Honest Betrayal

by Girard, Dara

  He had investments that should last them awhile as he got things back in order. It would cover Brenna’s medical and perhaps pay for some help. Yes, this was a great plan. He went to the bank his spirits lifted.

  The female associate looked at the screen with concern. “I’m sorry there’s nothing in the account.”

  He felt blood drain from his face. “What?”

  “The last withdrawal was three weeks ago.”

  “That’s impossible. Mr. Baladasso handled my account.”

  “Mr. Baladasso no longer works here. If you’d like to speak to a manager—”

  “Forget it. Thank you.” He left the bank impressed with his calm. Once outside he dialed Orson. “Where the hell is my money?”

  His grandfather clicked his tongue in sympathy. “Poor Hunter. Money troubles already?”

  “You know damn well that Baladasso worked for you. He oversaw all my investments.”

  “I know.”

  “He’s gone with my savings.”

  “Shame.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Try to remember.”

  He paused. “I’m an old man. My memory is fading. Of course if you need a loan—”

  “I want my money. Brenna’s medical—”

  “See now that isn’t my problem, boy. I warned you about marrying her. If you buy a sick heifer, expect to pay the fees.”

  Hunter felt a cool anger that seemed to numb him. “You’ll pay for this. You’re an old man, Orson. I’ve got time on my side.”

  “Yes, and nothing else.”

  ***

  A spring wind whipped through the darkness descending around the large colonial-style house. The distant call of an egret swept through the air. Audrey sat in her large oak poster bed adjusting the black silk scarf around her head as she waited for Orson to come into the room. She remembered the first apartment they’d shared. It could fit into her closet. How far they’d come. She didn’t mind admitting that there had never been true love between them. She’d never expected that. She’d just wanted to fulfill her duty as wife and mother as God had ordained her role to be. She felt she had done her job well and God had blessed her, but tonight the blessing felt empty. She pulled up the bedclothes not glancing up when she heard the door open.

  “You will not sleep here tonight,” she said in a quiet voice.

  Orson walked to his closet almost annoyed that she’d spoken to him. “What?”

  “You will not sleep here tonight.”

  He unbuttoned his shirt. “What are you chattering on about woman?”

  “I heard about what you did to Hunter.”

  “So?”

  “Orson—”

  He stepped out of the closet, his chest bare. He pointed his finger at her in warning. “I told you that boy was a dark horse, didn’t I? He needed to be taught a lesson. I gave him everything and he thought he could walk into my company and change things.”

  “What’s wrong with change?”

  “Things change when I say so.”

  “What are you hiding?”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “You don’t know anything about business.”

  “No, but I know a lot of things about you.”

  He stepped back into the closet.

  She raised her voice to make sure he heard her. “I’ve been with you over sixty years and I have been by your side. I’ve seen your triumphs and failures. Lord knows I’ve put up with a lot from you with your women.” She sniffed. “But you’re only a man so I forgave you. I’ve always done as you’ve said. I’ve been a good wife. So good you hardly notice me. Fortunately, I don’t need you to notice me anymore as the gates of heaven call me closer each year. You were never a kind man Orson, but I knew that when I married you.”

  He closed the closet door and came towards the bed, his expression bland. “You have a point?”

  She pulled out a gun and aimed it at his face. “You know my papa taught me how to use this thing in case I had unwanted visitors.”

  He halted startled then began to chuckle amused. “Put that thing away before you accidentally hurt someone.”

  “If I hurt someone it won’t be an accident. Tonight I thought about what we’ve done to Hunter. We’ve lied to him his entire life and we continue to lie, and now you’re punishing him because of your own guilt. I’m as much to blame as you are. If I’d spoken sooner, been stronger. But it’s too late for wishing. Now we’ve shamed him. All of us. Just to keep the secret. I can hardly sleep with myself tonight so I’m certainly not going to sleep with you.”

  He pulled back the sheets. She fired. The bullet whizzed past his ear and shattered a statue. “I’m not foolin’.”

  Orson’s temper peaked. “Audrey, that boy needed to be taught a lesson. Now—”

  “Yes, through the years you’ve taught a lot of people a lesson. But for the first time in my life, you made me ashamed to love you.” She motioned to the door. “Get out.”

  They stared at each other for a long time. Remembering, regretting then finally resigning themselves to the choices made. He went to the closet and grabbed his robe. “I’m going to be lenient this time because you’re tired.”

  “You’re right. I’m tired. Very, very tired.” She took the gun and placed it back in the drawer.

  ***

  Hunter looked up at his second floor apartment window with disgust. The two weeks in which he’d been forced to call the place home hadn’t made him enjoy it anymore. He’d never lived in anything but a house. The neighborhood was decent, he supposed. Brenna was pleased with the view of the man-made lake and landscaped trees and their one bedroom. He walked into the apartment greeted by the smell of chicken and fried rice. Brenna had done her best to make the place feel like a home. Only he knew the paintings and most of the furniture were second hand. He hated the thought of using someone else’s throwaways. He hated the thought that they’d had to leave everything behind and that it was Brenna’s job that had afforded them this place. He hated the fact that every day he returned home after another unsuccessful job search.

