Chapter 6: Understanding

Mark still felt a little anger. He answered, "Yes." He felt a smoldering anger at what he felt was a snub toward him as a man. He decided to give the men's clothes a try and hope that might be a part of the answer.

"Wait," Cole protested. I'm hungry and I got to go real bad.

"You go ahead Mark. We'll join you in the men's shop in a little bit." She gave her son a fond look and pushed him toward the bathroom.

Mark nodded and left. The loving look Rachel gave her son touched Mark's heart. He envied Cole each time he saw the way Rachel openly loved her son and cared for him. "And look at the dried out old bitch I got stuck with," he said to himself.

The salesman in the men's shop was helpful. By the time Rachel and Cole found Mark, he had chosen a well-cut English style single-breasted lightweight wool suit with dark buttons that matched the charcoal gray fabric.

"Good choice," she told him. You might consider a light gray Cambridge shirt, black socks and black loafers." She thought a moment and remembered what the top executives in the bank wore. "You might also consider a variety of ties and pastel shirts."

She looked around the store. "Mark, they have everything you need right here. Why not order enough for your present needs right now? You can think of today's purchases as a starter wardrobe."

She turned to the salesman, "Do you have a tailor on premises? We need the suit immediately and the other things early in the morning when we check out."

"No problem, the salesman told her. I'll do the suit trousers as soon as I get finished waiting on you. Just a suggestion, while you're waiting you might care to look at the men's underwear selection."

Mark reached for a bundle of socks off the shelf. "I almost forgot these," he said.

"Mark, you don't want to wear white crew socks with business wear or dress sportswear." Rachel was amused at this younger man who tried his hardest to be taken seriously.

Mark shrugged, "Show me. I never thought about clothes all that much."

She explained how socks should match or complement whatever else he was wearing. "Also, remember the shoes you selected. Thick socks would squeeze your feet in the leather loafers you picked out."

"What about underwear? Is there something I need to know to select my skivvies?" He looked at the knit briefs and the thin woven almost transparent silk thongs and boxers.

"Do you intend to model them for me?" she asked.

"Well no, of course not. Why?"

She smiled and pointed. "In that case get the silk underwear. It always makes a fine impression on the ladies." She laughed as he shook his head at her remarks.

"I guess I am hopeless in some ways, huh?" he asked her. He wondered if he looked as sheepish as he felt?

The salesman brought them the suit pants for a final fitting and interrupted any answer Rachel might have given Mark. Mark took the underwear and socks with him to the dressing room. When he stepped back out Rachel did not recognize him at first.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. Where she had watched an overgrown petulant child go into the dressing room, she watched a miracle come out. "If you don't get respect now, you never will."

"I'm still hungry," Cole complained.

"Let's go eat," Mark told her.

Rachel presented her company credit card and waited for the sale to be transacted. "Please send everything up to our suite and add a suitcase and a Val Pack to put his clothing in." She accepted the receipt and joined Mark and Cole.

"By the way," she smiled at Mark, "I ordered four more suits and a few extra pairs of slacks and shirts." He smiled his thanks.

In the dining room, thanks to the miracle of appropriate clothing, Mark was greeted by the hostess and escorted to a secluded table where Cole's wheelchair was no problem. Mark ordered as soon as Rachel gave her and Cole's orders.

He stared across the table at her. She stared back, amazed at the difference his suit made in his appearance. "I can't get over the change," she told him.

He ignored the compliment. "Would you rather open an office or work from home?"

"What are you talking about?" She had a vague idea of where he was going. She wanted it all spelled out so there would be no misunderstandings.

"I may decide to rent or buy a big house or a duplex. Something where you and Cole could have an apartment to yourselves and I could have my own place. We need a person to come in and do housework and look after Cole. You and I shall be kept busy, especially at first, as we try to find out what is going on.

"We need a secure place and two or three bodyguards, maybe more. My father Mike laid it all out. He had six keepers, as he called them. Two were always with him everywhere he went, even when he was with a woman. The only time he never had any protection close to him was when he and I were together."

Mark laughed, "He hinted that a couple of times the bodyguards joined in when he brought more than one woman home with him."

Rachel watched him turn solemn again. "Mike laid out a plan and I intend to follow it. For as long as I can."

"I don't understand. What do we need bodyguards for?" She wondered if the stress had begun to get to him.

"Tomorrow we go house hunting. Mike's place is ways out of town. Eventually we may have to relocate out there for safety's sake. If we do Cole will need a tutor.

"I believe Mike's old crew is on retainer for another year or so. I believe neither Claude nor my mother is aware of the retreat Mike created. In part, he patterned it after one of the Kennedy mountain retreats he read about. At least I hope they aren't aware of it.

"It's on a part of the Whispering Willows Resort land. I believe we need to go out there first and look around. I'm scared I'm going to let Mike down."

She reached across the table and touched the back of his hand. She almost jerked it back as a charge of energy shot through her. She gasped and forced herself to remain calm. "Mark, except for the chip on your shoulder you are doing great."

