Broken

by Patricia Haley

  “Tonight it is,” she said.

  Don was unprepared for Abigail’s forcefulness; this wasn’t her style. His tight schedule didn’t afford time for pondering his smoldering fondness for Abigail or kindling a flame with Naledi. The tangled web that existed between Abigail, him, and Joel added an element of complexity that Don wanted to avoid. He mellowed thinking about Abigail. She had a special place in his heart. Naledi’s image whisked into his thoughts, scooting Abigail out. The relationship with Naledi was safe, pure, uncomplicated, and unrelated to Joel, a compelling point impossible to overlook.

  A knock on the door zapped him away from the romantic chaos choking the room. Don closed the folder chronicling the remnants of Joel’s destruction. There was more fallout to repair, Don’s relationship with Abigail included.

  chapter

  21

  Abigail was encouraged. Naledi wasn’t the only woman vying for Don. The route to a committed relationship had been rocky and lined with detours. Abigail’s and Don’s paths were intersecting and she would take full advantage of the encounter. She skipped into her office to find Tamara handling a few books from her shelf.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  “Actually, you can.” Tamara returned the books to the shelf. “I have quite a few questions. After the meeting with Don, I realize how little I know about the family and about the company. You, on the other hand, are very familiar with many of the pieces I’m missing.” Tamara plopped into a seat on the short sofa. “So maybe you could be like a mentor to me.”

  Abigail was amused. “If I can help, fine. Where do you want to start?”

  “With Joel and his wife. What’s her name again?”

  There was a wealth of topics to tackle, and Tamara had to bring up Joel. “Zarah—sounds like ‘czar’ with a short ‘a’ on the end, ‘czar-a.’” Abigail had to concentrate on keeping her wounds hidden. Tamara was smart. If a glimmer was exposed, she was going to pounce on it. Abigail covered up.

  “What’s this business about an arranged marriage? Did he literally just show up at the altar and there was a woman waiting there for him, someone he didn’t know or date beforehand?”

  “I don’t think it was quite that dramatic.” There had to be at least one other person in the world more willing to share the details of Joel’s wedding with Tamara than Abigail. She hadn’t gone to the wedding. Her trampled love sat at home watching the media highlights along with the rest of the world. “I believe they’d only met a few times before the wedding.”

  “How intriguing. Traveling around the world, I’ve seen plenty of arranged marriages, but it’s kind of shocking for someone in my family. Americans pick who they want and stay with them until they die, get tired of them, or dump them for someone better.”

  Abigail had to change the subject. Lingering on Joel’s romantic escapades was certain to expose her healing wounds. “Do you have any questions about DMI?”

  “I do, but Joel and Zarah seem a lot more interesting,” Tamara said. Great, Abigail thought. She’d peel the skin off her wounds and let Tamara have at them. Tamara wasn’t going to stop until they were exposed and raw again anyway. Abigail dropped her guard, not caring. The hiding was too much work. “Do they have any children?” Tamara asked.

  “Nope.”

  “I wonder if they’re going to have any. Do you think they’ll stay together since the company fell apart?”

  “You’d have to ask your brother that question.”

  “I guess he is my brother. I’m not accustomed to the label, that’s for sure.”

  Abigail picked up on the uneasiness. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” She thought her comment might have triggered a reminder of the rape. What else could it be?

  “Can I squeeze in one more question?”

  “Ask away,” Abigail told her.

  “Don is the new CEO. I understand his role. How does the rest of the family fit in? Who owns what?”

  “In your father’s will, Madeline and Sherry were each given twenty-five percent stock ownership. His three children got fifteen each.”

  After a brief pause, Tamara spoke. “That’s ninety-five percent. Where’s the other five percent, or did I add wrong?” Tamara asked.

  “You’re right. The last five percent went to me.”

  “You. Oh, my dad must have really liked you.”

