Full Circle

by Dillon Watson

  “I guess you were one of the smart ones in school.”

  “At the school I went to that wasn’t hard to do. Helped that my grandmother was adamant about education. And my cousin Lisa. We used to compete against each other about everything until she pulled so far ahead I couldn’t keep up. We started Spellman at the same time, only she graduated, then moved to Colorado and got her master’s.”

  “The nerve.”

  “Exactly. I shouldn’t complain. She was a free place to stay the one time I made it out there. I’d like to go back, climb some mountains.”

  “Some pretty country up there. Got some great day hikes. Skiing too.”

  “Let me guess. You worked at a lodge?”

  “Yup.”

  Mikaela gathered their dirty plates. “Figures.”

  Sara jumped up. “Let me help you with that.”

  “I got it. When you invite me to your place, you can do all the work.”

  “Okay.” She sat back down and thought about what she’d fix for Mikaela. It would have to be something special. “Do you like Italian?”

  “Food and I are very…What’s the word? Symbiotic maybe. Anyway, food likes to be eaten and I like to eat it—too much.” Mikaela put the dishes in the sink. “Can I get you coffee or anything else to drink?”

  “Coffee’s good.”

  “Casey, the gadget queen, bought one of those fancy one-cup brewers. It takes less than a minute and makes great coffee. We have quite a selection if you want to choose.”

  Sara selected hazelnut decaf; Mikaela, the French roast decaf.

  “We can take this to the living room. Be more comfortable.” Mikaela added sweetener and creamer to her coffee. “I have dessert.”

  Sara patted her firm stomach. “Too full. You did a great job with the stolen recipe.”

  “That’s ‘borrowed,’ thank you. I like to cook. Especially when I have someone appreciative to cook for.”

  Mikaela settled on the couch once back in the living room and patted the space next to her.

  “Sometimes it is hard to get motivated to cook for just myself.” Sara took a sip of coffee. “You’re right, this is very good.”

  “I know coffee. My boss thinks I’m addicted. She may not be wrong.”

  “Speaking of work, how’s the quest for promotion going?”

  “Someone must think it’s going well. There’s this rumor that yours truly performed a sexual act on the head honcho and now he’s under my power. I mean, really? That’s the best they could come up with?”

  “I take it you know who they are?”

  “It’s so obvious. Though I heard today that the one caught spreading the rumor claimed she was on mission to find the person responsible. Really?” She rolled her eyes. “The HR manager didn’t say it, but I got the impression she’d been reprimanded since not one, but two people told on her. And that’s all well and good, but I still want to stomp two somebodies into next week. As long as I’m wearing the right shoes, of course,” she added primly.

  “Goes without saying. Let me know if you need any help.” Sara held up a size nine-and-a-half, boot-clad foot. “I’m pretty good with that.”

  “Wouldn’t mind holding your coat while you did it. Maybe even wipe a sweaty brow.”

  Mikaela’s smile went directly to Sara’s head, then settled lower. Time to take a step back. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

  “Pity. Okay, enough about me. Not that I don’t love the subject matter, but I want to know more about those jobs. Have you ever had one where you used your drawing skills?”

  “It wasn’t really a job.”

  “But…” she prodded.

  “Senior year I drew a cartoon strip for this underground quarterly anthology. A glimpse into the life of a girl who, unlike me, was Ms. Popular. She was also the leader of what we would now call mean girls. Unfortunately for my heroine, as much as she and her meanies planned, their pranks always backfired on them.”

  “Bet the real mean girls loved that.”

  “Their shower of affection was embarrassing. I guess lucky for me, they showed their displeasure with words.”

  “High school is another layer of hell.”

  “For you? I figured you to be one of the popular ones.”

  “I know it’s hard considering my refined current self, but I was only popular in my small circle of friends. Most of whom were relatives. Those mean girls didn’t like a bit of me. They thought I thought I was all that because of the color of my skin and eyes and I had good hair.”

  “Is there bad hair?”

