Tears formed in my eyes as Luz continued.
“He slept through the night, and the doctors were watching him the whole time. But then, in the morning, he had a second stroke, this one much worse than the first. It was so bad that even with doctors nearby they couldn’t help him. And we lost him right after.”
I grabbed one of Luz’s tissues and wiped my eyes.
“I can’t believe it,” I said. “He seemed so happy and healthy, especially for a man his age. I…I don’t know what to say.”
“These things can happen out of nowhere,” Luz said, shaking her head. “One minute you’re fine, the next you’re…gone. I got off the phone with his personal assistant. She was there with him to the end, just as shocked as we are.”
I leaned forward against the counter, shaking my head in disbelief.
“And I hate to even be thinking about such a thing now, but that’s the end of this job for us,” Luz said. “I remember the contract saying that we get a month’s pay if something like this were to happen, but after that, we’re on our own. No Mr. King, no work.”
She was right, and it was another stab in the gut on top of this awful news.
“He was such a good man,” I said. “Never had anything but a kind word for anyone. And he took a chance on an inexperienced girl like me. Nothing but encouraging.”
“Same here,” said Luz. “I’d just lost my job when he and I happened to meet in line at a pharmacy. I remember I was in such an awful mood, and he started talking to me, chatting and joking and making me feel like I was the only person in the world. It’s like he sensed my mood and made it his duty to turn it around.”
A small smile appeared on Luz’s tear-streaked face as she recalled the story.
“He asked me what I did for a living, and I blurted it out, told him that I used to be a waitress, but I lost my job when our restaurant closed. And right then and there he told me that he had an opening at his place for a housekeeper. I was curious about who he was, and when he told me that he was Alfred King, I nearly fainted.”
Luz seemed to be recovering, but then her eyes welled up with tears again. She continued talking.
“Just like you, he took a chance on me. I remember asking him why, and he said he could sense the good in people. He saw it in me, and he saw it in you. And knowing you, Chloe, he was right on the money.”
More tears trickled down my face as I sat in shock.
Luz and I talked like this for a while longer, telling stories about Mr. King. And when we were done, we vowed to keep him in our memories. When the sun began to set, we both realized that it was time to leave the King mansion for the last time.
“See you around, Chloe,” said Luz as we prepared to go our separate ways.
“Bye, Luz,” I said, giving her a big hug.
Once I was behind the wheel of my car I allowed myself to sit and stare off into space, to let the awful news truly sink in. I cried some more until my throat was raw and my eyes had nothing left in them.
And then a thought occurred to me: Luz’s words about keeping his memory alive fresh in my mind. I wouldn’t need to try; I was carrying his grandchildren inside of me. All four of them. I only wished that he could’ve been alive to see them, or to even know they existed.
It hit me again that I was now out of a job. Like Luz had said, every member of the staff could count on one last month’s pay, along with a few more months of health benefits. But after that, I was going to be really and truly on my own.
After a few more minutes, I was ready to leave. I turned on my car and started off toward the road leading back into town, the majestic estate shrinking smaller and smaller in my rear-view mirror.
Chapter 18
Jordan
A Few Hours Earlier
I paced back and forth through the luxurious interior of my father’s private jet, counting down the minutes till we would touch down in San Bravado. I knew that having access to the jet wasn’t part of the agreement my father and I had come to, but I didn’t care. He was in the hospital, and nothing was going to keep me from his side.
Impatience gripped me. At the end of one of my paces, I took the phone to the cockpit off the wall and called the pilot.
“Yes, Mr. King?” he asked.
“What’s our ETA?” I asked.
“We’re passing over the Rockies now. Shouldn’t be more than an hour and a half.”
“Any news about my father?”
“Not so far,” he said. “We’re going through some interference at the moment. Communication with the ground right now is spotty, at best.”
“Is there anything to do to get there faster?” I asked. “Anything at all?”
“I’m afraid not, Mr. King. We’re going there straight as the crow flies. I’ll keep you posted if anything changes.”
Part of me wanted to yell and scream, to have some outlet for my frustration. Instead, I thanked the pilot and hung up.
I couldn’t believe the news. My father, that strong, powerful man who’d built his company from the ground up, had been reduced to lying unconscious in some hospital bed due to a damned stroke.
He’d seemed so healthy the last time I’d seen him.
Then again, the last time I’d seen him was during the holidays, just a few days after we’d had that fight.
The fight when I’d stormed out of dinner, never wanting to see his face again. We’d kept our interactions to a minimum over the next few days, and the holidays had amounted to nothing more than barely contained resentment.
I had to see him again, to put things right. When I’d gone back to New York, having cut my holiday visit short, I’d figured that we’d make up at some point, at some vague time in the future. There’s all the time in the world, part of me had thought. Hell, maybe I could ignore it, let it all blow over, have enough time pass that things would be right back to normal the next time I saw the old man.
Time. Didn’t have any of that now.
