“I’ll be here to do whatever I can.”
Madeline winked at Abigail and pushed through the revolving door. When she reached the outside, she drew in a nice breath of air. Free. She put on her sunglasses and extracted a cell phone from her purse. A few pushed buttons and Don was on the line.
“Mother, where are you?”
“At DMI,” she said, numb. The air teased her face. “But I’m on my way to the airport.”
“Flying where?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“What do you mean? Come on, Mother. Don’t play this game with me. Where are you going?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“So you’re really going to do this to me?”
“Do what?”
“Make me guess where you are in the world with no immediate way to reach you. We’ve been through this with Tamara. You of all people know how horrible it’s been.”
She hadn’t quite thought about her departure in those terms or the personal effect it would have on Don. He did have a valid point but she had to go without a trace. “I’ll let you know when I get to wherever it is I’m going.”
“Don’t do this. Come here and save me the worry.” She didn’t want to torture Don but Madeline couldn’t comfort him. She had to gain perspective first, to reassess her decisions, reconcile her past, and craft a future. They exchanged good-byes and she affirmed her love. Madeline wanted to cry out but held her emotions. No time for pity. The airport was calling. On the way to her car, Madeline turned her phone off and stuffed it into her purse. She claimed the space to think, plan, and hopefully recover. This was a new day, a new existence, a new normal, and she had to figure it out—her new life, void of what she loved. She hopped into the Bentley and drove it into the DMI covered garage. No sense letting the car sit at the airport indefinitely. She’d give her keys to the guard in case Don or Tamara wanted to use the car. Madeline parked and walked inside, dialing the private car service along the way. In no time she’d be at the airport and then to somewhere far, fun, and free of the Mitchell curse, the one refusing to let those with her last name savor happiness for longer than a brief moment.
chapter
12
Sherry didn’t want to gloat, but the reaction was natural, long in coming. She tapped keys on her laptop, feeling stronger than usual. Finally there was a sense of redemption and validation. Madeline wasn’t the only Mitchell wife who was a valued member of DMI. Sherry was no longer on the sidelines begging to be counted. Sparks in her renewed spirit were charged, although she wasn’t about to let her guard down with Madeline. She had made that mistake too many times in the past. Abigail broke her train of thought as she entered Sherry’s office.
“Are you busy?” Abigail asked.
“Not really.” Sherry pulled off her reading glasses and set them on the desk. “Actually, I don’t have much to do until Don returns. Since I was Joel’s personal assistant and press secretary, I guess my job will be the same supporting Don? I’m not exactly sure, but it doesn’t matter. As long as I’m needed and treated fairly, I’ll stay around.”
Abigail took a seat. Sherry was prepared for her to bring up the incident with Madeline. “What is Joel planning to do?” Abigail asked.
“He’s not sure. I can’t imagine him sitting around the house every day. He has to be busy all the time. I just don’t know what he wants to do.” She pushed a button on her laptop. “For the immediate future he has to concentrate on his wife’s recovery.” Once she’d made the statement, Sherry felt awkward and wanted to reclaim it. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive, bringing up his wife. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, really. There is nothing left between me and Joel. I asked about him only out of curiosity. There’s no love between us, but I do care about him as a person.” Abigail seemed convincing but Sherry doubted her ability to get over Joel that quickly. His abrupt marriage was a shock to everyone, especially Abigail. Joel’s moving Zarah into the house that Abigail designed was crushing. Women didn’t purge those feelings of rejection so easily. Madeline hadn’t. Sherry hadn’t. She didn’t believe Abigail had. But if that’s what Abigail had to say to get through the heartache, Sherry wouldn’t deny her the right. It was the least courtesy she could extend.
“I’ve had my share of heartache, maybe not the same kind as you, but I understand,” Sherry said, filled with compassion for Abigail. She liked her and would have been honored to have her as Joel’s wife. It would have been nice, but it didn’t happen. She wouldn’t dwell on “what if.” There were plenty of real troubles percolating to hold her attention. “Don’t get me wrong. I accept my daughter-in-law and adore her. Zarah and Joel are the only family I have. But I understand how his relationship with her must hurt.”
