Chapter 3: Groveling Leads To Sister’s Involvement

Mark

I was shocked and felt like my gut had been ripped apart. Worse, I knew it was my own damned fault.

I showed up with a corsage in my hand to pick up Elsa, and instead I found the dress I’d bought for her, plus all the accessories, and a caustic note on the front door. Further, the bouquet of flowers I’d sent her the day before lay on her doormat, obviously stomped on by her comings and goings. I got the message. She was royally pissed.

Elsa had apparently discovered who I really was. There were enough articles and photographs of me around that sooner rather than later my true identity would surface. I had hoped to be the one to tell her, even on the ride to the hotel where the gala was being held.

I totally misread Elsa. I thought she’d be pleased to find out I was not a struggling mid-level manager, and that I could show her an entirely new world. Instead, she was royally pissed off at me.

I had to find her and make her understand. I still cared for her more than any other person I’d ever met. I was in love with her. I was building my future with her, at least in my mind. I’d sure hinted at that to her – no, I’d been quite explicit.

There was more than that. I vibrated in life in a way I never had before I met her. We connected on so many levels – mind, body, and spirit. If ever there was a soul mate, it was Elsa. I was really panicked.

This was not a situation I’d ever found myself in. I was suddenly in the disadvantaged position with someone. I was used to being dominant, in control, and able to fix any emerging problem. I was none of those and didn’t know how I could fix the problem. I could tell that all the money in the world couldn’t fix this one.

I called Elsa. No answer. I didn’t even try to leave a voice mail.

I texted her. I got terse ‘get lost’ and ‘fuck you’ messages in reply.

I was crushed. I sent word to the hostess of the charity ball that ‘we’ wouldn’t be there because of a problem had come up, gave my regrets, promised my large check, and let that slide into the past. I was too broken up to want to socialize without Elsa.

I went back to my penthouse. I paced and paced, still in my tuxedo, and tried to think of some way to make things right again. I could think of nothing, although I lay awake all night trying. I had really fucked up.

I called Sheila first thing on Sunday morning. Fortunately, she was tolerant of my out of business hours need for her services and her advice.

“Sheila, I really screwed up with Elsa. She discovered who I am, and left me a note when I went to pick her up last night telling me she never wanted to see me again.”

I heard her ‘tsk tsk.’ “I warned you about that. Nobody wants to be lied to. By omission and intentional misrepresentation, you lied to her. I don’t know enough about her to predict whether you can fix your situation, but if you want to try, you’d better start groveling with apologies, promises you plan to keep, and anything else you can think of. One thing I can tell you; don’t try to buy her with money – that’ll just piss her off more. Given the way she acted, money is not something she values.”

I paced around my penthouse the rest of the morning, but there were no ideas coming.

In the afternoon, I went over to Elsa’s apartment. No one answered the knocks on the door, and the trampled flowers were still on her doormat. I sat on the floor beside her door for three hours. I didn’t hear a peep from inside, so figured she was out for the day. I realized I had no idea what she did with her free time, or how she spent her weekends when I wasn’t around.

Several of Elsa’s neighbors saw me squatting there, but other than nodding at me, no one said anything.

About seven o’clock I gave up and walked the two miles back to my condominium building. I needed the time to think of some solution. I had to win her back.

Monday morning, instead of heading to my office, I went to Darwin Architects, where Elsa worked. I asked for her at the reception desk, and got an icy cold stare from the receptionist. She told me, “Ms. Conners will not be in this week.”

“Do you know how I can get in touch with her? It’s a personal not a business situation I need to talk to her about.” I tried to sound sincere. I was well dressed and hoped that my professional image might persuade the receptionist to help me.

“No.” There was a long silence after that reply, and I was acutely aware that the girl was staring daggers at me, obviously hoping I’d die, burn in hell, and then she’d have the opportunity to trample on my ashes.

The two-letter word answer left me standing there with egg on my face, and nothing else important to ask. I realized I would not get a shred of further information from anyone there. I mumbled thank you and left. From the look of disgust and loathing I got from the receptionist, I figured that Elsa had warned them that I would likely show up and want to see her.” After that, I left for my own offices.

I held a couple of meetings in the morning, but I was obnoxious with everyone I came in contact with. I was rude, abrupt, abrasive, and arrogant. I demanded far more than people could give, and almost fired several people. At least, I listened to Andy who tried to calm me down. Sheila worked on me too.

Sheila finally came in, and uncharacteristically took it upon herself to drop into one of the chairs in front of my desk. She went, “Ahem!” Her voice did not sound humorous.

