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From her pocket she took the folded check for $200,000.00 and tucked it under the charging dock of his phone on the entertainment center, before climbing back up the four steps to the elevator. An hour later she sat in a practically empty car as the AirTrain whisked her to JFK.
The chopper was over Connecticut when Harlan got the call from Ms. Kalinski about Tory leaving. He tried her phone but got no answer. The situation with Jude Coleman did bother him slightly. The kind of girl who understands Sunday dinner, he said to himself. Maybe she was too good for an older playboy and young enough to constantly elicit comments from many. Perhaps Barry was right and he should leave the situation alone.
Arriving at the Canal Street Heliport in Stamford, Harlan rode Uberblack to his Mother’s house. Kendrick, his mother’s butler, came to the door and took Harlan’s small bag.
“The regular room. Sir?” Kendrick droned.
“That’s fine,” Harlan said.
Hearing her Bossa Nova music echoing in the living room, Harlan knew where to find his mother. When he walked in the room he was overcome. Considering herself an artist after Harlan’s father passed away, She had spent her quarantine time making dozens of colorful pastels with which she’d lined one entire wall of the living room turning it into a psychedelic space with boxes of pastels and sketches all over the coffee table and sectional sofa.
“What a Mother’s Day surprise!” She threw her arms around her son and looked at him.
“You look healthy. You want something? Kendrick! She called out.
“No, no. I can get my own whatever. Don’t bother him,” Harlan pleaded yet Kendrick appeared at the door momentarily.
“Yes Mum,” he offered.
“Get Harlan something,” Mrs. Dawes ordered. Feeling guilty about making the old character get out of his chair, Harlan asked for a cognac.
“And put it in a regular glass, Okay?!” Harlan called after him. Harlan dropped down on a clear spot on the sectional and gazed at his mother’s work.
“You seem distracted, Harley,” his mom noticed.
“I may have met someone,” he said distantly.
“Not another one on those tall stupid girls who are afraid of bread, I hope,” him mother teased.
“I think you’d hit it off. She knows her primaries from her secondaries,” Harlan remarked, a bittersweetness in his tone.
“So what the long face for,” his mother asked, absently picking up a small plastic tub of gesso to see if it was empty or not.
“I just don’t know. There was a thing. Someone she used to like. Came to my business. Made a scene. I could tell it upset her,” he said, thinking out loud.
“Why don’t you call her?” his mother asked
“I tried earlier.”
“Do it again.”
“I’m not ready to hear about whatever she chose to do just yet,” he said, “She could do almost anything she wants. She’s got enough money to get started somewhere. Job offers coming at her everyday from all over. She’s gonna be fine no matter what she does.”
“And you?”
“I’m going up to have a shower and get some sleep. Getting an electric car for you in the morning. I need to be well rested to deal with car salesmen. Goodnight, Mom,” He pecked her on the cheek and went toward the stairs.
“You are staying for dinner Sunday, right?” she called after him.
“A Sunday dinner? Of course I am.”
Epilogue
Madison, Wisconsin seemed smaller to her when she returned after her time in New York City. Her house and her room seem unreasonably small as well after living in the space of Nextthing.Net when it had been practically empty. When Jude heard that Tory had come back to Madison he had called her. Jude seemed alright at home until hearing about how she had left the iGo money behind. He’d launched a rant about the evils of big business and big business men and the surrender of freedoms the nationwide lockdowns had caused and about how she should be clinging to that cash in the perilous era to come.
When Jude told her he was going off to join the anti lockdown protests in Michigan. She had closed her eyes and ended the call. Her mother was off with a group of local women bringing meals to the quarantined elderly in the area. Her father, Harry was in the garage sipping beers and watching his old TV which was too tremendous a piece of furniture for him to get rid of.
Needing to be outdoors, she put on one of the masks from Nextthing.Net and walked the 30 minutes over to Bascom Hill to see if Bascom Hall, at the center of the University of Wisconsin’s campus, was open. She had no real agenda at Bascom Hall but welcomed the chance just to walk around the familiar Gothic styles buildings where she had spent so much of her time. On the way back, she planned to stop in the supermarket to pick up a few things to prepare for dinner on Mother’s Day.
