by Claire Adams
They pulled me back sometimes when I felt like there was no hope. You could still be your own person, be a good father, wife, husband, whatever, even when everything around you crumbled in moral decay and decadence.
"Are you guys almost done?" I asked.
"I am. Evie?"
"No, he isn't," my mom said, taking another dress off a hanger.
"Should I give you two a minute?"
"Now look, Evie; you scared our son away," my dad said, taking a pair of shoes off his rack and chucking it into his suitcase. I walked out, shaking my head. What was that like, I wondered. I hadn't dated seriously for the past couple years and hadn't met anyone recently that I had wanted to take it to the next level with. Sometimes when I did, I'd have a good feeling about someone, then they'd change when they learned what my last name was. I wasn't in a hurry or anything, but if my parents wanted grandkids, I was the only way they'd be getting them.
Mom had been dropping hints basically since my balls had descended and had gotten progressively more obvious about it as the years had gone by, but dad had been more interested in me continuing his good work at Porter Holdings than he had been in my romantic life. I wasn't thirty yet; there was still time. The chances of finding a person I loved as much as my father loved Mom though? I didn't even know if things like that still happened anymore. My fault for being born in the swipe right era of history, I guess.
It would happen when it happened, or it wouldn't happen at all; there was that too. Was there anyone I would volunteer to spend all that time with? I couldn't stand clingy, and I lived alone for a reason, even when I had been dating. If nothing else, the swipe-right technology was good for one thing: working off enough steam so blue-balls weren’t a problem when you made bad decisions.
Gina, their housekeeper, met me on my way down the stairs. She had been coming up to tell us that breakfast was ready. Mom and Dad had been getting packed all morning when I had gotten to the house; neither had even had coffee yet. I thanked her and told her that I would let them know. Walking back into the closet in their room, my mother was hunched down over my dad's suitcase, rearranging the clothes he had thrown in there.
"I don't see why you don't just carry another bag."
"Because there's room in yours," she said.
"You might as well. I know there's no way you aren't shopping."
"Then get rid of some of these so I can have more room," she shot back.
"Guys," I said, interrupting their little back and forth. I told them the food was ready downstairs. They joined me after about ten minutes, once Mom was happy with the amount of extra space she had managed to make in dad's suitcase, I guessed. Usually, they liked eating out on the terrace when the weather was good, but it was getting too cold for that. I had eaten before coming over, so I just had coffee, sitting with them at the breakfast table, right off the kitchen, overlooking the lawn outside. The trees had been dropping yellow leaves, and soon, the whole green field would be carpeted in snow.
"I can't believe you guys are leaving me here," I joked.
"If you want to guilt us, try harder," my dad said. He started eating the piece of French toast that my mom had spread with lemon curd for him. They were so in sync, it had to take years to become so in tune with another person. I could swear that they talked in code.
"Well, you'll be back in time for the best part," I reflected. Compared to the snowfall in the mountains, we didn't get that much, but it was still cold in the city and colder for those of us who weren't going to be swimming in the Mediterranean Sea this time tomorrow.
"Vacations are taken by those who earn them," my dad said philosophically. "If you start now, this'll be you in thirty years."
"Five," my mother said, stirring cream into her coffee. "He'll meet someone before then."
"I don't know about that," my dad said. "You've seen the way he is. Besides, has he even gone out on a date this year?"
"If the time comes, we can help the process along," my mother said ominously. They did that sometimes, talked about me when I was right there to get me to react. It was mostly playful, but my mother had tried to set me up before and would probably try some more in the future if I didn't get it done myself fast enough for her.
"Whoever she is, make sure she's pretty," I said, grinning.
My mother laughed. "I don't think there's a problem with the supply; I think he's just being difficult," she said imperiously, sipping her coffee.
"Give the kid a break," my dad said.
"You're too easy on him," she said. I watched them, entertained. Why did so many people hate their parents? Mine were great. "All that gray hair you have coming in, somebody ought to be calling you grandpa." That one got him. He laughed. I didn't know about all that. Kids would logically come after finding a woman, and I wasn't exactly on the hunt. One hurdle at a time, I thought, and even then, I wouldn’t get my hopes up too high.
"Do you guys shit talk me like this in public?" I asked.
"Of course not, dear. Only when you can hear us," my mom said, smiling sweetly at me. Good to know. Lucky me. It was only going to be ten days, but I missed them already.
The flight was going to last thirteen hours at least, not counting any stopovers. Since it wasn't a commercial flight, I got to see them off from the runway. Maybe it was time we all went somewhere together, I thought, watching them climb up into the craft. Maybe. I'd ask them what they thought when they got back.
Chapter Four
Natalie
I rapped my knuckles on the door to Brett Hamm's office. He told me to come in. Three o'clock. He had come to me that morning and said that he had needed to talk to me at three o’clock. It sounded urgent, but he hadn't given me anything more than that, so my guess was as good as anyone's. It wasn't that uncommon for people to try hit me up for their own personal legal advice because I was a lawyer and happened to be around. For the people I liked, I gave it to them. The ones I didn't like, I told them my hourly rate. Brett I not only liked, but he was second in seniority only to Grayson Porter. Whatever he wanted to talk to me about, I knew would be something important.