  “Not by me, but anything other than kinky hair is considered good by some. It was so unfair. Like I have any control over who my sperm and egg provider were. Anyway, freshman year was hell until one of my brothers found out they were beating on me in the bathroom. I don’t know what he said, but they kept it to words after that. And God, you did it again. What am I going to do with you?”

  “Will it make you feel better if I tell you I’ve talked more around you than I have in a long time?”

  “Maybe. I’ll let you know after you cook me dinner.”

  “That seems fair. I’d better go,” she said reluctantly. “It’s gotten late, and wake-up time comes early in my world.”

  “I’m glad you made it over. Oh. Almost forgot.” Mikaela rushed out of the room and returned shortly with a gift-wrapped box. “Chocolate-chip birthday cookies.”

  Sara took the box, held it close and searched for words. Two gifts when she’d barely received any growing up. “My sweet tooth appreciates this. Or was I supposed to say ‘you shouldn’t have’?”

  “The way your eyes lit up was thanks enough.”

  Sara walked to the door, the box safely cradled in her arm.

  “So, uh, what day?” Mikaela asked as they stood in the foyer. “For dinner, I mean.”

  “Wednesday again?”

  “Yeah. Seven?”

  “Yeah.” Sara fixed her gaze on Mikaela’s lips, then lowered her head, bringing their lips together. The thought that Mikaela’s lips were as soft as she remembered flashed through her brain, and then there were no more thoughts, only feelings. As heat pooled between her thighs, she deepened the kiss and slipped her tongue into Mikaela’s mouth. The sweetness was overwhelming. One of them moaned as they pressed their bodies closer together. When the kiss finally ended, Sara wasn’t sure her feet were touching the ground.

  “That was…wow,” Mikaela said, breathing heavily. “I thought I imagined it.”

  “Imagined what?”

  “What a good kisser you are.”

  “It’s not me, it’s you.” Sara rested her head against the top of Mikaela’s head, her heart pounding madly. “I’d better go.” She dropped her arms and stepped back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Count on it.” Mikaela leaned in for a quick kiss. “Maybe next time we’ll get around to watching the movie.”

  “Bring it with you Wednesday.” Sara walked to her car, the taste of Mikaela’s kiss on her tongue. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind she’d just been on a date. And for once, the thought didn’t scare her. In fact, she was looking forward to next Wednesday. At the same time, she was wondering if they should move dinner up to the weekend. No, better to try for another movie over the weekend. Save dinners for Wednesdays. It was an outstanding way to break up the week.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Tell me everything,” Marianna demanded, waving her buffalo chicken sandwich. She’d made no bones about bribing Mikaela with lunch.

  Mikaela took a bite of pickle and chewed slowly. She only laughed when Marianna narrowed her eyes. “Strictly dinner and conversation. There’s not that much to tell. Well, except she’s wonderful and I had a great time.”

  “No kissing, no groping, no sofa wrestling? I think I want my money back.”

  “One kiss and some serious groping as she was leaving. After which I had to reattach my head to my neck.” She blew out a breath. “She invited me to dinner
at her place Wednesday night. Italian.”

  “That’s too far away. You need to strike while she’s still in a weakened state. What about this weekend?”

  “Let’s not get greedy. It’s enough for now that she suggested we get together again. She doesn’t want to rush into anything, and despite my natural inclination to throw her down, rip her clothes off and let her have her way with me, I’m going along.”

  “But Wednesday’s too far away. I saw that there’s this animated movie coming out Friday. Call and ask her to that. You can say it’s to do with that toy theme you’ve got going.”

  She snorted. “Toy theme? It’s a movie, Marianna.”

  “All I’m saying is they’re both kid stuff. If she didn’t have toys, I bet she didn’t get to go to kiddie movies either.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. And it is payday, so I’ll have extra to treat her. You may be onto something.”

  “May be? It’s as solid as titanium. Now what’s that you black people say? Oh, yeah. Give me my props.”

