“Mother, there’s no use. We need to let it be. You need to come to terms about the demise of DMI and move on. My company is doing well in South Africa. Say the word and I’ll carve out a key role for you at LTI. You and Abigail should consider joining me there.”
“Maybe you’re right.” The weight was heavy. She couldn’t think clearly. Nothing seemed right. “Maybe DMI is doomed, but right now my primary concern is to see my daughter. I’m going to the airport. I’ll be back, hopefully with your sister.”
“Mother, I won’t be here when you return. It’s time for me to go home.”
“This is your home,” she said, pounding on his chest with each word, struggling with her full might to maintain composure. Neither of her children was making it easy. She wouldn’t give up both children and the hope of regaining DMI all in a single day. Madeline had to keep Don in Detroit. They could regroup and work out a plan together. She desperately needed him near, more than he knew. “Four hours, give me four hours. Is that too much to ask? Please, don’t leave until I return from the airport. I’m begging you,” she said, clutching his hand and placing it against her chest, as close to her heart as she could get.
“I d-don’t know,” he stammered.
Abigail was waiting off to the side with the attorney. Madeline beckoned for her to come over. “Abigail, please talk with Don,” she said, placing his hand on Abigail’s. “Please convince him to stay for the afternoon until we work out a plan.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know, whatever he needs to hear,” Madeline said, reaching the revolving doors. “I can stall the board of directors for a few hours—that’s not a problem. In the meantime, I’m going to find Tamara.” Based on routine checks from her private investigator, Madeline knew that Tamara lived in the south of France somewhere around Monte Carlo or Nice. She’d kept her distance more than any reasonable parent would have. “Do you know which flight she’s on?” Madeline asked Don.
He shook his head no.
Not that she expected him to reveal his sister’s secret anyway. “Then I’ll have to take my chances. It can’t be that many international flights leaving Detroit headed for the south of France.” Madeline turned around one more time to say, “Abigail, I’m counting on you to keep my son here, no matter what it takes. If anybody can keep him here, it’s you. That much I’m sure of.” She turned and rushed out the door.
chapter
6
A pound of elation had been crushed with a ton of familiar disappointment. Don was baffled as he tried putting pieces of the day together, to orchestrate a scenario that justified him leaving the comforts of home and willfully thrusting himself into the family feud again. He wasn’t certain that God had led him to Detroit to assume the CEO role. His conviction wavered. “I must be crazy. What was I thinking coming back here?” he said to Abigail, the last remaining person in the lobby besides the security guards. The other employees and people with good sense had left, obviously better judges at recognizing when it was time to abandon a situation. It was discernment he didn’t feel. “I should have stayed in Cape Town and left DMI to crash and burn on its own.”
“You’re being here right now is not a mistake. God has brought you here for a reason,” Abigail said standing near him.
She was one of the few people Don trusted implicitly, besides Naledi and his mother. There was no question of Abigail’s sincerity, yet he had to challenge her perspective on the botched takeover. Maybe the plan was purely a reflection of his exuberance or his desire to honor her cry for help. Whatever the motivation, it wasn’t so clear that he should stay. “If this is God’s plan, I could sure use some clarity. I was okay with coming here at first, but now I have no purpose here,” he said. The confidence he had carried upon entering the building nearly two hours ago had left with Tamara. “I’m not interested in fighting Joel for DMI, and being here is a reminder of how quickly this environment can zap my inspiration. Somehow the struggle doesn’t seem worth the effort.”
Abigail drew close to him and placed her hand on his shoulder in an endearing, not romantic, way. Her conviction was not easily overlooked. He had to take notice.
“Don, some battles are destined to be fought. It can’t be avoided.”
He wasn’t accustomed to seeing Abigail speak against Joel. The surprises of today were endless. “What happened to your loyalty to Joel or, I should say, your love for him?”
She removed her hand from Don’s shoulder and let her gaze dip before regaining eye contact. “My mind is clear for the first time in several years, no more living in the clouds and hoping for a fairy tale. I’m being practical now. Joel has lost his mind and there’s no need for DMI to be put at risk while he gets himself together.”
“That’s what you say today, but that’s your hurt talking. You won’t feel that way in a few weeks or maybe months.” He slid his hands into his pants pocket but maintained eye contact. “Take it from me, I know. You’re mad at Joel, but it’s not over. My gut tells me you still want a life with him,” he said, gently lifting her chin with his index finger.
She chuckled. “Not everything that I want is good for me and apparently Joel is on that list.” Don didn’t speak. “What?” Abigail asked. “What’s with that look on your face?”
“What look?”
“The one that’s saying, Sure, I know you don’t believe that I’m moving on without Joel. Besides, I don’t have a choice. He’s already moved on. But it’s different for you. You have a choice. You can choose to go back to South Africa, ignoring God’s calling, or stay and fight this battle that you were probably created to win.”
“Probably isn’t exactly convincing.”
“You know what I mean. I know the Lord, but I’m not prophetic. I can tell you what I feel in my heart and in my spirit, but you have to hear God on your own. That much I learned with Joel.”
