Destined

by Patricia Haley

  chapter

  31

  Samantha Tate sat across from Joel, situated at a table near the front of the restaurant, visible but not easily accessible. Joel might as well pay rent for the table. He’d sat in the seat many times, with Abigail mostly. His thoughts were scattered. Joel took a few more bites from his prime rib.

  “You must not be too hungry,” Samantha said, clearly satisfied with the salmon she’d ordered, judging by the tiny piece remaining on the plate. Joel heard Samantha speak but didn’t catch what she said. “Hello, over here,” she said, letting her fork dance lightly in midair, trying to capture his attention.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, returning to the conversation. “I have a lot on my mind”—none that he could share with Samantha, not the problems with the merger, the distance between him and Abigail, the cash problem, or the restrictions from the board of directors. The list was long. She didn’t have the expertise that Abigail possessed, the one that blended with his like hot chocolate and whipped cream. Joel pushed the plate away and leaned back in his seat, fingers crossed and thumbs tapping together.

  “I must be losing my charm,” she said, forking another bite of rice and asparagus. “I remember around this time six months ago, food wasn’t your primary interest when I was around.” She twirled the fork slowly in her mouth and tossed him a wink. He felt her foot inch up the outer side of his lower leg and didn’t comment. “What is going on with you? Have you slipped into the married man role already? I thought you’d wait at least until the wedding, which is supposed to happen when?”

  The headwaiter approached the table, saving Joel, who was very familiar with the Chop House staff. More important, they were familiar with Joel and his tastes. His list of upscale restaurants was long but in the midst of plenty, there was always a short list of favorites. “Mr. Mitchell, is there a problem with your meal?” the waiter said, extracting the plate from the table and wearing a distressed expression.

  “No, Carl, no problem at all. As usual, the meal was perfect.”

  “Are you sure, sir?” the maitre d’ said, beckoning for another waiter to come and get the plate.

  “I’m sure,” Joel said, placing the thick, folded linen napkin that was on his lap onto the table. The maitre d’ removed it immediately.

  Samantha continued eating, but much slower.

  “Do you care for another selection, or dessert?”

  Joel pinched his lips together and shook his head no.

  “Can I interest you in a coffee or a dinner liqueur, complimentary, of course?”

  “No, Carl, I’m perfectly fine,” Joel said, resting his elbows on the armchair.

  “Yes, sir, your entire service tonight will be on me,” the maitre d’ told Joel.

  “That’s not necessary. Ms. Tate enjoyed her meal.”

  “I most certainly did,” she said, finally setting the fork down. The waiter left. “Should I order dessert here or do you have another choice in mind?” she said, letting her gaze wiggle around him. Any other time Samantha would have been a nice after-dinner mint. This evening she left him empty. She didn’t have three hundred million dollars or the means to get it. The best she could do was to serve as a brief distraction from his impending doom. He glanced at his watch as his phone buzzed on the table. “Unknown Caller” displayed on the PDA screen. Fearing that it might be Musar, he didn’t answer.

  Samantha closed the dessert menu. Their private waiter rushed in to take her order. The phone buzzed again. “Unknown Caller” displayed again. Joel didn’t want to hear the bad news that his time had run out, but he couldn’t hide from the inevitable. As Samantha spoke with the waiter, Joel excused himself to take the call. He braced for the worst.

  “The ducks are in line,” the voice said on the other end.

  Joel hustled to a quiet section down the back hallway leading to the men’s lounge. “What?”

  “I said the ducks are in line. You can pick them up any time.”

  “Are you serious?” Joel said, interpreting his uncle’s statement to mean the deal was done. Three days since the roadside meeting. Joel expected Uncle Frank to take much longer, given the nature of his loan. “Are you saying—” was the most Joel could squeal out before Uncle Frank cut him off.

  “I don’t discuss confidential matters over the phone, and if you want to stay in that CEO position, you better learn discretion, too.”

