Chapter 3

With constant urging from Gordy, Randall found a very good engineer who was able to replace Gordy after eight months. The final five months before approval probably did not suffer from Gordy's abscence.

At first, Gordy had been tempted to contact the HR person who had called him out of the blue. First, though, he investigated that company's ownership. Obviously, he never called.

While still contracting with Medi-Vanced, Gordy was contacted by another medical firm, but one with no products directly competing with Medi-Vanced. In the gaps between FDA sessions and clinical trials, Gordy made several multi-day visits to the new company. When he was replaced on Tru-Pulse, he signed on as a full-time contractor. He also moved twelve hundred miles away.

Gordy did not date at all. Before the attempted payoff by the Gilsons, Marielle had substantially overcome his wariness of romantic involvement. The painful breakup with her not only reversed the progress but deepened his mistrust of romance.

Marielle had no more interest in romance than did Gordy. The revelation of Gordy's tragic past gave her a rational reason for his turning away from her. The problem was that rationality is no cure for lonely sleepless nights. Nor does it provide for any soul to soul sharing.

She was off-kilter as far as a career. For the first time in her life, she was actually embarrassed by and disgusted with her wealth and its affect on other people. Perhaps searching for some sort of redemption, she volunteered full-time at a legal aid office.

Never a profligate spender, the money she had always received from her parents was a barely noticeable trickle to them. After the breakup, she refused to accept anything from them. For the first time, she began to draw from the very generous trust set up by her grandfather.

Thousands of times, she debated whether she had been wrong not to make her parentage public at Medi-Vanced. Given what she knew about Gordy's past, she was certain that even their working relationship would have been frosty if he had known. His accusation of deception, though, hurt her badly.

She made no attempt at contact with her parents. Every few months, Frances would try to set something up, but Marielle always refused forcefully. The aunt with whom she had been close was her only family contact. From her frequent contacts with Gretchen Cohen, she got the same message as from her aunt: she should talk to her parents.

"Gretchen, I just can't. When I even think of them, I feel the pain of what they stole from me."

Gretchen kept giving the same response. "Honey, the odds of a relationship with Gordy were always heavily against you."

"But I deserved the chance to try. If he had fallen in love with me, he could have changed."

"I believe he was in love with you, Marielle - probably still is. It didn't help. Sad to say, Gordy will probably never be your husband. Your parents will always be your parents."

"So what? Except for genetics, what value have they been in my life? And don't say money. That's more of a curse than a value."

Gretchen was convinced that Marielle actually believed that. If she could rerun her life, Marielle would have preferred to struggle on her own to get her law degree. In her mind, her wealth had cost her more of significance than it had given her.

The same 'discussion' had been rerun numerous times. Marielle seemed to need Gretchen to tell her the same truths. She also seemed to need to repeat her counter arguments.

Even after Gordy left, the Gilsons continued their 'blind' ownership. Medi-Vanced had come to represent the estrangement of their daughter. When sales of Tru-Pulse took off, the market seemed receptive to an IPO. Through their broker, they agreed to sell enough to Randall so he held the majority of the shares. Randall needed massive financing, but the meteoric rise of the stock nearly covered his indebtedness in a matter of months. The Gilsons still made plenty on the shares they did not sell to Randall.

The sale to Randall was completely unprecedented and unnecessary. Although Gordy, and probably Marielle would never believe it, it was an act of contrition. There was no way they could repair the damage they had done to their daughter and her heart-throb. They had toyed with Randall's dream - almost his life's work, though. From anger at what she had heard waiting outside Randall's office that day, Frances more and more felt regret that so many people saw her as a thoughtless, arrogant bitch. She especially regretted that her daughter saw her that way.

Eighteen months after the debacle, Frances was sick at heart from Marielle's rejection. Heavy doses of guilt and regret did not help. Always self-satisfied with her management of the family, Frances had needed professional help when it became obvious that Marielle was truly estranged. With every phone call or relayed message having failed, she finally attempted a face-to-face on Marielle's turf.

Growing more and more shocked as her limo moved deeper into the poor section of town, Frances was appalled at the run-down building that housed the Legal Aid office.

She would never be able to understand why Marielle was doing this. With help from her therapist, though, she was determined not to confront her daughter on anything but the key point. The key point was at least some kind of relationship.

