Destined

by Patricia Haley

  “I guess everyone that’s running away is already gone. We’ll just limp along with this handful of clients.” She tapped that pen. “I was joking about the flashlight earlier but we might run out of working capital soon.”

  “That’s an exaggeration,” Joel said.

  “Actually, she’s not far from the truth.” Abigail searched through the small report. She stopped about halfway in and laid the page open in front of him, keeping her hand on it. “We budgeted fifteen million dollars for expenditures in the second quarter. Based on this,” she said, pointing to a number highlighted in red ink. “We’re short about five million without going into the reserves.”

  “In forty years we’ve never had to use reserves to pay the bills,” Madeline stated.

  “Whatever we do is temporary,” Joel lashed out. “This bumpy road is going to pass. We need to rally together and get DMI back to its rightful position in the marketplace.”

  “Huh?” Madeline gasped. “Are you serious? Where have you been? Your definition of temporary has turned into catastrophic and heading toward unrecoverable. If I wasn’t an original owner, I would have left months ago and joined LTI. Now that’s a company that has vision and cash.”

  “Nobody is holding you here, believe me, you can leave any time. Please do me and everyone else a favor, go.”

  “We’ve had this discussion too many times. Let’s move on, because both of us know I’m not going anywhere as long as the M in DMI stands for Mitchell,” she told him.

  He was tired of Madeline’s negativity. She wasn’t going to change.

  “In light of the budget, we have no choice in this mess. We have to consider laying off employees,” Madeline said.

  Abigail added, “We could start with a voluntary separation package and see how close we get to the budget.”

  “No one is getting laid off,” Joel shouted, rising to his feet. “We have the money. Just do your jobs and figure out how we can rally together to get this company back in the black.” He would get a line of credit based on Harmonious Energy’s value. That could keep them afloat for months to come. He was in charge. Not Madeline. He fixed his gaze at her. “I’m only interested in positive feedback from this group. You’re my management team. We have to show a united front. If it looks like we’re falling apart, the other employees will think we are, which would be bad for morale, too.”

  Abigail was in agreement. He knew her and could tell even though she didn’t make eye contact with him. The glimmer of support boosted his confidence and tenacity. Periodically glancing at Abigail, there was hope for more.

  chapter

  61

  Finally the meeting trudged to a close. The discussion wasn’t pretty, but Joel wasn’t bothered. According to Madeline, they were on the brink of collapse at any second. Joel had long gotten past the point of letting her ranting cloud his judgment. He thought or maybe wanted to believe that conditions would improve. He would single-handedly revive the company if necessary.

  The PDA buzzed in his pocket again. He’d noticed it about three or four times during the meeting and discounted it once he got the rush of control. It felt good, thanks in large part to Abigail. He pulled the phone out and saw a series of missed calls as Abigail prepared to leave. “Abigail, can I speak with you for a moment?” he asked. The last person had left and the conference call line was disconnected.

  “Sure, what’s up?” she said in a stoic, totally unattached, tone.

  He wasn’t deterred. The confidence was back and soaring high. “I want to thank you for your support.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked with eyelids squinted and lips pursed.

  He fumbled with the phone, half distracted for a moment. Abigail prepared to walk out as he grabbed her arm. “Wait a minute.”

  “I can see that you’re busy. I’m not going to stand here and wait patiently while you answer your messages. I have a life, too, you know.”

  “Of course I know that, and I’m sorry for making you feel disrespected,” he said, setting the phone down. “See, there, done.” He didn’t want to start an argument with her, far from it. Today was the first sign of rekindling their relationship. He longed for restoration. He moved his hand from the light grip on her arm to her hand. “I know you, Abigail.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, I do, and you know it. You were giving me the endorsement that I desperately needed in there. We make a great team. I need you in my camp.” Abigail’s gaze dropped. He could tell she was slipping from the conversation and pressed to regain her attention. “The two of us can bring this company around and get to where we always dreamed, running an international company. What more can we ask?”