  Joel wasn’t the least bit frazzled by his uncle’s reprimand. The only words that rang with substance were those confirming that the loan was approved. The deal was on and not a millisecond to waste. Musar would be calling at any minute. Joel held the phone in his left hand as he extended his right arm and leaned against the wall, letting his gaze slowly lower while talking. “How do I seal this deal?”

  “It’s a good thing I’m on a secure line with you. I don’t think I’d fare well in a cramped cell. If you want to stay out of the limelight and the feds database, you better learn to speak in codes or not at all over the phone. Take that as free advice from your dear old uncle—no charge. As far as this deal goes, the one that you’re so eager to make happen, well, the investor will be in contact with you within twenty-four hours. Stay tuned.”

  “You have my cell phone. You know how to reach me, but don’t take too long.”

  “Like I said, the investor is eager to work with you.”

  Joel turned his back to the wall, speaking in low tones even though nobody was walking by. Samantha was probably wondering where he was but she’d be all right. Handling the deal was his sole priority. “You keep saying investor, and maybe that’s because of the discretion factor, but I need you to be clear. I’m looking for a loan with straight terms—no investors.”

  Uncle Frank waited and then responded. “Let me be clear. You need funds and I’ve lined up an interested party for you. Based on my efforts, I can expect my consulting fee to be paid in full, one hundred percent, nonrefundable, nonnegotiable, nontraceable, no contingencies. That’s our deal. I’ve done my part.” He rattled off the missing five digits for the Cayman account. “Now do your part,” his uncle said, drilling the words into the phone.

  “What exactly does this pseudoinvestor want that a simple loan doesn’t provide? I already told you that I’m willing to pay a hefty interest rate. I said that from the beginning.”

  “DMI is a very attractive company. Let’s just say that opportunities to invest in a place like DMI don’t happen every day for the kind of investor you’re going to attract. For starters, they’re asking for a ten percent return on their investment with the full amount due in ninety days.”

  “What happens if I don’t make the ninety days?”

  “You’ll make the ninety days. If there is any reason that you think might cause you to miss the payoff date, then don’t take the money. Walk away. Trust me, this isn’t the group to be indebted to long term. Get the money in ninety days, eighty-eight if possible, just to be sure.”

  “But what if I don’t make the deadline?”

  “That’s where the investment factor comes to bear. If you miss the payoff date you can forget about paying back the interest. Keep it, because you will be handing over ownership for one of your divisions instead.”

  Joel pulled the phone away momentarily. “That’s not an option. We never discussed ownership in DMI. That was never on the table.”

  “You told me to find you three hundred million dollars and I did. You’re a businessman. Nobody is going to give up those kinds of funds without asking for significant collateral.”

  “I don’t know about this.” The victory celebration was short-lived. Uncle Frank had him in a no-win situation. He could take the money with an unacceptable set of terms or pass on the money and accept failure as his fate. Joel heard the sound of Madeline’s voice discounting his abilities. Her and Don were heckling him, with Abigail standing nearby. The image was able to sway his decision. He couldn’t bear to fail. He felt the stamp of rejection and inadequacy glide across his f
orehead. He’d take the money regardless of the terms. Once the merger and the marriage were complete he’d have immediate access to hundreds of millions of dollars and saw no issue with repaying a measly three hundred million dollar loan.

  Samantha found him in the hallway. He was surprised she hadn’t come to find him sooner. He covered the phone with the palm of his hand and whispered to her, “I’m sorry, this is an important call. Have a glass of wine and I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He gave her a peck on the cheek, which seemed to work. She retreated like a starved pup waiting on a treat. The call with Uncle Frank was just about over, anyway. Joel was pleased that Samantha had waited. He was in the mood for dinner and dessert. “By the way, how do I get a secure line?” he asked Uncle Frank after Samantha left the area.

  Uncle Frank chuckled into the receiver. “You get a disposable cell phone from the local electronics store.” He chuckled some more. “Although your best bet is to stick with the traditional financial institutions. Not everyone has the stomach for my investment channels.”