  Mikaela choked on her drink. “You crazy racist,” she rasped between coughs.

  Marianna buffed her fingernails on her sweater. “I have my moments. So, when are you going to call her?”

  “Might be better to run into her downstairs, bring up the movie idea then. It’ll seem more casual, unplanned.”

  “I can see that.” Marianna nodded. “Like an aside, no pressure. That’s good.”

  Mikaela bared her teeth in a fake smile. “What’s that you white people say? Oh, yeah. I have my moments.”

  “Crazy racist.” When Marianna laughed, Mikaela joined in. Their snorts and giggles drew looks from a nearby table of college students. It only served to make them laugh harder.

  “I’ll take a break close to three thirty,” Mikaela said as they walked back to work. “Loiter around the lobby and catch her as she’s leaving.”

  “You’re dressed for it.”

  “What?”

  “All that cleavage? No way she’ll say no.”

  “Get out!”

  “It’s true.” Marianna held up her right hand as though being sworn in. “I could take a photo, send it to Erin and let her weigh in.”

  “Shut up.” She punched her in the arm. “Please don’t tell me I look like Ilene?”

  Marianna pulled open the front door. “Maybe in fifty years. Look, there she is.” She gave Mikaela a nudge. “Now is as good a time as any.”

  “Okay, okay.” She passed the bank of elevators and joined Sara. “Hey.”

  “Hey back. Good lunch?”

  “Yeah. Wanted to tell you again what a great time. You know, last night.”

  “Same here.” Sara hustled to open the door for a group of women entering the building.

  Mikaela couldn’t help but notice the flirtatious smile from the petite brunette with the boob job. Since Sara’s smile stayed polite, she figured she didn’t have to slap the smile off the brunette’s face. And really, how could she blame the woman? Sara was magnificent.

  “Hey—”

  “So—”

  “You go first,” Sara said.

  “There’s this new animated film coming out this weekend. I know Casey won’t go with me, so—”

  “Yes,” Sara interjected. “I was going to ask you the same thing. Maybe not the same movie, but it’s only fair you get to pick this time.”

  “That means I get to pay.”

  “We’ll see. Any particular day or time?”

  “Saturday? We could catch the matinee, then decide which mall I’m going to drag you through.”

  “We’ll see about the mall.”

  She settled for a smile instead of pulling Sara down for a mind-blowing kiss. Though it would probably do a lot to dispel any lingering doubts about her and Bill, she controlled herself. “See you…Wait, should I be the one to pick you up?”

  “You live closer. I’ll pick you up around, say, two thirty like last time.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” When she got to the elevator, Mikaela was pleased to find Sara’s gaze focused on her. This is good, she thought. Real good. She might owe Marianna lunch.

  * * *

  That evening Sara unlocked the front door to loud meows. Underneath her coat, she was a solid mass of sweat. She’d run into Nina and her friends on the court. After a couple of cheap shots, which had cost their team in points and goodwill, they’d mostly left her alone. Unfortunately for them, they’d woken Sara’s inner warrior, causing her to play better than she should have been able to. She was psyched that she’d played a pivotal role in sending Nina and her crew away in defeat.

  After throwing her coat over the back of the sofa, she gave Tab a good scratching under her double chin. “That’s enough for now. I need a shower in the worst way. You’ll thank me later,” she added with a sniff of her underarms.

  Her phone chimed as she sang in the shower and she rushed to answer, thinking it could be Mikaela. “Hello,” she said, flicking water out of her eyes.

  “May I speak with Sara Gordon, please?”

  “This is she,” she replied, determined to dispatch the unknown caller posthaste.

  “This is Walter Tibbs. I apologize for not returning your call earlier.”

  She’d looked him up and discovered he was one of the partners in Tibbs Truman and Isaacs, LLP, a firm rated as one of Boston’s finest. She’d also found his number, but she hadn’t expected a return call after leaving a message with his snooty assistant. “What’s this about? You should know I haven’t had any contact with my father’s family or their money.”