Don took a seat in one of the cozy sitting areas. “So I should stay, according to the great Ms. Abigail Gerard.”
She followed him to the seats. “If you ask me, it’s your destiny. I truly believe that you were destined to run DMI at this point in time. This is your season.” She had to admit that some of her motivation was purely selfish. She’d busted her behind for this company, poured countless days and nights into OMI, and was not about to let her investment turn out to be worthless.
“What about Joel?” A continuous loop of images played—wanting his father’s vintage Porsche that of course went to Joel, being passed over as CEO for Joel, getting fired by Joel, and getting kicked out of the family estate, the one his mother built and lived in before Sherry had moved in. He’d come to terms with a degree of the past, forgiven his father, God, and his half brother, or so he claimed, but the truth was undeniable. “God and my father chose him to run the company. Do you believe they were wrong?”
“No, I don’t. Joel was appointed first, and I trust your father and God. So that was the right decision, at the time, but it’s like anything in life. We have choices with every gift and blessing that comes our way. We either take care of it or we don’t.” Abigail scooted to the edge of the seat and rested her elbow on the chair’s arm. “Joel messed up. He has everything and he’s letting it slip away. Don’t get me wrong; he has been an amazing leader until recently. Now it’s like he’s on another planet. I can’t talk any sense into him, no one can, not even God. He’s not listening to anybody and that terrifies me because that’s not the Joel that I . . .” she said and looked away.
Don understood. “Go ahead and finish: it’s not the Joel that you love.”
Abigail returned her gaze to Don, gently wiping her finger across her eyelid and clearing her throat. “It’s your time now to run this company. If there’s any hope for DMI, we need you—I need you here.”
He leaned forward in the chair. “You, my friend, are asking a lot. You really want me to give up the peace that I’ve finally found, to push my company and Naledi to the side, to put my life on ho
ld and come here to fight Joel over a position that he legally inherited?”
“It sounds bad when you put it like that, but basically yes.”
Abigail had an aura that boosted Don’s enthusiasm. There wasn’t anything in particular that she did, it was just her. The feelings he harbored for her years ago pricked below the surface but weren’t strong enough to overpower his intent on making the right professional and spiritual decision. Besides, history reminded him that Abigail might not be with Joel physically, but her soul was married to him, eliminating her as a viable romantic option. Then again, being CEO of DMI hadn’t appeared to be a viable option several years ago, either. What a difference time and circumstance made, turning the impossible into probable. “I don’t know who is more determined to get me here, you or my mother.”
Abigail reached across the tiny decorative table and patted his hand, which was situated on the armrest. “It doesn’t matter so long as you stay.”
Her argument was compelling. In spite of Abigail’s appeal, Don couldn’t emphatically bear witness in his spirit that he was meant to be in Detroit at DMI. It was satisfying having Abigail’s encouragement and Madeline’s unconditional support, but to sacrifice his hard-earned contentment residing on the other side of the world required a deeper cause, one that would give him the endurance to withstand the fireworks that were sure to come with his play on the CEO role. Despite his desire to avoid engaging in a new battle with Joel, his calling from God had to supersede his personal feelings and doubts. Perhaps Joel’s unexpected and arguably unwarranted rise to power had to happen in order for Don to have searched his own heart, dealt with the demons that bound him to hate and contempt for his deceased father, and forced him to grow up and be ready to lead the company with wisdom, compassion, strength, and an ability to forgive. He might not have wisdom seemingly infused overnight, like Joel had early in his tenure, but he was willing to seek God and obey his call, something Joel was choosing to abandon. Don meditated on the idea a while longer before giving Abigail a controlled nod.
“Is that a yes?” she said, gripping his hand but not leaping for joy. He understood that this couldn’t be easy for her, bittersweet to see the man she was in love with ousted from a company he was chosen to lead but had failed.
“Yes,” he said, relaxing into the seat, anticipating that his moments of calm would soon be a distant memory.
chapter
7
Fearful wasn’t a characteristic Madeline used to describe her personality—she believed in deciding what had to be done and getting on with doing it, regardless of how daunting it was. She was part of DMI from the beginning, standing by her husband’s side the first day he’d stepped into the building. Leaving her for Sherry was old news that, for the most part, was gone with Dave, but restoring the fragments of her life was never ending. Tamara chose to separate from the family and, for the first time in a long time, Madeline’s daughter was now within reach. Madeline was determined to see her child. Her first call en route to the airport was to have an emergency page placed for Tamara to call her mother. The next call was to have the board meeting delayed a few hours. Other business affairs were a distant priority for Madeline the mother, not the infamous executive.
Parking in the long- or short-term sections at the airport was instantly discounted. Madeline whipped the convertible Bentley up to the curb outside the departures section. The plan was to let the valet park her car—cost wasn’t a concern. With one car waiting in front of her, Madeline blew off the valet and exited the car. She dashed through the doors in search of her daughter. She wanted to stop and check the departure boards, but instead opted to head straight for security. There was a better chance of finding Tamara at one of the gates than in the unsecured ticket counter area. Racing thoughts and uninhibited energy zipped Madeline through the airport. She checked every face that passed while keeping her sights on security. She didn’t know if Tamara’s hair was long or short, straight or curled. Had she kept a thin physique or put on weight, not that it mattered. Was she fashionable or more of the casual dresser? She had absolutely no idea. Reaching the line of about twenty people, she hopped to the first-class ticket entry, where there was no one waiting.