  Abigail didn’t comment. The discussion of the Mitchell men hadn’t gone so well the last time Tamara broached the subject. She’d tread lightly this round. “I’m surprised Madeline or Don didn’t tell you the details about the stock ownership split.”

  “Don told me about mine and his, but honestly, he didn’t have much chance to tell me the rest. He probably tried, but I haven’t made it easy for people to talk with me.”

  chapter

  22

  Pooped, Don leaned on his assistant’s workstation. “I’m ready for lunch.”

  “Already on the way. I’ll bring your lunch in as soon as it arrives.” Don slapped his palm lightly against the work-station counter and went into his office. “Oh, Mr. Mitchell, I have another change to your schedule. Your four P.M. meeting with the Association of Ministers is being swapped with your five o’clock. Also, the president of the Mid-Atlantic Federation of Free Churches is in town. Since Mrs. Mitchell isn’t here, he wants to meet with you, but your schedule is booked solid.”

  Don was concerned.

  “I told him there’s no way we can squeeze them in today. He wasn’t happy,” Kay said.

  “Guess not, he’s one of our largest clients in the East Coast division. They’ve always had hands-on attention from my mother. What am I going to do? I can’t ignore him, but I can’t cancel the other clients. This is awkward. Can you get Abigail for me, please? Thanks.” Don trudged into the office. He missed Madeline. She was well versed in the East Coast division. She owned that part of the country. If she were there, it would have been a cinch to convince the Mid-Atlantic Federation of Free Churches that DMI was stable and thriving. He was a poor substitute but had to get ready for the meeting. He’d review the history and prepare to dance around topics he wasn’t familiar with. As CEO he had no choice.

  A few minutes later Abigail was coming through the doorway, with Tamara following. The executive waiter pulled up the cart carrying a linen-covered tray with several covered dishes.

  “I heard you’re looking for me?” Abigail said.

  “I’m double-booked this afternoon. One of Mother’s clients from the East Coast is here and I have to meet with him.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Mid-Atlantic Federation of Free Churches.”

  “Oh, definitely you have to meet with them. They’re like the fourth- or fifth-largest account in that division. How can I help?”

  “I wish there was a way to give me an injection of Mother’s knowledge about the Federation. Since that’s not going to happen, can you take a meeting or two for me?”

  “I can move a few things around and free up time this afternoon. Sure, no problem.”

  Tamara stood around. She couldn’t take a meeting and there wasn’t time to teach her much today. He’d make time for her when his calendar lightened, sometime in the next three months. He knew her return was critical to the long-term healing of his family, but swirling in a litany of meetings, none of which she could help run, clouded the significance of her being there. The trade-off with her for Madeline was tough to measure as he sank into the mire of getting through the day.

  “I have to prep for my next meeting.” Don raised the lid off the salad and forked a few bites.

  “We’ll leave you alone,” Tamara said. She and Abigail left.

  Don forked more salad and gulped a glass of ice water. He ate a small portion of the sandwich and put the lid back on top. He jotted notes after thumbing through documents. Work was piling up. He scrolled down his list of numbers in the PDA. Madeline hadn’t returned his calls since leaving. He’d left a message about Tamara, but there
were no responses. He prayed she’d answer. Four rings and there she was.

  “Mother, it’s about time. Where are you? I haven’t heard a word from you in a week.” Don’s voice was elevated.

  “Calm down, young man. I’m in Hawaii. I was going to stay at my place in Kauai but it won’t be ready for a week, and I didn’t want to wait. So I’m staying in a hotel suite. I had every intention of calling you once I got settled in, but my calls would have put more pressure on you. I can only imagine how busy you are.”

  “You have no idea how swamped I am. That’s why I’m calling. I need your physical help here in the office. I mean it, Mother. I’m swamped. I have zero transition plans from Joel.”

  “I hate that you’re struggling. Honestly, I wish there was a way for me to help you, but my options are limited. Tamara needs distance from me, and I promised to give it to her.”

