by Mia Ford
"It was the first date and he showed up drunk. I was uncomfortable. So I snuck out before things could get out of hand."
“Mr. Prine knew this man?”
“Not that I’m aware of. But I don’t know what he’s telling you.” I felt my blood boiling and my eyes starting to sting with tears. “Because if he’d told you the truth he would have told you that when I ran into him I said I never wanted to see him again. Well, maybe not those exact words but that was the gist of it.”
Here I was defending myself to this big, burly member of the Fraternal Order of Police and Lucas was probably out there in the yard making jokes about me. Guys like him always had connections to the police. There was probably a guy in Chicago who was buddies with Lucas’s father. Just one phone call was all he’d need to make to have these guys drive away. If he says anything about the backseat of a squad car I’ll kill him with my bare hands.
“Miss Grant?” The officer snapped me out of my daydream.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Mr. Prine said he spoke with the fellow you left at the restaurant. He felt the man might be a threat to you.”
"That's absurd," I replied. "Why would he even suggest that? I don't understand where he's coming from. I'm telling you this is just a ruse to come over here and try and talk with me."
“He told my partner that the man you stood up was angry and told Mr. Prine he was considering coming to your home.”
I held my breath. I wasn’t sure if I should believe anything Lucas says but one thing he never did was he never lied to me. He may not have communicated his feelings very well but I can’t recall him lying to me.
“Karl was a joke.” I squinted my eyes and looked at the officer. “He was drunk and you don’t take a guy like that very seriously. I can’t imagine he’d say something like that.”
“But you did say this was your first date. You don’t know much about him.”
I shook my head no.
“Okay, Miss Grant, if you’d have a seat here on the porch. I’ll be right back.” The officer closed the little notepad he’d been scribbling in and slipped his flashlight back into the loop on the side of his huge utility belt. I sat down on the swing and looked around. The neighbors had come out to gawk. That was embarrassing.
Like a guilty child who knew they were busted Spike came slithering up the front porch steps sticking closely to the shadows.
“I don’t know what you did but you look guilty. Get in the house.” I ordered. Spike did as he was told and snuck in the front door.
I looked everywhere but at the police and the squad car and Lucas. I didn’t want any more excitement. I just wanted them all to leave.
Finally, I peeked up and saw Lucas stomp to his car, get in and drive away. My whole body sagged with relief.
But the police weren’t done with me.
“Miss Grant, we’re going to have a squad car circle around here a couple times tonight. We don’t want you to be alarmed if you see one. From what Mr. Prine told us we believe he was telling the truth.”
“Telling the truth about what? That he showed up here all stealthy-like and tried to…”
“He tried to warn you. He went about it the wrong way. He should have called us first. But we have his word he won’t be bothering you the rest of the night.”
I folded my arms over my chest.
The police gave me a quick rundown of what to do in case Karl does show up. They reminded me to lock all my doors and just be aware of my surroundings. If I needed them, just dial 9-1-1.
"Thank you, Officers," I mumbled after they wished me a pleasant night. Once inside my house, I shut and locked the door then leaned against it.
“What a night.” I looked at Spike who was sitting patiently in the hallway by the kitchen.
“Meow.”
Chapter 27 – Lucas
"I don't know who else to talk to about this." I sat in Ned Miles office. It was a large room with mostly windows on the corner of the third floor of a four-story building. His desk was an immense block of oak because Ned was an immense man.
I wasn't sure what to expect almost three months ago when I arrived here. My father, with the help of Jenna I'm sure, made all the proper phone calls to inform Ned and the other high-level managers that I'd be arriving to help streamline the business. The VP of this branch, Dan Depew, immediately quit since he had banked on taking over Ned's job when Ned retired. A handful of others did, too. That was a common enough occurrence when these kinds of transitions took place. To be honest, it saved me a good bit of tears and arguments from the staff if people left on their own.
I got the same treatment from the staff as I always did. The secretaries made doe eyes at me as I passed by. The middle managers either smiled brightly or had permanent scowls on their faces because the news was great or it could be better. Isn't that how all of life is?
I was surprised that the place I liked the best, besides being in my own office at the other corner of the third floor was in the shipping department. The guys didn't like me down there. The chatter and banter would cease as soon as word spread that I was on the floor. Loud rock music that seemed to me to consist mainly of the Rolling Stones, John Segar and Heart played almost constantly.
Maybe it was the noise. Maybe it was the fact that these guys didn’t care what I thought of them. I couldn’t tell. But I liked coming down here.
But I couldn't talk to any of them. There had to be a division between them and the guys who made the rules. Otherwise, they'll start to think they were on equal footing with me. Maybe down at Rose's Pub, we were equals. But in the Cambridge Logistics offices, I was the boss. There would never be any doubt about that.