  “Hi,” Brenna called from the kitchen.

  He hated seeing her there even more. This wasn’t the life he’d promised her. He opened his mouth to say something to the fact when he glanced at the table and noticed an extra plate setting.

  He lifted the plate. “We’re having company?”

  “Yes.”

  He set it down. “Who’s coming?”

  “A cousin. Did your interview go well?”

  He stopped her as she walked by holding a pitcher. “Which cousin? I thought you didn’t like your cousins.”

  “I don’t. It’s one of yours.”

  Hunter took the pitcher from her and set it on the table. “Which one?”

  “Daniel. How was the interview?”

  “Bad.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not in the mood for guests. Call and cancel.”

  The doorbell rang. Brenna smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Too late.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Brenna and Daniel talked about various things while Hunter pushed his food around on his plate. As dinner came to an end Daniel said, “So Hunter, what do I have to do to convince you to work with me? With your ideas—”

  Hunter started smashing peas with his fork. “I don’t have any ideas.”

  “Yes, you do. Brenna told me what happened but you’ve always come up with new things.”

  “Not anymore.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sketched an idea or even doodled.

  Brenna stood. “Why don’t you two move into the living room while I clear the table?”

  Hunter glanced at her. Was that a joke? The dining room was basically in the living room. He could walk the entire place in five minutes. Fortunately, Daniel didn’t find any humor in her statement.

  He pushed his chair back from the table. “It’s a nice night. Why don’t we go out on the balcony?”

&
nbsp; “Good idea,” Brenna said. “I’ll put coffee on.”

  Hunter followed him to the balcony. It was a warm evening with fireflies dotting the sky. Daniel closed the glass door then said, “Give it to me straight. How bad is it?”

  Hunter gripped the railing ready to lie. Ready to say everything was fine. That he had it all worked out. But Daniel waved a hand to stop him.

  “I know you Hunter. You’ve sketched ideas since we were kids. Only something really bad could stop you. The last time was Angie. What is it this time? Brenna threatening to leave you?”

  He shot him a glance. “Would you blame her?”

  “She seems loyal.”

  “She is.”

  “So what’s going on?”

  “Besides losing my job, my house and living off of my wife’s income? Baladasso ran off with all my savings. No doubt Grandfather helped him.”

  Daniel swore. “What the hell did you do to him?”

  “I’m not sure. I thought—God I’ve been stupid. I didn’t look into things. I trusted…I don’t know what happened.” He thought he was helping the company. What did he do that was so wrong? He shook his head it was no use trying to figure it out.

  “How much do you have?”

  “Enough to live like this.”

  “This isn’t so bad.”

  Hunter rested his forearms on the railing. “I’m not telling Brenna. She has enough to worry about.”

  “Don’t worry I won’t say anything. I’ll talk to Dad. We may have something for you.” The Merediths owned a small company that distributed office supplies.

  “It might not be such a good idea to work with me.”

  Daniel understood the warning and patted him on the back without concern. “He can’t touch us. His sister would give him hell.”

  “Too bad she can’t send him there.”

  “Careful. If you begin to hate him, he wins.”

  Hunter glanced at the sky. “Then he’s won,” he said softly.

  Daniel patted his cousin on the back again. “Come by tomorrow. Let’s see what we can do.”

  The next day, Daniel greeted Hunter as he entered the lobby. He showed him around the cramped offices then took him to his father’s office.

  Adrian Meredith looked at Hunter with smug disgust. The expression suited him. He was a bulky man built like a truck with cutting brown eyes. “So a Randolph needs a job. Tell me, what’s the view like from down here?”

  Daniel shifted awkward. “Look, Dad.”

  His father ignored him. “You Randolph’s have snubbed your noses at us for decades. Why? Because you think you’re smarter then us, richer than us—”

  “He’s different.”

  “And what makes him so different?” Adrian rested two forearms the size of cement blocks on the desk. “You were just like the rest of them. I don’t remember you ever seeking out our company before. So now you need a job and you expect because we’re family that I should give you one, but I’m not sentimental. So you’ll have to come up with something more. Why should I help you?”

  Daniel spoke up. “Because I asked you to.”

  “Let him speak for himself.”

  Hunter said, “I need work.”

  “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any positions open right now.”

  Daniel began to speak; Adrian held up his finger in warning then spoke to Hunter. “Again I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped.”

  Hunter swallowed back the bile in his throat. “I understand.”

  “Good.” Adrian went back to work.

  Daniel stared at his father stunned then followed Hunter out of the office. He shut the door then said, “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Your father said plenty.”

  Daniel shook his head. “No, this is wrong.” He turned. “I’m going to talk to him.”

  Hunter stopped him. “Why? He’s right. I had the Randolph pride and arrogance. I’ve gotten what I deserve. I don’t even know why you’ve believed in me all these years.”

