by John Gray
She looked down and said, “I promise I’ll think about it Mr…. Philmont?” Suddenly a memory nudged Chase. Why do I know that name?
She took on a blank look and her eyes were unfocused as she stared off in the distance.
“Are you okay, Miss Harrington?” the confused millionaire asked.
That’s when it hit her: the story Raylan told her about the man he saved in the war, the one he dragged from the fire, his name was Philmont too. Paul? No. Patrick? That wasn’t it. PETER! It was Peter.
Chase then asked, “Hey, you aren’t from the Philmont family that owns the oil wells and stuff, are ya?
Clayton’s eyes revealed the answer before he said it, “We are. Don’t think about fluffing up the price on the house. A five percent markup is very generous.”
“No, no,” Chase replied, “That’s not why I ask. Do you know a Peter Philmont?”
Clayton nodded and said, “There are two of them, a cousin and my brother.”
Chase, not sure which was which, quickly said, “This one would have been in the war and almost got killed.”
Clayton then smiled in a way that reminded her of a jackal. “Ah yes, that would be my good-hearted idiot brother.”
Chase then, “Why do you call him that?”
Clayton responded, “An idiot for joining up to fight in a war he had no business being in and good-hearted because he wants nothing to do with the family business. He’d rather give his money away. Why do you ask? Do you know him?”
Chase’s mind was racing with questions. Should she seize this unexpected opportunity and ask further about Peter Philmont or just stay out of it? The last time she stuck her nose in Raylan’s business it didn’t go so well.
Oh, to heck with it, she thought.
“No, I don’t know him, but I’d like to meet him, and I’ll make you a promise,” Chase replied.
Clayton was intrigued, “Go on.”
Chase, “If you introduce me to your brother Peter, I’ll seriously consider your offer to buy my house.”
Clayton glanced back at his phone and replied, “I’m running late, so walk me to my car.”
As the two approached the expensive vehicle, Clayton said, “I can’t promise you a meeting, but here’s what I can do. I’ll call him and tell him to expect you. I’ll give you his address on Park Avenue, and if you can get by his doorman, you’re in. Fair enough?”
Chase pondered the offer, then said, “So the doorman is tough, huh? Yeah, I’ll take my chances. It’s a deal.”
Clayton took back the business card he’d just given Chase and wrote the address on the back of it. “I’ll call him now and tell him to expect you. Good luck. You’ll need it.”
The Bentley, and the abrasive man with all that money, weren’t fifty yards down the road when Chase texted Matthew in Manhattan and wrote, “Need you ASAP.”
She wasn’t sure if she’d sell the house or live there forever, but this was a chance to help her friend Raylan close that one final chapter that had been haunting him. Besides, Park Avenue was less than an hour away.
CHAPTER 26
Let It Be
If the road to hell was paved with good intentions, the boulevard known as Park Avenue was lined with twenty-story stone buildings, with watchful gargoyles above and beautiful awnings below. Most were hunter green with large white numbers printed on the front, helping drivers find their destinations without delay.
“Are you watching for it?” Matthew asked Chase, as he slowly maneuvered down the opulent street.
“I am,” she replied, her head craning out the window, the cold December air making her pay for not wearing a hat or scarf. “801, 807, there it is on the right, 813. Huh, that’s funny,” Chase added.
“What’s funny?” Matthew asked.
Chase pointed at the awning. “My birthday is August thirteenth, eight-one-three.”
Matthew ignored the coincidence as he pulled up front, saying, “They won’t let me just sit, but I’ll circle the block a few times until you need me.”
“Roger dodger,” Chase said, as she bounced out of her seat and shut the car door firmly behind.
Her eyes immediately saw the words The Philmont in raised lettering on the front of the building. It was clear this family had money to spare. Two impressive urns filled with evergreen branches stood like soldiers to the right and left of the large front door, as Chase reached for the brass handle and gave it a tug.
The lobby was small but well-appointed, with artwork on the walls and a checkered marble floor that shined as if someone waxed it every night while the millionaires slept soundly above.