Marielle's reaction when Frances entered the crowded bullpen that several volunteers shared was more resignation than anger. She had assumed that her mother would force an encounter at some point. She always assumed that it would be at her apartment, but this would have to do.

Because the volunteers spent much of their time talking with clients, there were two questionable-looking side chairs in front of Marielle's shabby desk. Without even a hello, she motioned Frances to a chair. The therapist had counseled Frances on how Marielle might react if accosted, so Frances was not completely surprised.

Looking around rather nervously at the half-dozen or more people who were within earshot, Frances determined that she would not beg for privacy. "I've missed you" was the simple, sincere opening she had decided on.

Of course, Marielle had played a possible encounter over in her mind countless times. When the situation actually arrived, she could only go with what she felt. "Is it hard without anyone's life to toy with?" The bitterness and anger in Marielle's delivery were almost a physical shock to Frances.

"That's ... that's not what I was doing," Frances protested. The therapist had cautioned her to use 'I' - to take responsibility herself.

"Yes, it was. You broke your doll and now you're upset because it won't work like it's supposed to."

"Marielle, I can't undo what I did. What good will it do to keep apologizing over and over?"

"Once would be good," Marielle hissed.

"But, I've ... I've..."

"The most you ever said to me was that firing Gordy was 'unwise'. You never admitted that it was cruel, inhuman, heartless, and criminal. You never said you were sorry, much less ask for forgiveness. If you tried to say it now after all of this time and suffering, it would be a hollow gesture."

Desperate for some kind of comeback, some kind of defense, Frances argued "There is no need for any suffering. You don't have to resort to this." She swept her hand toward the crowded room, only then noticing that it was now empty.

"I feel sorry for you, Mother. You will never know the feeling of loving someone so much that there is a physical hurt when they are torn from you."

Frances wanted to say that she indeed felt that hurt over the loss of Marielle. She just knew that such an admission would not be received well. Before she could say anything, though, Marielle went on.

"Even if Gordy had been the most worthless gold-digger, you had no right to try to drive him away. That you did not take the time find out what a quality person he is just shows your lack of humanity. Gordy is worth ten of the assholes you tried to set me up with."

Frances had worked hard at setting up dates with 'appropriate' men. Marielle's criticism of those men always surprised and angered her. She could not restrain herself and demanded "Just what was so wrong with all of them?"

"What was wrong? Well, let's see; to start with, they all treated me like a paid escort and a possible trophy. Every one of them assumed we would end the evening in bed. A couple bragged about it afterward, even though it never happened. How about spending the whole evening talking about the frivolous but exciting ways they had squandered their inherited money? How about a constant litany of starlets, cheerleaders, and other notable bimbos they had bedded? How about drinking so much I had to refuse to ride with them? How about having to leave in disgust when they snorted a line of coke? How about blank stares when I tried to make conversation about the day's biggest new stories? How about not one single question about me between the seven of them? How about attitudes as bad as yours and Fathers about the 'little' people? - right out of the middle ages? Is that enough of a litany of what was wrong with your 'A' list of suitors?"

Marielle had never talked about those dates afterwards, except to say that she would never go out with that evening's candidate again. If she was telling the truth, Frances had to agree that it had been a pathetic collection. "I had no idea," she murmured.

"You didn't even care what they were like, personally," Marielle charged. "All that mattered was that they were the 'right people' and not 'white trash gold diggers'."

Frances' urge to win points could not be subdued. "You had no chance with Alford, anyway."

"If I had had time to convince him that I was nothing like you, I might have had. You made sure I never had that chance. When you tried to buy him off, you ended my chance."

"Why would he react so strongly?" Frances asked.

"You still don't know? You drove away the first man I found worth loving. You derailed a promising career of a brilliant engineer. You knew nothing about him then, and you still don't. See, he has no billions or even paltry millions. He just doesn't matter. You have completely lost any humanity you might have had, Mother! There is nothing about you that I want: not your money, not your willingness to do anything to keep your place as a 'royal' wife, certainly not your total insensitivity to other people. Don't you get it? I am trying to erase you and Father from my life. I want to be a real person. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

That was far more of a rant than Marielle wanted to allow herself, but it all just poured out when Frances pushed the wrong buttons. Frances's reaction was not to disintegrate in tears. She did feel genuine remorse over what she had done and especially over the consequences. When Marielle attacked her beliefs and her values, though, and Peter's along with hers, Frances became defensive. She had prepared herself to resist showing any anger, and she restrained her outward demeanor. To do that, though, she had to leave rather quickly.

