The Fox's Choice

by M A Simonetti

  I couldn’t think of any good news.

  I thought about this dead half-nephew. I wondered why I wasn’t that upset that he was dead. Shouldn’t I have empathy or something akin to sadness? But then, I was a victim too. Dead or not, my half-nephew stole my money. I wasn’t the kind of person to turn the other cheek.

  I actually felt worse about learning that I had a half brother. I tried to remember if anyone had ever mentioned to me that my father had another child. Then I remembered the last time I saw my father.

  “There she is! There’s my girl!”

  My father always put on a big smile to greet me on Saturday mornings when we met at a Denny’s restaurant in South Sacramento. My Aunt Betty drove me up from Clarkstown and kept herself busy with errands while I pushed bits of waffle around my plate and tried to ignore my father.

  “How’s school?” Jack Bennett always started with the school question.

  “Fine.” I always answered with the shortest response possible.

  “Do you still like Sister Mary Thomas?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are there any new kids?”

  I stopped pushing the waffle bits around to look at him. I tried for contempt. I’d practiced in the mirror in my bedroom so I was pretty certain I had the face down.

  “It’s Clarkstown. There’s hardly ever any new kids.”

  My father stopped the questions there. He concentrated on his over easy eggs. He finished first. He pushed his plate away as he always did when he was done eating. He crumbled up his paper napkin and placed it on the plate. He reached for his coffee mug and pursed his lips. There was something on his mind.

  “I have something to tell you, Teresa,” he said. “I haven’t told your mother yet so if you could keep this between us for a day or two, I would appreciate it.”

  I felt a lump in my stomach do a somersault. Something in his tone of voice told me things were about to change. Again. And I just knew I was going to hate it. Again.

  “It’s about That Woman, isn’t it?” I tried the look of contempt but tears got in the way.

  My father gasped. He reached for my hand but I pulled away fast.

  “What have you heard, Teresa?”

  “You’ve taken up with That Woman.”

  I wasn’t sure what ‘taken up’ meant but given how the words were spoken in Clarkstown I knew it was bad.

  “Who told you this?”

  “Mom. Aunt Betty, Aunt Mary, Aunt Nancy, Aunt Ruth, Aunt Lois, Aunt Ruby.”

  They hadn’t actually told me anything but I had overheard plenty.

  “What has your grandfather said?”

  “Grandpa said it is a Mortal Sin to take up with a Protestant.”

  “Do you know what ‘take up’ means?”

  “No. But it is a Mortal Sin.”

  My father looked into his coffee cup. He obviously didn’t like what he saw so he signaled for a refill. He didn’t speak until the waitress left.

  “The woman that the Clarks are referring to is a doctor in my practice. She is a lovely person and very intelligent. She and I have become close and we are going to marry.”

  “Grandma doesn’t like her either.”

  Grandma Clark was the gentle matriarch of the family. While my Grandfather ruled with authority and a short fuse, Grandma smoothed ruffled feathers with a kind word. And she could always get Grandpa to ‘calm down and see reason’. Grandpa’s displeasure was a given. When Grandma was upset with you, you were in deep trouble. Telling my father that Grandma didn’t like That Woman was my last ditch effort to get my father to come home. No one ever crossed Grandma.

  “I understand that the Clark family is upset that your mother and I divorced but it is time for me to move on with my life.”

  “You can’t get married. You got divorced.”

  “I can’t marry in the Catholic Church but I can marry in a ceremony that is legal.”

  “Grandpa said you are an…an… adulterer.”

  It was getting harder for me to speak. I blinked back tears. I found it hard to breathe. I felt like I was betraying family secrets by repeating what I had overheard. Yet I was speaking to my father so how was it a betrayal?

  “I was faithful during my marriage to your mother. We are divorced now. I am free to marry whomever I choose.”

  I crossed my arms tight across my chest in an effort to keep down the few bites of waffle. I clamped my lips together so hard I worried they might cement themselves together.