To her left was a large desk that looked like a police command center. A walkie-talkie sat on top of the wooden counter, next to an old-fashioned phone, the kind your grandfather might have had back in the 1930s. A well-dressed man in a dark blue sport coat and white collared shirt buttoned to the top, sat directly behind the desk, his eyes on Chase the moment she entered his building. Behind him was a row of six television monitors switching automatically between a series of cameras that were strategically placed both inside and outside of the building.
“Help you, miss?” the man asked politely. Chase noticed he had a nametag on his right breast pocket that said Mel.
“Yes, thank you, um, Mel,” she began, feeling nervous all of the sudden.
Chase pressed on, “I’m here to see a Peter Philmont. His brother Clayton sent me and told me he’d call in advance.”
Mel looked Chase up and down and thought she appeared harmless, but said, “Yes, well, he may have called but I can’t send you up without announcing you and getting approval. You understand.”
Chase nodded in agreement, “Of course, please announce away.”
Mel grinned at Chase’s good humor, then reached for the antique-looking phone and began pushing buttons, causing Chase to observe, “That thing still works?”
As the number rang, Mel glanced back at Chase and said, “It’s new, actually. One of those re-creations, looks antique but it’s no older than your socks.”
He gave Chase a wink, causing her to giggle a bit, then spoke into the phone, “Yes, it’s Mel downstairs. There’s a …” he then looked over, waiting for a name to be offered.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Chase, Chase Harrington. Clayton sent me.” Chased said encouragingly.
Mel repeated it louder into the phone, “A CHASE HARRINGTON to see you. Your brother said he called about this.”
She could hear the muffled sounds of someone responding, but wasn’t close enough to make out the words. Mel just kept nodding and saying, “I see. I see. Got it.”
He then said to Chase, “Look up behind me above the monitors. Do you see that small camera? Look toward that for a moment.”
Chase did as instructed. Clearly, they had a closed-circuit TV system so the tenants could see who was at the front desk before allowing them up.
Mel kept the phone pressed to his ear and said, “Understood.” He then handed the phone to Chase saying, “He wants to talk to you.”
“Hello,” Chase said into the phone, making certain to keep looking at the camera so it felt like she was talking to someone.
A man’s voice came over the phone softly, “Why is it you wish to see me, Miss Harrington?” His voice was so low, it was difficult to hear.
Chase swallowed hard and tried to say it exactly as she had rehearsed it in her head, “Well sir, I’m friends with a man named Raylan and he … I mean … he …”
Chase hesitated. How do you just blurt something like that out? She froze, not saying a thing.
“Hello, are you still there, Miss Harrington?” the voice inquired, a bit louder this time.
“Yes, I’m sorry, Mr. Philmont. Apologies, it’s just a strange thing to say, so I guess I’ll just say it. My friend Raylan, I believe, is the man who pulled you out of a burning vehicle in the war. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
There was a long silence, a good thirty seconds worth, and Chas
e called out more than once, “Hello? Sir, are you still there?”
She finally turned to the doorman and handed him back the phone, saying, “I think he hung up.”
Mel put the phone up to his own ear, and after a brief pause the voice said, “Put her back on.”
He handed Chase the phone a second time. She raised it up and said, “Yes?”
The voice again, still soft and faint: “What is it you want?”
Chase, feeling a bit more confident, replied, “I guess I wanted to see if you were the Peter Philmont my friend saved and if you were, I wanted to meet you. My friend Raylan lives not ten blocks from here, and despite getting hurt that day, he’s doing well.”
Peter Philmont’s voice took on a more friendly tone now, “I am the young man he pulled from the burning truck. I’m forever sorry that he was injured saving me. I’m glad he’s doing well. Can I ask you a question?”
Chase, looking back to the camera, “Yes, of course.”
“Did he send you here to find me? Does he need my help in some way?” Peter inquired.
