Wake of the Storm - The Mason Storm Series Book One

Chapter 21

I at the Starbucks a few minutes early and sit at an outside table. It's still early, so the morning air is tolerable. The sun's shining, traffic's moving, and it goes without saying the "fairies" are out prancing about. As I told you earlier, Lake Worth has a large population of gay males and as my luck would have it, Starbucks must be running a special on fruity drinks.

I don't have anything against gays per se, nor am I one of these homophobes. It's just when I see a grown man, who has spent most of his life "pumping iron" wearing a fishnet shirt and black leather pants on a weekday morning standing in line for coffee, it makes me rant.

Along with the slow morning traffic, I see Mrs. Pennington pass by, looking for a spot. She's driving something I don't recognize, but I can tell it's expensive—probably some European Special Edition you have to be invited to buy. I get in line for coffee and watch for her to approach.

She's walking a ways off, but I can identify the tailspin. The closer she gets, the easier it is to see she's barely cliff-hanging on this side of composure. She's dressed in upper-class, including a pair of dark, up- market sunglasses—a sure sign she's been crying. When she gets to me, she shakes my hand, but her hand feels wooden and uninhabited when she holds on for a second longer than normal. She thanks me for taking the time to meet her on such short notice and steps in line next to me. I want to ask her how she's holding up, something just to break up the discomfort, but I fear the answer might send her down the side of the cliff.

We finally make it to the front of the line where I try my best to order two regular coffees, but apparently regular coffee is, like, "so yesterday". I politely answer—only because Mrs. Pennington is present—the half- dozen playbook questions about whipped cream, caramel and non-fat milk, only to be scoffed when we land back at two regular coffees.

We find another table back outside, where the confining company of Death blankets us. I'm not comfortable with these types of situations, and immediately want to kick myself for not having brought Mia along.

Mrs. Pennington breaks the uncomfortable silence. "I read today's paper and I'm sorry. It must've been horrible for you," she says.

"It still is, but thank you," I respond, looking down at the table.

Again, I apologize that she has to go through this and assure her I understand.

She reaches down in her purse and pulls out a large envelope with my name scribbled on the front. "These are the most recent pictures of Sophia I have. They're a couple of months old," she says, and slides the envelope across the table.

I don't open it, but instead place my hand over the top, as if to protect what's inside. As gently as possible I say to her, "But I thought that you hadn't had any contact with your daughter since she left college, almost six years ago."

Tears run from the safeguard of the sunglasses. "Mr. Storm, Sophia was my only love and she always will be. There's never been a day gone by I haven't wished I'd have just picked up and left with her. I was scared, though. Still am."

She pauses to pull herself together. I want to say something, anything. But I don't. I'm sure something on the QT is about to be put on the table. I wait for her to continue.

"I hated not having a relationship with my daughter because of him. You have no idea what kind of monster he is. No one does. Anyway, I hired a private investigator to find her. I wanted to know she was okay. I wanted to try and start over."

The tears are back, and her face is a looking glass of my past. There are so many questions I want to ask, but I understand exactly what she's feeling. She finally regains control and tells me the relationship between Sophia and her father wasn't good, so he eventually chased her away. She gives me the number of the PI and tells me she needs to keep all of this from her husband until she can figure out what she's going to do. I give her my word again, but this time I also tell her I must share it with my partner, Mia.

We walk back to her car in silence. She reaches for her door then pauses, looks up at me and says, "I know it's probably too soon, but have you gotten any leads on the numbers?"

"No, unfortunately we haven't. We're working on it, though."

She lowers her head and says, "Okay," then eases herself back into the lap of luxury and leaves. I'm left standing, lost to the movement around me as I watch her car disappear around the corner.