Protecting the Heiress

by Martha Kennerson

  She began to wonder if she really could have it all: the career she loved so much and a family with the man she knew she wouldn’t live without. Would she have to give up one for the other? And if she did, would she be happy in the long run, or would she feel resentful in some way? Those were the nagging questions she had, and she knew there was only one person who could help her work through them.

  Two hours later, Francine had finished up in her workroom, was fresh out of a long hot shower and dressed in a pair of black-and-white print leggings and white tank top. She’d made herself a sandwich, which she’d eaten, and was now sitting cross-legged on the sofa wrapped in a cashmere throw, nursing a cup of tea.

  “You’ve put this off long enough,” Francine said to herself. “If anyone can help you work out this thing, you know she can.”

  Francine placed the cup on her ottoman, reached for her cell and keyed in a set of familiar numbers. She smiled the minute a voice came through the line.

  “Hi, Mom, got a sec?”

  “Hello, sweetheart...is everything all right?” Victoria Blake asked.

  Francine’s smile widened, and she sat farther back into her sofa. She heard the sounds of her mother settling in for the conversation—the water turning off and a chair being dragged across the floor. Her mother always stopped whatever she was doing and took a seat at the kitchen table whenever any one of her daughters needed to talk.

  “What makes you think something’s wrong?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Taking a seat and asking that question meant she was in for a long conversation, whether she needed one or not. Francine almost regretted making the call.

  “A mother knows these things, my dear. Now speak up and spit it out,” she ordered.

  Francine laughed. She always loved her mother’s quick wit, sharp tongue and take-no-prisoners attitude. “Well, I’ve been thinking about my life lately and the choices I’ve made. And I was wondering if maybe it was time to make some changes. That is, if I’m even capable of making a change.”

  “What kind of change are you talking about?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, marriage...a family, maybe,” Francine said, trying to keep her voice level.

  Several moments of silence ensued before Mrs. Blake asked, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “No, Mom,” she whispered. “I guess I was just wondering if anyone really can have it all. You know, a successful career, a husband...kids.”

  “Well, your definition of ‘having it all’ may differ from mine,” she answered. “I think I have it all...a wonderful husband, three beautiful daughters, a lovely home, an active charity life and I don’t work outside the home.”

  When her mother said husband and daughters, there was so much love in her voice it almost brought Francine to tears.

  “But didn’t you ever want more...a career?”

  Francine’s mother laughed, and Francine imagined her mother shaking her head like she always did when she thought her daughter wasn’t getting something. Her mother sighed and said, “A lot of women have fulfilling careers that take them outside the home. But Cine, raising my children, helping those less fortunate and taking care of your father is my career choice.”

  “And I can sometimes be a handful,” Francine heard her father say in the background.

  “Sometimes?” her mother challenged. Her question was followed by a hearty laugh and the sound of the phone dropping to the floor.

  Francine shifted on her swivel chair, picturing her father tickling and kissing her mother breathless like he always did, and it made her heart swell. The way they expressed their love for each other, regardless of the audience, and stood strong together on just about everything was a sight to behold. It was something that Francine wanted—just not at the cost of all her hard work, all she’d achieved in this male-dominated industry.

  Francine heard her mother fumble with the phone after sending her father on his way. “Cine, are you still there?”

  “Yes, Mom,” she said, laughing.

  “Sorry about that,” she said, both sighing and laughing. “Crazy man. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes,” then she went on. “I could have continued nursing before and after we married, but when I met your father I knew what I wanted more.”

  “But that’s not for me,” Francine said, retrieving her cup of tea. “At least, I don’t think it is.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she warned. “I know you want to be just like your father and conquer the international security world and all, but Cine, that doesn’t mean you can’t be a wife and mother too someday. It’s all about compromise and balance.”

  “Meeks doesn’t seem to want to compromise,” Francine said in a whispered tone.

  “What! You and Meeks...you’re seeing each other now?” her mother asked in a highly excited tone.

  “Oh, shit!” Francine said, almost spilling the tea. “Did I say that out loud?”

  “You most certainly did! And watch your language, young lady,” she said.

  Francine listened for her father’s response. She knew her mother would be excited by the notion of her and Meeks finally getting together, but her father was a different story. His former business partner’s son and his daughter? She really didn’t know what his reaction would be. While Francine didn’t think her father would be too upset—not after all the wonderful things he always had to say about Meeks—she just wasn’t ready to have that conversation.

  “How long has this been going on?” her mother asked.

  “Almost six weeks.”

  “Well, it’s about time,” she said. Again, her voice held a world of excitement.

  Francine released a quick sigh. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

  “I guess it’s because we’ve all seen what you two have been trying so hard to fight for years. Now what’s going on, Cine?”

  “Mom, not only does Meeks want us out of the celebrity personal protection business, as you know, but he also wants me to stop working in the field, to stop leading cases.”