  “She has a son, my lady friend”, my father said as if that made everything OK. “He’s a little younger than you. You always wanted a baby brother, didn’t you?”

  “I wanted you and Mom to have a baby brother,” I said.

  “That’s not going to happen, Teresa,” my father said in a tone of voice that made me feel that it was all my fault.

  I wadded up my paper napkin and threw it on the table. I scooted out of the booth and faced my father. I took a deep breath and made my decision.

  “I am not coming here anymore. I am staying in Clarkstown on Saturdays with my family from now on.”

  And I walked out of Denny’s before her could see the tears slide down my cheeks.

  I poured another glass of wine. That meeting in Denny’s was the last time I saw or heard from Jack Bennett. My hometown of Clarkstown was less than thirty miles from Sacramento and yet he’d never made the effort to drive down to see me. Or call me on the phone. Or write a letter. I walked out of Denny’s and out of Jack Bennett’s life when I was ten years old.

  Apparently he replaced me with this Bradley person.

  And That Woman’s son.

  Busy guy, my father.

  I was successful in erasing him from my life, too. As soon as I could, I changed my name, moved to Los Angeles and never looked back. When I did think of Jack Bennett, I figured he had died. Mostly I was relieved that the Bennett family was out of my life. For nearly forty years.

  Yet my father’s grandson stole my money. What were those odds? It couldn’t be coincidence.

  Jim Schilling said the kid targeted me. Why? How did he learn about me? From my father? How much did my father know about me? What had my father told him? And who was the women with the cheap purse?

  There were too many questions and the answers all lay with my father in Sacramento. Assuming he still lived there. Forty years of silence and now this. I couldn’t bring myself to even consider looking my father up after all this time. With any luck, Richard had another ‘guy’ who could get these answers for me. Of course, I would have to pay for that service. With money I no longer had.

  I poured another glass of wine and forced myself to look on the bright side. It was harder than I expected.

  The bright side was that I was not raped. I owned my beach house outright and it was worth about six million dollars. Assuming I could sell it quickly. I could probably get a loan from somewhere to tide me over. Probably. Maybe. Perhaps.

  I just needed to make a plan. I’d brought myself back from the brink before. I could do it again.

  By the time the bottle of wine was emptied, I had a better handle on things. Or at least, I felt like I did. I pulled the covers over my head and fell asleep. Or passed out. Either way, I was no longer troubled with my troubles. The peace lasted until morning.

  Chapter Twelve

  I awoke the next morning with a headache that I attributed to the after effects of being drugged. A maid arrived with a pot of coffee and the announcement that Jorjana expected me for breakfast in ten minutes. I rushed a shower and made it to Jorjana’s suite just in time.

  Jorjana’s suite is three times the size of mine. It is decorated in shades of lavender and ivory with artwork that favors landscapes. Franklin’s set of rooms is located at the other end of the house since he can’t sleep and wanders the halls at night.

  Jorjana’s suite is designed to accommodate Jorjana’s physical needs. The distances between the furniture allow for a wheelchair to pass through, the carpets are
thin and the doorways are wide. Call buttons are scattered discreetly about. There are five generous rooms for her use- a living area, a breakfast nook, a bathroom, a dressing area and the bedroom. A sixth space is the therapy room where Jorjana takes her daily exercise under the watchful eye of a physical therapist.

  I found Jorjana waiting for me in the breakfast nook.

  “Good morning, Alana. I trust you slept well?”

  “I did.”

  “You slept quite a long time.”

  I took the seat opposite her, unfolded the linen napkin and placed it on my lap. I picked up the sterling silver coffee pot and poured into a china cup. I took a sip and peered at her over the rim. I knew where this conversation was going. The empty bottle of wine and the crystal goblet were nowhere to be found when I awoke. Some member of the well-trained York staff had unlocked my door and cleaned up while I slept. And, no doubt, reported back to Jorjana. I was in no mood for a lecture.

  She took the hint.