Chase shook her head, saying, “No, he doesn’t need anything. I guess I just thought since you’re both in Manhattan … Oh, I don’t know.”
Chase sighed then, wondering if this was a good idea after all.
Peter again, “Miss Harrington, does this Raymond even know you’re here?”
Chase looked away now, like a child caught in a lie, responding, “It’s Raylan, his name, Raylan, and no sir, he does not. In fact, he told me once he tracked you down, but he decided not to meet you in person, he just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Another pause and then, “As you can see, I am, okay as you put it, and it sounds like he’s doing fine also. Perhaps, Chase—can I call you Chase?” Peter continued.
“Yes, of course,” she replied.
Peter then, “Perhaps, Chase, you should respect your friend’s wishes and just let it be.”
Chase was the one being quiet now, wondering if she was trying to force something that neither man wanted.
“Chase, are you all right?” he asked, his voice fading again on the phone line.
Finally Chase responded, “I am, Mr. Philmont. You know, the last time I pushed something against Raylan’s wishes it blew up in my face, so this time I’m going to listen and just, in your words, let it be.”
Peter again, “I think that’s best. And Chase?”
“Yes, Mr. Philmont,” she replied, “Sometimes things work out all on their own. You just have to trust the universe to sort things the way they are supposed to be sorted; do you understand?”
Chase smiled and looked back at the camera, unconvinced. “I’m not sure I do, sir, but I do know I’ll have that Beatles song stuck in my head for the rest of the day.”
Mel could hear laughter coming from the phone now as Peter concluded, “Yes, Let it Be is one of my favorites of theirs. You take care now.”
With that the phone went dead and Chase handed it back to Mel. She looked at his name tag again and said, “You like Paul McCartney, Mel?”
The doorman looked around as if he were about to tell a secret, then said, “The early stuff, not so much later.”
Chase nodded her head, “Me too, Mel. I hope they tip you well at Christmas.”
The doorman smiled and said, “They do, miss, especially Mr. Peter.”
With that Chase marched toward the front door and gave it a hard push; the last thing Mel heard was Chase singing to herself. Something about whispering words of wisdom as her lovely frame vanished from sight.
CHAPTER 27
Charlie’s Game
It was mid-December in Manhattan, which meant the store windows on Fifth Avenue were decorated beautifully for the holidays. However, as Chase rode by, her mind was not on nutcrackers and gingerbread houses, but instead on her brief conversation with Peter Philmont. She asked Matthew his opinion, and he agreed that some things are better left alone. It was rare for Chase to let something go this easily, but this time she would listen to everyone’s sage advice and drop it.
When her mansion pulled into sight, Chase noticed a small wreath with a red bow hanging from the black lamppost out front, and the simplicity of it made her smile. Chase wasn’t one for gaudy decorations; she preferred modest and classy.
After kicking off her boots and hopping onto the warm couch in front of the fireplace, Chase’s mind was on to other things, mainly Gavin and how he was acting lately. His glances were longer, his kisses were sweeter, and more than once if a commercial came on TV for a jewelry store, he’d casually ask again what kind of diamond she liked.
Chase told him the size or cut of the stone didn’t matter, as long as it was Gavin slipping it on her finger. She still remembered the first time she ever laid eyes on him, opening a huge barn door in East Arlington, a tiny village just outside of Manchester, Vermont, that thick hair a girl could only dream of running her hands through pushing out from beneath a cowboy hat. It wasn’t fair how good he looked that day, and just the memory of it made her tummy twirl the way it did that sunny afternoon long ago.
Chase was so lost in the memory, she didn’t hear the light tapping on the front door. Scooter did, and it was his bark that shook her back to reality and sent her scurrying to see who it was.
“Hey, neighbor,” Mary, the woman from next door, called out.
Chase smiled. ‘Oh, hi, Mare, how are you? And hi, Charlie!” The beautiful child was tucked behind Mary just out of view. Charlie smiled, then used her delicate hands to sign Hello right back.
“What’s up?” Chase inquired.