  Joel had to agree with his uncle, being aware of his propensity for fraudulent activity, but desperation had converted a culprit into an ally. Joel didn’t want to give recognition to the implications. Instead, he concentrated on the major accomplishment and headed to the dining room for an extended celebration with Samantha, the local media celebrity. When the time was right, he’d persuade Samantha into featuring him and the newest component within DMI, Harmonious Energy, on her TV show. He stepped into the dining room, a renewed man with the favor he used to be accustomed to and hadn’t enjoyed in months.

  chapter

  32

  The memory of being with Samantha last night was quickly overshadowed by the call of duty. Joel locked his hands behind his head and eased into the tranquil moment of victory. Who knew that Uncle Frank would one day be the source of Joel’s renewed spirit, restoring his faith in making a deal go right. With the push of one button, his administrative assistant was on the direct line. “Please get Mr. Musar on the line for me.”

  “Is he in India this week?”

  “I think so. His assistant will know where to reach him. Please let me know as soon as you have him.” Joel wanted to spin around in the seat like a kid. He felt alive. The world was back where it belonged, in his hands. There were no limits to the success he could amass with continued hard work and a bit of good luck. Before tranquility could saturate the room, his assistant was buzzing in. “Yes,” he answered.

  “I have Mr. Bengali holding on line one.”

  “Great, please forward him to my office.” Now that Joel had the cash and the stamina to close the deal, he cast doubt aside, homing in on the next steps, for better or for worse. “Musar,” Joel greeted once the call was connected. “I have very good news: the funds are secure. There aren’t any more delays.” He had to get the legal papers finalized but those were a technicality. Raising funds was the biggest hurdle. Buy-in from the DMI management team was unlikely, endorsement from Abigail wasn’t happening, and further delays due to a legal review wasn’t a possibility, either. Nothing would stop the train he’d put in motion. Harmonious Energy would be under the DMI umbrella, and a few days would make the union legitimate.

  “This is very good news,” Musar said. “I am most pleased, and this is very good timing because my health is not as strong as it was when we last met. I am most eager to complete the wedding ceremony for my daughter. How soon can you come to India for the ceremony?

  “I don’t know, maybe a week or two.”

  “I was hoping a bit sooner.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Joel asked.

  “Four days.”

  Wow, four days was fast. Great for merging Harmonious Energy, no problem there, but the rapid rush to the altar did curb Joel’s enthusiasm. He drew a few extra breaths and let the phone receiver twirl in his hand a few times. Hearing Musar call out his name a few times drew him back to the phone. “Yes, I’m here.” He drew one more deep breath, reaffirming the goal. “Four days is fine. I should be able to handle that. I’ll make the necessary reservations and get back to you with the travel details.” He twirled the phone again, trying to make himself be okay with the impending arrangement. Abigail’s image was lodged in his thoughts. Sheba flashed through, distantly trailed by Samantha in Detroit, and then there was the reporter he used to see on trips to L.A. There were plenty of others, whose names he couldn’t recall. “Do you need my help with the wedding plans?” An event equivalent to the justice of the peace was suitable for Joel. He was pretty sure Musar and Zarah had grander ideas.

  “No indeed, my family will make the arrangement for the wedding festivities. It is our custom.”

  Family wasn’t a component Joel had given thought to. He figured it wouldn’t be appropriate to attend his wedding without having someone to sit on his side of the church. Was the wedding in a church? Joel wondered. Most likely not. Bengali wasn’t Christian and didn’t have the same beliefs that Joel did. He wasn’t deterred. Actually, Joel took pride in being more accepting of others and their cultures than the rest of the executive team. How was the company going to become a dominant player on the world stage if they didn’t broaden their horizons and embrace differences? For him, entertaining various religions was as liberal as his view on beautiful women. There were plenty to go around. If one didn’t work out, try another until the best match was found. Joel and Musar ended the call, both seemingly pleased with the final outcome. Joel got his assistant on the phone. “I need you to book me on a flight Thursday for India. You’ll need to check with Musar’s office again to coordinate the details and travel arrangements.”