He looked up when I walked in and removed his glasses.
"Natalie, please sit," he said.
I smiled, coming up to his desk. The office was nice, decked out in shiny dark wood and a lot of taupe and camel accents. I didn't know whether he had picked it himself, but I liked it. It matched the man who sat behind the desk: a distinguished, sharp-dressed executive from head to toe. Brett Hamm had been a looker in his younger days. I knew; I had seen the old company photos. If I had been born thirty years earlier or just had less respect for his wife and family, I would have batted my lashes in his direction. He only ever wore red ties, and his hair was a nice mix of salt and pepper that was consistent in his beard as well.
"I'm not in trouble, am I?" I asked. He shook his head. His facial hair hid his smile, but it crinkled the corners of his eyes. He was like Grayson-lite, even more approachable but with enough authority that nobody would ever dare fuck with him.
"Not unless you have a confession you want to make before I find out," he said lightly. "No, I wanted to talk to you. Grayson told me he had been in to see you earlier this week."
"I've talked to him several times this week, but I think I know the time you're referring to." He nodded.
"Did he speak to you about Cameron?"
"He did. Is there an update on that or something? He said he wanted me to talk to him, but last I checked, I had some time before I had to do it. Not ‘til he got back from his trip and Cameron's little trial period was over."
"I can imagine he left you with more questions than he answered, asking you to do that."
"And the number gets higher every day."
"Hm. Cameron... he has a lot of potential, but he broods. He thinks too much, and it gets in his way." He is a spoiled rich boy who was going to be handed a company valued over a billion dollars in a few years, and he has decided to sulk about it, I thought, but
kept that thought to myself. Brett was close to Grayson, ergo, close to his son. I didn't know anything about Cameron's life, personal or otherwise, but the two older men sure seemed to have a lot to say about how he ran it. Again, none of my business, but I was glad it wasn’t me. I loved my family but had worked hard to establish myself separately from them. I didn’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t had that freedom.
"I don't think a pep talk from me is what's going to snap him out of it."
"It will take more than that. You're right. In time, when he is at the head of the company, when his father has stepped down, he is going to need your legal counsel. Heads up: he isn't going to be excited about the minutiae."
"Nobody is," I said. Brett was doing nothing for my already low opinion of Cameron Porter.
"I'm going to ask you for patience, Natalie. That, and if you can, a little training."
"Training?"
"Drilling, you can call it, if you want."
"All due respect, Mr. Hamm, I don't."
"It's going to be a journey, for all of us."
"If he's at the wheel, I don't know how much I want to be on this ride."
"He was born to do this," he said insistently. Both he and Mr. Porter had used the phrase like it actually meant something. Being the intended heir of Porter Holdings didn’t make him the best person for the job. It didn’t work like that. We sat in silence for a few seconds.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead."
"I don't mean any disrespect but, why him? Why Cameron? He's supposed to be the Porter in Porter Holdings, but from what I've heard from both you and his father, getting him to step up to the plate is going to be like pulling teeth."
He sighed. "He's been training his whole life for this post. It's his. His father wouldn't leave the responsibility to anyone else."
"Even if that someone else was more qualified and actually wanted to take the responsibility?"
"Cameron is qualified."
"But is he driven?"
"He could show a little more enthusiasm," he said ruefully.
"Then what is it? Is there nobody else? I mean, if you're struggling, I could put a couple names on the table."
He laughed lightly. "Like whose?"
"Yours," I said, but he shook his head in response. "Come on; this can't be the first time you've ever heard that."
"It isn't, but my response won't change no matter how many times I hear it. Natalie, how old are you? Twenty-six? It's been at least two decades since I was your age. Two decades of nothing but sweat and hard work. In two decades, Natalie, you're going to want a rest too."
"First of all, thank you for lowballing my age," I said, grinning at him, "and second, I'm afraid of what would happen to Porter Holdings without you or Mr. Porter there for support if he took over."
"Well, when that day comes, we'll see if all the training has had the desired effect. Stepping back isn't the same as abandoning him. His father will remain an owner, and we're both on the board. He would be able to come to us for advice if he needed it. Are you and Cameron friends, Natalie?"
"Nope. The most interaction we've had is him holding an elevator for me one morning maybe a year ago."
"You have a very low opinion of him for having little to no frame of reference."
I shrugged. "Are you telling me I'm wrong?"
"He's not a bad man, Natalie. I might not be the most impartial judge of his character, but I know him."
"He could enjoy kicking puppies and eating babies for all I know," I said. "It's what he'll do when his dad is out of the picture that I’m concerned about."
"Let him get there first. We owe him the chance to prove himself before we put a grade on his performance." I shrugged. Brett Hamm was a man who knew what he was talking about when it came to business. I believed him simply because I had no reason not to. For all I knew, Cameron Porter had gotten his dad's shrewd business sense along with his good looks and would do great. All I had to do was pat his shoulder a little bit when his little trial was over. It had begun today. His father hadn't shown up to work. He and his wife were probably in the air already. By tonight, they'd be sipping cocktails in Mykonos. Lucky bastards.