I was already looking at her so I nodded. She said in a serious tone, “You are a bear today. I know why, but if you continue as you are, you are going to do great harm to YOUR Company. Since I own stock in it, it’s MY Company too, so I’m here to tell you to cut this shit out. If you can’t play nice with the other children, go home.”

I got up and paced around. “This thing with Elsa has me so upset it’s about all I can think about. I admit I screwed up. I want to apologize, but I don’t even know where she is.”

Sheila smiled slightly, “Didn’t you find out that she had a sister?”

I twirled around, “Do you think she’s there?”

“I have no idea, but you might stop by and see if she’ll be an intermediary for you. Maybe she hates your guts too. Remember you have to really grovel. You fucked up big, so you have to grovel even bigger.”

“Is that really necessary?” Groveling was not at all my style, and never had been.

Sheila shrugged and said in obvious sarcasm, “Only if you want Elsa back.” On that note, she rose and walked out of the room. She said over her shoulder, “The more you grovel, the higher the probability that you’ll win her back. Look up the definition of grovel, maybe it’ll give you some ideas.”

Elsa

Upstate New York in the late springtime can be many happy things. The particular day I’m thinking of was sunny, temperature about eighty, birds were happy, bees were buzzing, and I sat crying on a bench in my parents’ back yard.

My mother came out and sat beside me. “Honey, you can’t let this situation get to you this way. You have a stronger backbone than this. There’ll be a guy that’s just right – it just wasn’t Malcolm or Mark.”

I sniffled and blew my nose, adding to the pile of used Kleenex beside me. “I ... know. I’m just such a ... failure ... at men.”

“No, you are not. You are a sweet young lady with high standards.”

“So, I get all serious about Malcolm, and about the time I have the future all mapped out, he dumps me ... in the middle of Panera’s – in public, with people all around. It was mortifying.”

He just had no tact, dear.”

“And ... then...” I sobbed anew, and it took a minute and lots of eye blotting to slow my tears. “And then, I meet Mark ... and he’s so nice ... and not at all like Malcolm. He sends me ... flowers at least once a week.” I break out sobbing again.

My mother patted my back, and let me burrow into her shoulder to be held. She was so comforting. If I told the story again, it would be the tenth or maybe the hundredth time since I arrived. I’d conveniently left out the part about him being the billionaire head of Worthington Industries and, of course, the sex. I didn’t need her to start in on my case by taking his side. I just said that he was well-off, but had hid a lot about himself. I’d already conspired with Cindy not to squeal the whole situation to Mom.

I sobbed, “Mom, what should I do? I loved him – I really loved him.”

She said, “Do you think he’s unhappy that you’ve told him to ‘f’ off.” I had never heard my mother use a profane word.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably. He tried to contact me. Yesterday, he went to my office to try to see me. I guess that means he’s thinking about me.”

“And you can’t stop thinking about him.”

I wailed into a good cry again, “Nooooo, I can’t. I love him.”

“Honey, let me tell you a few facts of life that seem to have escaped your notice. First, I have been married to your father for thirty-six years. During that time, at least once a year, I have been so mad at him I could spit bricks in his direction and occasionally did hoping they’d conk him on the head and knock some sense into him. I’ve contemplated separation or divorce at least a dozen times, and I’ve chewed his ass out more times than I can count because I don’t know whether there are that many numbers. Further, I know that he would tell you exactly what I just told you about me. That said, you’ll note that we are still together, and we are in a loving relationship.”

“Huh?”

“Every relationship involves a lot of give and take – ups and downs. You have to be especially forgiving and tolerant to make it work – you have to work at your love. Don’t believe all that fairy tale bullshit about they lived happily ever after. [My mother said ‘bullshit’!] The prince and princess had their ups and downs, and they worked through them. If you write the rules of your relationship in absolutes and with no cushions to absorb some of the shocks, you won’t have a very long relationship. If you treat everyone that way, you’ll not have any long relationships with anybody.”

I sighed and choked, “So, what should I do?”

“Give him a chance to apologize and explain himself, for one. At least, then you can decide whether you want to pursue things a little further. You could also decide whether some kind of punishment should be involved.”

“Punishment? What do you mean?

My mom laughed, “Maybe that’s a bad word choice. What I’m thinking is what change do you want to institute in him, in your relationship, and in yourself? He hid the truth from you. What rule or rules do you want in place from here on out that would prevent that from ever being an issue again?”