  “Do you want to travel on the company’s jet or a commercial flight?”

  Joel didn’t give two hoots about the board of directors, but why stir the pot of stewing disenchantment. He would leave the corporate jet grounded and trudge to India in a first-class seat on a commercial flight. The fewer who knew about his travel plans the better. Joel snatched up the Harmonious Energy folder and tore out of the office. He juggled putting on his suit jacket and keeping the folder intact. Nothing could be lost this close to the finish line, but he wasn’t heartless.

  Joel took the stairs two flights down to the fourth floor. He was standing at Abigail’s office door, not sure why. He knocked and she let him enter.

  “You’re here,” he said.

  “Every day, all day,” she said, not elaborating. She wasn’t making it easy for him to say what he wanted to say, but, then, he hadn’t extended her much grace when she’d reached out to him. “I know you’re mad at me, but can we agree to disagree.”

  “You tell me, Mr. Mitchell.”

  “Wow, so it’s Mr. Mitchell now.” He entered the room but didn’t sit and she didn’t offer. The distance between them wasn’t ideal. “Our relationship has deteriorated to the point that we’re not on a first-name basis anymore. That’s tough,” he said.

  “I’m sure it doesn’t matter much to you. You’ve made that perfectly clear, repeatedly.”

  She wouldn’t believe him, but it did matter to him. He approached the desk and leaned on it but didn’t crowd Abigail. “I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. You’re important to me.”

  “Funny way of showing it,” she said, resting her chin on her clasped hands.

  “I want you to forgive me, please. My life is complicated. It was from birth,” he said.

  “Humph.”

  “I’m not making an excuse. He leaned a little closer to her over the desk. “You know me. You do. You’re mad at me and you’re hurt, but you know me. From the beginning, I’ve made DMI my priority. I put everything else second, everything,” he said, leaning away. “You of all people know that and never judged me.” Abigail maintained the same stare without a comment. He wasn’t sure if he was getting through but his conscience had to take a chance before boarding the plane to India. There was a time when his secrets were entrusted to Abigail, information he couldn�
�t trust to anyone else. That Abigail was lost to him. He couldn’t tell her about the trip to India or the impending merger status. Reminding her of the wedding wasn’t a consideration. “We made a great team, you can’t deny it.”

  “The operative word is ‘made,’ past tense.”

  “I’ll accept that. I deserve it. What can I say except that I’m sorry for the way we ended. I can’t apologize for my vision. Expanding this company into the international market is the way for us to go. You’ve trusted me before. Why can’t you trust me now, when I tell you that this merger is right? I feel it in my core. It’s my calling, my purpose for being alive, and it supersedes everything else in my life.”

  “Good luck with it. I hope it keeps you happy.” The unusual harshness in her response didn’t offend Joel. It wasn’t Abigail speaking. It was her hurt. He understood. “I hope you find what it is you’re seeking.”

  He had. At that moment the spiritual connection he had suppressed with God pricked his consciousness, causing him to pause with his plans, but his need to fulfill his desires overrode and shoved him toward the door. “Good-bye, Abigail, you’re special to me. That won’t change,” he said.

  He stepped down the hallway to the elevator bank. God and Abigail tried to flood his thoughts with emotions, conviction. Joel discounted it all, no time for confusion.

  A quick start in the Lamborghini, he zipped down a few roads, and bam, he was handing the valet keys to a parking lot attendant located next to a short building. The law firm had done other freelance work for DMI in the past, particularly when the workload at the office was too much for the in-house staff. Joel hustled inside and waited as the receptionist buzzed him into the office. He refused to let the legal department or the board members stall the review process. Joel planned to press the documents through the independent counsel. He had one day to get the documents finalized, possibly two if he waited until the last possible hour on Thursday before heading to the airport. A day here or there wasn’t an issue. The firm would meet his deadline or he’d find another that would, repeat business being the motivating factor.