The twenty-five-minute ride from the airport landed him in his condo and on the phone to the States. Don stared at the wall clock, trying to decide if this was the best time. A seven hour time difference made it only four A.M. in Michigan. His mother was an early riser but not quite that early. He filled a cup of water, mulling over the decision. Don set the glass down on the counter and dialed the phone. Prolonging the inevitable wasn’t going to make the news more desirable. A few rings and Madeline was on the phone.
“Don,” she said, sounding wide awake, “I’ve been hoping to hear from you. Where are you? Is Tamara with you?” She fired off a few more questions. He was perfectly at ease with letting her talk and talk. The more she carried the conversation, the less he had to share. “Where are you?”
“I’m in Cape Town, Mother.”
“Please tell me Tamara is with you.”
“No, she’s not.” He concentrated on projecting the right tone, not too enthusiastic and giving false hope and not too pessimistic, confirming certain doom. The balance was razor thin, one he’d jockeyed with his mother many times in the past in an effort to protect her.
“I figured she went back to France. I guess I can be happy that she’s safe there. I’m intentionally not calling it home, because you know I will always believe that home for you and Tamara is right here in Detroit with me.”
There was another option. He could keep quiet and wait for Tamara to resurface. By the time Madeline found out she was gone, Tamara would already be found again. He had to decide if keeping his mother informed outweighed the hurt that was sure to follow. The answer didn’t jump out at him, but finally the tug of truth prevailed. Like bad-tasting medicine, he blurted out, “Tamara is gone. By the time I got to her address in Monaco, the doorman said she’d moved. She left a note, that’s it.” After he finished, Don prepared for the hurricane.
“What do you mean she moved? Did you check inside her place? The doorman was probably lying because he doesn’t know that Tamara has family members who care about her. He probably thought you were some strange man stalking their tenant. I’m taking the next flight to France and checking it out myself. No doorman, fireman, or any other man is going to turn me away. I can guarantee you that.”
She was taking the news better than he’d hoped. Having Madeline fired up and ready for battle was always better than seeing her crumble into a ball of pity. Oddly, her streak of terror inflicted on others gave him comfort. “Mother, you shouldn’t go to France.”
“Oh, I’m going to France. Unless Tamara is sitting next to you in Africa, I’m going to France to see my child.”
Calming her down was nearly impossible when it came to her children, but he had to try. Letting Madeline travel halfway around the world with pent-up anxiety wasn’t a desirable scenario. He already had to worry about Tamara. Adding Madeline to the list wasn’t feasible. He had to keep her in Detroit. “Mother, she will contact us. If you go after her, she’ll run farther away. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not,” she said, sounding slightly less resolute.
“Mother, it’s obvious that she’s coming around. Look at it from this perspective, at least she came to Detroit.”
“And left before I could see her.”
“But at least she came. We have to start somewhere,” he said as his mother groaned. That’s when he realized she was accepting his perspective. “I say we give her space and let her reach out to us.”
“You can say that because you’re not a parent. If you were, you’d know how difficult it is to let your child go, especially when there are unresolved issues involved.”
“Have faith that God will work this out.”
“Oh, please don’t start preaching at me.”
“I’ll leave you alone if you leave her alone, deal?”
“Maybe I’ll ease up, if you can tell me what we’re going to do about Joel. We don’t have the luxury of time if there’s any hope of us taking over and finally getting that little brother of yours out.”
“I don’t have the answer.”
“Well, we better get a plan, and quickly. We can only stall him for so long. He’s already like a caged animal. He’s dangerous. I don’t trust him. I believe there’s no limit to how far he’ll go to keep the company.” Don was amused, listening to his mother. Joel had no limit. Madeline didn’t either, but she didn’t see it that way and he’d never try to sway her perspective. “I still say that Tamara is our best bet. If we get her stock transferred to us, this game with Joel is over. We will have control of the company and end this charade. You can move back to Detroit, bring your company with you, and call it a day.”
“You have the plan all worked out, I see, except for one tiny detail. Tamara is out of the picture for now.”
“One call and my private investigator will get on her trail just like he has every other time she’s moved.”
“This time might be different. What if she doesn’t want to be found?”
“Doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.”
“Mother, don’t push, otherwise you’ll drive her away for good.”
“I didn’t say that I would do it, just that I could. Besides, I’ve never violated her space. Knowing where she is and showing up on her doorstep are different.”
Don could accept her need to know; as a mother, it was totally understandable. The rest of the conversation wasn’t as clear. He didn’t profess to have the answers. If the destiny theory was right, and he believed it probably was, he was going to rely on God to work the plan. No disrespect to his mother, but her barrage of plans consistently failed miserably. Certainty from a more reliable source was his preference.