Mary bit her lip and made a face like someone needing a favor. “Can I ask you to do me a solid?” she began. “Charlie’s parents are in Boston for a couple of days, and I need to run some errands that are not really fun for a little girl to tag along. I was wondering if you aren’t too busy, can Charlie visit here for like ninety minutes or so?”
Chase flung open the large wooden door, “Of course, I’d love to hang with Charlie. She can keep me and Scooter company.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Chase, thank you,” Mary responded, before making a dash for her car, the Burberry purse on her shoulder swinging back and forth as she jogged across the lawn.
Even though she lived right next door, Charlie had never actually been in Sebastian Winthrop’s estate, so her eyes went wide as she walked in and saw all the beautiful stone, artwork, and furnishings. It was just then that it hit Chase: she didn’t know sign language.
She knew Charlie could read lips, so she touched her on the sleeve and said, “Do you want something to drink?”
Chase motioned with her hand as if holding a glass, causing Charlie to smile and give her a thumbs up. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all, Chase thought.
After pouring Charlie a large glass of ice-cold milk and placing a few Oreo cookies on a plate in the kitchen, Chase tapped Charlie’s arm again and asked, “Do you want to do something fun?”
Charlie took a quick sip of the milk, nodded her head, and Chase led her to the room with the board games. Despite all the drama in the past, Chase figured it was safe to play one of the kids’ games. Scooter tagged along, just to watch.
“How about this one?” Chase asked, holding up a game called Chutes and Ladders.
Charlie shook her head NO.
Chase pointed at Monopoly, followed by UNO and a game called Sorry, then Battleship, but again Charlie scrunched her face, looking like she’d just bit into a lemon.
It was clear the little girl didn’t feel like playing any board games. As she took Charlie’s hand to go back to the kitchen for her snack, Scooter walked by both of them, hopped up to the shelf and scratched his paw on the Scrabble box.
“Seriously, Scooter?” Chase asked her pup.
If dogs could smile, that’s exactly what Scooter did, wagging his tail, then marching straight over to Charlie, giving her a bump with his body, as if to say, Play this one, Charlie. It’s FULL of surprises!
Chase reluctantly grabbed the game box, and the two of them sat down on the carpet, as a nervousness instantly filled the room. What if something weird happens? Chase thought.
The last thing she wanted was for any kind of strangeness to frighten this innocent child. Charlie pulled out the pieces and lined things up, making it obvious she had played Scrabble before. She took up the bag of tiles and gave them a shake, then urged Chase to pick first.
Chase’s first seven letters were D B Z I Q V R.
After Charlie picked her own letters, she encouraged Chase to go first. Chase stared at the random letters a moment, then spelled the word B I R D.
Charlie went next and spelled the word C A R, and the game was off and running. To Chase’s delight and surprise, nothing odd happened as they played. And with some carefully disguised maneuvers, Chase let Charlie win, without the child being any the wiser.
Happy with her victory, Charlie quickly grabbed a few tiles off the carpet and spelled two words: PLAY AGAIN. Her deep brown eyes looked up to Chase’s, making it impossible to say no.
Chase smiled and gave her a high five, before they put all the tiles back in the cloth bag to give them another shake.
Charlie picked first and got several vowels, making it easy to spell a few words. Then Chase chose and her letters were E A D Y R I B.
Chase turned her tiles toward Charlie to show her and said, “I think you’re in trouble this game, because I can spell lots of words.”
Charlie looked at the tiles and asked, mouthing the words as she signed, “How many?”
Chase scratched her chin and said, “Let’s see, I have BEAD. I have DEAR. I have BAD. What else? DAY, READ, BED, RED, READY, RIB, BID. Oh my, I have a lot, don’t I?
Charlie nodded with approval at Chase’s good fortune, and then Chase looked for another moment, finally saying, “Hmm … I think that’s all I can spell.”
As Charlie was about to place her own letters on the board, she looked back at Chase’s wooden tiles and then at Chase, holding up a single finger and then pointing it toward Chase’s letters.