  “I can appreciate your commitment to stay away, but this is the worst possible time for you to be away from DMI. I’m serious. This is a bear. Today I’m booked from nine to six, solid, double-booked. After six, I can switch to LTI business and put in another three to four hours.”

  “I’m sorry, Son. I hate disappointing you, but this is one time when I must stick to my guns.”

  Don was more disappointed than Madeline realized. His rise to power in DMI was hard fought. This should have been his time of euphoria. Instead it was clouded with mayhem.

  “Come on, let me talk to Tamara. I want to see if she’ll reconsider the arrangement. If you come back for a few months during this initial transition phase, it will be exactly what I need.”

  “Absolutely not, Don, you can’t pressure her. If you do, she might run and run far. No way, I can’t take the chance. She stays put.”

  “At my expense.”

  “That’s not fair. I would never intentionally sacrifice one of my children for another. Tamara is the lost sheep. She needs to be there with you. She trusts you. I suspect you might be the only person she trusts in the world. I can’t dare compromise her return. I’m sorry, Son. I truly am. This isn’t the way I wanted this to be, but my hands are tied. Please understand.”

  “If you can’t help me here at DMI, then can you at least drop into my LTI office and give Naledi a hand with my business there? I’m going to be sucked into the bowels of this place for a long while. I can focus here if I know Naledi has extra support there. Can you please do that for me?”

  “Now, that might be doable. Give me a few more days here in Hawaii, and I’ll give you an answer.”

  “Just so you know, I’m meeting with the Mid-Atlantic Federation of Free Churches this afternoon.”

  “Give Kimball my regards.”

  “This meeting came out of left field. I’m not prepared. Any tips?”

  “He’s an easy one. Remind him of how many discounts and freebies we’ve given him over the years. Last year alone we trained fifty of his people for free and, on top of that, gave him three months of courtesy follow-ups. That was close to a hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. We had to do that with most of our top customers to keep them from opting out of their contracts. Joel put all of us over a barrel.” Madeline’s passion was raging. “Tell him the freebies are over. You’re in charge. DMI is on track and we expect to be compensated for our services. If he doesn’t like it, tough, he can take a hike.”

  “Mother, I’m not sure what his angle is, but I’ll keep what you’ve said in mind.”

  “Don’t let anybody take advantage of you.”

  “Don’t plan to.”

  “Good. See, you don’t need me after all. You’ll do just fine.”

  Don wasn’t worried about failing, confident in his God-given abilities. However, having Madeline around would make the heavy load of reviving DMI much lighter.

  chapter

  23

  The day stretched into the early evening. Tamara was tired, with little to show for her efforts. She decided to pack up and head out for the day. Abigail had given her a quarterly report to review. She shoved it into her bag, dreading the read. The shiny marketing portfolio was more intriguing.

  “Tamara,” Don called out from the other end of the walkway. “Are you heading out?”

  “Yes, I am,” she said, punctuating it with a long sigh. She didn’t want to recap the highlights, or really low points, of the day. She’d toss away today and start fresh tomorrow.

  “We haven’t spent any time together since you’ve been here. Let’s grab dinner.”

  “I don’t know about dinner. I’m pretty wiped out. This corporate-America stuff is already draining, and I’ve been here less than a week.”

  Don chuckled. “Don’t worry. You’ll catch on.” He extended his arm to tap her shoulder and withdrew it quickly just as she pulled away. “Come to dinner with me. It will give us a chance to catch up. Hold on a minute, let me grab my wallet.” He went into his office.

  Tamara wanted to make up an excuse—any schedule conflict would suffice to get her out of this awkward situation.

  Don emerged. “Let’s go.”

  Abigail stopped them on the way to the elevator. “Are you leaving?”

  “I think so, if I can convince my sister to join me for dinner. You’re welcome to join us,” Don said.

  “I would love to, but I have a ton of work to get done. It’s going to be a long night.”

  “For me too. I’ll be right there with you,” Don told her.