Abigail crossed her legs and shifted in her seat. “That’s water under the bridge.” Sherry could tell that Abigail didn’t want to discuss it any further. “But I have to admit that I miss the days when Joel was on top of his game and really running this place. Those were the good old days,” Abigail said.
“It wasn’t that long ago. That’s sad.” Sherry’s hope for her son dipped.
“Joel lived and breathed DMI for almost four years. It was his top priority. He gave up everything and everybody for this place.” Abigail’s voice softened.
Sherry knew why. Joel had sacrificed their romantic relationship, refusing to allow anything that took his time, passion, and commitment away from DMI. He worked hard. Did well, and deserved better. Sherry was willing to accept his defeat so long as it didn’t destroy him. “For him to just walk away scares me. I don’t know what he’s going to do to fill the void.”
“I don’t know either.” Abigail sighed and let her head drop.
Sherry collected her thoughts and contained her emotions. There had been an abundance of sadness and despair for months. A break would be nice. “Joel will be fine. He’s a smart young man. Maybe he’ll start his own company like Don did. Why not? After all, they have the same father, and we both know what a dynamic businessman he was.” Abigail nodded. “So, that settles it. Joel will be just fine.” Sherry wasn’t as confident as she appeared but Abigail didn’t have to be saddled with her family’s issues. Abigail had already suffered plenty.
chapter
13
Don wondered what he’d gotten into. He was convinced God had a plan for him when Joel had handed over the family business. Don jotted down a few notes on a legal pad, periodically peering out the window. The days of sitting back in his office chair and letting his thoughts soar past the Cape Town skyline and out onto the bay were no more. He organized the stack of papers marked up everywhere with red lines. DMI was practically bankrupt. He dropped the papers onto the left side of his desk and shifted to the right side, where the LTI documents were. A sense of calm flowed over him. At least his company was doing well. He rested his head on the stack of papers.
“What are you doing?” Naledi asked.
“Resting, I guess.” Her presence had maintained the same effect it had the very first day he’d met her, when the bronze-skinned lady glided into his office over three years ago interviewing for a job in his struggling new company. The radiance in her almond-shaped eyes spoke to him then and continued to this day. Time had passed; the company had grown, and so had their friendship.
She was a blessing. Naledi had come into his life when he was lost, angry with God and his father, and bent on getting revenge on his brother. Solitude on a distant shore had enabled him to return to sanity, repair his shattered soul, and establish a renewed relationship with his spiritual beliefs. The man he left in Detroit was no more. He’d learned to forgive and to let go of the pains of the past. The new Don had a zeal for life, love, and a restored family. Naledi had been a safe haven during his time of despair. She’d supported him and allowed him to operate without the constant threat of her wanting more than he could deliver.
“You must be exhausted after such a long flight. H
ow can I help?” she asked, soft-spoken.
“Your being here is already a help. What would I do without you?” he said, and then tossed the stack of red-covered DMI papers in the air. “I haven’t figured out where to begin.” Work was one problem; Tamara and Madeline were another. He wanted to blot out the turmoil, but if he did, there would only be Cape Town and Naledi left. That wouldn’t be such a bad consolation prize, but abandoning Madeline, Tamara, and even Joel would be tough. Don kept thinking that God had gotten him into this situation and he was determined to rely on Him to get him out.
“How about lunch?” she asked.
Don pined over the stack of papers, calculating the hours of work needed to make a dent. Fifteen, twenty, forty, he wasn’t sure. The burden of his impending workload threatened to dampen his waning spirit, the little of it his mother and sister had left him. He mulled a little longer before popping to his feet. “Lunch sounds great.” The work wasn’t going anywhere. It would be greeting him at the door for days, months, possibly years to come. He didn’t want to pass up a perfectly good South African afternoon with Naledi. “Even better, let’s have lunch at the cape,” he said, gently and temporarily placing his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t pull away. The reservations Naledi once had continued vanishing as they grew closer. “We’ll take our usual drive along the coast.”
