“You wanted to go to college and pursue a liberal arts degree,” Alan continued. “You wanted a career in the creative arts. Your parents disapproved, and they talked you into getting a job at All Nation right after high school because they convinced you that starting your career early would get you in the door, and you could work your way up the ladder and have a long career with them. You worked at All Nation. Your parents were in high positions by then, and they helped you get in the door. Then when you got pregnant, your mother tried to talk you into having an abortion.”
“Shut up!” Michelle yelled. She clasped her hands over her ears. Her vision blurred with tears as she remembered those conversations, remembered those emotions of turmoil.
Alan paused. His kind, sensitive features were troubled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Really, I am. I’m sorry for bringing that up and for… what happened.”
Michelle tried to staunch the flow of tears. She’d never told anybody about the conversations she had with her mother about Alanis, and how her mother suggested to her that she abort her child. The only person she’d ever told was Donald. “How…” she began, sniffing back tears. “Why…?”
Alan put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m on your side, Michelle. The organization I’m really with… we’re on your side.”
Michelle took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. Everything Alan just told her confirmed everything she’d always felt—that her parents never wanted her because her arrival got in the way of their career plans. “My parents… I haven’t seen them… even thought about them… in so long.”
“Was there ever a time when you thought there was something wrong with your parents?” Alan asked softly.
A wave of memories rushed by and Michelle sorted through them, searching her memory banks. She grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and dried her face. “When I was a teenager. But then all teenagers think their parents are from another planet when they’re that age.”
“What about later?”
Michelle looked down at the floor, twiddling the paper towel in her fingers. She remembered the conversations she’d had with her mother when she first learned she was pregnant. Her mother’s voice, cold, emotionless, came back to her unbidden. A child will only spoil your career… it’s a mistake… get rid of it now before you ruin your future with the company.
Get rid of it now before you ruin your future with the company.
…your future with the company…
…with the company…
Michelle blinked back the tears and took a deep breath. “When my mother told me that my career with All Nation was more important than the life of her unborn grandchild, I knew there was something wrong with her. I knew she wasn’t… wasn’t the woman I thought she was. I… for so long I tried to pretend that the reason my parents were never around for me, that the reason they were more interested in work than me, was because they were… they needed to work to keep… a roof over our heads. I mean, they provided for me, we had a home, food, clothes. We weren’t on the streets, we had a good home. But…”
“They were never there for you,” Alan said. “They put their jobs with All Nation above you; made it a priority even though they really didn’t need to do that. They could have skated by if only one of them worked; your mother could have been a stay-at-home mom. They could have taken less strenuous and lower paying positions and they still would have been able to take care of you adequately, but they didn’t. Right?”
Michelle nodded. The emotional pain was great but she didn’t cry. She held back the flow of tears, took a deep breath and composed herself. She dabbed at her eyes again with the paper towel. “I realized that when I was pregnant,” she said, her voice shaky. “That… that they placed an emphasis on work… on giving yourself over to your employer’s cause above everything else. Work was more important than everything to them including family… friends… life itself. And… that’s why I haven’t so much as spoken to them in almost ten years.”
Alan nodded. “Your parents were early clients of Corporate Financial. They entered a training program Corporate Financial conducted in the mid-sixties. That’s one of the reasons why Sam tapped you for your position. Your entire employment background was exhaustively researched. When they saw that you worked for All Nation in the late eighties and early nineties, they dug up your old Personnel files. Your corporate rating was A1—the highest mark an employee can receive. It was noted in your personnel file that your reason for leaving All Nation was to pursue other business interests. That careful wording was acceptable to them. Had you indicated the real reason, it would have raised red flags.”
The more Michelle was hearing, the more confused and nervous she was getting. She was no longer emotionally battered from the sudden rush of memories of her upbringing; they were being eclipsed by what Alan was now telling her. “But I left All Nation to pursue my art career,” she said. “I don’t remember putting that in… that form or whatever it was they had me fill out when I quit, but—”
“I saw a photocopy of the form,” Alan said. “Trust me, that’s what you put down. Smart move. Had you put down you were pursuing an art career you would have been black-listed and you never would have been hired at Corporate Financial.”
Michelle looked at Alan, suddenly wanting to know everything. She was just about to ask him another question when he quickly beat her to it. “Later,” he said, gently turning her toward the mirror. “Straighten yourself up and let’s get back to that meeting. Sam will begin to wonder what’s going on and we don’t want them suspicious.”
Michelle started doing what Alan suggested, inspecting herself in the mirror, straightening her hair, her composure. She looked okay; eyes a little too red from crying, but at least her mascara hadn’t run and her face wasn’t red. Alan quickly inspected him-self in the mirror and then, once satisfied he looked presentable, turned to her. “You look fine. When we get back to the meeting, pretend things are okay and that nothing happened. If Sam asks me what happened, I’ll take care of it. Should he pull you aside later and ask you, tell him you were feeling sick and you waited for it to pass, and that once you were over it you got your mind back into work and came back. I’m going to tell him I checked on you, saw you were feeling sick, went into the men’s room real quick, and then waited for you to come out and made sure you were okay before we returned. He’ll believe me.”
Michelle inspected herself one last time before she grasped her purse. “Okay.” She took a deep breath, preparing herself to go back into the meeting. Pretend to be interested, she thought. Look and behave the way you always behave when you’re bored at work—pretend you’re really into the drudgery you were hired to do. Say the right buzz words, step into the role.
Jesus, I should have been an actress, she thought. She turned to Alan. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”
“Good. This meeting might last until eight. When it adjourns, head straight to your room, order room service if you’re hungry, then get some sleep. Set your alarm for three a.m. and meet me in the lobby at three-fifteen. I have a car—we’ll talk in there.”
Michelle nodded. “Fine,” she said.
Then they headed back to the meeting, looking every bit as presentable and business-like as they had when they first entered the conference room earlier that day.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THEY HAD JUST dumped the car Jay O’Rourke had stolen in St. Louis and were on the turnpike heading to the house when Donald’s cell phone rang.