Chapter 12: The Beginning of the End

Spring was in the air. The sun was out and evaporating early morning dew from the grass. It would soon be time to take the cover off of the Mercedes, but not today. I backed the Jeep out of the garage and waved to the gatekeeper as I headed for the Oldham house.

John seemed excited about our meeting with Doug. He said he'd reviewed my report on the existing business, cost estimates to improve the building, and Wanda's analysis of achievable market share.

"If this kid we're meeting is everything you say he is, I don't see why we can't make a go of it," he said, effectively ending the discussion of the auto parts business before changing the subject. "How did it go in Denver?"

I told him about the plans we'd made to begin subdividing the building, our meeting with the people in the Denver office, and the meeting we'd had with the three prospective tenants.

It was exactly seven AM when we arrived at the café where we were to meet Doug for breakfast.

"What's wrong, Sam?"

Talking to Mr. Oldham had never been easy for me. His questions were always direct, like he was conducting an interview, and he demanded precise answers. I hesitated, not knowing how much to reveal. "Everything is closing in on me."

"That doesn't sound good," he said, and the concern I saw in his eyes made me open the floodgates. I told him what I suspected about Cynthia's health condition, how she depended on me to make all the decisions, and how she was neglecting her managerial duties at her work.

"April the fifteenth is closing in on us and I've got to find someone to prepare her income taxes," I said, ending my spiel.

"That's no problem," he said, without elaborating. "Look, if you're spread too thin at work, perhaps we should pass on the Baltimore building."

"NO!" I said, emphatically. "I've got everything under control.

That short discussion we had in the car made us ten minutes late for our breakfast meeting with Doug. It soon became apparent that he'd been watching us from the corner booth he'd chosen for our meeting. I introduced John and told Doug that I'd brought my dad because he was interested in the venture we were about to embark upon.

Doug nodded to John before unleashing an angry accusation at me. "You're late. I went ahead and ordered because they were going to kick me out of the booth if I didn't."

I had planned to challenge Doug to an eating contest, but Doug's uninformed harangue about our arriving late had not set well with me. When John ordered a glass of orange juice, coffee and an English muffin, I ordered the same.

Doug's plate of food arrived and things went downhill as he shoveled vast amounts of food into his mouth while berating me for everything from turning down Jessica Langley's offer for sex to dumping Kelley in favor of Cynthia.

"I took your boy fishing," he said, looking John's way for the first time. "All he wanted to do was sit on a log and talk to Jessie. She practically begged him to fuck her. What's wrong with you, Man?"

I took a sip of orange juice and cursed myself for letting John witness the out-of-control tirade. Doug finished his steak and poured syrup on his pancakes, glancing at John before continuing his criticism of me.

"Kelley Harvey's old man has malls all over the country. He was counting on your boy to take the business over, but no, it wasn't enough for him. He'd rather settle for the tall chick with no tits. I think he's lost his mind."

He was interrupted by the waitress, who filled our cups with coffee, asked if there would be anything else, and when we said no, she dropped the check on the table between Doug and me.

John and I watched the big man finish his pancakes and move the sausage to one side before starting on the scrambled eggs. Between bites, he told John that I was wasting his time by sending him to bank loan officers, one after another. "You could get the money from that tall broad you're shacked up with. We hear she's loaded and she's crazy about you."

I took a sip of coffee and looked at John. His face was a mask, but I could tell what he was thinking. A wink of his eye confirmed that he was ready to leave.

Doug was cutting the sausage into bite sized pieces as I placed a twenty dollar bill next to the check. An astonished look came to his face when he saw that we were already on our feet.

"I wish you luck, Doug," I said. We waved goodbye and started for the door when we heard a sorrowful moan.

"You've got to help me, Man! Can't you see I'm drowning here?"

I got the uncomfortable feeling that other diners were watching us as we walked past them, possibly blaming us for the pain we had inflicted on the big man in the corner booth.

I suppose I owed him an apology for having to witness Doug's rude behavior, but John didn't seem to want to discuss it so we put the incident behind us. When we got to the house, he invited me inside to have something to eat. I had lost my appetite, but I took him up on his offer because I knew he had more on his mind.

