“Dad, they’re here.” He motioned outside.
“When did she do that?” Jack opened the door. “I’ve been with her for the last two hours. She hasn’t been out of my sight, except when she had to go to the—” He shook his head.
A uniformed woman and two men approached the threshold. The woman acknowledged Jack. “Scottie, good to see you, but we don’t need you today.” Hunter attempted to close the door.
He knows her by name?
Scottie held her place. “Mr. H, we got a call from Mrs. H again.”
Mrs. H?
“Really?” Hunter stepped aside.
“The bedroom, sir?” Scottie poked her head inside.
“Yes,” Hunter muttered. “You know the way.”
She knows the way?
Steely darted to the door. “I think I should leave.”
“No, no,” David said. “Mother will be fine.”
Hunter followed the medics to a back bedroom. “Coffee, anyone?”
Steely whispered, “Is she really sick?”
“Probably not. She doesn’t cope well.”
“I’m not coping too well at the moment. She doesn’t want us to get married. Will she do this on our wedding day?”
David shook his head. “I doubt it.”
“You doubt it?” she said in a high pitch. “We can’t take that risk. We can’t have a wedding with your mother not showing up. And we might not know until the last second? All I’d be thinking about is will she or won’t she? Let’s elope. I prefer to elope anyway. Are you OK with that?”
“Elope?” David glanced at the back hall. “Maybe we should.”
“Well, it’s not exactly eloping since they already know. But you know what I mean.”
They held hands for a few minutes before they heard wheels rolling and walls being bumped. The paramedics were heading out with Mrs. H in tow. Steely moved out of the way, far back into the kitchen. She preferred her first sight of Mrs. Hunter not be with straps holding her in place. The medics could have turned the stretcher upside down, and neither Beatrice nor her puffy hair would budge.
“We’re taking her this time only as a precaution,” announced Scottie. “You know, because of her age.”
Beatrice moaned, “Sure hope I’m not having a heart attack.”
Jack kissed her. Scottie and another attendant pushed the stretcher down the sidewalk into the open ambulance. Jack waved from a few feet away. “You’re in good hands. I’ll check on you after dinner. Bye, Bea.”
“Hold it!” Beatrice shrilled.
Scottie held the door, leaving her a squinty view out. “We have to lock up now, Mrs. H.”
“Wait! I changed my—”
Click. Scottie snapped the door, jumped in the driver’s seat, turned on the siren, and hit the gas.
Eloping for sure.
Chapter twenty-one
Beatrice Hunter didn’t have a bad heart. She had a bad gallbladder. Good thing Bea’s doctor didn’t require her to stay calm and quiet when she got home because she was not. Her hair was on fire after hearing about “the elopement.” Suddenly, she was in a tizzy to talk with Miss Paupher. Bea called Steely and told her they needed to meet for lunch immediately to straighten some things out.
Steely wondered what wasn’t straight. Everything seemed crystal clear to her. Beatrice didn’t want her marrying her son. She did accept Bea’s invitation and promptly went over to see her. Steely took a practical precaution and parked the car a few houses down, just in case the medics showed up again. She was running for the door if she heard sirens.
Bea casually greeted her at the door. They went past a warm kitchen table and proceeded to a stately dining room. Five chairs were on each side of a twelve-foot table with Bea at the head. Steely’s place was set to her left. A white rug covered most of the floor. The lunch consisted of BLT sandwiches, chips, and iced tea.
Steely became concerned. “Mrs. Hunter, should you eat that much bacon? The mayonnaise is oozing out the sides. I don’t want you to get—”
“I’ve been eating bacon all my life.” Bea used a piece of bread to spread out the dressing. “My gallbladder was dumped in a plastic bag. It won’t be giving me any more problems. It’s odd you don’t eat bacon. You could slap a piece of bacon on anything and make it taste good.”
“I don’t want to overdo it and make my stomach hurt.”
“Well, my stomach already hurts.”
Steely leaned to one side, getting a better view out the window.