He heaved a sigh of relief. Don picked up the phone prepared to call Naledi. Change of plan—he preferred seeing her in person as quickly as the twenty-minute distance to the office could be traveled. Being home felt good.
chapter
17
Don could relax, catch his breath, and let the day flow at its pace without the constant friction and finagling he was forced to do in Detroit. He entered LTI, chuckling. What could possibly cause him to give up what he had for a pipe dream? Settling for the sure thing had its merit. He hustled inside, making a direct path to Naledi. His passion intensified as his steps became brisker. Finally he reached her door and walked in. “Oops, I’m sorry, I should have knocked. Please forgive me,” he said, halting once he crossed the threshold.
“It is no problem, please come in,” she said with an electrifying brightness in her eyes. She stood and approached him, extending both of her hands.
He seamlessly reached out for hers and gently pulled her close, kissing one cheek and then the other, letting his grasp linger before stepping away. The brightness in her eyes remained, stirring his affection. It felt good having someone dedicated to him and him alone. There wasn’t much else associated with the Mitchell family that could be put in the same category.
“I didn’t know you would be in the office today, so soon after traveling.”
“Why not? No need to be sitting at home. I know there’s plenty to do here.” Which was true, but while he could stand a day away from the office, a needless day away from Naledi was a different scenario. “It’s short notice, but have you eaten lunch already?”
“I have not,” she said, returning to her seat behind the desk and a mini mound of papers. “There is no time today.”
“There’s always time to eat,” he said, reaching across the desk for her hand. She hesitated, looking baffled. “It’s okay,” he said, beckoning to her. “Come on, it’s okay. I am the boss around here.” He laughed. “At least some of the time, that is, when you’re not running the place.” He laughed more as her baffled look melted. She came toward him. “That’s more like it. Let’s get out of here and grab some lunch.”
“The café downstairs is closed.”
“I was thinking more like heading to the Cape for the afternoon.”
Her eyes widened. “It’s more than an
hour’s ride to the coast.”
“And well worth it,” he said, ushering her toward the door. There was no place on earth more refreshing than the Cape. The brisk air, scenic view from the rugged cliffs, and vastness of the Atlantic and Indian Oceans were hypnotic. He didn’t know why the place had such a calming effect on him. Having a spot on earth that couldn’t be explained, that just existed, helped him come to understand that not every detail or circumstance in life was explainable. Some things just were because they were. Being a Mitchell, there were a boatload of times when he preferred not trying to explain or rationalize the irrational. Tamara’s running away, the struggle over DMI, his mother’s plea, and Joel’s irresponsibility swept in like the waves and brisk winds hitting the cliffs at the cape. He pushed away the burdens and concentrated on walking out with Naledi. Her presence reminded him of what was good. Nothing would rob him of this time. Today he would ease out the front door, leaving his burdens at the office. There was ample time to strap them on tomorrow and carry them around for several days afterward. “Let’s go. You deserve a break, and I plan to make sure that you get one,” he said, turning out the light behind him. By the time they took the scenic winding ride along the coast, grabbed a late lunch, and strolled along the shoreline, the day would be drawing to a close. There was plenty of work to be done and every bit of it would keep until later. Today belonged to him and Naledi.
chapter
18
Joel was handling DMI business, but he’d be lying if he said that being at odds with Abigail didn’t affect him. Flat out, he needed her in his life, personally and professionally. He plucked the keys to his new house from the desk drawer. Every time he thought about the house, it was salted with the image of Abigail tossing the keys to him with an unforgettable expression of anger and dejection.
He opened the Harmonious Energy folder and pulled out his calculator. There were no apologies or requests of forgiveness that he could sincerely offer to Abigail. On the other hand, he was genuinely sorry for hurting her. But the choice between setting aside his goals for DMI or his personal feelings for Abigail wasn’t a tough choice to make. Joel dropped the keys back into his drawer and stuffed his feelings for Abigail in the drawer, too.
The palm of his hand glided slowly down his face. Punching a series of keys on the calculator produced the same result each time, two hundred million dollars short. Where could he get that kind of money? His concentration was broken when his administrative assistant paged him on her direct line to his office. He answered the series of beeps by pushing the speakerphone and heard her say, “Mr. Bengali would like to speak with you.”
Joel chuckled inside, not in a ha-ha way. He composed his answer, staring at the shortage of cash in front of him. “Tell him I’m tied up and I’ll contact him as soon as I get a chance.” Hopefully he could stall for a few more days and allow himself time to find the funds. Short of robbing a bank, he was open to ideas, conventional or otherwise. At that second his mind made the easy leap to Uncle Frank, the one man who had creative ways of raising funds. Embezzling money from DMI was proof of his diabolical acts, which is why Joel fired Uncle Frank his first day as CEO.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Mitchell, I wasn’t clear.” Joel didn’t understand what the assistant meant. “Mr. Bengali is here.”
Joel practically slipped out of his seat. “Give me a minute, please.” He fumbled with the file in front, stuffing the papers inside, slamming the folder shut, and cramming it into his desk drawer. His anxiety soared, unsure why Musar would make an unannounced visit. Joel scrambled to clear his desk of any visible signs of his ill preparation. He straightened his tie, surveying the desk one last time, making sure there were no lingering documents revealing Joel’s shortage. The deal would proceed as planned. He would get the funds regardless of the means. Once the evidence was hidden he told his assistant, “Please bring Mr. Bengali in.” Joel approached the door to usher in his guest. “Musar,” he said, extending his hand, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Musar entered, walking gingerly. Joel expected to see his twenty-three-year-old daughter, Zarah, follow several steps behind but she wasn’t there this time.
