“Can we start with working out a deal for Harmonious Energy? I’d like for you and your wife to have first dibs on the purchase. I respect the concept of family legacy.”
“Harmonious Energy isn’t my call.”
Kumar made it clear no funds were being released prematurely to or for Zarah. Sheba and his mother had money and would gladly hand it over, but he wouldn’t dare put their security at risk to get reestablished. Without cash from Zarah’s inheritance, the money wasn’t there to purchase her father’s company. Without Harmonious Energy as the building block, there wasn’t much value in keeping the West Coast division. A stand-alone division equated to a few grains of sand in the bucket, not enough for him to establish a dominant international presence. He was done with the concept. He would pursue other channels. This wasn’t the end for him.
“Are you saying Zarah is the one I have to approach?”
“I guess that is what I’m saying.”
Joel wasn’t quite ready to have his family going directly to Zarah. On the other hand, she was in charge, her and their family legal team. They’d have to work out a deal without Joel. He’d step aside and figure out his next move. Becoming a member of the Bengali family was a mistake. Making the necessary correction quickly was going to be the best route for each person involved.
“What about the West Coast division? I have to discuss it with her too?”
“I guess so,” Joel said, clenching his teeth.
“Let me be clear. You’re okay with me discussing both Harmonious Energy and the West Coast division with her?”
“What choice do I have?” His best-laid plans were a disaster. Every indication and unsolicited piece of advice said purchasing Harmonious Energy, marrying Zarah, and overriding the board of directors were misguided. He hadn’t listened and now he was sitting in the pit of his decision. Consequences were heaped upon his head with every passing day. He had to stop the fallout. He couldn’t relive the past. It was already in the record book. A fresh start with a broader perspective was his goal.
“Then I’ll set up a meeting with her and go from there.”
“I’m sure you’ll do right by her.”
“Would you like to be included in the negotiatious?”
Joel paused, assessed his new perspective, and responded with “No.” A clean break was best. He hadn’t been any good for her. Zarah needed a fresh start whether or not she realized it, but that was a different discussion. Without him, she could receive her inheritance, buy her father’s company if she wanted, and begin living her life. Maybe she could find happiness and build the family she desperately desired. He wanted that for her, just not with him. He had to concentrate on fixing his fractured world.
“We’ve taken care of DMI. Now, what about us? I’m serious, I want to form some kind of a relationship with you,” Don said.
“You want us to go to ball games together and shoot hoops in the park?” Joel responded with sarcastic laughter.
“Maybe, why not? Seriously, we have to start somewhere. I’m not going to pressure you. I’ll put the offer out there and the next move is on you. Like I said, I can’t change our past—not even sure if I’d want to—but we’re here now. This is our time to wipe the slate clean and make this whatever we want it to be as two grown men—not as Madeline’s boy or Sherry’s boy, as two men. It’s up to you.”
Joel nodded; he wasn’t committing to a brotherly outing tomorrow but he was definitely in favor of exploring the possibility. He’d take time to set his household in order, clean up a few loose ends, and then take Don up on his offer. Maybe Don was correct and a Pistons or Lions game wasn’t such a bad idea. “I don’t mean to rush you, big brother, but I have to take care of some business.”
“Okay, no problem. I’m good. I got the information I needed. Thanks a lot,” Don said, extending his hand to Joel. There was a hesitation but Joel reached out toward him. Shake, embrace, release. Joel had no idea to what extent his relationship with Don would develop. He wasn’t going to institute limits or requirements. Instead, he’d settle for letting a natural flow dictate what happened, something he wished a thousand times he’d done in his personal life. Corrections were on the way.
chapter
49
Don was gone. Joel’s thoughts remained. There wasn’t an easy way to do what had to be done. Zarah was getting stronger each day. Perhaps another month or two was more ideal. He could endure the inconvenience if it allowed Zarah to have a better chance at stability once he was gone. He meandered to his office, the room of solitude. He thought about the decisions he was most proud of, and they were equally balanced with those of tremendous failure.
He reclined in his desk chair, not really thinking about much except Zarah. He’d tried, sincerely, or so it seemed, to love her the way a husband should love his wife. No doubt he cared about her and wanted Zarah to have joy and fulfillment. He wasn’t the man for her. She wasn’t the woman for him. He knew it. His focus was on figuring out the most compelling way to get her to understand, gently. In case there was karma or truth in the philosophy “What goes around comes around,” he’d handle the breakup with compassion. Building up goodwill wouldn’t hurt. He’d call Kumar, and then they’d decide on the best way to inform Zarah about the divorce.
He picked up the phone to make the call without further consideration. Waiting would cloud his clarity and he hadn’t been this certain in months about much. Satisfaction careened through his consciousness. After the call, he and Zarah could go for a quiet dinner, nothing fancy, just the two of them, as a peace offering. He’d stay around home for a week or so, then go back to Chicago to get the creative juices flowing. Maybe he’d get a rental downtown instead of having to crash at Sheba’s. Lots of maybes with no urgency to commit, he thought as Kumar answered the call.