“Is there time?”
“I’m the boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the closet. “I can make time. Besides, it’s two hours up and two back.” They left his office not quite hand in hand. Decorum in the office was fitting. Letting his heart have free rein outside the doors of LTI was also fitting. He couldn’t help it. Being home with Naledi, his business partner and devoted friend, allowed Don to feel temporarily shielded from the shambles of DMI, his father’s fractured legacy.
Naledi and Don strolled outside. She reached for his hand and gladly he responded. At the threshold, he stomped out the flurry of family strife and separation existing with his mother, sister, stepmother, and half brother. If there was a chance of staying put and never having to return to Detroit to face the chaos, he would. However, his yearning desire to save his family at the leading of the Lord was inescapable. But this afternoon was off-limits. They could ravage his solitude tomorrow.
chapter
14
Joel pulled the Lamborghini into the garage. He sat in the car and turned up the music, blasting away his troubles. He rolled his shoulder several times, unable to fully stretch it out. The two-hour session at the gym had worked out some of his stress but the tightness in his shoulders remained. Joel let his back relax, tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the music. His body was positioned to relax, at least as much as it could in a sports car, but he couldn’t free up his thoughts. He moved his neck to the beat of the music, trying every technique he could to let go and ease into some form of contentment, yet it wasn’t for him.
He couldn’t help thinking about Sheba. How many times had he been stressed out and hopped in the car or gotten on a plane to see her? She had a way of bringing down his anxiety and pumping him up like a king. He missed Sheba, craved time with her. Immediately, he shut the visions down. He had to; otherwise the Lamborghini would be backing out and hitting the road, Chicago bound. His conscience didn’t usually get to decide, but today it had to.
He groaned, killed the music, and opened the door. Slowly dragging one leg at a time, he meandered to the door, claiming every step of freedom, acknowledging that as soon as he went inside, Zarah was going to swarm him like a bee to pollen. He drew in a few more breaths of space before succumbing to his doom. He paused and turned the knob, entering the house through the mudroom. He considered sneaking into his office, which was closer to the rear of the house. No sense bothering. Hiding now would only prolong his responsibilities. He pushed past his spirit of procrastination and sought out his wife in the kitchen.
“Joel, I didn’t hear you come in. I’m very glad to have you home so early,” she said, rushing to him.
He wasn’t repulsed by her touch, nor was he inspired. It wasn’t her fault. When they married, she was a virgin. Unless he counted a handful of times they’d been together as husband and wife, intimacy wasn’t an area of familiarity for Zarah. Her chipper disposition made him feel better. Watching her battle depression and suicide wasn’t anything he was proud of, especially when he was the cause. She didn’t have to say it in direct terms, but he knew, she knew, everybody knew that he was the reason she’d wanted to die a few weeks ago. “You look good. Have you been eating like you should?”
Her eyes widened and color flushed her cheeks. “Yes.” She looked away like a timid little girl. At times like this, he felt awful pulling Zarah from her family and not being able to love her like a real husband should. But they weren’t a true couple, not really. Her father had to accept some of the blame, too. After all, the marriage was his idea from the beginning.
As Zarah was an only child, her welfare was critical to her father. Musar wanted to make sure his daughter had a husband to look after her and their family business once he transitioned to his next stage of life. To Joel, the next stage was death, but he wasn’t going to debate Zarah’s or Musar’s religious beliefs. Joel was concerned about the present, and from his perspective, he had done the Bengali family a favor taking Zarah. Looking at her now, the gesture didn’t seem so clear.