  “I don’t know, Joel.”

  He took her other hand, too, sensing the wall of separation between them cracking. “Come on, Abigail, we can do this. I rely on you. I always have and apparently always will.”

  She retracted her hands and said, “Is that supposed to sway me? Don’t you get it? I’m not the same long-suffering Abigail who was willing to work with you until the bitter end despite your lapses in judgment. Those days have long passed,” she said, walking away. “Plus, you’re not the same Joel, anyway.”

  “I haven’t changed.”

  “Well then, maybe that’s the problem.” She left the room, leaving Joel alone with his thoughts.

  He took a seat. His assistant walked in right afterward.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Mitchell, you have an urgent call from India regarding Mr. Bengali.”

  Three months ago Joel would have bolted into the hallway, dashed to his office, and taken the call with the exhilaration of a kid on Christmas. After a string of false alarms and late payments, the call wasn’t so urgent. “Please forward it to my phone in here, thanks,” he told her, waving the PDA lightly in the air. “And could you please close the door for me, thanks.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  A minute later his phone was ringing. “Joel Mitchell here.”

  “It’s Kumar. Mr. Bengali has completed his transition.”

  Joel sat tall in the seat. “Are you saying that he’s passed away?”

  “Yes, he has transitioned to the next phase of his life.”

  Joel didn’t know how to respond. He was overwhelmed yet complacent. The news was vital months ago, hadn’t come, and now it was surreal. “You have my condolences.”

  With Musar’s religion, Joel wasn’t quite sure if condolences were appropriate, especially after Musar described death as passing into a state of contentment. Appropriate or not, there was bound to be a reaction from Zarah. He had sympathy for her impending grief. Within the week, he’d hire a personal assistant just for Zarah. After all, money was not a concern, not now, not after they inherited Musar’s estate.

  “Zarah and I will come to India right away. We’ll be there Friday.”

  “We must perform the ceremony and cremation tomorrow.”

  There wasn’t much Joel could do to get around the two days of travel from Detroit to the Jaipur, India, area. “Can you wait another day for us to arrive?”

  “His soul must be quickly eased along its journey,” the attorney told him.

  “So, what should we do, travel there or not?” Joel didn’t try to figure out the rituals of Musar’s religion. It was too complicated for him, enshrined with gods, and transitions, and journeys, and chanting. He preferred the simplicity of death in his family—die, funeralize, and let the soul return to God.

  “You and Zarah can travel here to collect Mr. Bengali’s belongings when it’s convenient for you, and she can sign the documents to close the estate.”

  “I will let you know our travel plans, and thank you, Kumar, for your help. I’m sure Zarah is grateful to you for your loyalty to her father.”

  “‘Thank you’ is not necessary. It is my duty.”

  The call ended. Joel breathed easy for the first time in almost a year. He reflected on the surge of cash that would open many opportunities, l
ike regaining the Southern division, ideally before the announcement that it had been lost to investors. Regardless, the great news was that ownership of the West Coast now belonged to Zarah, his wife, his household, his family again. He eased back in the seat, feeling pretty good for a man that was wrestling with the futile outcome of his decisions a matter of days ago. He’d returned to the driver’s seat of his journey and to the CEO position of DMI. Changes were coming hard and swift, the way he liked it.

  chapter

  62

  Don paced in his mother’s office. Naledi’s stay was much too short. The visit was several weeks ago, but it seemed like a year ago. He had to admit, when she was in town, most of their time was spent working. Breaks were rare. He was stretched pretty wide across three continents when he factored in Europe, requiring him to pray constantly for endurance and wisdom.

  There was a time when he might have complained, but his faith was increasing daily as he witnessed the puzzle pieces slowly falling into place. Every time Joel made a new play on the stability of the company, though, doubt crept in. The waiting and hoping was grueling for Don, even with God in the midst of the plan. Don reflected on the easiest and fastest way to get this over by using Tamara’s stock position. A five second signature would save him the back-and-forth agony of waiting and wondering. He’d gotten past the question of if; when was the source of his unrest.

