by Laila Kelly
“I was just telling you how I felt,” she paused and swished around the wine in her glass, trying to be more careful about her choice of words. “I just wanted to be included in this process for you all, and I feel really left out,” hearing her sentiment made Graham’s heart hurt. He could see how she would feel left out when Sophia made the quick decision and told them after she had already completed the process. Maybe I should ask for her help instead of making it harder on myself trying to find out things when I could easily ask her, he thought to himself. “Mom,” Graham took a deep breath and put down his fork and knife. “Do you know who my birth mother is?” she looked up and plopped the last bit of her lamb into her mouth. She nodded her head and put down her fork, “Of course I know who she is,” she said plainly. Graham raised his brow, “Excuse me?” he was shocked that she just came out and said it so plainly. She continued on, “Yes I know who your birth mother is. I send her flowers almost every month since you were born,” she stated matter-of-factly. Graham’s mouth dropped as she smiled coyly. “Oh sweetheart, close your mouth. That’s impolite,” she picked up her glass and raised it. The waiter hurried over and filled her glass back up. He refilled it to where it was first and she waved her hand, “I’m going to need a little more than that,” he looked at her and then to Graham and back to her. Graham nodded at the waiter and watched as he poured more wine into his mother’s glass. Hopefully, by the time she was finished, she would have given him all of the information that he needed.
“What do you mean you send my birth mother flowers every month?” She looked at him like he had grown horns out of his head. “What do you mean? It’s exactly what I said. I send her flowers frequently,” she sipped more of her wine and smiled. She was beginning to feel really good about what she was saying, and the wine only hyped her up to say more. “When was the last time that you sent her flowers?” Graham hoped the flower order than Jamie told him about matched what his mother was saying. “It was just last week. She moved from South Carolina a few years ago and she’s been living in Georgia since then, but last week she wrote me a letter and told me that she had moved to another part of Georgia,” Graham picked up his phone and looked up the address to the flower shop again. Flowery Branch, Georgia. “Where did she move to?” His mother scrunched her face up like she was trying to pull something from the depths of her memory, “Hmm, it was someplace that had to do with flowers,” she paused for a moment. “Maybe it had something to do with a tree, too,” she pondered for a moment. “Was it Flowery Branch?” She popped up in her seat, “That’s it! How did you know?” He held back his grin, “Oh that’s where the Atlanta Falcons practice field is located. It’s also where I’ll be headed tonight. They have some land that I’m interested in buying and putting up some new subdivisions,” his mother looked at him and drank the last of her wine. “That sounds nice. When were you going to tell me that you were going?” Graham looked over at the waiter and ignored his mother’s question.
Graham waved the waiter over and asked for the check. Without looking he handed him his sleek black American Express card and handed it back to him. He pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and placed it on the table. The waiter brought back his card and he stuffed it in his pocket. He looked at the time and saw that he had less than two hours to get his mother back home and to his place to pack some clothes before he needed to head to the airstrip. He walked around to his mother and held out his arm. “I’m not feeble, you know,” the alcohol in her system making her tiddly, and she didn’t realize it yet. “I know, Mom,” and he continued to hold her arm as he walked outside.
The valet had already pulled his car up to the front and it was waiting for him. “You know I love it when you drive your nicer cars, Graham. I sometimes grow tired of driving around town and seeing you in that big monster truck for no reason,” Graham rolled his eyes as he opened the door for his mother to get in and closing the door behind her. Here we go again with the car thing. It wasn’t that he didn’t like driving his luxury cars, he just didn’t find it necessary for everyday business. He walked around the car and got inside. “Mom, I’ve already told you and Sophia this a million times, I drive my truck throughout the week because I like to pop up at the construction sites. I can’t do that if I’m driving my German cars,” he revved the engine of the Porsche Carrera and sped out of the restaurant’s parking lot. “I know honey, but you could at least get a nice car that could handle going to the construction sites while looking nice. You have to start living a lifestyle that is representative of a man of your success,” Graham clenched the steering wheel and continued to drive to his mother’s house.
He checked his watch and saw that he had twenty minutes to drop his mother off. Her goodbyes were always longwinded, partially because he didn’t come around much. He made a mental note to change that when he got back from Georgia. “I got Jeanne to go and pick up one hundred copies of the Houstonian that you were featured in,” she hesitated for a minute, “You did see it, right?” He chuckled. His mother knew that he didn’t pay much attention to the newspapers, especially if they were about him. Ever since Sophia submitted him to the Houston’s Most Eligible column a few years back he’d been traumatized. The amount of mail that poor Stephanie had to sort through was ridiculous.
“Yes, Mom, I did see it. I got a copy at the office,” she smiled and placed her hand on my shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, Graham. Making your way to your first billion within your first ten years of business is amazing,” her smile widened, and he felt his cheeks beginning to get red. “Oh Mom, you don’t have to say that,” he knew it was an amazing feat, but he wasn’t surprised that it happened so quickly. Graham had an airtight plan for every venture that he began, and this business was no different. “Of course I do. My baby boy is paving his own way in the world and refusing to accept help from his family. That’s admirable, son.” He nodded his head and pulled up into her winding driveway. He turned the car off and got out to walk to her side of the car. She had already opened the door when he got there. “You don’t have to walk me inside, I got it from here, besides I don’t want you late for your flight tonight,” she held her hand out and grabbed his. Graham ignored his mother’s comment. He wasn’t about to not at least walk her up to her door, besides he would be flying to Georgia via a private jet. What were they going to do, leave him?
