“Good morning, Luke.” She smiled and handed him his messages and mail.
“Morning.” He glanced at the papers for a second, then stopped and turned around. “I see Dr. Peterson scheduled a meeting today at eleven. When he comes in, make him wait a bit.” Sure, it was childish, but the man pissed him off. Peterson’s procrastination did a disservice to all Keith had tried to accomplish. He deserved a little set down.
To her credit, Valerie didn’t miss a beat. She merely blinked her big brown eyes and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He entered his office and immediately set to work. After the usual Monday morning directors’ meeting with his boss, he began to wade through the various e-mails, phone calls, and questions that required his attention. He picked up his head only once, and that was to acknowledge the delivery of his bagel and cream cheese.
“Hey, Orlando, how’s it going? You and your family get settled yet in the apartment?” Orlando Hernandez, his mother, and his twin sisters had been in a shelter when Luke first met them. He’d not only assisted the family with navigating the confusing world of food stamps, Medicaid, and Section 8 low-income housing, but had gotten Orlando a part-time job in the deli down the block from Luke’s office building while he studied for the GED.
It was all about paying it forward.
Thinking back almost twelve years, he recalled all that Wanda had done for him when he first stumbled into the shelter that cold night. She’d cleaned him up, given him warm clothes and a hot meal. But more than that, she’d given him hope. Hope he could survive through the trauma of his flight from Georgia. Hope he could ascend to heights he’d never thought possible during the blackest time of his humiliation.
It began with his education and determination, but the common thread running through it all was her love for him. He’d vowed to make her proud and never let her down.
The young man’s teeth flashed bright in his dark face. “Yes, Mr. Conover. Mama is thrilled to have a place to cook again and wanted me to tell you she expects you over to dinner one night soon.”
Luke took the bag with his bagel and third cup of coffee of the morning and placed it on his desk. “I’m sure she loves cooking up a storm.”
Valerie buzzed from outside. “You have a phone call. Mr. Davis again.”
His heart accelerated. Shit. When was that bastard going to get the hint that Luke didn’t want to talk to him? “Same as before, Valerie. Tell him I’m busy and let security know downstairs not to allow him access to the building to see me, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
He gave a rueful smile to Orlando, who stood waiting before him. “Someone from the past I have no desire to see now. You know how it is.”
Orlando’s lips quirked in a smile. “Of course.”
Luke paid him, adding a hefty tip, and watched him leave, pleased he’d accomplished at least one good thing in his life so far. The phone calls and e-mails never stopped as he devoured his bagel and drank his coffee. It seemed everything this morning demanded his immediate attention.
At precisely eleven o’clock, Valerie buzzed him. “Dr. Peterson is here. Do you want him to wait here or in the conference room?”
“Here. Let him sit for ten minutes, then bring him in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Luke left his seat to stare out of the window. Though he hated to admit it, the call from Ash still upset him. He didn’t want memories banging their way back into his head like an incessant woodpecker. The past was called the past because it was over and done with. There was no forgiveness in his heart for Ash Davis. His brother. What a joke.
As far as he was concerned, he was as alone as ever.
A rap at the door brought him back to awareness. “Yes?”
Valerie opened it part of the way, effectively blocking anyone outside from seeing in. She was worth her weight in gold.
“Are you ready for Dr. Peterson, sir?”
He smiled and stood at his desk, hands clasped together. For some inexplicable reason a shower of nerves prickled his skin. “Yes, send him in, please.”
Luke remained standing as Valerie opened the door, and he got his first look at Jordan Peterson.
“Mr. Conover? I’m Dr. Peterson.” The man greeted him head down, as if its weight was too heavy for him to bear. All Luke could think of was how different he looked from the picture Keith had shown him last year. Where Peterson had been laughing into the camera, holding up a wineglass, his face alive with joy, this hollow-eyed man who stood before him bore little resemblance to the photograph.
Still, there was beauty in this shattered, emotional wreckage of a man. The blond hair was the same, although it no longer lay as neatly trimmed and styled as it had been. But the pallor of his skin left little doubt that he hadn’t seen the sun in months, and his expensive, well-tailored suit hung loose on his skin-and-bones frame. Overall, Dr. Jordan Peterson’s appearance was of a man devastated by a tragedy of unbearable magnitude.
Against his better judgment he took pity on the man and mustered up what he hoped was a sympathetic smile. Hard as it was for Luke to show emotion, Keith’s death had hit him hard. He couldn’t imagine the depth of Peterson’s anguish.
“I’m sorry for your loss. Keith was a wonderful man.”