"This looks serious," Ned replied. His face and neck bulged over the crisp white of his collar. I never saw the guy wear casual clothes. It was always a suit with cuff links and a tie.
“It’s really not. I mean, it’s a personal issue.” I grumbled.
“Have you thought to talk to your father?” Ned said with unflinching eyes and his baggy jowl firmly clenched.
"With his heart and all the recuperating, I've found it difficult to get a hold of him. When I do he's usually only got a couple minutes before he's got to rest or deal with the nurse or take a conference call. You know how it is."
"I do," Ned replied, his eyes still studying me.
“So, I’m going to come right out and say this. It’s about a girl.”
I told Ned what had happened with Tilly over the past several years. I didn’t go into detail. I kept her reputation private. But I was brutally honest about myself.
It was easy to tell Ned all of this. Some guys were just easy to talk to. You knew that if you said anything they’d keep it to themselves. Plus, Ned had about two more months before he stepped aside. I had heard him on more than occasion making plans to go fishing in Aruba and off the coast of Maine. He and his wife of over forty years were planning a cruise and with over a dozen grandkids he figured he’d be kept busier at home than he ever had been in the office.
It was funny. I knew Ned's salary. He made seven figures a year. But the guy brought a lunch from home every day. He spent on his suits but he drove last year's car and it was a Chrysler to boot. He would also take the day off every once in a while. He couldn't be more, unlike my father. That's probably why the Minnesota office needed a little help. At least that is what I told myself. Truthfully, after looking at the files and finances the place was running in the black but could have been doing better. I couldn't help but think my father thought the Minnesota office might be just enough rope for my leash. I'd be far enough away to be out of his sight but close enough for him to reign me in if he thought I needed it. I wasn't really in charge I was just standing in for my father.
Ned listened to me prattle on but before I could finish he interrupted me.
“Do you love this woman?” He asked bluntly.
“I don’t know?” I stammered. “We don’t even r
eally know each other. All I know is that when I’m with her…”
"When you are with her you feel good. You feel safe. You feel special. A dog can make you feel the same way." He snapped. "But do you love her? That is, would you lose everything you've got to start over from scratch to be with this woman?"
I felt like I had been slapped.
"I've never done that for anyone," I answered back smartly.
"I know that." Ned balked. "That's why I'm asking the question. You said when you heard that man threaten he might hurt her something in you shifted, it snapped like a switch was flipped and you wanted to protect her. Since when? From the sound of it, you were the one she really needed protection from."
“I never wanted to hurt her. I just didn’t know how to trust her. Ned, you know what it’s like when you’ve got money.” I confided like we were old frat brothers. “Women can do some pretty unscrupulous things. Am I right?”
He said nothing.
“I mean they see the kind of car you drive, the clothes you wear, the kind of watches or sunglasses you own and they are all over you.”
Still nothing.
“My house in Chicago is a mansion. I don’t even think I’ve been in every room. When people know that is where you live they immediately start thinking of ways to get their hands on it.”
“So who told you to drive that Ferrari back and forth to work? Who told you this job required you tell time with a Cartier watch? You don’t want anyone to know you are wealthy but you throw it in their face every chance you get?” Ned cleared his throat. “I told my sons and daughter that they are not rich. I was rich because I worked hard. They could be too if they worked hard. I’m sorry your father never told you as much.”
Part of me wanted to stand up and tell Ned he didn’t know anything about it. He saw my father once a year at the company golf outing at Turtle Beach. What the hell did he know? But the other part of me knew he was right and that part of me coiled up inside my gut, writhing and bubbling miserably like a seething volcano.
“So what do I do about Tilly?” I asked feeling like I’d just gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson.
“What do you think you need to do, Lucas? I can’t tell you. Only you can figure that out.”
I sat in front of him for a few more minutes. I asked him about his children since he’d brought them up. His daughter was a teacher at one of the most high-brow high schools in the state. His oldest son was a dentist. His youngest ran the Cambridge Logistics branch in the Philippines. I commented on how fantastic that location was doing especially with the strict shipping codes and trade rules. Of all the offshore branches the Philippines handled a third of all worldwide shipments and performed in the black for the last six years.
Although Ned’s face barely changed I could see the pride in his eyes.
Finally, I stood up and shook his hand thanking him for the talk. He assured me of my talents in business and that was nice to hear. But he said nothing more about Tilly except one thing.
“If she’s gotten to a man like you, Lucas, there must be something there.”
A week had passed after my discussion with Ned. I still hadn’t done anything more than thinking about Tilly. Her business card was firmly tucked inside my wallet. When I pulled it out my heart began to race.
I dialed her number but a secretary answered.
“Telula Grant’s office.” She chirped.
“Yes, may I speak with Miss Grant please?”
“May I tell her who is calling?”
I cleared my throat.
“Lucas Prine.”
“One moment.”