  “And?” her mother asked.

  Francine heard the pop of a soda can before her mother said to her husband, “You can only have half of that.” Ever since her father recovered from his illness, Francine’s mother had been extra careful about everything he ate and drank. She said losing her husband at such a young age was not an option.

  Victoria and Frank had been married for thirty-three years after meeting at a nightclub in Spanish Harlem in New York. The only Caucasian girl in a room full of African-American and Hispanic partygoers, she stood out. From the moment Frank first took her hand and led her to the dance floor, Victoria had known he’d be her husband one day.

  At their wedding, Francine’s father had promised to love her mother for the rest of her life. And Victoria Blake was not letting him off the hook.

  “Mom, I can’t let him control me like that.”

  “Control you?” she said, and let out an exasperated sigh. “Cine, baby, weren’t you the one who wanted to step away from fieldwork so you could work more closely with your father on the business end of things, even before he got sick?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And didn’t you tell me the only reason you took cases for as long as you did was to reassure your father that you understood the business from top to bottom? And to ease his mind when he finally turned the reins over to you?”

  “What’s your point, Mom?” she said with a little more bite than she intended.

  “My point is, young lady,” she replied in a tone that didn’t hide her irritation, “Meeks asking you to do something you were already planning on doing—for quite some time, mind you—is not trying to control you. And you know it.” Her tone said that she meant business.

  “He didn’t exactly ask, Mom,” she countered. “He basically to
ld me what to do.”

  “You are a grown woman who’s more than capable of doing what you think is best for you. Did he give you a reason why he wants you out of the field?”

  “Meeks thinks that we shouldn’t both be in danger if it’s avoidable,” she explained, leaving out the rest of his statement—the part where he had added, Especially if there’s a baby coming.

  “I don’t see why you think he’s trying to control you, Cine,” she said. “Yes, he may be doing that thing that men do—trying to protect us when we don’t need protection.”

  “Right!”

  “But sweetheart, that’s what they do,” she nearly sang. “They’re men. It’s their role.”

  “So what...my role is to stay home and have babies?” she said, laughing, though it truly was no laughing matter to her.

  “As a matter of fact, it’s a role I cherish, thank you very much,” her mother spat back at her.

  “Mom, I didn’t mean...”

  “It’s all right, baby. You and your sisters have always been strong and independent, just as your father had always wished you’d be. But I’d always hoped that a little of me would have rubbed off on you, too.”

  “Oh, Mom, you have,” she said, realizing that their entire conversation might have been a shot in the heart to a woman who took great pride in living the type of life that Francine was rejecting. “Where do you think we get our strength, our compassion and our ability to love unconditionally?”

  “Sweetheart, if you love Meeks unconditionally, then you’ll have to trust it...trust him.”

  Francine snatched a tissue from the box that sat on the side table next to her chair and dabbed at the moisture spilling from her eyes.

  “Know that he’d never use that love against you. If you can do that, you two will be able to work things out, no matter how difficult you might think they are. I promise.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Francine said, trying to hold back the rest of her tears. This was no time for crying! What the hell was wrong with her?

  “Mom, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Okaaay,” she drawled.

  “Please don’t tell Dad about all this. I’m still sorting through things,” Francine requested tentatively. “I’ll tell him soon... I promise.”

  Francine knew how much her mother hated keeping things from their father, even if it was for a short period of time, but she knew that she would—for a little while anyway.

  “All right, but you have to tell him...and soon,” she said.

  Francine bid her mother goodbye.

  She would find the right time to tell her father, but it could not be right now.

  Francine pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs and laid her head against her knees.

  Meeks would never use her love for him against her. And she did love him enough to compromise, but first things first. Francine sat up straight and took a deep breath, trying to hold off another bout of nausea as she made her way to the bathroom. She picked up the package she’d purchased several days before and stared at the label.

  She had waited long enough.

  Chapter 21

  Meeks had arrived at the office early because he hadn’t been able to sleep. He hated not speaking to or being with Francine, but he knew she needed space and time to cool down. He couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t understand his point of view. Didn’t she understand that if anything ever happened to her, he’d be lost, too? Meeks wanted to march into her office and demand that she accept the fact that he loved her more than his own life and that he’d never hurt her. But he knew better. He knew she needed to come to terms with things in her own way and at her own pace. He just hoped that it didn’t take too long.

  “Meeks, man, we need to talk. Now,” Robert said as he entered his office.

  “What’s up?” Meeks asked as Robert stood in front of his desk.

  “Have you checked your email yet?” he asked, removing his sunglasses and using them to gesture toward the computer.

  “No, why?”

  “Pull up the email from Karen. I had her send you some stuff while I was driving in. You won’t believe this shit. Thanks to Farrah’s leads, I was able to dig deeper into Bluebonnet’s financials and Jergens’ history, employment, medical, et cetera,” Robert said, resting his sunglasses on Meeks’s desk and taking a seat.

