Resolutions
This is chapter 48 of The Inheritance, a serial fiction novel on FITK
Mary Robinson was sitting in a board meeting being held in the futuristic Amasales conference building in downtown Seattle.
Mary had sold her internet security firm ADR to the internet retailing colossus eight years previously and the stocks shares she had received then were due to be vested today. At the time, such a long period before vesting was considered a poor choice by her financial advisors, the memories of the stock busts in 1999 and 2008 were still fresh in their minds. The share prices had grown 800% since then and Mary’s bold gamble was about to be rewarded. She had been a non-voting member of the Amasales board during that time and, although she knew that it had been public-image move on the executives part to have a black woman listed on the board, she wondered what her future, if any, with the firm would be now. After the routine business had been dealt with, the CFO got up to speak.
“It is with pleasure that I am announcing the vesting of ten thousand Amasales shares to Mary Robinson, whose faith in the long-term of our business has been justly rewarded. Mary’s contributions to the security of our communication chains here is the major reason we haven’t been plagued with the disruptions of many of our competitors. In addition, her ‘apotropaic magic’, while not readily quantifiable, has enabled Amasales to have quarterly year-to-year gains that have exceeding the industry average. Now that the vesting is complete, any further obligations Mary may have to Amasales are finished as well. Thank you, Mary.”
The assembled group rose en masse and applauded and the CFO motioned that she should speak. Mary stood up and began to address the assembled group.
“Well, this is an unexpected honor,” she began, “In this era of disinformation and negativity, it is more important than ever that sound business practices prevail. My contributions to the field of security have always been with this in mind. While lying and deception may work in the short-term, in the long run they self-destruct and result in destruction and chaos. As for any ‘apotropaic magic’ I may possess, I will say only this: Each of us must live with ourselves in accordance with principles based on truth. Those of you who know of my ‘other life’ is that of a proponent of what may be loosely described as the ‘old religion’. Rest assured that any ‘magic’ the spells and affirmations I may espouse in that capacity are also based on these basic principles.”
Mary sat down to more applause.
“Thank God that’s over,” she thought, “At least one situation in my life is finally resolved!”
In the home school the children had finished taking their monthly progress tests supplied by the school district to insure that the children were proceeding on track with their studies. The local school had sent a counselor to proctor the test-giving and to see if the facilities were suitable for home classes. They had a special interest in Sara, whose father had recently died from a drug overdose. She had evidently recovered from that incident with no behavioral issues and seemed to be well adjusted to the situation and to her classmates. The counselor was also more than a little envious of Jo’s home school in that it seemed perfectly suited for the needs of its students. It was obvious to him that there was a lot of intelligence (and no small amount of love) invested in the situation. He left with the tests and a glad heart.
Noticing that Sara had grown closer to Mareka, Jo thought that Sara’s intuition of her father’s death had affected both the girls. Mareka now realized that Sara was someone who shared her paranormal gifts and they had spent more time together after class. Jo was glad that any potential crisis with Sara had been resolved, especially in light of the proctor’s visit. That still left the question mark of John Stroud, her abusive ex. While his name hadn’t been mentioned concerning the overdose death of Sara’s father, Jo thought it was likely that he was responsible and that he was still in the area.
“One day at a time,” she thought, “One day at a effing time.”
Barbara Merrit and Marcel DuPage were lingering over brunch in Marcel’s apartment.
It had become obvious to both of them that they were ‘falling in love again’ to quote the old Marlene Dietrich song. They had yet to consummate the affair. Each they became close Barbara could sense Marcel pulling away. Was he afraid of commitment, of disappointment, or was he still in love with the memory of Emily Carroll?
Marcel was wrestling with conflicting emotions as well. He was not the Lothario of eight years previous. He had quit his womanizing after Emily disappeared and since the Covid crisis had erupted in March he had had very little contact with any woman—excepting Barbara. He had even begun to have doubts about his masculinity. His recent sixtieth birthday had triggered in him a wave of self-doubt. He was changing, he knew that much.
“Marcel, it’s time we had the talk,” said Barbara, “We’re adults, and we’re both experienced, very experienced in your case. What’s holding you back? Is it me?”
Marcel’s usual cheery countenance dropped for a split-second, then returned.
“No, dear Barbara, it isn’t you,” he began, “It’s… it’s just that… ” here he paused, “I’m not the man I used to be. I never had any regrets about any of the women I knew. It wasn’t that I wished them ill, no I never was into that, it’s just that I was living in a bit of a dream world. I thought my amorous activities were welcome by my partners, and generally they were. I was too flamboyant for any of them to take me seriously in a long term relationship. And that was alright with me, that was one of the reasons I opened the dance studio and ballroom, so that they would come to me, I could gave those women an obligation-free opportunity. Did I break some hearts? I may have dented a few, I’ll admit to that. Now that I’m older, things are not as they used to be.”
“What changed?” asked Barbara, “Was it Emily?”
“Yes, I had finally met my match,” said Marcel, lowering his head and beginning to cry as he blubbered, “And then I lost her.”
“Marcel… ” Barbara spoke softly to the weeping man as she took his hand in hers. “The time for crying is over. Emily is gone and I am here, ready to take this relationship further. My eyes are wide open, we are equals. We can do this thing. The future is ours to make.”
Marcel stopped sobbing. He sat up and a slight convulsion shook his frame. He looked Barbara in the eye.
“You are right. The past is over,” he said, “Take me as I am, no reservations, and I will do the same for you.”
Next chapter: Under Observation
