by Donna Hill
Hot tears of remorse so deep and pervasive that they shook her body, streamed from beneath Celeste’s closed eyes. “The lies must end here. I can’t leave this life with the weight of my guilt.” She looked from one to the other. “I don’t expect the two of you to ever forgive me for all that I’ve done. I can’t forgive myself. My only hope is that somehow the two of you will find a way to be there for each other. You may not be bonded as blood relatives, but you are bound by the ties of family, something that I tried to destroy by my own sick sense of values. You have a father, Victoria, and I never let him be that for you. And because of what I did to him, he took his hurt and pain and turned it outward. He’s going to need you in the months ahead. I hope you can find a way to be there for him. He doesn’t deserve your animosity.” She turned to Reese. “I know I took everything away from you and even enjoyed the fact that even your memory had been taken. I can never make that up to you. But I am so very sorry, Reese. So very sorry,” she sobbed.
“I may never understand the depth of your hurt, Aunt Celeste, or what you have done. But I do know that I cannot let it cripple me any longer. I have my memory back, Aunt Celeste. I…remember them. I remember my life. I have that to keep with me always. And maybe you did resent me and maybe you…could never truly love me. But you did care for me. I know that, deep in my heart. No one who didn’t would have seen to it that I had the best doctors, the best school, clothes, an education that couldn’t be rivaled. I may not have had your love, but you gave me everything else that you were capable of giving. For that I will always be grateful.
“As much as you may have believed yourself to be uncaring—beneath all of your pain was a heart.” She reached out and squeezed Celeste’s hand, blinking away her tears. Finally she was free. She felt as if she were on the highest mountaintop seeing the world through new eyes, breathing in the clean, crisp air that swept away the darkness that had captured her mind and spirit. She was finally free.
Victoria and Reese stood facing each other in the parking lot of the hospital; their eyes saying all the things that were in their hearts.
Victoria stretched out her hand and Reese placed hers in it, then pulled Victoria to her. The two beautiful women, one light, one dark, hugged and rocked each other, their tears mixing together and cleansing them.
Celeste had simply closed her eyes and passed away, leaving them both with the challenge of forging a new legacy for themselves.
Victoria stepped slightly back and sniffed, emitting a nervous laugh. “I…only knew what it felt like to have a sister for a very short time.” She swallowed the knot in her throat. “I’m glad now that it was you.”
Reese stroked away Victoria’s tears. “It doesn’t have to take blood to be sisters or family,” she said softly. “It takes a common kind of love and respect.” She smiled.
Victoria’s brilliant green eyes sparked with joy. “That sounds real good.” She knew from that moment forward that her life would move on. Looking at Reese, she realized that even though she would always have a place in her heart for Max, she could truly wish happiness for them both.
Victoria’d said that she would make all arrangements for her mother and Reese promised to return for the services in three days, sooner if Victoria needed her.
As the plane soared across the sky, all Reese could think about was getting home and calling Maxwell. She needed to hear his voice again. She needed to tell him that she didn’t want to live without him, that he was the most important person in her life and she didn’t want to waste any more time. She needed to tell him that she loved him.
Maxwell had tried unsuccessfully to contact Reese off and on all day. He wanted to hear her admit what she’d done. His inability to reach her only gave more credence to his belief that she’d betrayed him.
He’d had to fight off frantic calls from Mioshi, who threatened to break the contract if Maxwell couldn’t find a way to stop the takeover.
By three o’clock P.H., Inc., had purchased 35 percent of M.K. Enterprise’s stock. Harlan had set up the alternative account and had held P.H., Inc., off by buying 40 percent and transferring it to the new account offshore. It was costing Maxwell a fortune and as it stood now, he was out of liquid capital. If P.H., Inc., went for the big push, M.K. Enterprises would be ruined.
His phone rang and he snatched it off the cradle. “Yes,” he barked into the phone.
