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  Waiting and listening weren’t feats he performed well. He sat in the car a while longer, hearing and sensing nothing from God, experiencing no rush of peace or flood of wisdom. He’d prayed, and there wasn’t a change. The lingering tidbits of hope he’d retained enabled him to cling to the notion that God was giving him a second chance no matter how badly his situation appeared. He couldn’t wait indefinitely, though. While God’s plan was materializing, Joel decided to keep busy in the interim. He was going to create his own opportunity and forget about the West Coast division, which Zarah was controlling. He was going after the Southern division, the slice of DMI he’d sold to a group of shady investors during his downhill slide.

  Joel pulled out his phone to dial his uncle Frank to set up a meeting. His father’s brother was in the business of orchestrating unconventional loans and deals. Heaven help me, Joel thought. Dealing with Frank Mitchell was truly the last resort and a low point in his route to restoration. He stomped out the negative thoughts, choosing to stay upbeat, although it was an oxymoron when used in the same sentence as “Uncle Frank.” Briefly, he reconsidered initiating contact with his uncle but decided to proceed. No one else was giving him a chance, not the long list of investors in Chicago, not Don at DMI, not Abigail, not his wife, and not even God. He winced. He’d tried the right way to get on track, but failure had lined his path. Now it was time to get results the only other way he knew how—by any means necessary. He made the call, feeling charged up and ready to go.

  Chapter 24

  Wednesday was steamrolling toward quitting time. Madeline was in her office, having resumed her executive marketing role to help Don stabilize the company. There was more work to do, but she was going to pack up early tonight and call it quits around four. Late nights at DMI used to be the norm, but that changed after returning from her recent sabbatical. The persistent need to stay late to conduct DMI business had faded. Her drive and tenacity just weren’t there. Perhaps the months away from the company had changed her in a way she couldn’t readily identify, or maybe the fact that her children didn’t want to run the company together had drained her zeal. Whatever the reason, she was going home early tonight, tomorrow night, definitely on Friday, and certainly until she could rekindle the fire within her.

  She flipped to the next page of the Detroit monthly magazine. Her curiosity was piqued when she stumbled across a large photo labeled ZARAH BENGALI MITCHELL, followed by an article titled “SPICING UP THE MOTOR CITY.” Madeline adjusted her reading glasses. She dived into the article, devouring each morsel.

  Don poked his head in her office about fifteen minutes later. “Good. You’re not in a meeting,” he said and came in with papers in his hand.

  “No meetings for me until ten tomorrow morning,” she said, glancing up at him as the reading glasses rested near the tip of her nose.

  “I wish I could say the same,” he said.

  Madeline read a few more lines. She had read three-quarters of the article and was eager to finish. Don took a seat.

  “I have a few questions about the marketing budget you submitted,” he announced.

  She peeled her eyes away from the article. “Sure. No problem.” She turned the magazine around and slid it toward the desk’s edge. “Have you seen this?”

  Don leaned closer to the desk. “What is it?”

  “Joel’s wife is featured in the business section.” Madeline retrieved the magazine. “I didn’t realize she was the professional type.”

  “I know. She shocked me last week, when I went to see her about the West Coast division. I expected her to be hands off and to get rid of the division as fast as she could.”

  Madeline flipped another page. “Apparently, it’s not her plan. The article says she’s up for the CEO position at Harmonious Energy.”

  “Precisely the impression I got,” Don said.

  “What are you going to do with Harmonious Energy, anyway?” Madeline said, taking off her glasses.

  “I’m willing to sell her DMI’s ownership stake.”

  “Really? You’re willing to unload it?”

  “Absolutely. I have to distance DMI from Harmonious Energy. We can have only one God directing our vision, the one of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Zarah and her father practice a very different religion.” She fumbled with her glasses, which were now folded on the desk. “I still can’t get my arms around their religion. It was something about having energy in your soul that could be used in your next life. Shoot, as rough as this life has been, especially those crazy years with your father, one round of living is plenty for me. I’m not going through this life, only to end up as a rock or an ant or something worse. Nope, ‘once and done’ is my motto,” she said, laughing.

