For Alice, With Love

Chapter 15 - Corner View

The tires of Chris's car squeaked on the polished cement parking garage floor as he pulled into a spot at his lawyer's office building. He sat, drumming the wheel, thinking. If he could get those paintings back for Mel, it could go a long way to healing the hurt he'd caused.

It would also relieve the massive thumping guilt about them being in his damned house this whole time. A tap on his window made him jump and hit the horn with his arm. Frank waved his umbrella, his perfect teeth flashing white in the harsh fluorescent lighting.

"Chris! Just getting in myself," he said as Chris got out of the car to join him. "Glad you could make it in so quickly. I have to say, early frantic calls from your ex-wife, and now your story about these paintings. I haven't had this eventful a morning in awhile!"

"Tell me about it. I had two really distraught women on my hands yesterday. Can you believe they were stolen from Mel's house and then—"

"There may be something we can do about this," Frank interjected as they stepped into the elevator, waving a hand at someone outside the doors. "We can follow the paper trail. Trace them from the decorator to where they sold them to. We'll get those painting back for your girl one way or another. I can put my investigator onto it."

His girl. Was it too soon to leap into another relationship? The thought slammed into him, and he rolled that around in his head as they walked. He needed to get Gillian out of his life before adding someone back in. But... the idea that Mel could be his was enticing, curling out from the corners of his mind, taking shape in a pleasing way.

He needed to focus, so he pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself why he was here. Think about the paintings.

"So what do we have to do to encourage Gillian to lay off this insane fixation? She literally steamed into my house yesterday, screamed a blue streak, insulted Mel, and abruptly left when I handed her the info for the new owners. I just want this done, Frank. I don't want her messing around anymore. I've had enough."

Frank studied him, not saying anything, and Chris ran a hand down his face. Like he'd just said, he was ready to be done with this bullshit. Move on.

They strode into the office, and straight into Frank's airy corner office. Chris realized his view at Smith Shale looked very similar. Glass and metal; stark, expansive, remote. It was cold and imposing, which was not the response he expected. Normally he loved anything modern and minimal. Weird.

He threw his bag down onto a chair and sat on the other. Natuzzi leather. Nice. You could always tell. Mel would have a fit if anyone actually sat on anything this expensive at the house. Again, his thoughts were getting thrown by her, and he sat up again, taking his fingers purposely off the chair to end the distraction.

"I get you. Divorce papers are on the way, and we'll get them signed as soon as we can. The settlement as per the prenup is rock solid," Frank said, shuffling some papers. "But I have to warn you, with this, she may try to hinge settlement on getting those paintings."

Chris stared out the window at the morning sun glinting off the glass encased high rises, the feeling of cold and remoteness, like an outsider looking in settling into his bones.

It had been just under a month since he had moved out to the estate, away from all the steel and concrete. Away from the rush hour traffic and the buzz of being in a hurry every moment of the day. Was he changing that rapidly? Did he want different things now? Dammit, his head was all over the place.

"I don't want Gillian to have the paintings, Frank," Chris said with a finality that caught even himself off guard as he turned back to look at the older man. "They're Mel's by right. Mel said don't bother with them, that she's just happy they're found but I want her to have them back. They were a gift to my sister before she passed away. A reminder of good memories, you know?"

Frank agreed, and poked his head out the door of his office to have someone bring them some coffee. As he was bombarded with phone messages, the tension of being in a busy office crept up into his shoulders. He used to love that feeling, it was motivating. But now? His reaction said otherwise.

He closed his eyes for a moment, the harsh glare like daggers in his eyes. When he did, Mel in the garden came to him, warm sun, a few bees floating about. Much preferable, and instantly it lowered his shoulders. It was a completely different world out there, and he suddenly thought I don't want this as his arm hit the cold steel on the side of the chair.

"If you agree, I can bring my investigator up to speed while you're here in town, you can meet him, give details I may have left out? I assume you are going into your own office later, you can come back this afternoon?"

"Hmmm, good idea," Chris agreed absently. "Yeah I suppose I should go in. I've had a month of remote management. I suppose I need to harass the staff."

They chatted for a few more minutes, Frank jotted down all the details as they looked at the files and the paperwork from the new condo owners, and set up a golf date next month. In all that, Frank took three phone calls.

Frank put down the phone and leaned on his desk, a pensive look stealing over his face. Chris knew that look, from years of his father and Frank lounging in the study with scotch, Chris sitting with them, hanging on every word, eager to be included in a man's world.

"I am not getting any younger. Chris, if I were you, I would quit the world of business and go do what you love," Frank said as he set the phone down and took a sip of the darkest office coffee Chris had ever seen. Frank rubbed at his jaw and sighed. "Not that this isn't rewarding, but I missed my daughter's varsity championship soccer game last week. She scored three goals! I would've loved to be there. My wife said it was a packed stadium, all cheering for her."

"I'm still young, Frank, I have time. Besides, I own the damned company. I can always delegate once I find a replacement and take more time for me. My dad wasn't ever good at that, but hey, times change, right?" Chris replied, setting down his own cup. Mel's coffee was so much better.

There she was again. He needed to keep moving and distract himself or he would spend the day wallowing. He went to stand, but Frank motioned him back to his seat.

"Chris, your dad was one heckuva strong-willed man. He put you in charge because he wanted someone similar to fill his shoes. I don't know how many times, after you two would butt heads about something at the company, he would complain to me how much like your mother you were, but he hoped you would 'work out of it'. I used to tell him that maybe having Pearl's influence in you would help make up for his bullheaded stubbornness."

"Dad was that," Chris replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. Dad. What would he think of all this?

"But here's the thing, Chris," Frank went on, leaning forward on the desk. "Your Dad knew you would run circles around his savvy. He was so proud of you, even if he never told you. Would tell me 'my boy's gonna run the world'. You've been handed some shit by your ex, but don't you let it stop you."

"Thanks Frank," Chris managed to say. "I appreciate everything you've done to get this settled quickly."

"I promised Archie and your mother that I would look out for you, Chris... and I will."

Chris nodded and checked his phone. Sixteen messages and four voicemails. He should head across town to the office. He should also look in on his mother. She would be royally pissed if he didn't call and invite himself to lunch.

"Frank, I have to run, but call me when you have a trail we can follow."

They both stood, and Chris shook his hand over the desk just as the phone rang again. Frank grimaced at Chris and they chuckled.

"See you later, son," Frank added as Chris left the office as fast as he could, the chaotic energy surrounding him too much to handle. As soon as he was out the door and on his way back to the parking garage, he let out the breath he'd been holding.

He'd changed, and he wasn't sure what to do about it.