“It’s Harlan. Listen, there’s just twenty percent of shares left. Hold on…five percent just got purchased. There’s still fifteen. If P.H. buys it, they will be majority stockholders in your company. A hostile takeover will be inevitable. What do you want me to do?”
“Raise the price to fifty.”
“I hope that does it. The increases haven’t stopped them so far. I’ll put it in pronto.” He paused. “Are you a religious man, Max?”
“Why?”
“Because I think you’d better throw up a prayer or two.” He clicked off.
Absently Maxwell hung up the phone and squeezed his eyes shut. For several moments he sat perfectly still in silent meditation, purging his mind and spirit of the corrosive energy that was poisoning him. The soft knock on the door brought him fully alert. He swiveled his chair in the direction of the door, just as Carmen came in.
“Max. I brought you something to eat,” she said placing a tray on his desk. “You haven’t had anything all day. It’s nearly five. It’s just a sandwich and a salad, but you need something,” she insisted.
He gave her an empty smile. “Thanks, Carmen. Just leave it. I’ll get to it.” Food was the last thing on his mind.
Carmen eased alongside of him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Everything will work out, Max. You’ve worked too hard for it to happen otherwise.”
“Does the staff know what’s gong on?”
“There’s some buzzing but nothing substantial. I’m not sure most of them realize the implications.”
He nodded his thanks. “Hopefully there won’t be anything to alarm them about. So far everything is under control.”
“And it will stay that way.” She smiled. “Just have faith.” She patted his shoulder in her motherly fashion and walked out.
No sooner was he alone again when the phone rang. He grabbed it on the second ring.
“Yes.”
“It’s over. The last fifteen percent was just purchased.”
“Just don’t tell me P.H., Inc., got it.” Max heard the chuckle in Harlan’s voice and the knot in his stomach eased.
“Then I won’t.”
Maxwell collapsed into his seat, threw his head back against the soft theater as a gush of relief burst from his lungs. “Do we know who bought it?”
“No. I could try to find out, but it won’t be right away.”
“Listen, you’ve done plenty,” he congratulated. “And you know what, it doesn’t matter as long as my company is safe.”
“Sounds good to me. It’s been a helluva day. I’m cutting out. I’ll talk with you during the week. Congratulations on a fantastic initiation, my friend.”
Maxwell chuckled. “Thanks, Harlan, for everything.”
“It’s my job.”
It was after midnight when Reese dragged herself into her apartment. She couldn’t even begin to put the events of the day together in her mind. Too much had happened. The enormity of the level of deceit was too much to handle. All she did know was that she needed to talk with Max and she wouldn’t wait another minute.
Tossing her coat carelessly across the couch, she kicked off her shoes and carried them with her into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the phone. Taking a fortifying breath she picked up the phone and punched in Maxwell’s home number. She bit down on her bottom lip while the phone rang.
“Hello,” came Maxwell’s groggy voice and Reese’s aching heart filled with joy.
She swallowed hard. “Hi, Max. It’s me, Reese.”
Maxwell shot up in his bed, his heart hammering. His fatigue instantly va
nished and was replaced with the rage that had simmered on slow burn all day.
“Reese.” He snorted. “Your little plan didn’t work. I saved my company.”
She felt as if she’d been catapulted into the Twilight Zone. “W…what!” she sputtered, her heart beginning to race with fear. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play the innocent waif, Reese. It doesn’t become you,” he spat. “You know what you did, and I, like a fool, trusted you with valuable company information. You sold it to the highest bidder. Tell me, Reese,” he bit out in contempt, to mask his anguish, “how much did Phillip Hart pay you for the tip?”
Reese was so stunned by the accusation that she couldn’t form the words to defend herself.
“Speechless? That’s so unlike you,” he taunted. “I guess you said everything you had to in your article.”