"Marielle, your judgment of us is unfairly harsh. I hope you will someday see that we do love you and want the best for you. If our view of the best for you is not the same as yours, it is not because we are bad or 'inhuman' people. Unless you decide to contact us, I will do as you wish and we may never see each other again. If you could find a way to at least let us know what you are doing, I would really appreciate it."

Seeing Frances stand to leave, Marielle bit back the hundreds of additional harsh words that fought to be said. Instead, she stood behind her desk, said a curt "Goodbye, Mother", and watched Francis leave. Marielle could not helping wondering if it was truly her last meeting with her mother.

Marielle was quite certain that Frances knew about her life on a daily basis. She thought she had noticed a succession of unexplained people ever since the breakup. Her mother's plea for news about her life was simple posturing.

In the limo, Frances turned off the sensitive recorder in her purse. Her therapist wanted to hear the conversation. She would get an earful. So far, Frances had refused to admit in social situations that Marielle was estranged from them. According to the therapist, unless there was something hopeful in the conversation, Frances should start telling the truth when asked about Marielle.

Part of the compensation for Medi-Vanced employees was company stock. When the stock was issued to the venture capitalists and the principals, a designated block was set aside for employee compensation. Unbeknownst to the Gilsons, Gordy had been allowed to retain his stock. In fact, when his contracting ended, he was quietly given the equivalent of three more years of earned shares. In Randall's mind, it was a very small gesture of apology and regret. Gretchen had lobbied hard for much more.

When the IPO occurred, Gordy watched the stock price soar. Somehow, he could not make himself liquidate, even though he accurately sensed the peak price and knew that it might be years before shares ever hit that mark again. It was irrational, but the Gilsons' ownership made the stock seem tainted.

As soon as the unloading of the Gilson holdings became public, Gretchen called Gordy. She had kept contact on a regular basis, but she had never mentioned coming back. This time, she not only mentioned it, but begged Gordy to do it.

"Two problems, Gretchen. First of all, I can't leave an unfinished project here."

"How long?"

"Oh, ten to twelve weeks, probably. Second, what if there isn't a spot for me at Medi-Vanced?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Gordy! Of course there's a spot. There will always be a spot. You did as much as any engineer to make us all a lot of money. You are still a hero, here. Please, take a weekend and come back to talk to us."

"I'll tell you what, Gretchen; if I get that invitation right from Randall, I'll come. Is that OK?"

"Bet he'll call within the hour."

It was much less than an hour. Randall even had air, hotel, and rental car reservations all arranged when he called.

Gretchen met Gordy at the rental car counter Saturday afternoon. He had taken Monday off in order to extend his visit and spend time in the offices, meeting old friends and finding out how things were going.

"I took a cab out here," Gretchen said after her nearly embarrassing hug. "You're stuck with getting me home and to our dinner tonight."

In the car leaving the airport, Gretchen stopped the light chatter she had kept up and became serious. "Gordy, I believe I have earned the right to meddle. Do you agree with that?"

"You're female. It's your birthright," he quipped.

Since there was no sign of anger, she took that as a green light. "I'm going to show you some things and give you some facts this afternoon. We will not discuss what you see until tomorrow."

Without her having said so, Gordy knew that 'meddling' meant Marielle. He was actually relieved that Gretchen had broached the subject. He had been completely unable to get over Marielle. The guilt over what he had done to her was huge. He knew he had been unfair in lumping her in with her parents and all other wealthy people. Cheri had been on his ass constantly about that.

The problem was that he saw her through the lens of his bitter experience. While he cursed himself for being too weak to treat her as a unique person, he could not shed the memories and the pain. He made a point of visiting his mother at least every three or four months. Even though the visits tended to strengthen all the old hurts and hatreds, he considered it a duty. There was never any change. He remained an anonymous male to her.