Chapter Two
“Howard Havren, theCEO of the Veilstone Corporation, died in his sleep last night.He was eighty-five.At this time, the board of directors have given no official notice who will take his place...”
The news report on the television snagged Kleya’s attention as soon as she heard the name of the deceased.The current leader of the Coalition had just died, and she knew there would be a mad scramble to fill that vacancy.The society operated from the shadows, mostly.Making and creating deals that benefited their own interests.Certain criteria had to be met.She, for instance, was considered a Legacy generation.Her own family had been a member from when it had first been founded sometime at the turn of the last century.When railroad tycoons and industrial magnates bankrolled themselves into the stratosphere, and not everyone was allowed into the little clique.The old money bluebloods looked down upon the new money capitalists with disdain.
When her father’s ringtone blared, she knew this was going to be about Howard’s death.Motioning for someone to take her place serving food to the line of people shuffling forward for a hot meal, she peeled off her disposable gloves and connected the call.
“Yes?”she greeted as she walked away to find a secluded spot.
“Hello to you, too, Daughter,” her father, Arnold, said.His voice had that nasally high-pitched tone one associated with snobs.“I’m sure you heard the news.You need to come home.”
“Should I dress formally in mourning?”
“Not in mourning, but formal is required.”Arnold paused for a brief moment, and Kleya knew something else was coming.“We’ll be celebrating your engagement.”
The words crashed through her head like a sledgehammer.Growing up in the Coalition, she always knew her marriage would be arranged for an advantageous match.Although she wasn’t ready to settle down with a husband, she would never disobey a directive from her father.The only thing she hoped for was that she wasn’t to marry Landry Sessions.
“Who is my fiancé?”
“You’ll meet him tonight at dinner.”
“Very well,” she said.“Would you send a car to pick me up?”
“I’ll send Richard to pick you up at 7:00.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Kleya disconnected the call, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.Giving herself a moment to savor the tiny bit of freedom she still had left before the sand shifted beneath her feet.Maybe her future husband would allow her to continue helping at the soup kitchen.Maybe he wouldn’t be as horrible as she was expecting.
“Kleya, is anything wrong?”
Startled, she opened her eyes to see her friend, Lark.“Oh, no.I, uh, need to leave.I’ve been summoned by my father to have dinner at their house.”
Lark’s brow furrowed.“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling.“Family drama.”
Her friend nodded, instantly understanding.One time, Kleya had brought Lark to dinner with her parents.The entire evening, they kept looking at her friend’s brown skin, frowning.It had been horrifying and embarrassing how racist her parents were.
“Well, if you need me, you have my phone number.”
Kleya reached out and took Lark’s hand in hers.“Thank you for understanding.If, for any reason, I can’t return right away, I’ll make sure you stay funded.You’re my best friend, an inspiration, and the most caring person I know.”
“I’m not your friend because of your money.And stop making it sound like you’re going away for forever.”
“Sorry,” she said softly.“I just want you to know that I believe in you and this center.Once I get my situation settled, I hope to return to help out.”
“You would let me know if something was bad, right?”
“Yes, I would, but it’s nothing bad.I promise.”
Not wanting any more questions she couldn’t answer, Kleya pulled back and took off her apron to hand it over.Then, with a wave, she headed toward the door.She’d never been the kind of woman that carried a purse, not when everything she needed was in an app on her phone.She called up a rideshare and a moment later was on her way home to her apartment.