The line clicked and classical music began to play while I was on hold.
Finally, the secretary came back.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Prine but Miss Grant is in a meeting. Would you like her voicemail?”
“No. Please tell her I called an I’ll call back later.”
This went on for a week. Every time I called I got the same reply. She was in a meeting. She was in a deposition. She was in court. She was at lunch. Trying to go through the front door wasn’t working.
"Come on, Lucas," I grumbled to myself. "What else can you do? You just need one good idea?"
Then it came to him.
Chapter 28 – Tilly
I was on the phone when my secretary, Kayetta, knocked on my office door. I waved her in and set the phone to mute.
“I’m on the phone with Dawn Williamson.”
“Again?” Kayetta asked. “Well, better you than me.”
"Thanks," I whispered, rolling my eyes. Dawn Williamson was one of our most wealthy and most needy clients. She was passed over to me after two of the partners and another senior associate decided they'd had enough. She sues people for a living. Since her husband died leaving her a hefty insurance policy she decided to hoard that money and instead use the judicial system as a source of income.
She was suing The Drake Hotel for over two million dollars for slipping and falling on the marble steps in their lobby. You see I said she fell ON not DOWN the steps. She did slip. She did fall. She did get hurt. A sprained ankle and a torn dress. But she’s going to fight them tooth and nail to get every penny she can. This had been going on for over a year now with no progress.
“Uhm, when you are done with all this you need to come to the lobby.” Kayetta wrinkled her nose. “It’s kind of serious.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll just have to see for yourself.” Kayetta closed the door quietly before I tapped the mute button and listened to Dawn rattle on about her medical bills.
It was another fifteen minutes before I emerged from my office. Everyone was looking at me, smiling, giggling.
"Is my slip showing? Did my blouse go see-through on me?" I whispered to Kayetta who was typing away at her desk.
"Honey, please just go help the receptionist. She's having a freakout."
As I approached the lobby I heard several girls talking and chit-chatting like hens in a henhouse. As soon as I came through the door I saw why.
“Yikes!” I smirked. “Who died?”
There were seven stunning bouquets of flowers on the receptionist’s desk and two more on the floor. Most of them were roses in pink and red and white. But there were also tiger lilies and carnations and some strange exotic bird-looking things that were brilliant orange and yellow colors.
“These are all for you.” The receptionist said.
“What?” I choked.
“Yup. Every one of them is for you.”
I walked up to the red roses. The cool, sweet smell hit me before I could even touch the card tucked inside.
The little note read “I’m Sorry” with a crying teddy bear. “Please talk to me” was scribbled on the card and it was signed Lucas. Not Lucas Prine. Just Lucas.
The rest said similar sentiments.
Once all the flowers were brought to my office it looked like I’d opened up a florist shop. I could barely move around.
The phone was ringing. I noticed my email had popped up with several more requests from the partners for status on my caseload. Three files had fallen to the floor and were spread out sloppily. I was so pissed off I couldn't take it.
“Tilly?” Kayetta held the phone up with her hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s Lucas Prine.”
“Send it in.” I grit my teeth and slipped on my headphones. “Telula Grant.” I barked.
“Tilly. Thank you for taking my call.”
“Listen to me, Lucas. Flowers are what you give to someone when they are dead. Just consider me dead, okay. Because this doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t change anything. Stop bothering me.” I growled through clenched teeth then hit the disconnect button.
The flowers are pretty.
"It's a scam," I muttered. "A sick joke to sucker me in again. I won't fall for it." My eyes began to sting so I kept my door shut for the rest of the afternoon and tried to push Lucas out of my mind. It
was hard with every kind of flower sent from him staring back at me for the next several days.
"Hi, mom," I said into the phone. Normally, I called my parents every couple of days from home. They weren't too friendly toward the personal phone calls at Gray & Stein. My mom knew that so two weeks after the flower incident you can imagine how shocked I was to hear from her. "Is something wrong?"
“No. Nothing is wrong.”
“ You sound funny.”
“Well, a young man stopped by the house. He and your father have gone to Duncan Donuts for coffee.”
“What are you talking about?”
"He pulled up in a Ferrari. Your father made sure I knew it was a couple years old but still pretty cool."
I clenched the phone until my knuckles where white.
“Are you kidding me?”
“He brought me a bouquet of yellow roses.”
“Mom, listen to me.” I breathed and rubbed my face with my free hand.
“He wants to stay for dinner. I told him sure if he didn’t mind meatloaf.”
“What?”
“Very handsome, fellow. Says he’s known you since high school and that you won’t talk to him anymore.”
“I’m going to fly to Chicago and kill him.”
“Now, I know you didn’t have a lot growing up, honey, but I never taught you to be mean to people just because they have money.” My mom said in a sing-songy way like she was speaking to a kindergartener. “Rich people are people, too.”