Suzanne had already had breakfast, but she joined us in the kitchen. She was somewhat surprised when I told Penelope that I'd like two slices of toast and a cup of coffee. She scoffed, saying I needed a proper breakfast.

John was already on the phone, inviting his tax advisor to come for dinner on Tuesday night to meet a new client. When he finished that call, he placed another call to the doctor that lived in the neighborhood. I heard him leave a message, saying that he would like to make an appointment for Sam's friend. When he returned to the table, he informed Suzanne about Cynthia's illness.

I left an hour later, after thanking Penelope for the filling breakfast, and John and Suzanne for the way they had come to my rescue in my time of need. Although I was able to hide the tears in the corner of my eyes, I hoped they could see my genuine appreciation for their concern, advice and help. Never during my nine years in their home had I felt closer to my adopted family.

When I pulled into the garage, Robert was removing the archery target from its box. He informed me that Mrs. Collingsworth had instructed him to set it up for me to use. "She seemed hurt that you haven't shown any interest in it," he said.

The archery set had been a gift from Cynthia, and she had a right to feel hurt. I'd shown no interest in taking up the hobby.

"Okay, Robert, I'll try it later. In the meantime, will you take the cover off of the convertible and see if it will start?"

"Yes, Sir, I'll get it running for you."

Margaret and Daisy were in the kitchen, but Daisy left as soon as she saw me. I could tell that Margaret wanted to speak to me in private.

"She's still in her room," Margaret volunteered before I had a chance to ask where Cynthia was. "I wasn't totally honest with you yesterday," she said, watching me for a reaction.

"Oh?" I asked, wanting her to continue.

"She wouldn't want me to tell you this, but it's more than vomit. I've seen specks of blood in the stool."

Margaret reminded me of the cook and housekeeper we had at the Oldham house when I first came to live there. Like them, Margaret was not a gossip. She only spoke about things she thought I should know. "You said this has been going on for a year?"

"Like I said, she wouldn't want me to tell you," Margaret responded.

Seeing that she was not going to answer my question specifically, I thanked her, and went to see if Cynthia was still in bed. I found her seated at her dressing table; comparing the diamond pendant to a sapphire. "Which do you like better?" she asked.

"My opinion doesn't matter. You're the one that's going to wear it," I said, vaguely aware that we'd just broken two constants that had become second nature. For once, she had not ended a question with 'Darling, ' and for once, I'd withheld advice. It was a fleeting thought; I had a more pressing matter to discuss.

"I'm going to take you to see a doctor," I said, and watched her drop both stones. She stared into the mirror, and the picture I saw was not pretty. For once, she was rejecting my guidance. She was still staring into the mirror when I reminded her to get ready for her appointment with Joshua.

This was getting scary. The change I saw from the loving person who had accepted my choice for the dress she would wear to the Reaper's meeting was frightening. Was this the same woman who had made wild and exhausting love with me last week?

Wanda brought Joshua to the house at exactly ten AM. The kid looked even younger than I'd imagined, but once he began to talk, I saw why George Mercer had recommended him so highly. I took them to Cynthia's study and showed them her portfolio files. Joshua unpacked his notebook and went to work. I excused myself, and when Cynthia and I returned an hour later, it took Wanda three tries to get Joshua's attention before she could introduce Cynthia to him.

As he stood to shake her hand, I noticed how thin Joshua was. Together, they looked like two scarecrows. Seeing how much trouble he was having understanding Cynthia, I motioned for Wanda and we left the room.

"That's the only way he'll learn to interpret the way she pronounces certain words," I explained. We went into the kitchen and watched Margaret prepare lunch. I warned her not to be disappointed if we ate sparingly. "I had a big breakfast and you know how little Cynthia eats. Our guest looks like a picky eater and Wanda can't possibly make up for the rest of us."

Wanda was quick to correct my thinking. "Don't judge him by his slight figure. Joshua will surprise you with how much he can eat."

I then told her about our meeting with Doug. "He went on about everything from our arriving late, to my not wanting to fuck his friend. All the time he was telling John how I was letting him down, he was shoveling food into his mouth. After about fifteen minutes, John had heard enough, and Doug is so dense he'll never know why we walked out on him."

