Mother could take care of anything regarding the wedding.
I typed out a request to Leigh, my assistant, telling her that I would be unreachable through at least the third of January—the end of the holiday weekend. I asked her to handle whatever arose and if she needed further direction to contact my mother or father.
When the rift between Grandfather Herman and Dad came to a head, Mom took her place in the company. She’d always been involved beneath the surface. However, the upheaval within the family was getting to be more than she could handle from afar. Today, both of my parents were co-CEOs.
Securing Mother’s position was another of Grandfather’s doings and a slap in the face to my father. Thankfully, my parents had worked it out. Grandfather might be disappointed if he knew how well my parents worked together.
One particular email heading caught my eye. It was dated last Saturday morning—the date I left Chicago. Subject line: Emergency meeting of shareholders. The email was sent by Marlin Butler.
I searched for the minutes from the meeting, but they weren’t in my email.
Either the meeting was never called or I’d been omitted from receiving the minutes. Either way, my suspicion was piqued. I sent another message to Leigh, asking for a follow-up on the meeting if there had been one. As I was about to log out of my email, another subject heading dated yesterday drew my attention. Unlike the company-wide email, this was directly from my father to me.
My finger lingered over the mouse, deciding whether I wanted to open, leave as unread, or delete.
I hadn’t spoken to my father since I’d called off the wedding, only my mother.
Holding my breath, I opened the email. On the screen was the place to enter a pin.
This formality made me smile. The encoded email was something between me and my father.
We started our secret system when I was still in high school. We’d use our clandestine messages to plan surprises for my mother or to invite one another on special father-daughter dates. As an only child, I loved the times I’d get one parent to themselves. I’d dress up and Dad would take me to one of the restaurants downtown. Sometimes my mother and I would dress up and go to tea at the Drake Hotel.
The encoded lock on the email made it impossible for anyone else to come upon our correspondence and access what was written.
I entered the four numbers that were special to us.
The email opened.
Julia,
Please call me. I want to talk to my little girl.
Dad
“I’m not a little girl,” I whispered, but his reference didn’t upset me. It added to my guilt. Maybe I’d been selfish. Maybe my father would have more understanding for my situation. Then again, he was Marlin Butler’s best friend, or he thought he was. If I called, I could warn him.
I took a deep breath as I looked at my phone. The signal was currently good with five bars and the battery charged.
Leaving both the information Van had left me and my laptop in the library, I stepped out into the main level. In the distance, I heard sounds as well as pots and pans and smelled the aromas of more and different foods. As I climbed the steps, I heard Margaret’s vacuum in what I’d been told was Van’s suite.
Curiosity pulled me toward her.
I made it to the hallway. Unlike the one containing my suite, there was only one option in this hallway, double doors at the end, currently ajar. All I’d have to do was take a few more steps to be at the threshold.
It was as if there was an invisible tug-of-war occurring in the realm beyond my ability to see. I was pulled toward the doorway, hoping for more personal touches to Van’s life and history. Surely a man as passionate as Van Sherman had mementos to remind him of others. And at the same time, there was a wall. It wasn’t as if I could touch it, but it was there nonetheless. It was a barrier that I didn’t want to cross.
It was as if I were on a precipice.
Will I learn more about the man I am attracted to or will I lose his trust?
Julia
One more step toward his suite and I changed my mind, quickly redirecting my destination. I’d enter Van’s suite if and when he invited me. Van had opened his home to me. I wasn’t going to snoop where I wasn’t invited.
For some reason, as I passed the other door in the hallway to my suite, I twisted the handle. It didn’t move. The door was locked. A locked door was not an invitation. When I stepped through the threshold to my suite, I found all the rooms exactly as I’d left them. My clothes from last night were still strewn on a chair in the sitting room. The large bed was unmade. The towel from my shower was hanging haphazardly from the towel bar.
It wasn’t my lack of tidiness that made me smile but that Margaret respected my wishes—the boundary that I’d set. At least one person in my new life could do that.