  Don laughed too. “I’m not sure Joel stopped and considered the ramifications of marrying Zarah and attempting to merge the companies.”

  “Oil and vinegar do not mix,” Madeline said with her arms folded.

  “Who’s the vinegar?” Don asked.

  “Doesn’t matter. Those two never had a chance at merging two companies and two religions, let alone staying married.”

  “Oh, I didn’t tell you. Zarah is pregnant.”

  “No way! Get out of here!” Madeline exclaimed. “When did that happen?”

  “I don’t know the details, and I’m not looking to find out. She just happened to tell me during my short meeting last week.”

  “Does this mean they’re staying married?”

  “I have no idea. I can say Joel has created a royal problem for himself.”

  “The poor boy. He can’t seem to win for losing. One of these days he might get his act together, but by the sound of what you’re saying, it’s not going to be this week.” She put her reading glasses on again. “This is odd, when you think about it. The Zarah I met several months ago was very timid. She had one goal, which was chasing after Joel Mitchell. He was her single priority. She didn’t express the slightest interest in the company. What changed, and where does this leave us with regaining ownership of the West Coast division?”

  “I’m not sure,” Don answered.

  Madeline was disheartened as she thought about how hard they were going to have to work in order to regain the West Coast division. “Do you think Joel is behind this?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so. When he came home last week, Joel seemed surprised to see me there. Zarah and Joel gave off an odd vibe together, so I left.”

  “This is getting weirder by the minute,” Madeline stated.

  “As far as the West Coast goes, Zarah shot me down when I made the offer. However, she definitely wants controlling interest in Harmonious Energy and we want our division,” Don said.

  “Sounds like a deal in the making to me,” she said.

  “I sure hope you’re right,” Don uttered. “Mother, back to what you were saying about Zarah. This is weird to see her step up in such a public way. If we’re fortunate, Zarah will get tired of the businesswoman venture and eagerly sell the West Coast division to us at a fair market price. The sooner we close out this chapter of DMI, the better.”

  Madeline nodded in agreement.

  “There’s another twist I forgot to tell you about.”

  “What else could there possibly be?” she asked, peering over her glasses.

  “Joel asked me for a job.”

  Madeline snapped the magazine closed. “At your company, LTI?”

  “Well, maybe, but his preference is here at DMI.”

  She snatched her glasses off. “No way! I hope you told him to go jump in the river and swim upstream since he likes going against the current so much. Joel can work for any company stupid enough to hire him, as long as he leaves us alone. He can’t come back here,” she said, stretching out her arms. It had taken years to get him out so her children could assume their rightful places. She wasn’t going backward. “I hope you told him to get lost.”

  “I didn’t use those words, obviously,
but the answer was no, at least until we figure out where we’re headed.”

  “What do you mean?” Madeline asked, patting her hair flat on both sides. Don was frightening her. She’d worked too hard to let Joel slither back into DMI. Don had such a kind and forgiving heart. A schemer like Joel would take full advantage of him. She would have to diligently run interference to avoid complications with her plan. “We have to keep an executive position open for Tamara,” Madeline said. When she saw his expression, she added, “I already know what you’re going to say. Tamara doesn’t want the position, not yet, but she’ll see the light.” Miracles were real. Madeline had become a believer after witnessing Tamara return home and show a willingness to at least be in the same room with her mother. Baby steps were bound to turn into a permanent reconciliation. “Trust me; she’ll be here sooner or later.”

  “I’m glad you have faith, but this is ludicrous,” Don replied. “Tamara has made it very clear she’s not working here. She’s starting her own business, Mother. Face it. She’s not going to be able to help me. On top of that, Abigail is leaving, and I have LTI to run in addition to DMI.”

  “What am I? Chopped liver?” Madeline had encouraged Don to take over DMI from the instant Dave appointed Joel CEO of the company. She was growing tired but couldn’t walk out on Don when he sorely needed her.