Finally Reese found her voice. “I have no idea what you’re talking about but if you think for one minute that I would sell you out, then you can just go straight to hell, Max! Never once did you give me the benefit of the doubt. Never once did you ask me anything!” she screamed in the mouthpiece. “You’re so paranoid about yourself and your life you still think everyone is out to get you. Even me.” Her voice lowered and she laughed sadly, because she refused to let him know that she was crying. “Everything between us meant nothing, Max. And do you know why? I’ll tell you. Because you’ve learned nothing from all we’ve shared. And I feel sorry for you. I only hope that you’ll find happiness with yourself because you’re the only one who can tolerate you. Oh, and I thought you’d want to know, your father and Larry had nothing to do with my parents’ deaths. Have a nice life, Max.” She slammed the phone down so hard it toppled from the nightstand and crashed to the floor.
For several unbearable moments, she sat motionless on the bed. She was certain that at any moment torrents of tears would fall. But her pain was so deep, so complete that she was numb with the agony.
Two weeks had passed since Maxwell had spoken with Reese and every hour of the day of those two weeks, her condemnation rang in his head. Could he really have been so wrong? But fact was fact. The article was crystal clear and she wrote it. Yet she denied having betrayed him. The incongruity battled with his rational way of thinking.
Methodically he paced in front of his office window and realization finally struck him. He hadn’t been thinking rationally. He hadn’t since the day Reese Delaware walked into his life. Maybe it was about time that he did.
He crossed the room and dialed Harlan’s number.
“Harlan Black.”
“I need to run something by you.”
“Shoot.”
“Remember when I said I think I knew who P.H., Inc., was?”
“Yeah.” Harlan adjusted his designer glasses and opened the two buttons on his midnight-blue Armani suit. He sat back, tapping a gold Cross pen on his desktop.
“An article was written in Visions Magazine the night before about our Wall Street move. How much bearing could that have had on what happened?”
Harlan didn’t even have to think about it. “Not much if any at all. Perhaps for the last-minute shopper who wanted to try their hand at something new. There wasn’t enough time between the article’s release and the opening bell to mount the kind of attack we saw. Whoever P.H., Inc., is was knowledgeable long before then. They had time to check your financials, get background on you, your staff, your viability, make projections, meet with their members and a broker to plan. I can’t see that happening overnight.” He paused. “What I think you need to check, unfortunately, is your inside people. Whoever your enemy is, he or she is close. I would think it was someone who was promised something major in exchange for the information.”
For the first time in two weeks, Maxwell began to breathe a little easier. The heaviness that had settled in his chest lightened. There was an enemy in his camp, and he was going to find out who it was.
Carmen knocked and came in carrying the dreaded accordion folder.
Maxwell groaned.
“I know you hate it, but it’s the beginning of the month—bill time.” She grinned wickedly.
“Thanks loads, Carmen,” he dragged out sarcastically.
“My pleasure,” she teased. Then on a more serious note she asked. “How are things going with your father?”
Maxwell exhaled a long sigh. “They’re still investigating but it looks like they’ll lessen the charges because he came forward. He will be dismissed from the Force, however, no matter what happens. Murphy’s been indicted for his participation in the chemical warfare testing on the American soldiers and the attempt on the lives of the Delawares. But he’s naming names. A lot of people are going down behind this. They gave Victoria immunity for cooperating.”
“I’m so sorry, Max…about everything.”
“I know, Carmen, and I appreciate it.”
“Well, I’ll be leaving shortly. If you need anything before I go, let me know.”
“Sure thing.”
Left alone his thoughts shifted back to his conversation with Harlan. He had to find a way to discover who was behind the attempted sabotage of his company. Who had the most to gain? He immediately eliminated the Board Members. They’d stand to lose as much as he by a takeover. Moving mentally down the list of possible suspects he started with the managers and department heads. They were the only staff members who were privy, on a regular basis, to the financial reports.
He moved from behind his workstation and turned on his computer. Within moments he’d brought up the personnel files of the department heads at the three locations.