  Madeline charged into her office. He could tell the meeting hadn’t gone well. “Okay, what happened?” he said as his mother kept going until she reached the windows. She clinched her teeth while sipping in air and gripping her head with her hand.

  “That boy is going to drive me crazy. Seriously, he is,” she said, letting out a horrific sigh. “I just can’t seem to be able to get rid of him. He is the thorn in—” she said, slapping her behind.

  Don chuckled. “Come on, Mother, I can’t believe Joel is getting to you after all these years. Usually he’s the one that leaves the meeting in disarray.” He chuckled some more. “Don’t tell me the great Madeline Mitchell is getting soft in her old age.”

  “Who’s old, first of all?” she said as he watched her countenance lighten. Her arms were folded as she leaned against the windows. “I know this shouldn’t bother me at this point, but every now and then he does something so outrageous that I wonder if the boy has mental issues.”

  “Come on, Mother. Joel might have poor judgment and he might even be narcissistic—”

  “Might be?” his mother interjected to say. “He is the most self-absorbed egotistical person in this building, heck, I might as well say in this country. Nobody’s image of themselves is bigger than Joel Mitchell’s. Trust me on that one,” she said, turning so that her shoulder was leaning against the window.

  “All right, Joel is self-absorbed, but he doesn’t have mental issues.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “Come on, Mother. We can’t lose our grip on the big picture.” She peered out the window, but Don knew his mother was listening to every word. “We have to concentrate on gaining control of the company.”

  “Perhaps sound judgment would indicate that it’s time to throw in the towel, but not me. I refuse to give up.”

  “Berating Joel isn’t going to help us.”

  “When did you join the Joel cheerleaders’ squad? I thought that was Abigail and Sherry’s role . . . oh yes, and his new wife. We can’t forget her,” she said curtly. “They don’t need you, too. You need to stay on my team.” She tapped her index finger in the center of her chest.

  “Nothing has changed. We’re on the same team. It’s just that I don’t want to expend energy on tearing Joel down.” Tamara wouldn’t leave his thoughts. It seemed that Mother was in a receptive mood. This might be the time to tell her. Days were going to continue clicking by with Tamara wanting an answer. He had to act. “Joel isn’t my primary concern right now, somebody else is.”

  “Who?” she said, leaning against the window while turning her gaze to him.

  “Tamara.”

  “Why?” Madeline said, rushing to the desk and leaning across. “What’s wrong with her? Have you spoken to her?” The questions were rapid fire, leaving him no time to respond. His mother’s concern meter was ramping into overdrive and headed for an explosion if he didn’t jump in.

  “I have spoken to her several times.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Tamara is fine,” he said, trying to decide if this was the best time. He could see his mother’s worry level lower as she slowly took her seat at the desk and pulled it in close. Leaders had to lead. There was never going to be a perfect time. Now was it, but he would be as gentle as he could in breaking the news. “She wants to come home.”

  “What?” Madeline said, rearing the seat back so far that she nearly caused it to tip over. “Are you serious, my daughter wants to come home?” Madeline sandwiched her face between her hands and turned from side to side. His heart didn’t want to crush her moment of bliss. He’d let her have a few more seconds before interjecting the “but.” “Finally, she’s coming home. Thank God, really, I thank Him,” she said as tears formed on her eyelids. “What does she need? Where is she? She can’t have much money left. I can wire her funds right now. I can have a mover pack her belongings and ship everything here. She can get on a plane today. I’ll take care of everything.” Madeline spun around once in her chair. “My baby is coming home.”

  Don felt awful. He’d waited one second too long. Her celebratory surge was overflowing. The letdown was going to be equally intense. “She wants to come home under one condition.”