“You expecting someone?”
Steely nervously said, “You feeling OK?”
“Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“No, ma’am.” Steely cleared her throat.
Bea dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin and pushed her plate aside. “Steely, you seem like a compliant child.”
Steely coughed.
“I’m sure you don’t want to start off a marriage by disappointing your fiancé’s mother. Will you do one little thing for me?”
This was no ordinary question. This was a trick. “What is it you want?”
“Postpone the wedding?”
Steely took a bite out of the BLT and swallowed it without chewing.
Bea stared at her for a few seconds.
“Your skin is bleaching like you’re going to pass out. Maybe I need to call the medics for you.”
Steely shook her head and then sipped the tea.
“I’ve seen people look better than you in the ER,” Bea said.
“I’ll be fine.” Steely scooted the dish off the placemat and set the tea on the indention. She took another quick sip.
“Let’s just cut to the chase,” Bea said. “Are you sure you’re ready for marriage?”
Steely covered her mouth with her napkin, cleared her throat. “I believe I am.”
“It’s not easy.”
“I know.”
“How long have you known my son?”
“Two years.”
“I knew Jack all my life.”
“Long time.”
“You get married and then find out what you got, like a grab bag.”
“Grab bag? Then nobody would marry.”
Bea shook her head. “Many shouldn’t.”
“Are you saying we shouldn’t?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Mrs. Hunter, what exactly do you want?” she asked firmly but politely.
“Temper, temper. You sure get bent out of shape fast. A quick temper is not a good thing in a marriage.”
“I’m fine. Well, not exactly fine. But what do you want?”
“One year.”
“A year?”
“To give my only son a decent wedding.”
“A decent wedding—with me?”
“He can marry you. I don’t stick my nose into his business.”
“I wasn’t sure—”
“Give me ninety days.”
“Well—”
“Sixty? Don’t you want a nice wedding? Every woman does. Unless you’re planning on getting divorced.”
“Mrs. Hunter, I’m not planning on divorcing. I’m planning on eloping.” Steely cringed.
She’s still breathing.
“Eloping?” She pitched down her napkin. “I’m sure this is nothing more than a thoughtless spur-of-the-moment blip. I’m certain you’ll come to your senses.”
“I don’t think so.”
The housekeeper peeked out the kitchen door and then tiptoed off.
“This is the only wedding my son will ever have.”
“Mrs. Hunter, you have to understand—”
“You’re pregnant!” she shrieked.
“Mrs. Hunter!” Steely said, raising her voice.
“This would make sense if you’re pregnant. This elopement nonsense.”
“Mrs. Hunter, you have to have sex to get pregnant.”
“Eee, I don’t want to hear about sex!”
“I’m definitely not pregnant.”
“Then
there’s no reason why I can’t have the wedding I’ve always dreamed of for my only son.”
Steely stood. “Mrs. Hunter, I’ll discuss this with David.”
“He already said it was OK with him.”
“I need to discuss it with him.”
“Do you think I’m lying?”
Juan Rios, Mr. Hunter’s assistant, passed through the room behind Bea. Steely could see him. He raised a tight fist in solidarity and support.
“Mrs. Hunter, there really isn’t anything for me to discuss with David. We’re eloping. I’m glad I was able to meet you before we left. If we hadn’t announced our engagement, I would have met you afterward. You’re not really supposed to tell anyone when you elope.”
Beatrice twitched every time Steely said “elope.”
“Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Hunter. Lunch was—it was enlightening. I must go now.” Then she went for the door.
Bea flung her chair backward, going after her. “Steely, wait. You need to think about how you’re disappointing me. This isn’t a good start!”
“The last thing I want to do is disappoint you,” she pronounced with authority. “But I think eloping would be best, and this is our final decision. Good-bye, Mrs. Hunter, and thank you for lunch.” Then she bolted.
Definitely eloping. Beatrice Hunter would have to birth another baby to get the wedding of her dreams.
