Читать книгу Five Star Attraction - Jacquelin Thomas - Страница 12

Chapter 3

Ari Alexander was infuriating, to say the least. What had she done to make him so distrustful of her? Natasha drove along the 405 freeway, trying to figure out the answer to that question.

“I’m doing the right thing,” she kept telling herself over and over again. Natasha thought about her last conversation with Robert. He had been clear about his final instructions—this much she knew. Robert DePaul died the very next day.

The last thing she wanted to do was betray the man who had been a mentor to her, but in some ways she could understand why Harold felt so slighted. He had worked alongside his uncle and been extremely loyal to Robert. Malcolm appeared to be a good man, but he had never had any type of relationship with his biological father.

Natasha didn’t want to insult Malcolm Alexander or his infuriating son, but she hoped that they would seriously consider her advice to sell, although she didn’t mention that the investment group interested consisted of members of Robert DePaul’s family.

Shortly after the will was read, Harold approached her with a way for his family to retain the hotel group. She didn’t see any reason not to help him—Harold and his relatives only wanted to protect what should have been theirs in the first place.

Despite Malcolm’s business acumen, Natasha still believed that he lacked the experience for running a hotel chain of this size. Once Malcolm decided to sell, Harold promised to pay her the balance of the money they offered. Medical bills would eat up the ten thousand Robert left her. He had also given her complete ownership of the building that housed her company. If Harold hadn’t approached her with his offer, she had planned to sell the building.

She put on her right signal as she switched lanes. Natasha was taking the next off-ramp. She was looking forward to slipping off her heels and relaxing. It had been a trying day, to say the least.

Ari and his father escorted Ira and his assistant to the door.

“I’m only a phone call away,” Ira told them. “Call if you have any questions.”

“There won’t be anything pressing that can’t wait until morning,” Malcolm responded.

Ari settled down in the living room and turned on the television. Malcolm was about to join him when Franklin appeared from another room.

“The master bedroom has been prepared for you, Mr. Alexander.” He turned to Ari and said, “You will be in the guest room across the hall.”

“Thank you,” they said in unison.

“Mr. Alexander, is there anything I can get for you before dinner?” Franklin inquired.

“We’re fine,” Malcolm said.

“Chef Ricardo will have dinner prepared promptly at 6:00 p.m.”

There was a thin smile on his lips as Malcolm gave a slight nod. “Thank you.”

Franklin disappeared as quietly as he had arrived.

“That dude bothers me,” Ari whispered. “I wonder if he even knows how to smile. Maybe it’s in the Butlers of America handbook or something that smiling is strictly forbidden.”

Laughing, Malcolm nodded in agreement. “I don’t know how Robert could have him lurking around all of the time. Ira told me that Franklin and Chef Ricardo actually live across the hall in accommodations for personal staff. However, he moved into the room near the kitchen when Robert got sick. He was very loyal to Robert.”

Ari gave his father a sidelong glance and said in a loud whisper, “Well, now he’s yours.”

Malcolm sighed softly. He got up and walked into the conference room. He returned a few minutes later carrying the letter from Robert. “I guess I should read this now.”

“You don’t have to do it until you’re ready,” Ari told him. “Maybe you should wait until you’re with Mom.”

“I thought about that, but I changed my mind,” Malcolm said. “I guess my curiosity is getting the better of me.”

They sat down at the table, side by side.

Malcolm opened the letter. He read the words aloud.

Malcolm,

I’m sure the news that you are my son has blindsided you and for that, I apologize. I have long wanted to come to you, but your mother made me promise never to disrupt your life.

I met Pearle Strickland in Wilmington, North Carolina, when she worked as a housekeeper for the DePaul DeSoto Hotel owned by my family. I want you to know that Pearle and I were very much in love, but we were both concerned with how our relationship would be viewed by the world and our families.

When Pearle found out that she was pregnant, she decided it was best to spare my family the scandal by leaving town. This was not what I wanted, but I’m sure you are aware of your mother’s stubborn streak—she would have it no other way.

Soon after, I received word that she was getting married and she urged me to forget about her. She told me that Theodore Alexander was a good man and would be a good father to you. She insisted that this was the way it had to be. I was to never have any contact with you.

Although this was what your mother wanted, I found it hard not to keep track of how you were progressing. My wife and I were never fortunate to have children. I have always believed God would not allow me another child because I had not honored the one he blessed me with. Malcolm, I want you to understand that this is not about my guilt in not publicly recognizing you as my son.

