You Called Me-ARE and Apple epub (6 page)

Kenya watched the woman saunter out of her office as if she’d thrown down the gauntlet, challenging her to walk away from her dream position.  

Settling down at her desk, she searched the web for this guy. Thirteen Blakemore’s in the state, everything from Inc. to LLC but no individual Jonathan Blakemore. J.G. Blakemore had an office downtown. That could be him, but he never said what court he was a friend to. Lord, he could have children and be paying alimony and that’s why he volunteers at the court house. She wasn’t up for a ready-made family. Better yet, a family wasn’t ready for her. She had no experience with kids. Never had a man twist her mind the way Jonathan had it flip-flopping. Forget it, she wasn’t going. Handsome or not, he was leaving in a week. That was too soon. His words came back to her. “
If you don’t go, the kids can’t go.”

Julia had made a great point. Their friendship had started at camp and lasted through college and into their adult lives. She'd do more searching after she got home and if she didn't find a prison record maybe she'd go...maybe.  

The air held a touch of snow today. Brushing the flurries from his scarf, Jonathan unbuttoned his camel-colored mohair coat, stepping up the wide stairs at The Whitney. The opulent restaurant’s diversity matched his own, in work and play. Something he strived for since glimpsing his mother working long hours just to keep him in a decent school and a good neighborhood. Until he’d learned she kept him away from his father and they’d had plenty of money.

Jonathan and his mother lived in Ireland with his father on the family estate until he’d started middle school. A marriage between families, his parents never got along, practically living on separate ends of the Blakemore castle. One day his mother had enough, moved them to America, and started a life here. His mother refused the estate, wanting nothing to do with Brian Blakemore.

His mother only accepted help from his grandfather, Seamus Blakemore, if Jonathan needed something. He wanted nothing to do with his father, but Sophie insisted he go visit every year as the castle would be his one day.

Motivation to run two companies came from his deepest darkest place. Raised by a mother who managed a restaurant in a jazz club, he learned to love mature music at a young age and developed a respect for working women. It also gave him a dislike for anyone abusing the city, and a soft spot for kids caught in the judicial barbwire of deadbeat parents. It’s why he started taking groups on these ski trips. He had the means to make their lives a little better if only for a few days. He checked his watch and moved into the restaurant.     

The old dark woodwork and paneled walls spoke of years of history and pride.

Handing his coat to the host, he made his way to the second floor where his lunch guest waited.

“Wilkerson, glad I could catch you before you headed out,” Jonathan said, shaking the man’s hand before nodding to the waiter for his standing drink order. Easing into the seat he blew out a breath and reclined setting a portfolio in front of the man.

“Blakemore,” the man started. “What good news do you have for me today? Have a plane to catch in two hours.”

“My company went over your financials. I advise you to drop a few of these ventures.”

The man eyed the contents of the folder and Jonathan could sense when he came to the main account he wanted him to drop from his portfolio. His weasel eyes slipped under the folds of skin most people called eyelids. “Cantuar Industries, why?” He raised a brow and tilted his head. “Came highly recommended,” he offered.

“Too risky. Families on a fixed income can’t afford the price tags on those condos. Many grew up downtown and will never be able to come up with four grand a month for mortgage.”

“They’ll have to come up with the money if they want to live inside the city.”

Jonathan didn’t like this man’s attitude. Cantuar was displacing those people. “Let me know what you decide. I’m going away for the weekend. Leave me a message at the office. I have another meeting to get to and you have a plane to catch.” He stood, extending a hand to signal the end of the meeting.

“You’re certain it’s a bad deal, Blakemore?” Wilkerson asked.

He set his stare on the greedy man. “I charge what I do because I’m certain of what I know.” Jonathan tossed back the last of the fire in a glass and set the rock glass on the table. “I’ll need an answer on the other two deals by Tuesday. The GL account is a sound investment. A couple million on that one will net a minimum triple in your investment.”

Wilkerson flipped through the files, chewing his top lip. Scrubbing a finger over his brows then dragged his hand down over his face. 

“Blakemore, drop by the club next week. There’s an opening for membership. There’s many business opportunities waiting for the right man. And we could use a man with your financial eye.”