  “I realize that, Ms. Gordon. You’re a hard woman to track down.”

  “Why would you need to? I’ve already explained that I have no contact with my late father’s family.”

  “I should start by informing you that I am the Gordon family’s attorney. I need to send you official notice that all legal challenges against the late Mr. Charles W. Gordon’s estate have been dropped. You can expect a check from the executor of the late Mr. Gordon’s will, which will include the amounts originally set aside for you to receive upon attaining the ages of twenty-one and thirty.”

  She didn’t know what to say or what to feel. So what if the old man had left her a little money. Too bad he hadn’t thought to give her a home when she needed it most. If this lawyer thought she was going to fall to her knees in gratitude, he was doomed for disappointment.

  “Ms. Gordon, are you still there?”

  “So he could leave me money, but he couldn’t be bothered to see his grandson put to rest or see about his great granddaughter?”

  “Ms. Gordon, it could be you’re not aware Mr. Charles Gordon was bedridden at the time of your father’s death. He did, however, send a family representative, your father’s cousin, in his stead.”

  His disapproval was thick enough to cut with a knife and damned if it didn’t make her feel defensive. “That was nice of him, but what about me? Oh that’s right. He left me money? I would have had to wait fourteen years to get. What a stand-up guy.”

  “Mistakes were made, Ms. Gordon. Your great grandfather felt you would be better in the hands of your mother’s people and Lydia Thomason seemed eager to take responsibility for you. Please remember, he gave your aunt money for your care. It was when she pushed for more that he reconsidered the custodial arrangement. Unfortunately, he died before any decision was finalized.”

  “She got money for taking me in?”

  “Of course. Mr. Gordon would never let a relative of his go without.”

  Sara closed her eyes, tried not to feel hurt, betrayed. Everything her aunt had told her had been a lie. All the complaining about going out of her way for her cousin’s child had been for show. Her aunt’s mistreatment had been about greed, about not getting enough money. “How much? How much did he sell me for?”

  Tibbs cleared his throat. “You are looking at the situation incorrectly, Ms. Gordon. Even though estranged from his grandson, Mr. Gordon was very concerned about yo
ur welfare. He did not sell you. He believed you were in the care of someone who would take good care of you. Had he lived, I am certain he would have made different arrangements as you got older.”

  “How much, Mr. Tibbs? What was the monetary amount of his concern?”

  “Fifty thousand, with more to come when you turned thirteen and your needs changed. Mr. Gordon made the mistake of not adding a codicil before his death, and your father’s cousin, Mr. Bernard Gordon, his primary heir, was under no legal obligation to make additional payments.”

  What about moral ones? she wondered. Family must not mean much in the Gordon clan. Maybe less so when money was involved. “Why am I just hearing about this now? If this is legitimate, shouldn’t I have received some kind of notice from you before?”

  “I can’t be sure. However, the first two letters I sent you did not garner a response. The third was returned, marked ‘Addressee Unknown.’”

  “I never received any letters from you to ignore.”

  “They were sent to your aunt’s address, which is the only address I have on file. We were recently able to contact your cousin and even he did not have a current address for you.”

  “That’s the way I like it, Mr. Tibbs. But back to this will. Why now?”

  “The person contesting the will has passed on and his heirs decided not to pursue the challenge.”

  If this was a scam, the guy was good and no amount of questioning on her part was going to trip him up. She might as well give him what he wanted and see how things played out. “What do you need from me?”

  “A current address, which I will share with Mr. Nathan Baldwin, the executor of the will. Feel free to contact me with any additional questions, Ms. Gordon.”

  Sara gave him her mailing address, a post office box, and ended the call. He could try to find her from that and fail, she thought with satisfaction. Whatever was sent, she’d read it carefully. She may not have attended college, but she wasn’t dumb.

  She resumed her shower, not knowing what to think about this new development, her aunt, her great-grandfather or her grandfather’s heir. They’d all played a role at a pivotal time in her life. A role she hadn’t been fully aware of.