6

Scarlett

The plane ride took longer that I'd expected given the ferocious spring storms. The layover in St. Louis had taken several hours. By the time the flight landed at O'Hare, it was almost three in the morning. I'd read as much of the email that my father's attorney had sent, the same one who'd called several times, finally texting in an effort to reach me. There was little to say about my father's death. He'd been at a gala event and simply dropped dead, suspected of having a heart attack.

His attorney had felt it was imperative that I come to Chicago with haste, even though he refused to tell me why over the phone or in writing. I was lucky enough to find a cab that would take me as far to my selected hotel. I certainly didn't want to stay in my father's... in my old house. I just couldn't. But I did want to remain close, especially to his office. I'd already instructed the attorney to begin looking for a buyer for the corporation. The way the man had laughed left me ill at ease, my instinct screaming there was a significant story yet to be told.

I was the only one in my father's will, so I'd have to spend time going through his things, selling or dumping furniture in an effort to get the house ready to sell. I certainly didn't want to liquidate the business, but I would if I had to. There was no way I was going to run a real estate development operation. The concept wasn't in my blood in any manner. Maybe the employees would consider purchasing, or at least one of them could run it in the interim.

I was exhausted after checking in but was unable to sleep. So, I sat in the comfy armchair, a bourbon over ice from the mini-bar in my hand, staring out at the bright and beautiful lights of the city. They were even more mesmerizing at night when the majority of the world was asleep. I was on the twentieth floor, which allowed me a wonderful voyeuristic view of the buildings and the festive lights.

I remember as a kid that I loved the city, never planning on leaving. Everything was so exciting, alive no matter the time of day or night. Now? I couldn't care less. I laughed as I pulled the blanket from the bed around my shoulders, sipping on the liquor, enjoying the slight burn as it slid down the back of my throat. I hadn't seen Mr. Rutherford since I was around fifteen. He'd been my father's attorney since I could remember, yet he was certainly not considered a friend of my father's. I'm not even certain if my father had many friends.

He called my mother his best friend, the only woman he ever loved. I knew he was devastated when she died, but the event destroyed our closeness. Finding out what my father was into hammered the nails into the coffin. I turned off the light, preferring the darkness, trying to make sense of everything, including the very reason I'd shut my father out of my life. I couldn't go back. I couldn't fix anything. I couldn't...

As the tears finally began to fall, streaming down my face, I leaned my head against the chair, clawing the upholstery, wanting so much to talk to my father. Just like we used to. I wanted to be able to see his face, to tell him how sorry I was. I wanted to forgive him for what I thought was so horrible. Now, I'd never have the chance.

And for that, I'd never forgive myself.

I closed my eyes, reliving every moment like a beautiful slow-motion video, the pictures and images, even laughter and tears creating such a vacuum of emotion that I sobbed openly, allowing the tears to flow. I'd lost my whole world. When I was finally able to close my eyes, I could see his face, but instead of the gentle smile he'd always given me, I witnessed what could only be described as terror. He was warning me.

What in the hell was going on?

The morning dawned overcast, the dark clouds indicating a stormy day. That was just fine with me. I wasn't in the mood to deal with any bullshit or lies. I wanted to know the truth about my father's company, including seeing the financials. I hadn't earned a Master's in business administration during my time in Virginia without learning a hell of a lot about running a business, including various stock options and tax benefits. At least that would prevent some lowball asshole from trying to get one up on me.

Fucking no way. I would secure the best possible sale, hopefully to someone who would allow the employees to maintain their jobs. The car was waiting for me just as Mr. Rutherford had said, the driver pointing out different sights as if I'd never been to the city before. I didn't bother to correct him. I was far too nervous, and his bantering was actually helping.

When he passed the street where I knew my father's office building was located, hackles raised on the back of my neck. "This isn't the way to Scott & Associates."

"Why, yes, ma'am, it is." He glanced in the rearview mirror. "Oh, you weren't aware of the move about a year ago."

"Move? No." I guess there was a significant portion of my father's life that I didn't know about, including his successes or failures. We'd talked twice on the phone since my move, although he'd left a few additional messages. I kept my face near the glass as the driver headed for the more upscale part of the city. The high-rent district.