  “Well, then. Shall we have our breakfast?”

  Jorjana picked up a small glass bell from a tray of bells set on the table. She gently rang it. The York staff is trained to respond to the sound of bells. The house is wired so that Jorjana’s rings are heard throughout the property. Each bell has it’s own pitch and each bell summons a different staff member. Sure enough, moments after the ring of the glass bell, breakfast appeared. All my favorites- cream cheese Danish, fresh berries, poached eggs on toast and crisp bacon. I ate everything and did not once consider the calories.

  “It appears that you were hungry,” Jorjana said as I wiped up the last bit of egg with toast.

  “I was. Thanks for having all my favorite things again.”

  “You are most welcome. I am pleased that you are well rested. Richard shared with me the connection between you and the murdered man.”

  She paused.

  “Good heavens,” she said with a sigh.

  That pretty welled summed it up.

  “Are you up to receiving visitors?” Jorjana asked.

  “Visitors? Who?”

  “Richard and Mr. Schilling have just now arrived. Shall I ask them to join us?”

  Apparently my troubles did not vanish overnight.

  How Jorjana knows what goes on in her house at all times is beyond me. I understand the system with the bells and I know there is a strict schedule that runs the activities throughout the day. But how she knows when people arrive and leave is one of those mysteries that I have yet to unravel.

  Jorjana’s nurse appeared and wheeled her into the living area. I brought the coffee pot along. Another pot and two more cups appeared just as Richard and Jim Schilling came into the room.

  Richard did not look well. His nose was red and his eyes were swollen like he had run into a field of allergy-inducing hay. He was dressed in jeans and a nice enough sweater but he still hadn’t shaved. His unkempt appearance took me aback. I am used to seeing Richard perfectly turned out and in charge. This Richard looked vulnerable and that did not set well with me. I was past thinking this sick Richard was endearing. I counted on him to make things better for me like he always did.

  Jim Schilling looked like a tiger stalking his prey. Jim took in everything in Jorjana’s suite in one glance. I got the impression that he noted available exits and chose his seat accordingly.

  Pleasantries were exchanged, more or less. Richard said good morning to Jorjana and then he glared at me.

  “Jim’s guys were busy all night tracking where your money went,” Richard said as we all sat down. “I’ll let him explain.”

  Jim began with the bad news.

  “This kid was good. He spider webbed your money so that it moved to new accounts at regular intervals. My guys are doing their best to follow it. It’s just gonna to take time.”

  “How much time?” I was almost afraid to ask.

  Jim shrugged. “Depends on how many passwords the kid used. We’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

  My heart fell right down into my stomach and started swimming around in all the coffee from breakfast.

  “It would have sped things up if you had told me who you were before you were Alana Fox,” Jim said.

  “It never occurred to me that it was relevant,” I said.

  “It helps figuring out passwords,” Jim said. “The good news is he ran this scam before and he seemed to follow the same paths.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  “It’s better that I don’t get into that,” Jim said. “Meanwhile, we’re still working on upgrading the security system at your house, Alana. I recommend that you stay here for the time being.”

  “How much longer will that take?”

  “A day or two. The guy who takes care of your cars is a bit, um, particular isn’t he?”

  That he is.

  The guy who takes care of my cars is named Fred. I only have room to garage one car at a time at my beach house so I keep the other eleven cars in a warehouse in Calabasas. The warehouse has a studio apartment above it where Fred lives. He drives the cars back and forth as I need them. And yes, he is particular. He takes better care of my cars than most people take of their children. I felt a twinge of guilt that I hadn’t let Fred know what had happened to me. He would freak out if he knew the Porsche was left alone in the parking lot at Ralph’s.

  Jorjana had taken care of that problem.

  “We have kept Fred informed,” Jorjana said. “He collected the Porsche and has it in safekeeping in Calabasas. He has been most helpful in designing the new security system for your home, has he not, Mr. Schilling?”

  “Yeah, he has a lot of opinions for sure.” Jim stood up.