It is no accident that you are in the hospitality business. Your mother had always shown an interest in her own hotel, and I was happy to teach her everything I knew at the time. I believe she used the money I had given her when she left to purchase the small inn she owned. She and her husband transformed what was virtually nothing into a very successful bed-and-breakfast.

Then you returned home from the military and opened the first Alexander Hotel. Five years later, the second one opened, and that’s when I knew that you were the one who would carry the DePaul Hotel Group into the future. You have the vision and the business acumen I desire in a successor. Vision is the most powerful thing owned by any human being, even stronger than financial power. With you at the helm, I expect our modus operandi will continue harmoniously as we have done in the past.

Despite all you will hear about me, the one thing I want you to know for sure—I was just a man who loved a woman, but was foolish enough to allow others to keep me away from her. For that, I am deeply ashamed.

I hope one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me. Although we never had as much as a conversation, I have always loved you as a son. If only God had granted me a few more years. I did not want to come to you as an ill man.

I will leave this earth in peace, knowing that I have finally corrected a grievous wrong. You are the future of the DePaul Hotel Group.

Your father,

Robert DePaul

“So, what do you think?” Ari questioned half in anticipation, half in dread as he silently observed a range of emotions that had settled on his father’s face.

Malcolm shrugged. “If Robert DePaul wanted a relationship with me, he could have had one, regardless of how my mother felt. All he had to do was acknowledge me as his son. What could she have done?” He folded the letter carefully and stuck it back into the envelope.

“I get the feeling he didn’t want to embarrass Grandma.” Ari met his father’s gaze. “I do believe that he wanted to have a relationship with you, though.”

Malcolm didn’t seem convinced. “His wife never gave him children. If she had, do you really think he would have left his estate to me?”

Ari didn’t know the answer to that, but he replied, “He didn’t have to leave it to you, Dad. He could’ve left it to his DePaul relatives.”

“Maybe he should have,” Malcolm uttered.

“Dad, don’t say that.”

“I don’t need his money.”

“But he wanted you to have it,” Ari countered. “Dad, you are his son and he made sure that you were taken care of—I think it’s admirable.”

“Or misplaced guilt,” Malcolm contributed. “He made a choice a long time ago, and he should have left it at that.”

“You’re angry,” Ari told his father.

The tense lines on Malcolm’s face relaxed. “My life was fine, and I’m not so sure I’m willing to give it up for a three-ring circus.”

Ari nodded in understanding. His father was a private man, and his inheritance had thrust him into the limelight.

“Dad, legally you are entitled to everything Robert DePaul left you, and I think it’s an incredible blessing. You and Mom have always talked about owning a chain of hotels—you can do that now. Dad, this is in our blood.”

“Your mother and I will pray over this situation. The good Lord above will guide us in making the right decision.”

Ari agreed.

The butler arrived to announce that dinner was being served, and he led them to the dining room.

“Is someone joining us?” Malcolm asked, looking at the beautiful display of food on the table.

“It will just be the two of you,” the butler replied.

“This is a lot of food,” Ari interjected. The delectable spread included roast chicken, baked tilapia, steamed vegetables, rice pilaf and assorted rolls.

Malcolm agreed. “Tell Chef Ricardo to come on out here. You two will eat with us. The best way to get to know a person is over a meal, I always say.”

Franklin looked shocked but managed to recover. “Sir…”

“Call me Malcolm. The first thing I want you to know about me is that I’m a simple man. Now, there’s no way that my son and I can eat up all of this food, so y’all come join us. We don’t believe in wasting food.”

Franklin swallowed hard and then gave a slight nod. “We’d be honored, sir.”

He left the room, walking quickly.

Ari looked at his father and grinned. “I thought the man was about to pass out when you asked him to eat with us.”

Malcolm chuckled as he sat down at the table.

Franklin returned with Chef Ricardo. Both men wore expressions of disbelief and waited for Ari to sit down before seating themselves.

Malcolm said the blessing.

Franklin didn’t pick up his fork until Malcolm and Ari sampled the food on their plates.

“Everything is delicious,” Malcolm said. He wiped his mouth on the end of his napkin.

Ari agreed.

Chef Ricardo smiled. “It was very nice of you to allow us to join you.” He glanced down at his plate. “Franklin and I usually take our meals in the kitchen.”

“You went through a lot of effort to cook this fancy meal,” Malcolm acknowledged, “so I figure you might as well enjoy some of it with us.”

