for him. He misunderstood her kindness for something totally different. She could never tell her mother she liked it. That she felt different since it happened. At first, she was petrified as she lay beneath him, as he began to grunt like an animal above her. Then something happened. Desire spread inside her, built until it took over her body. She shuddered at the memory. The taste of bile rose in her throat. She swallowed it back.
Karl saw her. He couldn’t will his eyes away.
She was so beautiful. The kind of girl he would never be able to have.
She was sheer perfection. Her stunning face, her golden blonde hair piled high on her head, her young curvy body, voluptuous. Her dress swayed as she danced, as she walked. Karl wanted her. She was an angel, a dream that would never come true, that would leave him hungry and praying for peace.