The man had no idea of Jonathan’s financial reach. He’d purchase the club before he’d joined it. A bunch of wanna-be millionaires sitting around chewing the fat. “Safe trip, Wilkerson,” he said and strolled out of the building. Jumping into the Bentley, he drove intending to go to the courthouse, thinking of Ms. Claiborne and pressed the button to retrieve his messages. Her sweet voice hit the air like smooth jazz, nearly making him cross lanes the way she excited him.   

“Mr. Blakemore, it’s Kenya Claiborne. I wanted to thank you for the beautiful flowers. It was very thoughtful of you to think of me and see that I made it home safely. I can’t make it next weekend though. I feel terrible for the kids, but it’s just not possible. You understand I don’t know you well enough to spend the weekend with you. Goodbye, Mr. Blakemore.”

No one has ever told him no. Jonathan jerked a glance over his shoulders checked his blind spot and changed lanes. Up the off ramp, he made a right and slammed on the breaks, blowing his horn when the green Charger missed him by a foot, whipping out of the gas station. He needed to pay attention before he got himself killed.

Down the street, he passed all the old brownstones he’d walked past as a boy. The double entry porches lifted a smile on the corner of his mouth. The memories gave him a sense of peace.

Many homes through the years had been transformed into doctor’s offices and chiropractic clinics. His elementary school was just around the block from where he and his mother lived. Where he played ball at the court on Fridays until the streetlights came on and Ms. Barker hollered out her apartment window for them to learn how to play and stop hitting the backboard because she couldn’t hear her show. That thought brought Wilkerson and his investments to mind.

No, Wilkerson, those people you want to displace are the inner city.

Driving past the old neighborhood always grounded him after working with million dollar accounts, helped keep his head on straight. He got in the right lane at the light then jumped on the freeway. He had to check on his favorite lady. Jonathan punched two on the phone pad.

“Blakemore Incorporated,” his receptionist answered in her authoritative tone.

“Renee, overnight twelve dozen white roses from my private nursery to this address and make certain they get there before seven p.m. tomorrow.” He called off the address, and directions to the parking lot they were meeting in to pick up the kids. He’s never had a woman turn him down before.   

After his blood pressure eased along with the erection from hearing her voice, he listened to the rest of his messages.

“Mr. Blakemore, this is Ms. Roberts from the courthouse. I just wanted to thank you for doing this for the kids. We’ll see you in the morning. I’ll bring hot chocolate for the trip. Good bye.”

Jonathan slapped the steering wheel, cursing at the car’s dashboard. Kenya had to go. Some of these kids had never been past the street their schools sat on, let alone to the mountains. Not to mention he needed to see that beautiful face and body again. The woman was gorgeous and intelligent.  

He motored the car along a winding driveway. It was one of the reasons he loved this home, leading past an alley of locust trees toward the tall three story building. The glass panel in the front door revealed a tall form seconds before it opened.

Jumping from the luxury sedan, he nodded to the man holding the door open.

“Mr. Blakemore. Good to see you, sir.”

“Bruce. Everything going well?” he asked. Bruce had served his family for more years than he’s been in the states.

“We have a guest,” he said. Jonathan handed his scarf to the man and listened to the soft music playing in the background. His mother loved her jazz and passed that love onto him years ago when she'd managed a jazz night club downtown. He unbuttoned his coat. Bruce said, “Your cousin Fiona is here, sir.”

“Fiona? Is she with mother upstairs?” Shaking off the wool coat, he handed it to the butler, wondering what his cousin is doing in the states.

“She went to visit your grandmother Blakemore. Your mother is in the solarium. Her foot is healing well.”

“Grandmother McGhee? How is she today?”

“Taking her afternoon nap in the library,” he said. “Can I get you something to eat, Sir?”

“I can’t stay long, have some business across town,” he informed and made his way down the hall. Why was she downstairs? he wondered, following the soft perfume he became accustomed to smelling. The long formal hallway was a gallery of pictures of Jonathan as a boy in Ireland. At the end, a portrait of his grandfather McGhee set proudly lit by an overhead spotlight.

“Jonathan, I’m glad you’re here. Come sit down.”