  “Name it, no matter what it is, she can come home.”

  “She wants you to leave.”

  “Leave where?”

  “DMI and Detroit.”

  “And go where?” she asked as her expression changed instantly.

  “I don’t know, but she was absolutely clear that she wants to come home and you have to be gone.”

  Madeline smirked. “I don’t believe this. First I have to deal with Joel and now my own child. I knew this was too good to be true. You can’t be in favor of this,” she said, grabbing her favorite pen and tapping it in rapid succession on the desk.

  “I told her that you’re not going to leave.”

  “You can bet your last dollar I’m not leaving. If it wasn’t for me spending my life and my time in this place, DMI would have gone under a long time ago, even before your father passed away. I’ve dedicated my life to this place. I’m not leaving. I don’t know who’s been trying to turn my child against me, but when I find out, it won’t be a happy day for them. I can guarantee you that.”

  The top of her head hadn’t blown off with fury. Don was stoic. The revelation had gone better than he’d hoped and with the outcome he’d anticipated. With no other obvious alternatives, Don refused to accept that he’d totally misread God’s direction. He refused to let the series of unfortunate circumstances with Joel, Harmonious Energy, and Tamara sway his strategy. At that moment, when the realization of assuming the CEO role at DMI looked grim, Don resigned himself to the belief that he was standing on faith based on what he felt God had prepared him to do. God’s word didn’t change because of circumstances. Circumstances changed because of God’s word. He was absolutely convinced of it. He took comfort in believing that DMI wasn’t his fight. This was between God and Joel. Reassurance blanketed him knowing that his God had never lost a battle.

  chapter

  63

  Joel went straight home to tell Zarah the news in person. He remembered his mother calling right after his father had died. His father had been sick months before dying but Joel wasn’t prepared to hear the actual words coming from his mother: “Your father is gone.” The ache in his heart that careened throughout his body was faint now, but never truly gone. He wasn’t sure how Zarah would handle the news. Their cultures and religious beliefs were so different, but Joel suspected that death was loss, no matter who you were or where you were
from. He entered the house and quickly found Zarah in the library. It had become her favorite room in the house, probably because that was where he spent much of his time when he was home. He went to her and took her hand, kneeling on one knee in front of her.

  “Zarah, I have something to tell you.”

  Her expression lightened as she anticipated what he had to say. She seemed so excited. He wished there was better news. Best to say it straight out and deal with the fallout. He tightened the hold on her hand. “Your father is gone. I got a call from Kumar earlier.” There was no initial reaction from Zarah. Joel felt helpless. “They can’t wait for us to arrive. They plan to have the ceremony tomorrow, but we can go to India anyway, if you want.” He wanted to draw her close and provide a shoulder for her tears. To his dismay, there was no outrageous crying, only light tears and a few sobs. There was no doubt that she loved her father. Joel couldn’t figure the reaction. Once again, he felt the distance between their lives and beliefs. “Can I do anything for you?”

  “This is a time of celebration for my family. My father has continued on his journey. I must pray to the gods for his safe passage,” she said, beginning to chant. Joel stayed on one knee, not quite sure if he felt comfortable sitting in a compromised position with her prayers, unfamiliar with her native tongue. Since he wasn’t actively practicing his own religion, he wasn’t receptive to anything else, either.

  After a day of preparation and two days of flight time, Zarah and Joel were in India. They were each scheduled to meet separately with the attorney. The marathon flights didn’t seem long this time. There was nothing Joel could do about Musar’s death. Like Zarah said, it was a time of celebration for her family. He could accept that, although it wasn’t a normal reaction. Joel had to admit, getting the estate transferred and upping his account balance was going to be a long overdue reality. His enthusiasm was soaring. Today was a new day for him and for DMI. Distribution of Musar’s assets wouldn’t be a circus, like it had been when Dave Mitchell had died and split his life between two families. Zarah was it, the only child, the sole heir.