  “No disrespect, Mother, but you’re getting older. I doubt you’re planning to work into your seventies.”

  He was correct. She was ready to hang up the corporate mantle and travel the world. With the free time, she might enroll in an art or cooking class, or take an adventure. The possibilities were endless. As long as she had her health and money, her retirement years would be fabulous. Now, if only she could get Don and DMI in order. The events of late told her that was a big “if.”

  Chapter 25

  Joel didn’t drive his Lamborghini. The car was too distinctive for his errand. He decelerated as he approached the airport exit and crawled along the frontage road, carefully looking for the Kings Buffet a few minutes before five p.m. He spotted the restaurant on the other side of the road. Joel whipped his SUV across two lanes, generating a series of horn blasts behind him. He sped through the intersection, where the light was yellow, catapulted by a sudden rush of adrenaline. Taking risks wasn’t a drug he intentionally sought, but he welcomed risky propositions whenever they arose. Meeting in a clandestine location under the veil of impending darkness might have generated humiliation, doubt, or shame in someone else, but not in Joel. He was riding a wave of exhilaration. As soon as he maneuvered into a parking spot, Joel saw his uncle’s two-seater Mercedes roll up next to him.

  Over the years, the Mitchell name had taken a beating, thanks to Uncle Frank and his creative approach to financing. Joel had engaged in several deals with his uncle, and each had failed miserably. If placing blame would resolve his current dire dilemma, Joel would have plenty of justification for pointing his finger at his uncle. But clinging to mistakes of the past wasn’t going to help him. He knew it and didn’t expend the energy dwelling on it.

  Without any prompting, Uncle Frank slid out of his Mercedes and into the passenger seat of Joel’s vehicle. “What’s going on, nephew? I wasn’t expecting a call from you last week. Word on the street is you flew the coop, packed up and left Detroit.”

  “Can’t always believe what you hear,” Joel told Uncle Frank. “Are we going inside?”

  “Nah, no need,” Uncle Frank said. “We can converse here. It’s as good a place as any.”

  Joel pressed his back against the driver’s side door to get a better view of his uncle.

  “I know you didn’t come out here to chitchat. What do you want?” Uncle Frank said.

  Not much had changed. Joel wasn’t put off by his uncle’s brashness. Actually, he appreciated his uncle’s candor. Frank wasn’t known for being the most law-abiding citizen in town, having embezzled money from DMI and others, but he was direct.

  “I’m interested in making a deal,” Joel revealed.

  “Exactly what kind of deal are we talking about?”

  “The Southern division, I want it back.”

  Uncle Frank slapped his thigh and let out a guttural chuckle, which made Joel uneasy. This might truly be his last chance to slide onto the big corporate stage. He was serious, but he was afraid Uncle Frank didn’t think so.

  “We’ve had this conversation before, and it didn’t go anywhere.” Uncle Frank reached for the door handle. “I agreed to this rendezvous because you’re my nephew, but I don’t let anybody waste my time. You know that much about me. Shoot, your nonsense is going to make me late for dinner. I’m out of here.”

  Before he could open the door, Joel yelled out, “Wait. I’m serious this time.” When he’d met with his uncle many months ago, Joel wouldn’t pay the ridiculously inflated price the new owner wanted for the division. It was worth three hundred million when Joel originally lost it to Uncle Frank’s investors. The division was collateral on a deal gone bad. The very next day, the price nearly doubled. At the time Joel was the CEO of DMI, and they’d just purchased a stake in Harmonious Energy. Their cash reserves were depleted, and there were no funds available to make the purchase. That was nearly six months ago. Time had softened his anger toward Uncle Frank and his private investors. Add in desperation, and there he sat, in a parking lot with the man who possibly held the key to his comeback.

  “Are you telling me you have the kind of cash these guys are looking to collect for the division? Because you couldn’t come up with any real money a few months ago. What’s changed?”

  Joel didn’t have the money then and he didn’t have it now, but he wasn’t going to let his chance at redemption waltz out of the car without a monstrous plea. There had to be a way to make this deal work. Joel hadn’t completely vetted his plan, so he’d resort to his best option for now—a lie.