Tamara took a few sips of her latte, finally calming down during the cab ride to the airport. Hearing her name repeatedly blasted over the intercom was more unnerving with each announcement. Maybe Don was trying to find her, but if she had to seriously guess, it was her mother. Out of nowhere, there she was—Tamara saw Madeline approaching the line on the other side of security. Heart pounding, nerves jittery, Tamara had to get out of town and back to her safety zone in France as fast as the airline could get her there. The six hundred dollar cost of changing her ticket was money she didn’t have to spare. Modest living and casually working had enabled her to stretch the trust fund dollars year after year, but with each move, her nest egg had dwindled. Normally connections were a downer, although it was typically what she could afford. This time she wasn’t resistant to a stopover or two if it meant getting out of town fast.
She shifted the weight of her purse, the only item she brought. Tamara took comfort in catching a glimpse of her mother and settled for distance. Madeline had never harmed her directly, but the family memories and degree of dysfunction were too crippling. Tamara wasn’t ready to see her mother and rehash the sadness, the guilt, the shame, and the trauma of the past. She’d spent almost a decade and a half purging cancerous memories and developing a safe and stable spot in her soul.
Madeline never indicated that she blamed Tamara for the rape. As a matter of fact, her mother consistently assured her that the opposite was true. However, if Madeline was honest with her feelings, how could she not have some animosity or resentment toward Tamara? Being the center of the drama that resulted in her parents suffering the loss of two children in a single tragic stroke wasn’t easy for anyone to overcome. Her oldest brother, Sam, committed suicide after killing their other brother, Andre, for raping her. There was no way she could stay with the family after that, so she left with one suitcase and the remains of her trust fund. Several times she considered returning and starting over, but her mother was too much of a reminder of what she’d tried to forget. She took a few deep breaths, dumped the latte, and devised an exit strategy. Since her flight didn’t depart until early evening, hanging around the airport was too risky. She had to elude her mother in order to maintain sanity.
Madeline stepped to the security checkpoint podium.
“Boarding pass and ID, please,” the Transportation Security Administration agent asked.
“I don’t have a boarding pass,” Madeline said, plopping her designer handbag on the podium.
“Then do you have a gate pass?” she asked.
They were wasting time. Tamara could be boarding the plane at this very second. “No, I don’t have a pass or a ticket, but this is an emergency. I have to catch my daughter before her plane leaves,” she said, grabbing her purse and stepping past the agent.
“Excuse me, ma’am, you can’t go through security without a pass. You’ll need to go back to the ticket counter and get a boarding pass or a courtesy gate pass.”
“You don’t understand, I don’t have time to wait in a ticket line when I have to catch my daughter,” she said, taking another step toward the baggage conveyor belt.
The agent stepped between her and the belt. “Ma’am, I’m calling the airport security and you’ll be detained. I’m trying to give you a break.”
“Hold on,” Madeline said. “Don’t touch me. Do you know who I am?”
“It really doesn’t matter. I don’t care if you’re the president. Unless you have a pass, you can’t get through this security checkpoint.”
Madeline should have cared, and at any other time would have, but nobody and nothing was more important to her than reconciling with Tamara. Most likely her car had been towed by now, which was fine. Two or three hundred dollars was like a penny when it came to saving her children
, two or three hundred million, for that matter.
“Get me your supervisor,” Madeline demanded, tired of wasting time with an agent who was determined to follow directions by the book with her but probably let terrorists and other shady characters sneak arsenals through security, undetected. Madeline’s agitation was reaching the boiling point.
“No problem. He should be here in about fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes? I can walk home by then.” Madeline trudged away. Getting arrested wasn’t an option. It would delay her mission. Waiting for the supervisor wasn’t an option, either. Fifteen minutes was like fifty years. Tamara’s plane could be departing any second. Madeline didn’t know which flight or airline carrier Tamara was on and Don offered no help, protecting his sister’s privacy at the worst possible time. She picked the carrier with the shortest line—Air France, first class. “When is your next flight leaving for any city in the south of France?”
The agent tapped a few keys and glanced at the monitor. “We can get you on our seven p.m. flight to Nice with a stopover in Paris tonight.”
No way was Tamara going to wait around for an evening flight. Madeline had to get past security and comb the terminal if she was going to find Tamara. “Actually, I’m trying to find my daughter. It’s an emergency and she’s on a flight departing today. Is there any way you can look up Tamara Mitchell for me?”
“No, ma’am, we can’t divulge passenger information.”
Madeline sighed. “This is very important. You have no idea how important.”
“I wish I could help you, ma’am, but the policy is very strict.”
Madeline’s voice cracked. She cleared her throat and shoved away the despair. “Are you a mother? I hope you are, because then you’ll understand why it’s important for me to help my daughter,” she said, drawing near to the agent and eliminating the chance of other travelers overhearing.
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