“Forgive me for staring,” Franklin murmured. “You look so much like Mr. Robert. He was a very kind man, although sad at times. He spoke of your mother often.”

Malcolm gave a polite smile. “I regret that I will never have the chance to meet or get to know Robert DePaul. I have always admired his business acumen.”

“Franklin, how did you come to work for Robert?” Ari asked while cutting into the tender fish.

“I was living on the streets,” Franklin said. “One day when I was looking for food, I saw these thugs trying to rob Mr. Robert. I went to help him.” He stuck a forkful of vegetables into his mouth.

“Franklin is a black belt in karate,” Chef Ricardo interjected.

“I made sure Mr. Robert made it safely to his car. When he was inside, I was about to walk off, and he called me back. I thought he was going to offer me some money, but he offered me a job instead,” Franklin said. “That was almost eight years ago.”

Ari glanced over at Ricardo, who said, “I met Mr. Robert at the World Culinary Showcase in Dallas, Texas. He came up to me after my presentation and invited me to lunch. A faculty member from the school I attended told him about me. He flew me out here to cook a meal for him and his wife. They loved it and offered me a permanent position as their personal chef. I have been with them for five years now.”

“Mr. Robert was a good man,” Franklin said. “I am sorry you didn’t get the chance to meet him personally.”

“Me, too,” Malcolm responded.

For dessert, there was lemon pound cake with strawberries and whipped cream and a chocolate drizzle.

Later, Ari settled down to watch some television while his father was in the master bedroom on the telephone.

He’s talking to Mom, Ari thought silently. He hoped that his mother could convince his father to keep the inheritance. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance for his parents to live out their dreams.

Ari’s thoughts centered on Natasha; he couldn’t understand how she evoked feelings he thought long dead. The way she looked at him, even when he felt the heat of her frustration…she affected him deeply, and it bothered him.

I don’t trust her.

She was loyal to Robert. Did that mean she was just as loyal to the rest of his family?

Natasha was glad to be home. She kicked off her shoes as soon as she entered the trendy three-bedroom condo. Natasha removed her jacket next.

A full-figured woman wearing a T-shirt and jeans came down the stairs carrying an empty glass.

Natasha smiled. “How did today go, Monica?”

“It was a good day,” she responded with a smile.

They talked for a few minutes before Natasha headed upstairs to a bedroom. She entered the room. “Hey, you,” she greeted.

A little boy sitting at a desk in front of a computer looked up and grinned. “Mommy, you’re home.”

“I sure am. Nurse Monica told me that you had a good day.” Joshua was her pride and joy. Natasha tickled his ears.

He giggled. “I did.”

“How was class today?” she asked. Her six-year-old son had leukemia, and for the moment he was in remission. He wasn’t able to go to school because his blood counts were low, putting him at risk for infection. Joshua was able to keep up with his friends and class work via satellite.

“Kinda boring,” Joshua responded. “I have homework to do.”

“Is that what you’re working on?”

Joshua nodded. “I have to write a story about a fish.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “You love fish, don’t you?”

“But I don’t want to write about a fish,” Joshua stated. “I want to write a story about football.”

“Well, why don’t you email Mrs. Terry and ask if you can do that?” Natasha suggested.

He smiled. “Okay, I will.”

He had been looking forward to playing football this summer with a Pop Warner league. He was finally old enough for the flag football team that practiced at the park a block away from their building. But in a cruel twist of fate, Joshua was diagnosed with leukemia.

She hugged him. “I love you, Joshua.”

“I love you more.”

“You work on that email to your teacher while I change into something comfortable.”

“Can we have spaghetti for dinner?” Joshua asked.

“We sure can,” she responded with a grin. Joshua loved spaghetti and would eat it every night if she let him.

Natasha stood in the doorway of his room, gazing at him. When Joshua was diagnosed a few months ago, his doctor had informed her that he needed to be out of school for one to three years because the chemotherapy treatments would compromise his immune system. It didn’t take much for Joshua to get sick. Just last week, they had to run back and forth to the hospital because Joshua kept running a temperature.

She’d exhausted her savings just to hire Monica so that Joshua had a full-time nurse. Her insurance hadn’t made a dent in the mountain of medical bills sitting on her desk. Robert fell ill a month before she received Joshua’s diagnosis, so she hadn’t confided in him. She was grateful for the ten thousand he left for her, but that wouldn’t cover future treatments. When Harold approached her with the offer to pay the medical bills in full, she’d jumped at the opportunity. Nothing was more important to her than Joshua.