  “Come on, Uncle. I know you as well as anybody.” He chuckled to relieve his anxiety and to camouflage his fear. His uncle was an alligator who thrived on fear and could detect it a mile away. Joel did the best acting of his life. His future was riding on his performance. “Would I show up here without having the funds to orchestrate a deal with your people?” His palms were moistening. He gripped the steering wheel with one hand to continue masking his anxiety.

  Uncle Frank stared at Joel, making him more uneasy. Finally, his uncle said, “You better be for real, because you know the people who own the division don’t play games. You know this.” Uncle Frank was pointing his index finger at him. Oh, Joel knew too well. “And while you’re coughing up dollars for this venture, don’t forget my consulting fee.”

  “How could I ever forget?”

  What were they doing? It was crazy, Joel thought. He was sitting with the former chief financial officer of DMI, the man he had to fire due to his shady dealings. Joel found it difficult to calculate how far they had both fallen. He recalled how fondly his father had spoken about Uncle Frank, about his loyalty and his hard-hitting success during the start-up years. His father had told Joel that the relationship with Uncle Frank was broken after he divorced Madeline and married Sherry. For some reason, Uncle Frank never got over his brother’s personal failure. Fast-forward and here Joel was, with Uncle Frank, on the outskirts of town and the Mitchell Empire. Joel drew in a breath. As much as he’d like to blame someone or something for his predicament, Joel didn’t. This was on him, his doing. But he had a deep-seated desire to fix his string of bad luck one way or another.

  Joel was pleased about his appeal until Uncle Frank continued.

  “Look here, nephew. Believe it or not, I like you. So don’t take this personal, but I can’t take an IOU from you. Word on the street is that you’re broke. I need cash up front.”

  “I can handle my business.”

  “So you can put your hands on about seven hundred million for the sale, plus another couple million for my fee?”

  “Seven hundred? This is higher than the number you gav
e me six months ago. This is crazy. I sold them the division for three hundred. How can they expect me to pay twice the original price?”

  “It’s called business, young brother.”

  Joel wasn’t as successful in hanging on to his wishful thinking as he’d been with Uncle Frank. Hope packed up and jumped out the window, running from the car so fast that Joel had no way of catching a break. “I don’t have seven hundred.”

  “How much do you have?” Uncle Frank muttered.

  “Maybe three hundred and fifty million.” In order to actually come up with that sum, he’d have to liquidate his remaining assets, about three hundred million, and get another twenty-five from both his mother and Sheba.

  “I thought you were serious. You’re wasting my time, and you know I don’t like that.” Grasping for an opportunity, Joel begged his uncle to present the offer.

  “I’m not going in there with a few dollars, so get real,” his uncle stated.

  “I’m begging you,” Joel said, gripping his uncle’s arm.

  Uncle Frank jerked his arm away. “You have issues, son, but I like you. Consider this your once-in-a-lifetime favor. It’s a ridiculous move, but I’ll put a feeler out to see if there are any takers.”

  “Thank you,” Joel said, calming down. The venture had a slim chance of coming to fruition, but he didn’t have anything else to hold on to. Hope was way down the road, and pity was banging on the door, trying to get in. He would hold off pity as long as he could, but the barricade was weakening.

  Chapter 26

  Joel stayed in the right lane on I-94 as he headed to Detroit. A string of cars shot around him, prompting him to at least get his speed up to fifty. He was consumed by his meeting with Uncle Frank. The tranquility he’d soaked up with Zarah earlier at the café had faded. Joel had driven miles and couldn’t recall a single sign, car, or face of a passerby. He was at a crossroads both literally and figuratively, with I-94 splitting into multiple routes. He could go to the Westin, to DMI, or to his house with Zarah. None called out to him with certainty. Although he had planned on having dinner with Zarah later, he would stop by his mother’s first. It was a place where he was always welcomed. Belief in him was what he craved, a kind word of support without judgment or demands. Fired up, he pressed the accelerator.