  “Because you believed in me once.”

  “When?”

  “Remember when my mom and I used to grow tomatoes and I tried to sell them? You bought the whole batch.”

  “So?”

  “You were the only one who bought anything from me. It was the first time a Randolph had ever done anything for a Meredith. My mother said it and I knew it to be true. You were different and you still are. I don’t care if Dad or Grand-Uncle don’t see it. You’re never going to be beat as long as I’m around.” He paused. “Wait a minute.” He disappeared into his father’s office, raised voices soon followed then Daniel reappeared.

  “What happened?” Hunter asked as Daniel dashed to the main exit.

  “I just quit my job.”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  Daniel flashed him a grin. “No, just motivated. Now we have to come up with a brilliant idea fast.”

  ***

  Unfortunately, they didn’t. And as two weeks slipped into four things began to look dire. Hunter roamed a mall hoping an idea would strike him. He didn’t want to let Brenna and Daniel down, but he couldn’t think of anything. He couldn’t sketch, draw, or think. His mind was blank. He sat in front of a shoe store and stared sightlessly at the customers coming in and out.

  “Those shoes look gorgeous,” an older woman in a pink tam told her companion.

  “I would buy them but my hose don’t match. You know I can only wear diabetic hose.”

  Hunter straightened and listened.

  “Couldn’t you get a different color?”

  “They only have black and white. I like this brand the best, but they have a poor selection and it’s going to close soon because of bad business.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “I know. They’re a local company not far from here. I remember when the paper did a story on them.”

  “What’s their name?” Hunter said.

  The two women looked at him surprised then scared.

  He cleared his throat. “My sister could use another pair.”

  “They’re called FreedomWear,” the woman in the pink tam said. She then gave him the address.

  Hunter jumped to his feet suddenly renewed. “Thank you.” He grabbed their hands and kissed the back of them then ran out the door.

  Three days later Daniel and Hunter stood in front of the dilapidated building that housed FreedomWear. The company they now owned after persuading the owner the benefit of selling to them.

  Daniel scratched his forehead. “What does Brenna think?”

  “She doesn’t know,” Hunter said.

  “Why?”

  “It’s a risk I don’t want her to worry about.”

  Daniel was quiet then said, “Are you having second thoughts?”

  Hunter rested his hands on his hips and shook his head as he stared at the sun softening the crumbling sides of the building. “You made a big investment. I won’t let you down. There’s treasure in this trash. The system is here, they just didn’t know how to use it.”

  Daniel grinned, knowing what his cousin was saying. “You think we’re going to be rich.”

  Hunter nodded. “That’s the plan.”

  ***

  The trial of the State of Maryland versus Stephen Garrett began on a rainy morning. Brenna sat in the crowded courtroom expecting to hate the DA—a clean cut man in his mid-fifties with a drooping mustache. But there was no doubt he considered himself a passionate advocate for the voiceless. She glanced at her brother looking handsome in a dark blue suit. When was the last time she’d seen him in a suit? Oh yes, at her wedding. It seemed ages ago. She then let her eyes drift to Byron. He looked easy-going, casual, and confident. The complete opposite of the man beside her. The one she’d married.

  She was glad that Hunter’s new job wouldn’t allow him to attend the entire trial.

  She listened to the opening statements. The DA started in a low voice. Not theatrical as one might expect from one so long
in the field, but just as engaging. He talked to the jurors as a friend. He painted the picture of a man who had lived his life quietly, but had an inner anger. A man whose life pressures caused him to snap.

  Byron countered that portrait with an easy grin as though his opposition had a tendency towards melodrama. He concluded that Stephen was a good citizen who had wanted to help an old man. He agreed someone killed Mr. Seaborn, but stressed that it wasn’t the man sitting in the courtroom. Then the DA called his first witness the investigating officer on the scene and then a forensic expert. Brenna didn’t pay much attention until he called Seaborn’s son to the stand.

  Nathan Seaborn was a tall plump man in his forties with long hair pulled back. The DA encouraged him to talk about his father and share what kind of man the victim was.

  “You speak highly of you father,” the DA said. “ Yet you hadn’t spoken in years. Why was that?”

  “Dad engaged in a behavior that I didn’t approve of.”

  “What was that behavior?”

  Nathan cleared his throat. “He liked to con people.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “My mom told me. And when I asked him he said it was true.”

  “Do you know why he did it?”

  He shrugged. “Because he could and he was good at it. He and Mom had a good marriage until she died.”

  “What did you find most offensive about his behavior?”

  “I thought it was cruel and dangerous. You can’t go around making people trust you and then steal from them. One day you’ll con the wrong person. Unfortunately, he found that out.”

  “Did your father have a certain type of person he would target as a mark?”

  Nathan glanced at Stephen. “He liked them young, kind of quiet, easy to manipulate. As he got older he perfected his helpless old man act.”

  “No further questions.” He turned to Byron. “Your witness.”

  “No questions,” Byron said.