He wouldn’t even pick up the damn phone and call me.He’s known for months that we’ve been working to make this deal happen. How could he do this to me?Per usual, when it came to his dad, an emptiness consumed him.
Zander fished two aspirin from his desk drawer and swallowed them down. His father would never agree to anything King Development had proposed. Kent was right. The project was dead. He stared at the previous day’s text from his father.
“I love you, son.”
Call him.His dad’s cell phone rang several times before rolling to voice mail. “Hey, Dad. Haven’t heard from you in a while. Thought we could get together and talk about…” He stopped. “Give me a call.” Gritting his teeth, he hung up.
Shake it off. It’s not the first big deal we’ve lost. I need to be worried about the project I have that’s costing me millions.
Zander called Anne Bickam, the president of Esteem University. When her cell phone rolled to voicemail, he called her assistant.
“Good afternoon, Office of the President,” said the perky-voiced woman.
“Hello, it’s Zander King for Anne.”
“I’m sorry, she’s in a meeting. Can I take a message?”
After Zander explained the situation, the dutiful employee suggested she transfer him to the CFO.
“That’s gotten us nowhere,” he replied. “I’ll hold for Anne.”
“Her meeting isn’t scheduled to end for another forty-five minutes. If you tell me where she can reach you, I’ll let her know.”
Rubbing his forehead, he provided his cell phone number, then hung up.Why can’t something go smoothly today?
It was after eleven when Zander drove home. In addition to brooding over Starry Cove, he couldn’t stop thinking about Savannah and her unreliable pickup. Did she make it to her destination or did her truck die again? Was her tan a result of her job or did she sit by the pool for hours? Her deep, sultry voice, beautiful face, and tight body appealed to him, but her determined independence was his hot button. That type of woman drove him wild.
By the time he parked in the garage of his upscale condo building, he regretted not asking for her phone number, though he doubted she would have given it to him anyway.
Two days later, Zanderhad sidelined the Starry Cove project, refocusing his efforts on low-hanging opportunities. But his frustration over losingthe big onecontinued to gnaw at him. He left another message for his dad but, per usual, his father didn’t return his call. As much as Zander disliked defeat, he filed this opportunity in the “loss” category.
While leading a conference call with a group of potential investors, his assistant set a stack of opened mail on his desk and tapped the top envelope with her fingernail.
“Important,” she whispered.
When the call ended, he read the letter from a Wildflower Springs attorney.
Dear Mr. King,
It is with extreme regret that I must inform you that your father, Mr. Kyle King, has passed away. As executor of your father’s estate, I’m instructed to read his will this Friday at one o’clock. If you cannot attend, I ask that you contact my office at your earliest convenience. Please accept my sincerest sympathy for your loss.
Sheldon Elstor, Esq.
As he stared at the letter, his chest tightened. The loneliness that had plagued him since childhood slammed into him like a giant tidal wave. Over the years, he’d lived with no downtime. Packing in the activities prevented him from thinking about the constant loneliness. While most mourned the loss of a parent, Zander had grieved for his a long time ago. The distant relationship with his father had been a source of great frustration. As an adult, he’d accepted it, though he never liked it.
Pushing out of his chair, he stared out the twelfth-story window, eyeing the sluggish traffic on Route 123 in Tysons.Only sixty-four and he’s gone.
He’d last called his father on Christmas Day. Like all of their conversations, this one had revolved around Kyle’s latest drama, a contentious divorce from his fifth wife, which Zander assumed had left him strapped for cash.
Concerned, Zander had sent him $25,000. A month later, he followed up because the check had never been cashed. His father had been too busy to open his mail because he’d met the love of his life.
And that’s when Zander had needed a break.
Now, he would grieve what he never had—a meaningful relationship with his dad. He had no idea why his father would orchestrate a reading of his will, but he’d be there, if for no other reason than to respect his wishes and move forward, no longer expecting something Kyle King could never give him.
Returning to his desk, he lifted the receiver on his console and dialed.
“Good afternoon, the law office of Sheldon Elstor,” said a soft-spoken man.