Hours later, his eyes burned with the strain of staring at the screen, and he was no closer to finding out anything than he had been when he started.
Frustrated, he shut off the machine and pushed away from the desk. “This is pointless!” he barked at no one. “I may never find out who did this or why.” But the one thing that was becoming perfectly, painfully clear—it wasn’t Reese, and he’d been a blind, arrogant idiot to believe that it was.
She was right, he thought. He hadn’t learned anything. He’d let old hurts and mistrusts seep in and erode something beautiful. How could he ever hope to regain her trust? How could he ever hope to win her back?
He walked to his desk and picked up the folder, deciding to take the work home with him. At least it would keep his mind off of the fool he’d been. He took his pearl gray Versace jacket and slipped it over the pale pink shirt, tucking the folder securely under his arm. He switched off the light and the room was swallowed in darkness, just as his life had been since he’d pushed Reese out of it.
With a drink in his left hand, his calculator at his right, Maxwell methodically went over the bills. He’d successfully gotten through the myriad office-supply bills and signed the checks for payment. He was holding off the phone bills for last. It was the one job he hated most. With the countless phone lines, extensions, and fax numbers, sifting through the phone bills was equivalent to running the gauntlet.
The New York office was the easiest, so he started there first, making sure that all personal checks for long-distance calls were attached as Carmen had indicated.
One number was flagged several times with the Chicago exchange. His stomach did a little flip. It was the number to Visions Magazine. He remembered it because he’d had to contact Phillip Hart. He forced his eyes to continue down the page. Finally, he tallied up the New York bills and wrote the approval for payment. Then he moved on to the L.A. office bills, which were always a mess. He knew he had to go through each one with a fine-tooth comb, because Carmen refused to do it, saying that “cruel and unusual punishment” was not in her job description.
After about ten minutes, he realized that the same Chicago number was on the L.A. bills. He brushed it off at first, attributing the calls as being made by Reese. But something didn’t sit right. He took a second look.
The phone line where the calls originated was not his office phone. He che
cked the directory just to be sure. Yes. It was R.J.’s private line. He frowned and looked away from the papers and figures in front of him, staring off at some unseen point across the room, his mind racing.
Maybe Reese called her office from there. She had been in R.J.’s office during her visit. His breathing deepened as he sought the elusive answer that fluttered in the back of his subconscious. Then it came to him. He checked the dates. March fourth. He and Reese hadn’t arrived in L.A. until the twentieth.
His jaw clenched. His dark eyes narrowed as the harsh reality settled and took shape. But he had to be sure. He’d already been too quick to judge. He wouldn’t make that same mistake twice.
Quickly he pushed away from the table and went to his files. He diligently maintained copies of all bills for three months, which he kept at home. Carmen kept all the originals for a year for audit and tax purposes. Bending down, he pulled open the small oak file cabinet that fit neatly beneath his computer station. He found the phone bill files and pulled them out, spreading the contents on the desk. He compared travel expenses, employee records, and vacation and company loan requests.
Page by page the hard truth slapped him, and a sick sensation rose from the pit of his stomach and burned his throat like acid.
The offices were abuzz for weeks after R.J. was terminated. The day that Maxwell fired him, he couldn’t believe the things R.J. said to him. Reese had been right all along. R.J. was jealous of him and he felt that he was just as brilliant as Maxwell but was never given the chance. When his gambling debts became insurmountable, he found a way to kill two birds with one stone. Hart had promised him a top position with the company that he’d formed three years earlier. He’d been parlaying his money from the magazine, making wise investments, and had heavy backers. He also knew how to turn one dollar into a hundred, by loan sharking, which was how he’d gotten R.J. by the short hairs. They’d been gambling buddies since college. The difference between them was that Phillip Hart knew when to stop. Unfortunately, Hart would never get the opportunity to spend any of the money he’d made off of the stock market. All of his money would be going to pay lawyers. He was charged with extortion and his company was under investigation by the FTC.