  I could only imagine. The flimsy garage door at my house had given Fred nightmares for years. Now that a new security system was being installed, I envisioned my garage equipped with a stainless steel door complete with a retina identifying lock. I could only imagine what that would cost. And then there was Fred’s salary. Guys like him don’t come cheap. I wondered if I could bribe him to stay on with a latte from Starbucks seeing as that was all I could afford.

  “Tell Fred he needs to stay within the budget,” I said like I had any money to my name.

  “Too late for that,” Jim said as he headed out the door. “I’ll get back to you when I have news.”

  Richard stayed behind.

  “Do you want to talk about how you are going to pay for all of this?” Richard asked. His voice sounded hoarse.

  I glared at Richard. Jorjana didn’t know the extent of my financial predicament and I didn’t want to have that discussion at the moment.

  Fortunately, Jorjana was more concerned with Richard’s health than of any discussion of my finances. She reached for a little bell on the table and rang it. When the maid appeared she asked for tea with lemon and honey.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t ready to explain everything to her. She would want to hand buckets of money to me and I had no intention of accepting her help on this. I would figure it out myself.

  “Have you heard anything about who killed Zane Daniels?” I asked Richard in an attempt to steer the conversation away from my financial straits.

  “That poor boy,” Jorjana said. “Have the authorities any ideas?”

  “I haven’t heard anything,” Richard said. “I think it is a good idea for you to stay with Jorjana until there is an arrest. You are safe here.”

  “Do you believe Alana to be in danger?” Jorjana was alarmed.

  “It is better to play it safe,” Richard said.

  Jorjana’s physical therapist arrived just then to take her to her morning exercise. But not before Jorjana made me promise to not leave the York Estate without an armed guard.

  “She does love you, you know,” Richard said as Jorjana was wheeled away.

  “I do know.”

  I did know. Jorjana would walk over hot coals to protect me and she couldn’t even stand up on her own. It was at once a blessing and a curse to ha
ve someone care for you so much. She would be devastated to know just how much trouble I was in. I really didn’t want to think about how I would tell her. I also didn’t want to think about how I was going to manage with five dollars to my name but Richard wouldn’t let it go.

  “So what are you going to do?” Richard asked me.

  For a busy criminal defense attorney, he seemed to have a lot of time on his hands. He settled back with his fresh cup of tea with lemon and honey like he was on the Lido deck of a cruise ship. I wondered whether he was going to charge me for his time or if he really was concerned. Talking to Richard like a friend was a new experience. I decided to see how that worked.

  “I have alimony,” I said. “I could take out a loan. I could sell the house. All of this is assuming Jim can’t get my money back.”

  “He’ll get it back but it will take time. How are you going to manage, really?”

  “Can we talk about something else?”

  Richard ignored my request.

  “When all of this is settled, I’ll give you the name of my financial advisor,” Richard said. “I recommend that you follow his advice. I can’t believe you had all of your money lying around in cash.”

  “It wasn’t like I kept it in a box under the bed,” I began. And then seeing the look he gave me. “OK, I admit that I used to keep cash lying around the house but I did finally move it to the bank.”

  “You should have invested it.”

  “I will. As soon as Jim gets it back.”

  “Don’t get huffy with me, Alana. You were irresponsible. Again.”

  “It was my money. I did what I thought was best for me.”

  “You went against good advice. Again, I might add.”

  “You know Richard, if I wanted a lecture, I would go find Franklin and ask him to tell me what he thinks of my investment strategy.”

  “You don’t have an investment strategy, Alana…”

  The door to the hallway opened and a maid poked her head into the room.

  “Is everything all right Mrs. Fox? Mr. Lafferty?”

  I looked at Richard and realized that we were both on our feet and standing less than a foot from each other. Close enough that I noted his sweater was cashmere and he wore after-shave even though he hadn’t shaved. I felt my irritation to him drop away. I resisted an urge to take a step forward and wrap my arms around him.