“I’d want him to be entirely open with me. I don’t want him to omit things because they might not make me happy. I don’t want him to hide any situation or problem, even if I’m the cause – especially if I’m the cause.”

“That’s a good start. Think about it. I find that if I write things like that down in my journal I get greater clarity about what I really want.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Good, now come inside and help me start dinner. Your dad will be home from work soon, and let’s surprise him by having everything ready.”

Mark called me mid-morning and every evening, but I didn’t answer. I didn’t even listen to his voice messages. I knew I’d cry and be even more upset regardless of what he said.

I got a surprise call from my sister late on Wednesday evening about ten p.m. Cindy said, “Hey, Elsie, guess who just took me to dinner?”

“He did,” I gasped.

“Yeah. When I got home from work, he was literally sitting on my doorstep. Imagine that, a multi-billionaire was sitting on my doorstep. He even had a beat-up old Jeep that he was driving, and he looked so forlorn. I learned from my next-door neighbor that he’d been there for two hours before I got home.

“Mark pleaded with me to listen to what he had to say. He begged me – and I mean begged, as in he was almost on his knees – to let him take me to dinner so he could talk about you and him.”

“So, what’d he say? Where’d you go?”

“He took me to a place called Antoine’s. It was VERY expensive. He’d even arranged for us to have a private room. He explained that he wanted a place where I felt safe, but he didn’t want to be overheard. He got us a bottle of wine, and I think it cost like two hundred dollars. I’ve never had anything like that. It was really good.”

“What’d he say? What’d he say?”

“Oh, yeah. He cried – I mean tears and tissues and everything. He is so in love with you that he is one hurtin’ puppy that he did something wrong. He kept apologizing to me, and I kept telling him that I wasn’t the injured party, but that if I’d been in your shoes I’d have done the same thing.

“He ordered like this expensive dinner, and then barely touched it. I had some of it after I finished mine; I brought the rest of his home with me. He kept apologizing. He knew from past experience with other women that as soon as they knew he was worth a lot of money, the whole relationship changed. He said he wanted to be loved and appreciated for who he is, and not for what he has accumulated in terms of wealth or risen to in a position of power.

“He told me he’d set out to tell you over the past weeks, but ... your ‘romantic interludes’ – as he called them – made him forget or realize that then wasn’t the time. He knew he had to tell you before you went to the charity ball. He said he had a whole speech rehearsed that he was going to deliver to you in the limousine.

“He pleaded with me to talk to you on his behalf. Well, I’m your sister, so I’m only reporting the news. What you do with him is up to you, but he was genuinely apologetic and contrite. I like him. If you don’t want him, maybe...”

“Did he come on to you? Did you flirt with him?”

“No, all he could think about was you; and I tried to flirt with him, but he ducked. I understand the chemistry you feel with him; I felt it too. He’s hot. He was polite, smiled in recognition that I was trying, but he only wants you back. He did say something interesting, however. He admitted he’d checked you out right after he met you – I mean with a private investigator. He did our whole family – me too.

I asked Cindy, “Did you tell him where I was?”

“No, but he’s smart and has powers of deduction. If you’re not home or with me, he can deduce that you went to mom and dad’s.”

“Do you think he’ll come up here?”

“He wants to, but he told me he wanted to give you room to hopefully think about forgiving him, and he sure hoped your absence didn’t mean he’d never see you again.” Cindy paused and added, “The guy is really and totally nuts over you. Do you want me to do anything or tell him anything? He gave me a handwritten page with about a dozen different ways to get in touch him directly and instantaneously. Imagine that, I can call a multi-billionaire and get an answer on the first ring.”

I responded, “Yes, call him. Tell him I’ll be home Saturday before noon. Tell him I want him to take me out that evening to someplace appropriate for that ball gown he bought me, and that I want to wear it and all the accessories. Tell him that I expect to hear his whole speech – anything he wants to say – in the limousine, and that if I’m not happy with what he has to say that it may be a short limousine ride right back to my apartment.”

“Way to go girl.”

“Wait, there’s more; tell him that I said that you had to come with us equally decked out in a gown from Serendipity ... and jewelry.”

“Really?” Cindy’s voice was on the very of tremendous excitement.

“Yes, really. Oh, this is going to be fun in so many ways. The punishments start now.”

Mark

On Saturday morning, Lucas Donovan, my bodyguard, started to wait outside the door to Elsa’s apartment. Elsa and Cindy appeared at eleven-thirty. He presented each of them a carefully crafted invitation done by calligrapher.