“Kumar, it’s Joel Mitchell. We have to talk.”
chapter
50
Don was sailing on a boost of hope. His meeting with Joel went better than expected; one sibling down, one to go. He exited the expressway en route to Tamara’s apartment building. She was going to hear him out, no running away. Don found her building and crept down the street in search of a parking spot.
There was no rehearsing what he was going to say. His soul had already prepared the speech. He dialed her unit on the security keypad.
After several attempts, he heard, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Don, let me in.”
She didn’t buzz him in right away. He wasn’t giving up. He was getting in whether she buzzed him or he had to ease in behind another tenant. He had to ring her several more times before Tamara finally let him into the building. Once he reached her apartment, he knocked repeatedly until she finally snatched the door open. “Why are you banging on my door? You are worse than Mother.”
“Can I come in or are you going to let me stay out here in the hallway?” She gestured for him to come in, taking a step back with her hand gripping the knob. He could tell she wasn’t thrilled with his dropping in. Don wasn’t to be deterred and didn’t allow his momentum to be diluted by her abrasive reception. “Thank you,” he said, and entered.
“What do you want, Don?”
“We have to talk.”
“About what? The last time we talked you were upset about me wanting to venture out on my own.”
“Come on, Tamara. You know we talked about more than you venturing out on your own. I’m fine with you doing that. I took issue with how you were attempting to venture out, by undercutting me and what I was trying to do for the family.”
“Are we going to rehash the discussion, Don? Because I’m not changing my mind.”
“Tamara, I’m not here to rehash our disagreement.”
“Good, because I’m going after the West Coast division. You can have the rest of DMI and the other three divisions.” Tamara’s phone rang. She kept talking. “I think that’s more than fair.”
“I think so too.”
“What did you sa
y?”
“I think it’s fair too,” Don repeated.
“Whoa, wait a minute. What did you say?”
“Take the West Coast division.”
The phone rang again. Tamara ignored the phone and stayed engaged in the conversation. “Just like that, you’re giving it up?”
“Actually the division isn’t mine to keep or give away. It belongs to Zarah. I just spoke with Joel and he said to discuss the deal with Zarah. He’s not involved, didn’t even want to be there for the negotiations.”
“Really, that’s odd.”
“I thought so, but stranger decisions have been made. So I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. In case he’s sincere, you should reach out to Zarah and arrange a deal. I’m approaching her about selling her Harmonious Energy. If you want to combine the initial discussions into one meeting, we can.”
“Sure, why not. Don,” she said, plopping onto her sofa, “why the sudden change?”
He plopped down next to her. The phone rang incessantly. “Tamara, what is the deal with your phone? Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“No, it’s okay,” she said, getting the phone and turning it off. She reclaimed her seat. “Now, what were you saying about changing your mind?”
He turned to face her. “I’ve been at odds with Joel most of my life. To be honest, I’m tired of fighting. Like it or not, we’re blood. You and I have been tight forever. I refuse to end the war with Joel just in time to initiate one with you. I won’t do it. If the division means that much to you, go for it. I won’t stop you. My relationship with you is far more important than expanding DMI. As far as I’m concerned the company can shut down if it stands between me, you, Mother, and even Joel establishing a sense of family.”
“Not everyone would step aside like you’re doing for someone else to realize their dream.”
“Don’t pat me on the back yet. You might not like what’s coming next.”
“I should have known this was too good to be true.”
“Well, Tamara, it’s time for you to face your past, deal with what happened, and consider forgiving Mother.” She went to get up but Don grabbed her arm. “You’re always running. I want you to stop running. We can get through this together.”
“Let me go, Don,” she said, pulling away but sitting down. “Why can’t you leave that crap from the past alone? Why do you have to push and push? For goodness sake, I’m back here, aren’t I? That should tell you I’ve come an awfully long way. Let me move at my pace, not yours, and most definitely not Mother’s.”
“Forgiveness isn’t about Mother, not totally. This is about you and reclaiming your strength. If you stay mad at the world—”
“Not the world,” she said, interrupting. “Don’t try to make it seem like my need to have distance from Mother, Joel, and Sherry is irrational. I have to protect my sanity and being around the bunch of them is hazardous to my psychological health. They have issues, ones I don’t want to deal with. I love our mother, I actually do, but don’t think I’m going to forgive, forget, and skip off into the sunset as her baby girl. That’s not going to happen, not now, not ever, and you need to face reality.”
“Have you considered therapy for the rape and for your anger toward Mother?”
“I don’t need therapy!” she yelled out. “I’m not the one with the problem. Leave me alone and no one has a problem. How dare you, Don? You barge into my apartment, push me into reconciling with Mother, and when I won’t, you recommend therapy as though I’m unstable. How many times have you recommended therapy to Mother?”
Don hadn’t and wasn’t going to lie. Mother needed therapy. He intended to tell her but hadn’t gotten around to the task yet. Tamara wasn’t going to believe such an explanation. No need to speak the words. He swallowed them and said, “None.”
“Of course not, fix Tamara and everyone else will be fine. Uh-huh, I see how this is supposed to go, but I’m going to disrupt your plans. I’m not agreeing to counseling, forgiving, forgetting, or anything else on your list. I’m a grown woman, Don. I get to say what happens to me, not a long line of men dictating my life, starting with Andre. No, thank you, Mr. Peacemaker. I don’t need help fixing myself. I prefer to deal with the past on my terms.”