She pleaded, cried, and begged for a wedding. Steely compromised with a simple ceremony in the Pecan Valley Christian Church’s prayer garden, attended by only Bea and Jack. Steely was radiant in a white laced gown. Bea never knew she picked it up from a resale shop for thirty-five bucks. She had already heard what Bea thought about resale shops. “All they sell are dead people’s clothes.” Steely hoped someone died in a bridal grown.
After the wedding, the newlyweds made their home, temporarily, in the apartment above the Hunter’s garage. Steely and Beatrice had become neighbors.
Chapter twenty-two
Nick didn’t wave Hunter down. Or yell to get his attention. He jumped in front of his car. He had chased Jack all morning. He was either going to have a chat or get run over in the JHI parking garage.
Jack slammed on the brakes, barely missing him. Sliding his window down, Jack bellowed, “Nick, where’d you come from? I almost hit you.”
Nick pressed on the hood with his fingers and went around to the driver’s side. “Sir, you’re the most careful driver I know.”
“So what caused you to test my skills?”
“Would you please squash Mr. Keaton’s audit request?”
“Nope, give him his audit. It might be to his demise. You’re the one who’s been questioning why the subs are way over budget. Harry keeps dodging the questions. I’ve given him every opportunity to make this right.”
“I think it’s gotten worse, sir.”
Hunter cringed. “Harry gave me the same hogwash he’s been giving you. It’s hard to imagine that someone you’ve known all your life would do something like this. It’s criminal.”
“Do you mean embezzlement?” Nick’s countenance brightened.
“Maybe worse.”
Nick slapped the car door. “Now you’re talking, sir! Let’s shut him down right now!”
Hunter shook his head. “Complete the audit first. Then I’ll have clear grounds to dismiss him and whatever else I need to do. I can sell what is left of our assets in Saint Stephen’s. Charlie’s doc won’t give him the OK to come back. He’s only on the board, so it’s up to you.”
“Sir, if we’re going to do this, then let’s hire a team to do an investigative audit. They can dig deep enough to account for every dollar.”
“Nick, isn’t the new system set up?”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“Get this done. Then you can bring in the team you want.” Hunter checked the time on the dash. “I’m late.” His window went up. The discussion was over.
Nick paced down the driveway behind Hunter. He stuck his hands in his pockets and kept moving. Cars buzzed around him until he stepped back onto the sidewalk. He needed to think and to let out some steam. Mostly let out steam. He already called the audit team he wanted. They were booked for the next forty-five days. And it could take another six to nine months to report their findings. There was still one question he couldn’t get out of his mind.
How’s this audit going to benefit Keaton? He wouldn’t want it unless it did.
He pounded the pavement for almost an hour and then hustled back to the tower and swiped his security card to get a lift to the top floor. His office was left; Jason’s, right. He turned right. Maybe Nick could squeeze something out him. Jason would defend Keaton. Nick was certain that wasn’t changing today.
Jason wasn’t sitting back in his leather chair sipping from his favorite mug. He was slamming his desk drawers. He dug around inside one and then shoved the drawer back in place. He barely looked up when Nick threw the door open.
“Jason, did you get the account numbers?”
“No! Quit asking me. I can’t get them.”
“What’s the deal with this audit Keaton wants?”
“He just wants an update on where we are.” Jason looked under a desk pad and then a lamp. Nothing but wax.
Nick jerked a chair from the desk and placed himself in it. “So why can’t we wait another six months?”
“Mr. Keaton said Mr. Hunter has made some bad decisions that need to be addressed.”
“Have you been watching cartoons again? The only bad decision Mr. Hunter ever made was hiring Mr. Keaton.”
Jason repeated his search, opening every drawer, looking inside, and then forcing each back in place. He threw his hands in the air. “You complain about everything Mr. Keaton does.” Jason swung around, searched the top of his credenza. He swung back around. “You let your feelings about Mr. Keaton get in the way of your objectivity.”
“It’s hard to be objective when my gut is attacking me.”