Crossing the room down into the drop down solarium, he kissed the woman’s soft face. “Mother, why are you down here? Doctor prescribed you stay off that foot.”

“Son, I’m old enough to judge what’s okay,” she told him, waving a hand through the air the way she had when he’d been a boy complaining she worked too hard. “Seamus called, said you have a meeting with him next week, about the estate. Time has come for you to take over the family. Bring it all together. He’s ready to hand it over.”

“Grandfather’s ready to sign it over. Why now?  His health is fine. It’s rightfully yours, Mother.”

Sophie tucked her long red waves behind her ear, eyeing the picture of her parents on the low table. Speaking of Brian and the estate brought up horrific memories he wished he could erase from her mind.

“The land is mine, the castle is your father’s and together they go to you once Seamus signs over his shares,” she said. That would leave him with controlling interest and Brian would no longer control the family or the estate. “Your grandfather dropped in with Fiona this morning.”

“Where is she? What is she doing in the country?”

“Visiting your grandfather…she wanted your help on some finances on the estate.”

He shot her a quizzical stare. “There’s an accountant on retainer for the estate. Why come all the way to the States?”

“Because she believes the accountant is stealing from the family.”

The accountant has been with the family a short while, ten years. Its previous accountant came down with cancer, dying a few years back now. The man had been loyal to the Blakemore family until he took his last breath. Jonathan wasn’t certain how he felt about this latest guy.

“Where is she staying, Fiona?”

“Here,” she informed him waving at the hallway. “She’s gone to see your grandmother, but stay, she’ll return within the hour.”

“You have her number?”

“No, but I told her you would be out of town next weekend, so you two needed to handle this soon. What’s wrong? You never pace.”

“I need to get down to the estate. For Fiona to come to the States things have gotten bad and that can only mean Brian is becoming a problem.” Brian Blakemore was a crude bastard and Jonathan knew if he didn’t get down there soon it would end in no estate, family name gone forever

“What’s wrong? She’s family. Your father and I don’t get along, but this is still your family and we have responsibilities.”

“Questioning the way I protect our family, Mother?”

“Jonathan,” Sophie said. He handed her the teacup as she eased back in her settee. “You are the connecting heir between the two families. I don’t trust your father with my family’s land, and staying in that house with him...I would’ve killed him by now.”

“If he’s screwed over the estate, his death is more than a possibility. It’s a matter of time.”

He caught the paralyzing clarity of agreement in his mother’s eyes. There’s never been love lost between him and Brian. The only way for his mother to keep her family land was to give his father an heir. 

“Jonathan, what’s taking you so long to get married? You’d think a man as handsome as a Blakemore would have no problem attracting women…an intelligent woman,” a female voice said from the doorway.

Jonathan opened his arms. ”Fiona, beautiful as always,” he complimented. Gathering his cousin into his embrace, he held one of the last Blakemore women. “What’s going on with the estate and why didn’t I get a call?”

“Jonathan, you control the estate, not me. You should’ve gotten calls from a number of people. The estate itself is fine, but people are inquiring about the four hundred fifty surrounding acres. Seems the word is out that there’s no forthcoming heir and will have to start parceling out the land in a few years. We’ve had to put out media that that is just a rumor.”

Something didn’t fit. Fiona was more responsible than to let things get this out of hand. She’d have called him thirty times a day if there was media involved. She wanted the estate to stay private, a place for the local people to enjoy not a Bed and Breakfast.  He closed a hand over her soft face. “I better be kept informed about anything that touches the family.”

“Then you should get down there more often,” Fiona said. Having her living in the estate gave him a measure of peace with his life and companies in the States. He knew Brian had no qualms of rough shodding over his cousin had Jonathan not made it clear he was in control of the money and grounds.

“Where's Jamie? Does he know what's going on?” he asked as Sophie's bulldog, Maddox, proudly eased from the sun porch to stand by Jonathan's leg. Reaching down, he scratched the big dog's head. Leaving the large dog, he crossed the room to the bow window overlooking the garden. Everything had gone dormant. He bought his mother this house because it resembled her father’s old house, and this part of the city was the only place to find a stone house of this size and solid construction. He pushed his hands into his trouser pockets and turned to face his family. “Fiona, have you shared this with Jaime?”