They walked up to the front door and the redhead from earlier opened the door. “Good evening, Mrs. Brentwood. How was dinner?” his mother looked back at him before walking in the door, “It was amazing, Emily. My son always treats me so well,” she smiled and grabbed her other arm. “Alright, Mom, I’ll be heading home now. I’ll call you in the morning,” she turned around and blew him a kiss and walked up the stairs. Graham turned around and looked at his watch. He was making good time and the sun was beginning to set and the blues, reds, and oranges mixing together made an ombre of beauty that Graham was sure you could only see in Texas. He jogged down the stairs and got in his car and drove back down the driveway. The drive from his mother’s house to his is supposed to take thirty minutes, but for Graham, it only took fifteen. Once he got home, he ran upstairs and grabbed a few clothes and suits and placed them in his garment bag, and then headed into the bathroom and grabbed his toiletries.
It never took him long to pack to head anywhere. The last-minute trips that his mother would plan for sending them to camps during the summer and vacations taught him to be able to put things together quickly in a limited amount of time. He ran down the stairs and placed his bags in his car and looked at the clock on the stove. He had about thirty minutes before he needed to leave for the airfield. He sat down on his couch and looked out the window into his back yard. The landscapers had just come by during the day and it was looking more and more like he had imagined when he built this house. The new patio furniture had just been delivered and it had turned out better than he had hoped. Furniture was never his specialty, but with Sophia’s help, it had turned into an entert
ainer’s dream despite him never having people over. He was barely at his own home, let alone home long enough to invite other’s over. Aside from Sophia’s engagement party, that was the only time that he had more than three people at his home at one time.
He stood up and looked at the clock again. It was time to go, and he decided to make a quick change into something more comfortable. The flight was only two hours, but he’d hoped to get some sleep while in the air. Flying had become the equivalent of taking a nice long car ride when he was a child. After a quick change into some jogging pants and a dry fit shirt, he was in his car and on his way to the airstrip. It didn’t take him long to get there and when he arrived, he could see the plane ready to board. When he pulled up to the valet area, he saw that his spot with his name on it was vacant, as usual. Flying commercial had become an issue long ago when he needed flights at a moment’s notice, and they weren’t offered.
Ever since then he decided that flying private was more his speed, a decision which pleased his mother and sister greatly. The smiling faces of the airline staff always made him remember why he forked out the amount of money that he did in order to fly. “Hello, Mr. Brentwood how are you doing today?” the valet opened the door for him. “I’m doing well, how about you?” the valet smiled, “I’m doing quite well,” Graham nodded and opened his backdoor to pull out his luggage. The valet rushed to the back and tried to grab them from him, but he shook his head, “There’s no need to do that. I’m more than able to do it myself,” the valet backed away and waited for him to enter the building before he drove his car to the parking area. Graham hated letting other people carry his luggage and the valet looked so small and frail he didn’t think that he could physically handle carrying his bags without toppling over.
The automatic doors slid open and the lounge looked like it had been remodeled since the last time that Graham flew. A few months ago, everything was red and black, now everything was either white or grey. It gave the lounge a more contemporary and modern vibe, instead of looking like a seventies living room. Graham was pleased to see that they actually did take the suggestion box entries into account. He walked over to the drink area and pulled out a bottle of water. The chilled bottle looked small in his large hands and he quickly drank the entire thing before sitting down on the plush sofa. He watched as the pilot walked towards the lounge. He entered and took off his hat, walking over to extend his hand to Graham. “Good evening, Mr. Brentwood. My name is Thomas Dean and I’ll be your pilot for this evening.” Graham stood and gave him a firm handshake while he continued, “tonight’s flight will be right under two hours and we will be arriving in Atlanta at around one o’clock tomorrow morning Eastern Standard Time. Are there any questions that you may have, Mr. Brentwood?” Graham shook his head and walked back over to his seat. “I will be doing the last-minute preparations for our flight this evening and the stewardess, Traci, will be in to retrieve you in a few short moments.” He bowed and walked out of the door and back towards the plane. Graham watched the older gentlemen walking towards the plane and immediately knew he used to fly for the military before. His father had the same walk. The man reminded him of his father a lot, minus the handlebar mustache. His stature, build, and tone of voice made him wonder what his father would’ve looked like if he hadn’t passed away when he did.