“I’m here to finalize our deal.”
Joel was stirred to concern without showing outward signs. “Please have a seat. I didn’t realize we had an appointment today.”
“We don’t, but it’s very important that I close this deal with you now,” he said with the accented English that Joel had become familiar with and found no problem interpreting.
“Well, my legal team is reviewing the documents and completing the basic due diligence process. Our board of directors is very conservative when it comes to mergers,” Joel had to say.
“The last time I was here, there seemed to be much concern from your leadership team about our religious beliefs. Does that remain a problem?”
Joel squirmed and choked through his words. “No, no, we’re fine, just basic legal reviews. I expect us to be finished in another five to six weeks.”
Musar laid his palm on the table. “We must complete this deal now. You see, my illness is progressing very quickly. My days are not many.” He moved to the edge of his seat and put both hands on the table. “I must complete the deal for Harmonious Energy and the marriage for my only child. It is most important for me as a father to provide for her. It’s my duty and my time is very little. I must be assured that you can come to India and finalize our arrangement this month.”
Joel maintained a staunch disposition while the notion of two hundred million dollars trotted around the room, laughing at him. It was difficult keeping his gaze at eye level with Musar. “That’s very quick. I’ll need to check with my team.”
“There are other suitors for my daughter in India. Perhaps I should go with one of them.”
“No, no,” Joel spoke up. “No need to pursue another company or another suitor. I will work out the details and, yes, I will definitely be in India by the end of month.” Words were flying out of his mouth with truth set aside. They could fuse later, after Musar was convinced that DMI was the ideal home for Harmonious Energy.
Musar’s body relaxed. “This is good news. I am very happy to know that my daughter will be provided for.”
Joel reflected on Zarah. The first time they were introduced, he noted that her name was pronounced as “czar” with a short “a” on the end. There wasn’t much else he recalled about his soon-to-be bride. He tried remembering the details of her face from their few encounters. The color of her eyes wasn’t easily remembered. Were they soft brown and oval shaped like Abigail’s or striking and hazel colored like Sheba’s? He couldn’t recall much about her except how quiet and timid she appeared with her father. Joel closed out the search for missing details. This was a business arrangement, not a love affair. Determined, he was ready to move forward. “I’ll work out the details with you in the next few days.”
Mr. Bengali stood and verbally thanked Joel, and followed with a handshake. The cautious steps Musar exhibited coming in were replaced with confident ones on the way out. This merger was as satisfying to Joel as it was to Musar, possibly more. Joel had something to prove to the world and Mr. Musar Bengali was his catalyst. Zarah came with the package.
His guest was gone. Joel remained standing, with one leg on the arm of a conference table chair. He could smell the sweet fragrance of victory, a scent for which his nostrils had grown familiar. The stench of failure was far in the distance. The gaping shortfall in funds broke up the premature celebration. He returned to his desk, finally sitting. There was work to do.
Joel dialed the bank, wondering if, by some miracle, more money was available to him with the credit line. A pseudomiracle, one that only required a few forged names on a contract, was just as good. The executive team could thank him next year when their bonus checks doubled.
The banker was on the line. “Mr. Mitchell, what can I do for you?”
“We’re getting close to wrapping up this merger. We’
ve already discussed the one hundred million dollar credit line available with my signature, but it looks like we’ll need a little more cash to close the deal. What other funds do I have with you?” If the bank was not able to do another two hundred million, one hundred million would suffice. Joel could negotiate Musar down with the balance. He was feeling the wind in his sails—soaring high above the doubters and distracters.
The banker was gone for several minutes. When he returned, he said, “Mr. Mitchell, there’s been a development with the DMI account that has been brought to my attention.”
“What kind of development?” Joel asked, standing again.
“The one hundred million dollars is accessible to you, but a hold has been placed on the disbursement of any other funds without the approval of two executive team members, your CFO and one other authorized signer.”
“What?” His thoughts were jumbled. “Who put the hold on the account?”
“I’m not sure, but I can find out.”
“You do that, and let me know. I’m the CEO. Nobody has the authority to put a hold on anything without my knowledge.”
“I assure you, Mr. Mitchell, that we received the proper paperwork, but I will definitely confirm that the standard procedures were followed.”
The perception of stability was critical to maintaining positive ratings and value in the company. He couldn’t appear to be out of control. This call was going nowhere as far as securing funds. Joel needed to rescue his image and conclude the conversation. The banker didn’t have to tell him what he already knew. Madeline was behind the bank hold. She was determined to stop him, and he was determined not to be stopped. The concept of being blocked by her infuriated him. Cool and calm jumped out the window. The duel was heating up.
Destined Page 8
