Page 67 of Degrees of Acceptance
My face must show my confusion. “Katarina, when a family meeting is called by the head of the family, everyone is in attendance. I would like for you and Chase to be there, as well,” he says.
Chase answers an incoming call, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “No, I want all the airlines, bus stations, and car rentals checked. We can’t rule out the fact that she might have gotten scared and run. No, she’s too smart for that, Jay. She’s managed to keep her identity hidden for years. Keep me posted,” he says disconnecting.
Chase and my dad spend the next several hours going over the conversations he and my mother have had during the previous week. “All of the calls have been amiable, and your mom agreed to meet with me two days ago. We’ve talked since and she seemed to be looking forward to it as much as I was.” Chase presses him for details of their conversation. He explains the conversation the previous night with trepidation. “We did not fight, but she is still very much afraid of the family’s lifestyle and did not want me to tell them about her or you. I explained that I am now the head of the household, and they will respect my wishes,” he says, but needed more time to think about it. Before Karissa hung up she told me that she would see me today,” he says.
Chase and Carlos are busy taking calls from Jay, who has security running an investigation on all of the transportation options in and out of the city, checking her credit card against recent purchases, and another team working on her cell and email activity.
I head toward our bedroom and hit the button to connect to Jenny as I close the door behind me. “How are you doing, Jenny?” I ask as she picks up.
“Still a little hungover, but I’ll survive. Thanks for coming over last night,” she says.
“Where else would I be? Did you consider going to the hospital anymore?” I ask.
“No, it’s done, Kate. I just want to forget it ever happened.”
I decide not to push, and we spend a few more moments on the phone before she disconnects to take some more ibuprofen and rest. I sign onto work email going through each and responding as needed. There is discord among the designers about the placement of the facility on the land, but overall the contract negotiations are going well, and it appears we are ahead of schedule. The swoosh of my phone alerts me to an incoming text.
Message:You awake, Baby?
Reply:Yes, just working on the facility placement.
Message:I saw the emails. What exactly are you doing?
Reply:Developing decision-making criteria. Why?
Message:Just interested in how this debate will play out.
Reply:We are going to let the patient’s needs and best interests settle it!
Message:That’s my girl! Don’t stay up too late. It’ll be awhile before we are finished.
Reply:No news?
Message:Not yet. Soon.
It takes a couple hours to compile the data for the decision-making tool and when it’s complete I send it off to the designers copying Jenny, Chase and Brian, his Chief Operating Officer. I finish brushing my teeth in the bathroom and walk into the bedroom, slowly discarding my clothes and climb into bed feeling tired and emotionally exhausted. I have almost fallen asleep when Chase returns to our room. My eyes are heavy with exhaustion, but I have a difficult time averting them from his stark-naked hardness and feel myself moistening at the sight of him. He slides into bed beside me and pulls me into his arms, pressing me against him, holding me close and protected. “Sleep, Baby,” he says, rubbing my back as I drift off to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat.
The helicopter is waiting to take the security team and all three of us to the airport in the morning. When we land at O’Hare, there is a flurry of activity on the tarmac. Jay and his crew get out of the helicopter first, and appear to be talking with the other men who are moving between cars and the waiting jet.
“Chase, I just saw Matt get on the airplane,” I say, looking out the window.
“Yes, Jay has another team keeping an eye on Jenny and taking care of things on that front. He and Sheldon are coming with us,” he says.
“Chase, one of our men is new to the team. Jay isn’t allowing him on the plane,” Carlos says.
“Then he goes commercial. Jay has full command of the security teams,” Chase says, his eyes hooded and controlled.
“Have him meet us back at the house and next time make damn sure he’s included on the list you provide to Jay,” Carlos says into the phone.
The flight to New York is quick and uneventful. Carlos has his limo driver waiting, and he greets us as we walk down the ramp. Jay and his team get into a car that stays behind us as we head into the heavy morning traffic. The driver navigates through the congestion for the next forty minutes until we turn off the main roads. The countryside is beautiful, and the leaves are all starting to turn yellows, vibrant oranges and variations of red as we drive for another half an hour farther out of the city. I’m not at all surprised when we come to a massive stone and wrought iron gate before being allowed entry onto the property. I’ve seen this type of security at Chase’s. The driver continues once the gates lift for what seems another mile before the home comes into view. It looks like a three story Victorian mansion. There is, at least, a ten bay parking garage attached to the home. The driver follows the long circular drive and pulls up to the entrance. Carlos takes my hand to assist me out of the back seat. Jay and Chase are conferring quietly, and I wonder what, if anything, Jay has learned.
We are escorted into a sprawling foyer with a black and white marble floor. The decor extends to the curved staircase which winds along the side of the room. We follow Carlos through a vast living area where he gestures for us to take a seat. The living room has a black grand piano in the corner, and the windows overlook a spacious lawn and woods. The fireplace appears to be made of black marble, and I almost gasp when I see the portraits hung over its mantle. The painting in the middle is my mom and Carlos on their wedding day. Her auburn hair is long, hanging past her shoulders and her white gown is flowing around her on a green lawn. Carlos is smiling and dressed in a black tuxedo. The pictures on either side of it are of my mother. She is laughing and smiling in both, and it causes a lump in my throat as I try hard not to think about what might have happened to her. “Come, please make yourselves at home,” he says, pouring a glass of wine for each of us at the marble bar. “The formal dining room is being set up as we speak. Members of our family should be arriving shortly.”
“Katarina, I want you to be prepared for what it is that I intend with this meeting. Chase and I have discussed this at length, but I don’t want you to be caught off guard. I am going to introduce you as my daughter. I expect that you will be welcomed with open arms by my family. Everyone will know you are my daughter as soon as they see you since the likeness to your mother is uncanny. I need to inform them that your mom is alive. It’s the only way I can be sure that no one from our family has had involvement in her disappearance and gain their support and assistance in getting her back alive,” he says. He is watchful, gauging my reaction.
“But, she didn’t want you to tell them,” I say, knowing in my heart that it has to be done.
“Katarina, it’s the only way,” Chase interjects, taking me by the hand for reassurance.