“Tell me, how successful has that been for you?” She had no response. “Get these problems behind you and stop wasting years,” Don told her. Finding common ground with Joel wasn’t simple. He didn’t expect it to be any simpler with Tamara. He’d continue until either they were both exhausted from disagreeing or they reached a compromise. Day and night could come and go. He was planted on the sofa until then. He assumed Tamara’s unwillingness to change was fueled by animosity and vengeance. “How twisted can we be? The very person you work so hard to avoid is the one you remind me of the most—Mother.”
“I resent the comparison. Madeline and I are nothing alike. I don’t need to be constantly reminded of her. You better go.”
Accepting Mother was going to be a tough journey for Tamara. He understood that she wasn’t remotely ready to invite God into her life. She’d have to confess sins, ask God to forgive her, and accept Christ, the son of God, as her savior. Huge steps for someone who’d been wronged. Tamara was so blinded by her pain that she couldn’t objectively see her shortcomings or the need for someone in her life that had more power than her. Tamara didn’t seem ready to give up her power to anyone or anything, not yet.
Abruptly, there was a heavy pounding on the door. Tamara nearly fell off the sofa. She ignored the noise. By the third round of banging, Don had to say something. Tamara didn’t budge. “Who the heck is banging?” he said, getting up and going to the door.
“No, don’t answer it!” she called out, practically tackling him. “Whoever it is will go away,” she told him, frantic.
“Tamara,” Don yelled, “calm down! Let me see who it is.” She didn’t calm down much; she was almost hysterical. “Who is it?” Don asked in a voice loud enough to be heard clearly.
“Tamara, who’s in there with you? Open the door now so we can talk! Open the door!” a man screamed, continuously pounding on the door. Don was stunned to hear him shout Tamara’s name in such an abrasive tone.
“You know this guy outside?”
“I-I—” she said with nothing following.
“You have to be joking. What is going on here?” Don asked. “You better start talking, otherwise I’m opening the door to find out from this guy.”
“Don, stay out of this.”
He jerked open the door despite Tamara’s pleading. A man burst in, pushing past Don and going straight for Tamara. “Whoa, man,” Don said, stepping between the guy and Tamara. Don hadn’t seen him before; he was about five-ten, not stockily built but solid, with olive skin and shoulder-length black hair.
The guy began speaking roughly to Tamara in a heavy accent. Don could understand one out of every third or fourth word. From what he could tell, the guy was saying something about love and London. “Tamara, who is this?”
“Remo.”
Who the heck is Remo? he wondered. Remo continued raising his voice as if Don were invisible, speaking completely in Italian. Tamara argued right back at him. Don hadn’t decided if he was going to intervene or let the argument continue. His decision wasn’t final until Remo came around him and grabbed Tamara. Instinctively Don’s right fist caught Remo on the chin and he dropped to the floor.
“Call the police!” Don shouted to Tamara. She ran to her phone.
Don had Remo pinned down on the floor with his arm pulled almost to the nape of his neck. Don tried to keep his gaze fixed on Tamara to make sure she was okay while handling Remo. At the most inopportune time, a cramp shot up Don’s leg, causing him to writhe in pain and roll off Remo’s back to the floor. Remo used the break to flee the apartment. Tamara wasn’t going after him and Don couldn’t. They’d have to wait for the police, who arrived ten minutes later.
“I understand there was an assault,” the officer said.
He took Don and Tamara’s names and asked basic questions initially. “Can you give me the perpetrator’s full name?”
“Remo Mancini. He’s an ex-boyfriend from Italy who has followed me from Florence to Glasgow to Barcelona to Nice to London. No matter where I hide, he finds me.”
Don was speechless. He had no idea Tamara was living in fear, running from one country to the next. No wonder she moved so many times. He had thought it was because of her relationship with Mother, but apparently it wasn’t.
“What can I do? He’s threatened to kill me if I leave him again, and I believe he will.”
“Nobody is going to kill you, Tamara, not while I’m here.” Don was flooded with memories instantly. As a boy, he couldn’t protect his big sister when she was raped. As a grown man, he was ready for duty.
“We can certainly talk to Mr. Mancini and express that it’s in his best interest to back off and stay away from you. What’s his address?”
“I don’t know. Once I moved from Italy to Dublin, I lost track and didn’t care to ask.”
“Is he an Italian citizen?”
“I think so but I’m not sure. We have both lived abroad and have more than one residency.”
“Does he have an address in the U.S.?”
“I don’t know.”
Too much of “I don’t know” left Don feeling helpless.
“Ms. Mitchell, we can take your report, but without more information we can’t provide much more assistance.”
“He’s coming back to my apartment for sure. What else can I do?”
“You can file an order of protection restricting Mr. Mancini from coming near you. The problem is that we need an address to serve him the order, which you don’t have.”
The police stayed on a few more minutes. There was no more they could do.
“Don, what should I do?” she asked when the two of them were alone in the apartment.
“Grab a few items. You’re coming with me.”
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