He grabbed her hand, causing her to drop her gaze to the floor. Business was business, no one appreciated the concept more than him, but he couldn’t discount the human standing next to him. He felt passion in the moment and pulled her close. Feeling her body tense, Joel let go of her. “Are you afraid of me?”
“No,” she whispered, giggling like a teenager. The passion that had rolled in was sailing out. He didn’t feel right pushing her, but he also didn’t want the burden of teaching her how to be a wife. The investment wasn’t there. Images of Sheba crawled in. This time he wasn’t quick to dismiss them. She was the refuge he longed to see. “Can we eat dinner together?” she asked.
“I guess so.” Joel had lost his appetite. Food was the least of his concerns. He had no job, no passion, no direction; these things were ahead of food on his list of issues, none of which Zarah could help him with, not like Sheba or Abigail could. Zarah continued speaking. Joel didn’t process a single word. He needed more. If his personal life wasn’t going to quench his thirst, he’d have to get it done on the professional end. The odds of getting back into DMI weren’t great, but it was possible, especially with his mother on the inside.
chapter
15
Tamara paid the taxi driver, shorting him on the tip. Limited funds didn’t allow for excessive generosity. A few more nights at the Hilton Garden and she’d have to move to a motel. The credit card she’d used to check in was tied to her checking account. A low balance translated to a short stay. She’d consider other accommodations soon. A shelter was far off in the distance if she wisely managed the remaining three hundred dollars in cash and the nine hundred in her account.
She stood in the parking lot, staring at the six-story building. When she was there a few months ago, for the first time since fleeing, Madeline had spooked her. She’d come as a monumental favor to Don. He’d asked for her stock ownership in an attempt to oust Joel. She agreed, at first. Tamara remembered hauling out of the building and booking the first flight out of the country. She felt tired just thinking about how long it took to get home that time, three connections and a total of ten exhausting hours of layovers. Ugh. This time, she wasn’t going to be spooked. Madeline was gone and the truth was that she needed a job.
She entered the building, amassing a burst of energy. After her fourteen years of aging, most people in the company weren’t going to recognize her. Exactly as she hoped. Tamara sliced through the lobby, not garnering extended stares from anyone. She was just about to push the elevator button when the guard called out to her. “Excuse me, ma’am, but you have to sign in.”
T
amara froze and then loosened. What was the big deal? She couldn’t overreact and raise suspicion. Signing in was fine. It wasn’t like Remo was chasing her onto the elevator. He didn’t know where she was, not yet. She would have to learn to relax, act normal, and not always be on alert for impending danger. Not every man was out to hurt her. Rationally she understood. Reprogramming her natural reaction would take time. Consistent safety would eventually enable her to rewire her instincts.
She approached the security desk, avoiding direct eye contact. She wrote T. Mitchell on the guest log, hesitating before filling in the “Employee Visiting” box. The guard must have detected her uneasiness and asked, “Are you a vendor or do you have an appointment?”
“Neither, really. If I have to pick one I guess I have an appointment.”
“With whom?” the guard asked. He was awfully serious. It wasn’t like she was trying to break into the White House to steal international secrets. This was DMI, a locally owned company with no major security risks. She wanted to express her disdain but elected to maintain control. This was day one. Never knew when down the road she’d need the security guard to help her. She’d play it cool for now.
“I have an appointment with Don Mitchell.”
“He’s out of the office until next week.”
“I know that,” she snapped at the guard. “He’s in Cape Town.”
“Well, I can’t let you in unless he comes down and signs you in.”
“I guess he can’t do that from Cape Town, now, can he?” The guard didn’t respond. Tamara didn’t quite know why she was so irritated. It wasn’t like the guard had insulted her. He was just doing his job. She got that. Maybe it was the notion of having to sneak into her family’s business and having to be signed into her parents’ building? She’d chosen not to have any connection with the family or DMI. It was solely her decision, but there was an inkling deep within that said she belonged here, had a right to be here, should be here. “Who’s in charge while he’s out? That’s who I’ll want to see.”
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