"Did you call Dora back?" Wanda asked, like she'd lost interest in Doug.

I had to admit that I hadn't. "I'll do it now," I said.

David Farris picked up on the second ring, and when I asked to speak with Dora, he became belligerent. "I'll thank you to stop pestering my wife. I know what you're after. You think that she'll grant you favor in order to restore my position with Cynthia. Let me set you straight, Sir. My wife is not for sale, and I'm not either."

I didn't bother to tell him that I was merely returning Dora's call. "You're right, David, I should know that you and Dora are not for sale."

I was ready to end the call when he stopped me. "Wait, aren't you calling to say that Cynthia has reconsidered. I'm available to meet any time you say."

"No, David, that's not the reason I'm calling. Please tell Dora that I won't call her again."

"You're cruel," Wanda said when she saw me place the receiver in its cradle.

"On the contrary, I just preserved a marriage."

"Have it your way," Wanda said, getting up to leave. She returned to Cynthia's study, and I remained to chat with Margaret about the meals she was serving to our guests. I also wanted to bounce some ideas off her as to what we'd serve the guests at the Reaper's meeting, which was fast approaching.

I was thinking about the 'to do' list I'd made the week before. After returning Dora's phone call, there were only two outstanding items: deciding what to do about the Baltimore building and getting to the bottom of Marcie's perceived problem. Margaret interrupted my thoughts. "You look pleased with yourself, Sammy."

I agreed with her, and was about to question her about the menus she was planning when Wanda returned, looking somewhat disturbed.

"Cynthia suddenly left the study, and Julius doesn't know what he did wrong. You've got to talk to him, Sammy."

"I will, but first I've got to find out what happened," I said, already bolting for the stairs.

I stopped at the door, unable to believe my eyes. Cynthia was sitting in front of her dressing table, idly looking into a jewelry box. She picked up a stone, held it up to reflect in the mirror, and that's when she saw me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, without attempting to hide my angst.

Surprise flooded her face. "I'm trying to decide which stone will go with the dress, and you're no help."

"Cynthia, why did you leave Julius alone in your study? He thinks he did something wrong."

She selected the diamond that I'd seen before, and held it up, like she hadn't heard my question. "Don't scold me, Sammy. I couldn't understand him, and he couldn't understand me. Anyway, this is more important," she said, gazing at the diamond.

"That was rude of you to leave him the way you did. Do you realize that boy traveled a long distance to meet with you?"

"You meet with him. Make some excuse that I'm not feeling well."

"Is that true? Are you not feeling well?"

"My stomach is upset. I won't be coming downstairs for lunch."

"I'm going to make arrangements for you to see a doctor."

Her response to seeing a doctor was to glare at me. "I don't need to see a doctor. I ran out of medicine, and I'll be fine as soon as it gets here," she said, in a condescending tone of voice.

Her refusal to get medical advice caused me to question her further. "What kind of medicine, and where is it coming from?"

Cynthia had turned her attention back to the diamond, as if she'd forgotten that I was there. I tiptoed out of the room, and went back to her study.

Wanda was consoling Julius, who looked like he was holding back tears. I gave him a reassuring smile. "Cynthia isn't feeling well. It looks like you're stuck with me."

Wanda encouraged him to explain his plan to me, and once Julius saw that I was giving him my full attention, he spoke confidently, in terms that were easy to follow. His analysis of each stock position was thorough, and it soon became obvious to me that his recommendations were well developed. I wondered how may hours he spent arriving at his conclusions. We'd covered about one half of the stocks when Daisy knocked on the door to announce that lunch was ready.

I sent Wanda and Julius to the dining room and ran upstairs to tell Cynthia that lunch was being served. She was curled up on the bed, either asleep or pretending to be. Eventually, she responded to my coaxing for her to join us in the dining room, saying that she didn't want anything to eat. I reluctantly accepted her wish. Had this really been going on for a year? Getting her to eat had always been a bone of contention between us, but she'd never rejected my suggestions before. Blood in the stool was certainly something I should have noticed. I left the room, resolving to make her see a doctor, even if I had to force her.