“Tell your gut this: he gave over two million to charity last year.”
Nick leaned in. “It was company money.” He sat back. “What are you looking for anyway?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, it isn’t in your desk or credenza.” He stood and turned toward the door.
“Nick, I’ll catch up with you later. I’m having a bad day.”
Nick nodded and then headed to his office. He slammed the door, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his eyes with two fists. Suddenly, he paused and opened them wide.
What’d he lose?
He sneaked back down the hall and peeked in Jason’s office. Jason’s jacket was off, his tie loosened and underarms drenched. Nick air walked to the elevator and pressed eight. He took the next ride down to the eighth floor, got off, and no longer walked lightly. He sprinted down a hall to Jason’s old cubicle.
Monte was tossing a trash bag into a cart. Jason’s desk was torn apart on the floor. Nothing there but partitions, metal rods, and a light attached to the barrier wall. Monte did a double take at Nick’s stampeding toward him. “Is something wrong, Mr. Dichiara?”
Nick huffed. “What are you looking for?”
“A toy. Mr. Wilkerson called me in a panic. Said to get down here and tear his desk apart. Good thing I had tossed the boxes. I had to dig through a trash bag. I have more to do than look for his toys and pick up his laundry. He thinks I’m his butler!”
“Monte, what else did you find?” He pointed to the cubicle. “In there?”
“A bunch of dirt.”
“That’s what I’m looking for.” Nick picked up a piece of the desk, slowly turned it over. “I need to see the trash.”
“It’s all in there.” Monte passed the bag to him.
Nick dumped the contents across the floor. It was mostly candy wrappers, coffee cups, and holes punched from papers. Nick sifted through each item. “How about the toy? Where’d you find it?”
“In that crevice of the desk.” He nodded at the corner. “I don�
�t know why a miniature bear had him so worked up.” Monte cupped the bear in his hand.
Nick tilted his head to one side. “May I see it?”
“Certainly, sir. Maybe it has some sentimental value.”
“Jason?”
“No.” Monte shook his head. “I guess not.”
Nick turned it over and examined it. The miniature figure was similar to a toy out of a gumball machine. Nick held the tiny figure up to the light. He rotated it around and pulled the head with one hand, the claws with the other, separating the body. “It’s a flash drive. Who knows you found this?”
Monte smiled. “Only you, sir.”
Nick reattached it and closed it in his fist. “Will you follow me?”
Monte nodded. “Anything you say, Mr. Dichiara.”
They raced up to Nick’s office. Nick stuck the device into his desktop. The only thing on the drive was a series of numbers. Nine numbers clumped together separated into columns totaling 216 sets.
“Did he say anything else about this?”
“No,” said Monte. “Just sounded like he’d get his head chopped off if he didn’t find it.”
Nick plugged in another flash drive, made a copy, and ejected the bear.
“What are all those numbers?”
“I know what they are. I just don’t know where they are.” He passed the bear to Monte. “Please take this to Jason.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, Monte, please don’t say anything about the detour to my office.”
Monte nodded.
Nick moved up close to his desktop and stared at them until the numbers blurred together. He finally pulled out the duplicate and slipped it into his pocket. The device wasn’t leaving his sight.
Chapter twenty-three
Meeting with Hunter in his office at 6:15 a.m. was only for one reason: to have a discussion with Hunter that Nick did not want anyone else to hear. His back ached. His eyes strained. They became more irritated every time he rubbed them. He looked gaunt, as if he had the flu and hadn’t eaten for a week. He felt even worse than he looked.
Nick fidgeted, waiting for Hunter’s reaction from across the desk. Hunter rocked back and forth for a few seconds and then leaned forward. Nick had plenty to say, but he was giving Hunter time to digest the indigestible. Hunter knew there were problems but never dreamed anything would put the company in jeopardy. The dam had broken, and the audit revealed the aftermath. For several minutes, they both stared at page six of six until Nick broke the silence. “We’re operating in the red.”
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