Eventually, we were over the Rockies and clear of the interference. As soon as the pilot let me know that we had reception again, I called the hospital and demanded an update.
“Better,” they told me. “He’s still out of it—not in any condition to talk. But we have him stabilized for now.”
I paced backed and forth, the phone pressed against the side of my face. Each heartbeat was a fresh pulse of anxiety.
“Can you tell him something?” I said finally. “Can you pass along a message from me?”
“He’s…not very cognizant of what’s going on,” said the doctor. “It’s still very touch-and-go.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “But I need you to tell him something, even if you think he can’t hear you.”
Silence on the other end.
“Sure,” came the doctor’s voice. “What would you like me to say?”
I hadn’t thought this far. My mind raced, trying to come up with something.
“Tell him…tell him that I’m sorry. Sorry for leaving things the way that I did, sorry for being such a disappointment.”
I couldn’t think of anything else.
Normally, it would’ve killed me to reveal such personal feelings to a total stranger. But now, I didn’t care. All I was concerned with was trying to say I was sorry.
“I’ll pass that along,” he said.
“Good. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I ended the call.
My eyes went to the fully stocked bar on the other side of the plane, and for a moment the idea of getting drunk just to get through all of this occurred to me. But something inside of me told me to not do it, that I’d need to have all my bearings for what lay ahead. Instead of booze, I cracked open a bottle of sparkling water and sipped it as I continued my pacing.
I let out a sigh of relief as I felt the plane begin its descent. It was still early in the day, and the sun glittered brilliantly on the ocean past San Bravado. Any other occasion and I’d be glad to be back, glad to be away from the chaos of New Y
ork. But this wasn’t one of those times.
The plane landed with a soft lurch, and it didn’t take long before we’d come to a complete stop. Once we were taxied, the pilot stepped out of the cockpit.
“We’re here, Mr. King,” he said.
I nodded and turned toward the plane’s extending staircase. Before stepping out, however, something occurred to me. I turned back toward the pilot, stepped over to him, and shook his hand.
“Thank you for getting me here on such short notice,” I said. “It’s more than appreciated.”
The pilot looked surprised for a moment as if not sure what to make of Jordan King saying something like this. Most of our interactions over the years had been me barking orders to get away from the turbulence as my friends and I partied in the back of the plane.
“Of course,” he said. “It’s my pleasure to get you to your father. I only hope that he’s doing all right. Please, pass along my thoughts and prayers.”
“I will,” I said.
I headed off the plane and toward the sleek, black luxury car that awaited me, a chauffeur waiting to let me in. Normally I’d rather drive, but my nerves were so jangled that today I was more than happy to let someone else take the wheel.
We drove away from the airport and I gazed pensively out the window, wondering what on earth I would say to my father once we finally reached the hospital. After we’d been driving for about thirty minutes, I reached into my pocket for my phone to call the hospital for another update. But it wasn’t there.
“Shit!” I hissed. I must have left the phone on the plane.
I pressed the button to lower the glass partition between the driver and me.
“Yes, Mr. King?” he asked.
“How far are we from the hospital?”
“About thirty more minutes.”
“Thank you.”
No sense in going back for it; I’d be at the hospital soon myself.
We drove on, passing through the outer neighborhoods of the city and eventually arriving at San Bravado’s most exclusive private hospital. I was so eager to get in there that I nearly leaped right into the car door before opening it.
I rushed into the lobby, looking around frantically for some associate of my father. Finally, I laid eyes on Roy Silver, my father’s lawyer and close friend from since before I was born. Roy was a tall, stout man with open, brown eyes, a fleshy face, and hair as silver as his name would suggest. He was dressed in one of his usual brown suits.
He got up from his seat as soon as he laid eyes on me. I could tell from his expression that something was very, very wrong.
“Where is he?” I asked, rushing over to Roy.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” he said, shaking his head as though he were in a daze. “But you didn’t pick up.”
“I left my phone on the plane,” I said. “Tell me where my father is.”
“Jordan,” he said, his voice somber. “The reason I’ve been trying to call you was to let you know that…we’ve lost him. Your father’s gone, Jordan.”
“What?” I asked.
“An hour ago. You just missed him.”
I dropped to my knees right there in the middle of the lobby.
Chapter 19
Jordan
The funeral was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. It took place in the largest, oldest cathedral in the city, and the place was beyond packed. Hundreds upon hundreds of mourners came to pay their respects to my father.
At the ceremony, many of the city’s elite came to the podium to offer a few words about what my father meant to them, and what good he’d done for thousands of those employed by his company. As I sat in attendance, I couldn’t help but think what kind of service I would have if I were to suddenly pass. Who would come to my funeral? What would they say? I couldn’t imagine any of the friends I partied with being moved enough to speak in front of hundreds of people. And I couldn’t imagine any of the dozens of women I’d used and tossed aside having a kind word to say about me.
I’d be put into the ground and forgotten, having done more bad for the world than good.
As we filed out of the cathedral, I caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of my eye. Someone, like the others here, dressed all in black. A woman.