  Meeks read through Robert’s reports and looked up at his friend, whose face was twisted in a frown. “Wait, am I reading this right? Lee Jergens was in a mental hospital when most of the attacks occurred against Tiffany? And the flowers with Jergens’s blood on them were bought with a Bluebonnet executive credit card in Bill Morgan’s name the day before he was released from the hospital.”

  “Yep, but keep reading. I want you to see it for yourself,” Robert said, tilting his head toward the computer.

  Meeks put his eyes on the screen. “Is this real? The pictures of the male body parts do, in fact, belong to Lee Jergens. So he was stalking Tiffany.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, “But it seems he wasn’t the only one.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Meeks said, sitting back in his chair. “All the names on Tiffany’s friends and family list check out. All the men from her Bluebonnet detail check out. The only person with a vendetta and/or obsession for this woman is Jergens. But we can only trace his involvement through pictures that he may or may not have sent to Tiffany himself.” Meeks put two fingers to his head and rubbed his temple. “All the actual physical evidence had to be planted since our suspect was locked up in a mental institution at the time they were delivered. And the most damaging piece of evidence, the flowers, was purchased with a credit card that belongs to Bill Morgan. Is that correct?”

  “Yep, that just about sums it up,” Robert said as he started searching through his electronic tablet.

  “And we still can’t seem to locate this Lee Jergens. It’s like he’s fallen off the face of the earth,” Meeks said, his eyebrows pulled together in annoyance.

  “No, just hiding out real well, but we’ll find him,” Robert reassured his friend.

  “What else have you found out about Bill Morgan? Something’s just not right about that relationship,” Meeks said, scratching his day-old beard.

  Robert widened a page on his tablet and recited from it, “Nothing we didn’t already know. Bill Morgan is forty-two years old, married and divorced only once, had control of Tiffany and her assets until last year when she turned twenty-one and gained full control. He has no criminal record. His personal wealth was less than two million until he gained custody of Tiffany. As of last year’s taxes, his personal worth is over twenty million.”

  “Damn, looks like guardianship pays well,” he said, sitting up straight and dropping his hand from his head. “We’ve seen this kind of thing before. It’s obvious that Mr. Morgan has been creative with his bookkeeping and financial advice when it came to handling Tiffany’s money. Has anything ever been mentioned about anything inappropriate going on between the two of them?”

  Robert frowned and leaned forward in the seat. “What? You think he was doing something to her?”

  “I’d hate to think so, but something just isn’t right there,” Meeks said. “Tiffany may not have gotten full control over all of her money until she turned twenty-one, but when she turned eighteen, she gained access to a large portion of it, and she started to have a say in how things went. Bill Morgan could have been using his position to influence her into doing things his way.”

  “Why don’t we just bring him in and talk to him? You know we can get the truth out of him,” Robert said, laughing. “Our men don’t think too highly of guys who take advantage of young girls.”

  Meeks shook his head. “Have him brought in so we can ask him about these financial discrepancies. That’s a good place to
start.”

  Robert sent a text to one of his men.

  “In one piece, Robert,” Meeks added.

  “Of course,” Robert said, laughing and keying in that instruction.

  Meeks went back to reading over all the information they had on the case. “You know, either Tiffany has two stalkers that are working together or one has some amazing access to Jergens. Because they’ve managed to get Jergens’s prints, his blood and were able to get close enough to take pictures of his private parts. What does that sound like to you?” Meeks asked Robert.

  “Like a woman,” Robert replied.

  “A woman,” Meeks agreed, smiling.

  “But who?” Robert asked, placing his tablet on Meeks’s desk where he started flipping through it.

  Meeks matched his posture and did the same. “It’s got to be in here somewhere. We just missed it somehow.”

  “You better call Jeremy and have him order some lunch. We’ll be here a while,” Robert said. “Chinese.”

  While he was happy for the distraction, Meeks was ready to put this case to bed. His relationship with Francine would remain on shaky ground until it was.

  * * *

  “Knock, knock. Cine, you here?” Farrah called out as she entered Francine’s apartment.

  Francine walked out of her bedroom, down the hall and into her kitchen where she found her sister raiding her refrigerator. “Didn’t we agree we’d call before we dropped by on each other or used the keys?”

  “Yes, and I did, but you didn’t answer,” Farrah said as she pulled lunch meat, cheese, crackers, mustard and a bottle of water out of her sister’s refrigerator.

  “So you just let yourself in? Meeks could have been here,” she protested.

  “But he’s not, right?” she said confidently, sitting at her sister’s bar with her ingredients laid out in front of her.

  “That’s beside the point,” Francine snapped as she watched her sister make herself a breadless sandwich.