  Abigail and Don didn’t explicitly call out Tamara’s name as the weak link. They didn’t have to; the message had been conveyed to her in four or five different ways throughout the day. Her pride rose up. “We’ll have to make dinner short,” Tamara said, giving in. “I have a lot of reading and documents to review tonight.”

  “Fair, whatever works for you,” Don said.

  Abigail eased to the other side of Don and whispered, but Tamara could hear: “Are you coming back?”

  “I think so, unless I work from home. Why?”

  “Because, remember, we need to talk.” Abigail drew closer to Don but Tamara could still hear.

  “No problem. I’ll check in with you later.” Abigail agreed and returned to her office. Tamara got on the elevator with Don. “Where are you staying?”

  Tamara was careful not to divulge alarming details about her situation. She was at the Hilton Garden but would need to move to the motel with the $29.99 nightly rate she’d seen from the bus. She was determined not to tell Don. “I’m staying at a hotel downtown.”

  “Which one?”

  “Hilton Garden.”

  “How long are you going to stay there?” he asked. Not long, that was for sure, she thought, not with her money troubles. “You know Mother’s mansion is empty.”

  A gust of jumbled hysteria tackled her. Tamara’s knees wanted to buckle. She had no intention of ever stepping into the mansion again, determined to keep her terror and despair buried. “No, thank you,” she squeaked out.

  Don showed an expression of embarrassment. “Tamara, I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested the mansion, my mistake.” She didn’t respond. They stepped off the elevator and walked toward the door leading outside. “I have a better idea. Come stay with me. I have my condo downtown. It’s four bedrooms, three baths, plenty of room for you.”

  She was broke and the answer should have been immediate. But the pressure of losing her anonymity made her put up resistance. “I’m not sure. I’ve lived on my own for so long.”

  Tamara’s world was a simple one, consisting of two bags. She was wired to operate solo, to roll out on a whim when necessary, without lingering attachments. She had to remain nimble in order to stay sane. Remo was a contributor to her constant movement but not the sole source. Others, especially family, had deposited the seeds of fear, doubt, and isolation long before he entered her life. Remo just happened to be the one who watered those seeds and brought them to full maturity. She couldn’t let her guard down, not even with Don. Closeness and bonding were
too dangerous. She wanted to retreat to the hotel and reexamine what was going on around her. Maybe the Detroit endeavor was more than she could handle.

  “My guest room has its own bathroom, den, and kitchenette. You could have your own suite.”

  Torn between maintaining emotional distance and keeping a place to stay, Tamara was reminded of the nine-hundred-dollar balance in her account, prompting her to be somewhat amenable to a temporary arrangement, until she could legitimately earn money from her new job. Rational thinking said to take the offer. The part of her that savored the notion of privacy said no, although another part of her didn’t want to be alone knowing her crazed ex was roaming around somewhere in the world.

  “Let’s get some dinner, and I’ll worry about my accommodations later.” They approached Don’s car. “Besides, I’ve already paid tonight’s rate at the hotel. If I move out, it won’t be before checkout time tomorrow,” she said, sprinkling humor to lighten the mood. Tamara didn’t tell Don, but most likely, the cheap motel would be home until she could afford a better place. Besides, the motel was safer, made it more difficult for someone to track her down. She was pretty certain Remo didn’t know where she was. Her survival instincts told her she couldn’t be too careful.

  “What do you have a taste for?” Don turned to look out the rear window as he backed out of the parking spot.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Tamara typically ate fresh fruit, rice, and a small portion of protein. Meals were for survival, nothing fancy. For the past couple of years, she couldn’t afford fancy. “Don, I’m not sure if this is the best time to broach the topic, but I need to discuss a salary.”

  He stopped the car and turned to face her. “Do you need money?”

  “No, no, not like I need money to pay bills,” she said, seeming poised but feeling nowhere near it. “I think it will be symbolic of me carrying my weight, earning my keep.”