Someone familiar.
Was it Chloe?
I tried to catch a glimpse of her, but her face was obscured by a black veil, and she quickly disappeared into the crowd. I tried to weave my way through, but I was quickly surrounded by friends of my father who wanted to pay their respects. By the time I was able to break away, she was long gone.
If it even was her.
Many of the funeral attendees gathered at my father’s mansion after the ceremony. Roy, having wanted to take some of the stress off me, arranged for the catering and all of the other details. I found myself going into the kitchen as the chefs worked, part of me hoping that I’d see Chloe there, busy at work.
Hours passed as more and more people offered their condolences, all of them with their own stories of how my father touched their lives. I couldn’t help but wonder if some of them were trying to figure out how a man like my father could’ve produced a son like me.
“How you holding up, kid?” asked Roy, placing his hand on my shoulder and giving it a squeeze.
“About as well as could be expected,” I said. “I just wish I could have arrived in time to see him, to speak to him. Even if he couldn’t have heard it.”
Roy shook his head. “How old were you when your mom passed, Jordan? You were just a kid, right?”
“I was five,” I said. “Too young to experience the loss the way I’m experiencing it now. But her passing wasn’t so…sudden. I had the chance to say goodbye.”
“You’ve dealt with some pretty serious loss, kid. But you’re staying strong, putting on a tough face. It’s what your father would’ve wanted.”
I had a few ideas of what my father would’ve wanted. Not having a slacker son was one of them.
“Anyway, I’ll give you space to grieve, but I wanted to let you know that your father had his estate in order when he passed. I’m ready to go over his will with you whenever you want.”
I raised an eyebrow. I wasn’t all that concerned about money or anything like that, but I did want to know my father’s last wishes.
“How about later today?” I asked. “If you’re not busy, that is.”
Roy nodded. “Anything, kid. I’ll have my assistant bring over all the paperwork, and we can take care of everything in your father’s study as soon as everyone takes off. How’s that sound?”
“Perfect,” I said.
With that, Roy took off. I spent the rest of the gathering out on the balcony, watching the sun slowly descend below the ocean. I wasn’t going out of my way to be a bad host, but after a time the guests must’ve picked up on the fact that I wanted to be alone. Little by little, they said their goodbyes to me and left. By the time the sun disappeared below the horizon, I was the only one remaining.
I stepped back into the kitchen, the memory of the last time I saw Chloe here fresh in my mind. I was drunk, but I remembered with perfect clarity the stupid, cruel shit that I’d said, how I’d driven her away, wounded her.
I don’t know why I’d said half of the things I had. She was more than “the help” to me, and I knew it, even then. Even if I didn’t want to admit it.
The sound of the front door opening cut through the silence.
“Jordan?” Roy called out. “You here?”
I left the kitchen and found Roy in the entry hall, his laptop tucked under his arm, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder.
“You ready to do this?” he asked.
“About as ready as I’m going to be,” I said.
Roy gave me a solemn nod before we both turned and started off in the direction of the study. Our steps echoed as we walked, and as I looked over the art and décor that my father had painstakingly chosen, I still couldn’t believe that he was
never going to walk the halls of his home again.
When we reached the arched doors of my father’s study, I reached out for the handle but stopped before I grasped it.
“You all right there, kid?” asked Roy.
“I’m okay,” I told him. “Just thinking about how this place was always off-limits to me.”
Roy nodded as I opened the door and let him in ahead of me. I stepped into the vast room, taking in the place, letting the memories of my father wash over me. I strode over to his desk, slowly running my hand over it. I nearly took a seat in his chair, but something about sitting there felt wrong. Instead, I sat on the edge of the desk.
“Ready?” asked Roy, taking a seat on one the same chairs that I’d sat in so many times before.
I nodded, and Roy opened his laptop.
“Ah, first thing’s first,” he said. “The mansion’s yours—the building and everything in it.”
“Sure,” I said.
“That’s…the good news.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“There’s bad news?”
“Well, depending on how you look at it, I suppose.”
Roy reached into his bag and took out an envelope. He handed it to me.
“Your father and I went over the legal side of what’s in there, but the rest is for your eyes only.”
A curious look crossed my face as I opened the simple white envelope. Inside was a letter, hand-written in my father’s small, neat lettering. To my surprise, the letter was only a month old. I took a deep breath and began to read.
Jordan,
If you’re reading this, it means that I’ve passed. When I married your mother and had you so late in life, I knew that leaving you alone like this at a young age was more than likely. But I didn’t find love until late, and your mother was worth the wait.
I don’t think it’s any surprise to say that you and I have had our differences. Those are partially my fault. I gave you whatever you wanted when you were a child, and for far too long beyond that. It shouldn’t surprise me that the lifestyle you chose was one that took the luxuries I eagerly gave to you for granted.
Four Secret Babies - A Second Chance Billionaire Romance (San Bravado Billionaires' Club Book 7) Page 12