She stared into his eyes and thought hard. I made the decision I would go to bed with him if necessary. But I don't want to enjoy it. I'll just get hurt again. A part of her knew she would enjoy it if she and Mark made love. She thought back on her failed marriage and the one romantic disaster afterward.

She was ten years single when she met Mark. She had abstained from all sex after a disastrous one-night stand five years previous. Aloud she said, "I have faith in you Mark." She averted her gaze. She did not want him to see her cry. She knew she would if she looked into his eyes a moment longer.

Their waiter brought them their orders. Cole dug into his food with gusto. Mark ordered a beer and no one asked if he was old enough. "You were right," he told her.

"About what?" she asked.

"About clothing and how important it is." He laughed. "I never thought about it before. I guess I better listen to you more often."

She gave him a faint smile. "Thank you Mark." She looked back down at the food in front of her. The thought came to her she wanted to make love to him in all ways possible. No, she told herself. Deep inside she knew there was a large part of that "no" she did not believe.

"Well, which way do you think is best?" Mark asked her.

What?" she gasped at the thought he had read her mind. "What ... what are you talking about?" Her stammers caused her to feel more guilty embarrassment,

"Do you want an office at home or do you prefer a suite of offices downtown?" He looked closer at her flushed face. "Are you all right? You look feverish."

"Y ... yes," I'm, I'm fine. My mind was elsewhere."

He grinned at her discomfort, "The way you're blushing right now your mind must have been some place real good." He turned his attention back to the office problem. He missed the look of guilt and passion on her face.

"It seems to me there are a bunch of different people involved. I don't really know about some of them, only that they must be out there waiting. Who does the book keeping for instance? There must be more lawyers somewhere. Who handles the investments?"

He struck the table in frustration. "Someone had to have shifted things around right after Mike died. Who? Why? I'm positive there is more than money involved here."

Mark's fist striking the table and his questions jarred her out of her fantasies. "Divide and conquer," she quoted. "Mark, I believe someone has split your uncle's holdings up into a series of separate entities in order to eventually take over everything."

She toyed with her napkin and thought hard. "Someone in upper management at the downtown bank was complicit when this was orchestrated. The split had to have happened some time right after his, Mikes, death. Roger was involved. Nothing else makes sense. Perhaps Harold is also a part of all this mess. He would not be a main player because of his lack of brains.

"You have a mediocre lawyer handling one portion of the estate. His involvement seems to be of a limited fiduciary in nature, rather than administrative. Roger is involved all the way. Roger had unlimited access to all of Mike's papers and records.

"We caught that not so petty thief stealing from at least one part of the estate. The records for the various foreign investments are probably hidden away somewhere else. Where are they? Who has them?" She stared at him, helpless in her ignorance. "What do we do now?"

"Look, for the two years before he died, Mike took me under his wing and told me of his plan. This continued right up until his death last year. He said there were forces at work to rob me of my heritage. He gave me his plan to follow.

"He said he did not have too much longer to live and hoped he would have me trained well enough to take over both his and the Hunter Manufacturing interests. He intended to turn everything over to me on my twenty-first birthday. Then he had that last coronary."

They sat in silence. Cole played with his food, ate a bite and sat quiet while he chewed. Rachel thought about the problems facing them. Mark felt he had failed his father, Mike. He was scared.

Rachel's cell phone vibrated. "Yes," she answered it. "How did you get this number?"

She paused, and then handed the phone to Mark. "You better take this call. It's a policeman."

Mark accepted the phone and barked, "What?"

"Please put the young lady back on," a man's voice ordered.

"She doesn't want to talk to you." Mark opened the cell phone up and disconnected the battery.

"What did you do that for?" she asked.

"Just in case that cop was trying to triangulate our position. Cell phones can be traced the same as land lines, only easier through triangulation."

"Why would the police try to contact me?" She was puzzled.

"Someone is trying to do another end run around me. I don't know if it is Claude, my mother or someone new."

"What is going on here?" She stared hard at Mark and tried to read his mind.

"A few million dollars I don't want or need. I promised my father I would do whatever it took to keep the Hunter Empire intact. That's what he called it, the Hunter Empire."

He grinned at Cole, "Hey, you want to go for a ride?"

"Yeah! Mom?" he asked.

"Who am I to argue?" she smiled at her son.

"Mark, why this sudden urge to go for a ride?" She realized he had another reason than to see some new country."

"Great way to hide out. We'll just cruise by my house while everyone is looking elsewhere. If someone has tried to find us, let's not make it too easy for him.

"Besides, I have some papers there I want to pick up. Let's go." He tossed a hundred on the table and led the way to the elevator. Rachel pushed the wheelchair and followed. She considered the size of the tip he left and thought of what she could have done with that money.

As soon as they came to their suite Mark held up his hand. He swiped his key card through the slot and opened the door. He jumped in and found Claude and his mother going through their luggage. Mark charged at Claude, coming in low and hard. It worked just like it did in football practice.