Too much thought about his father made Graham’s head hurt, and he returned to the drink area to open up a small bottle of red wine. It was from his favorite vineyard and he leaned against the bar and drank his wine while he watched Thomas walk back and forth between the hanger and the plane. He pulled out a small notebook out of his jacket and began checking things off. A few minutes later a tall blonde woman walked slow and seductively towards the lounge room. She opened the door and walked over to Graham with her hand extended, “Hello, Mr. Brentwood, my name is Traci and I’ll be your stewardess this evening. Have all of your bags been taken care of?” with each word that she spoke, her ruby red lips made an “O” shape, regardless of what the word was. Her blouse was barely buttoned, and she looked like she was going to topple over the way that she was leaning into Graham. It was if she wanted him to look at her chest. She had her hair in a short curly style, and he could tell that someone had once drunkenly compared her to Marilyn Monroe and she surely took that to heart.
Graham nodded yes to her question and drank the last of his wine before taking it over to the recycling bin. There was no reason for anyone who was remotely wealthy to not be socially conscious. Graham rolled his eyes at the stark difference between the number of recyclables in the trash can versus the few items that he saw in the recycling bin. He could hear Traci walking up behind him and she looked into the trash can as he pulled out the top empty water bottles. “Um, Mr. Brentwood, what are you doing? Did you drop something in there?” he continued to pull more bottles out of the trash can, “No. I’m pulling out some of these empty bottles out of the trash can and putting them into the recycling bin where they belong.” She stood up straight, surprising Graham that she had the ability to do such a thing.
She began looking around the room as Graham finished the last two bottles and he walked over to the sink and lathered his hands with soap. He understood that he was essentially just digging through trash with the skill of a career homeless person and couldn’t help but crack a smile at the thought of Sophia or his mother witnessing what he just did. They would’ve had a cow. Traci walked behind the sink and pulled a towel out of the towel warmer and handed it to him. “Thank you,” he took the towel and dried off his hands and threw the towel in the dirty linen hamper. “So will Mrs. Brentwood be joining us this evening?” she held her hands behind her back and batted her eyelashes. Graham felt her gaze hone in on his hands while he dried them off. He tried to hold back his eye roll and looked at her. Her eyes were batting so hard that he could fly to Georgia on just her eyelashes.
“No, she won’t.” Traci backed up two steps and looked down at her red fingernails. “Oh,” she paused for a moment and looked back at the pilot standing near plane’s steps. The disappointment in her voice transitioned it from smooth and seductive to methodical and bland. “Let me go and see if Captain Dean is ready for us to board,” she scurried off through the doors and headed over to the plane. Graham reached over the sink and grabbed a pump of lotion and rubbed it in while he chuckled. The real Mrs. Brentwood was at home and hopefully tucked in her bed and sleeping off the wine that she drunk at dinner. He hoped that she wouldn’t have too much of a problem getting out of bed in the morning, she didn’t usually drink as much as she did tonight.
Thankfully she asked about him having a wife early on before they boarded the plane. God only knows what type of plan she would have dreamed up while they were up in the air. Whatever it would’ve been, Graham did not have time for it. His flight time would be spent with him curled up in the bed on the plane and when he landed, he planned to go to his hotel room. Alone. He walked back over to his duffle bag and pulled out the file that Stephanie had created for him. Graham had already skimmed through the first few pages, but he wanted to at least get halfway through the thirty-page file before he landed in Georgia. Flipping through the next few pages he came across an empty map of lots that were for sale in the area. He reached for the highlighter she attached to the file and began highlighting the areas that he wanted to look at first.
The next page had more pictures of the downtown area. It was cute and looked exactly like what people would imagine a small Southern town to look like. Flowery Branch reminded Graham a lot of Piney Point when he was growing up. Mom and pop shops decorating the town, and a sense of individualism and pride among the people that made the two towns the focal point of the rest of the state’s attention. He rummaged through his bag to find his phone. He came across a picture of a flower shop in the picture and the name looked familiar. Flower’s Flowers, he muttered to himself. What a cheesy name. It was definitely cheesy, but cute at the same time. Graham scrolled to the picture of the pad tha
t Jamie wrote on and compared the two. Sure enough, it was the flower shop that his mother sent an order to. Of course it wasn’t hard to find. From the notes that Stephanie had compiled, there was only one flower shop within a twenty-five-mile radius of Flowery Branch. Graham made a mental note that the flower shop would be his first stop in the morning.
Hopefully he would have better luck in person than Jamie did over the phone. Maybe the owner was more of a face to face kind of person. He pulled out his cellphone and texted Jamie.
Graham: Hey, what was the name of the flower shop owner?
If he approached her with a friendly attitude then maybe she would be more willing to give him the information that he wanted. Certainly, it wouldn’t be too hard to get done, he thought to himself. Traci came back through the doors with a fake smile plastered onto her face. “Mr. Brentwood, it’s time to board,” He stood up and gathered his papers and shoved them into his duffle bag and followed her out to the plane. He walked up the stairs and set his bags down on one of the seats. He sat in the seat beside it and pulled out his papers and sprawled them around on the table in front of him. Traci walked over and held out a tray of iced water to him. He picked one off the tray and drank it quickly and returning it to the tray and taking the other one and placing it on the table. Not looking up, he replied, “Thank you,” and kept looking through the portfolio that Stephanie created for him.