"If you say so," I said with another shrug. "Oh, I wanted to ask you something else," I began but stopped, hearing a knock at the door. The person on the other side of it didn't bother to wait for Brett's reply, flinging the door open and rushing inside. It was a man I had seen around but didn’t know by name. He was panting slightly like he had run up the stairs to get here.
"Bradley?" Brett said, concerned.
"Something happened," he said, pausing to catch his breath. "It'll be all over the news in about an hour. Mr. Porter... his jet..." he stopped, bracing himself on his knees then straightening up to try again. "The Porter's private jet crashed while the pilot tried to make an emergency landing in New Jersey. None of the four people on board survived." Brett stood suddenly, and he said something to him, but I didn't hear what. Asked him questions maybe. Asked him to pinch him because this had to be a dream; hell if I knew.
Four people had been on board, and none of them had survived. My breath became shallow. I couldn't believe it. Cameron's parents. We had just been talking about Grayson Porter; I had just thought about him and his wife in Mykonos, having the time of their lives. It had been yesterday that I had talked to him over the phone, and just like that, it was over. They were gone. Brett was grilling the guy, Bradley, for information one minute, then he was turning to me, apologetic, saying he had to leave. I watched, still speechless as the two men left the room. I got up and hurried to the elevator, getting back down to my office.
My hands shook as I tapped the letters into my phone. Porter... private jet... New Jersey. The story was breaking news. Real estate Mogul Grayson Porter Victim of New Jersey Plane Crash, said the first link I clicked. Grayson Porter and his wife, Evangeline, on a trip from Salt Lake City to Athens, Greece, had been killed alongside one crew member and the pilot of their private jet. The pilot, attempting to make an emergency landing, had lost control of the craft. The pilot, Captain Michael Hayes, stewardess Jaqueline Frank, and Mrs. Porter had been killed on impact. Mr. Porter had been found alive but succumbed to his injuries before he could receive medical attention.
"Oh my god." Kasey was mumbling as she read the news story. I sat in one of the salon chairs, watching her pace slowly as she read the story on my phone. I had stopped at her salon instead of going straight back home after work. She lived in Salt Lake, and we had been friends for years; moving hadn't changed that. She was also the only woman I trusted with my hair, so there was that too. Her salon was furnished in dusty pinks, blues, and silver: the exact color combination of her personality if those had colors.
"Oh my god," she repeated. "Married thirty-one years?"
"That's the part you latched on to?"
"The crash details are like a paragraph of the story. The rest is tribute stuff," she said. "Wow."
"What?"
"Wedding pictures," she said, turning my phone to show me. "Have you ever seen anything more eighties?" I reached for the phone, but she held it away from me.
"Come on, Kasey."
"What? Your boss and his wife had a long, beautiful marriage and fulfilling lives before this freak accident. That isn’t worth celebrating?" Had they? Yeah, I guessed they probably had. Thirty-one years together? They had been doing something right. They had been on their way to island hop in Greece; several things had been going very right. I had heard him talk about her. It was just so weird, seeing a record of Grayson Porter's life online, this man who I'd only ever known professionally. Now everyone and their mother was eulogizing him.
"Oh no, they had kids. Well, one kid," Kasey said. She gasped then.
"What?"
"Did you know about him?" she asked, turning the phone to me again. It was Cameron's Google search results. It turned up some profiles, interviews, and a collection of pictures. Not many, mostly
professional ones of him in a suit.
"Cameron? We work together."
"Are you kidding? Why have you never told me about him? He’s a hottie."
"Right now isn't the best time to reflect on how hot the dead people's child is, Kase."
"There are stories here about him being the next in line to take over the company," she said. Were they already publishing those? Oh my god, did he even know yet? Imagine, I thought, finding out your parents were dead because Anderson Cooper called you to get your official statement.
"That's the plan," I said. Brett and I had been talking about that when we had heard. A few years ‘til his ascension had turned into a few days in the blink of an eye.
"Apparently he's been lined up to take over from his father since before he even graduated college."
"That's how these things work," I stated simply.
"Like the way Prince William gets to be king when his dad dies? Can you imagine getting news like that? I wouldn't even know what to do. Hey, Kasey, your dad is dead, but good news: you get everything."
Cameron. From what I had heard from his dad and Brett, he had been, well, reluctant about the new position waiting for him at the head of Porter Holdings. There was no time for that now. No ten-day trial run with Brett at his side and his dad a few time zones away. No few years to prepare him for the task that lay ahead. I won't even have to speak to him anymore, I realized with a mixture of sadness and relief. Sadness because of the circumstances but relief because truly, I had had nothing useful to say to him. I had even less than that now.
Losing your parents and simultaneously being given the reins to a billion-dollar company, employing hundreds to run alone—I couldn't imagine what that felt like. No matter what I thought about Cameron, he didn't deserve this. Nobody did.
