She was trying to forget about the events of the past and focus on the future. But it was a lot harder than she’d imagined.
***
Monday morning, Harlan was feeling numb as the chopper slowly descended over the heliport atop the suite of offices and studios that made up Nextthing.Net. Mother’s day had been nice, quiet. His sister, Jane had shown up with her new husband, a Las Vegas restaurateur, who just opened a new location a month before the COVID 19 Pandemic and was not very optimistic despite that cities plans to open even before cities in nearby California.
When Jane asked him about who he was seeing, it was clear that his mother had filled her in on every detail she had managed to extricate from him about Tory, in a few brief sessions in the kitchen.
When Jane had asked where Tory was, Harlan just smiled and said, “She’s probably at her mother’s table tonight, just like you.”
With cities opening and commerce learning to cope, new work was coming in. The big network accounts, especially. Harlan spent the day on his bluetooth headset fielding calls while working out in the gym. It was dusk before he went up to the lounge to try relaxing a bit and clearing his head. When he put his phone in its base and prompted Flamma Flamma by Nicholas Lens, he noticed the folded check sticking out from beneath the unit and slowly took it up in his hand and unfolded it. He started to laugh out loud when he realized that Tory didn’t take the check. He took up the phone again and called Barry Meyerwitz. Looking worried his face appeared on the phone’s screen and then bounced to the TV as Harlan turned it on.
“So what’s the status? Ho lawyer asked.
“She didn’t take the check, Barry,”
“Not enough? What? She wants more?”
“Don’t you see what this means?”
“No.”
“She’s not starting a new life somewhere,”
“How do you know?”
“I uh..”
“Who’s the lawyer?” Barry prompted him.
“I know you’re the lawyer. Mr. Mouthpiece but I think it means something. She didn’t have to leave it here for me to find. She could have ripped it up, given it to Jillian. Payroll is open. She could have done anything!”
“As your lawyer I advise you to leave this situation alone. Do the right thing for a change.
”Yeah, Barry. You’re right. The right thing. I should just do the right thing.”
In their kitchen, Victoria and her mother, Linda cooked. Potatoes were boiling for mashed. Her mother battered and breaded chicken parts as Tory carefully sank the pieces in the hot oil to fry then placed the cooked meat on a plate covered in paper towels to blot up excess oil. Not having a genuine plan she was content to help her Mom and didn’t mind the idea of spending time with her and the elders of her community who had always been there for her growing up.
Her mother had known that the crisis in the country had surely changed Tory. She was proud to see her holding it together instead of struggling and complaining about petty personal problems in the midst of the pandemic like so many young people she saw on the news. She was a levelheaded girl who always seemed to find the time to hear another’s problems before considering or even airing her own.
Having heard from the Coleman’s about Jude breaking quarantine, and having had to listen to his concerns several times on the phone, before and after the fact, her mother knew everything. She saw Victoria practically hovering about the house as she had years ago like a child on Christmas Eve, a glow with the belief that there might still be magic in the world. She knew her daughter was a woman in love.
The roar of a new Ducati’s engine on her hometown street as the motorcycle passed by outside was as alien as the sleek looking highly polished black cycle she saw turning around at the end of her block. Tory had absently walked out the kitchen door and into the street in an apron without saying a word.
She ran back into the kitchen but didn’t see her mother. “Mom!” she called out. Her mother came from the foyer with Tory’s light blue suede jacket in hand.
“I….” she started, smiling, “I’m, I need to talk to someone,” she said, slipping out of the apron. The motorcycle had stopped outside, engine purring in neutral.
“Just let me know when you get to wherever it is you’re going,” her mother remarked, sounding quite folksy.
“I love you, Mom,” she whispered as they hugged.
Outside, Harlan sat on his newest toy, purchased at the closest dealership to the airport, looking at his phone.