CHAPTER SEVEN
THREE WEEKS LATER and Stuart parked his bright-white Porsche Panamera against the curb in front of the small, storefront office and just sat there. He had just arrived back in his hometown of Larkin, Ohio for the first time in two years, and was already anxious to leave again.
He was on the main drag, called Grant Street, and everywhere he looked reminded him of why he originally left thirty years ago with no desire to ever go back.
Nothing seemed to have changed. It still carried that smalltown, stuck-in-a-rut vibe like a second skin, complete with its usual dilapidation, hidden crimes, rural farms and barns that hid even more crime.
It was a place he hated. It had an internal stench to it he could never shake.
His mother died. That was the only reason he was back in town.
She dropped dead two days ago from what they said was a massive heart attack, although he was stunned she had a heart, and as her only surviving relative he was in town to sale her properties and pay off her debts.
Then he was getting out of Dodge again. And even if he became too sleepy and couldn’t drive all the way back to New York nonstop the way had had driven in, and he had to spend the night at some hotel in some town, it wasn’t going to be the town of Larkin.
He wasn’t going to spend a second longer than he had to spend in that particular town.
But as he unbuckled his seatbelt, his company was front and center on his mind.
He still couldn’t figure out who was the mastermind behind that takeover because it sure as hell wasn’t his son.
Alan didn’t have the balls to wrestle that company away from him he didn’t care what it said on paper.
Alan was the puppet. Stuart wanted the puppet master.
That was why he had investigators scouring every corner of his corporation to find the answer.
And once he discovered who was really behind that takeover, then he’d know who he was up against. Then he would strike at a time and place of his own choosing.
Because there was no doubt: He was getting his company back.
But first he had to deal with Larkin and his mother’s estate. Which was unpleasant enough. But at least it was a distraction.
He got out, buttoned his tailored suitcoat, and then walked across the sidewalk feeling as if that very town was closing in on him.
It was a sunshiny day. The people who walked past spoke or nodded their heads in acknowledgement of his presence, although none of them remembered him and vice-versa.
They were all friendly enough. But that town still felt repressive to him.
And that was why he hurried into the storefront office of his mother’s accountant like a man on a mission.
The sooner he could meet with Chris and could get the paperwork signed, the sooner he could meet with the realtor concerning the sale of his mother’s properties and then get out of town.
He didn’t even pack a shred of clothing.
That was how confident he was that he wasn’t staying a moment longer in that place than he had to.
No extra clothing was a symbol of freedom to him: He didn’t prepare to stay. Therefore, he wasn’t going to stay.
But as he went into that office, across the busy main street of Larkin, Ohio, Tabby was driving up in her Chevy Bolt.
She pulled to the curb in front of Nancy’s Beauty Shop, happy to get that spot.
Then she unbuckled her seatbelt, got out, and walked around to her passenger side door.
She grabbed the food she had just picked up from Wawa: subs and salads for the various hairstylists.
And then she closed and locked her door.
She looked across the street and saw that fancy Porsche, which wasn’t something you’d ordinarily see in a factory town like Larkin, and she did wonder who it belonged to.
But that wasn’t her business. She had food to deliver.
That was why she hurried across that sidewalk and hurried into the beauty salon.
On the other side of the street, inside the office of Vera Jacobs’ accountant, Chris Benjamin, who knew Stuart since they were kids, leaned back in the chair behind his desk, folded his hands over his big belly, and grinned.
“I still can’t get over it. You’re back again. The prodigal son has returned to us.”
Stuart smiled. “Only for a day,” he said. “How are you, Chris?”
“My fat ass alright. But I see you’re looking like a man with clout.” He looked at that fine tailored suit Stuart wore. He glanced down at that shiny Rolex that looked equally as expensive. “I want what you got,” he said to Stuart and both men laughed.
Then he leaned forward and got down to business.
“When your secretary called and said you would be coming to town to settle your mother’s estate, I couldn’t believe it.
Stu Jacobs coming back to Larkin? I heard you were here two years ago, but I didn’t see you at that time so I didn’t believe it. I didn’t think you’d ever come back.”
“Nor did I,” Stuart said as he folded his legs.
“So where you living now? What you been up to?”
Nobody in Larkin seemed to know of his wealth and great success and that was fine by him. He certainly knew his mother didn’t brag about him. “I live in New York.”
“Where in New York? One of them ritzy apartments on the Upper Westside?”
Stuart didn’t answer that question. It was too intrusive for him.
But Chris had moved on anyway. “You left Ohio and never looked back boy. That takes a special kind of balls to do something like that. And you were only what? Seventeen at the time?”
“Sixteen,” Stuart said.
“Wow. I wish I had that kind of nerve.” Chris leaned back again and began rocking in his chair and staring at his childhood friend. “But you know what I don’t understand?”
“What’s that?”
“Why you never let me move some of your money around? And don’t tell me you ain’t got none, because you’ve been sending them big checks to Miss Vera every single month for years and years.
You been taking good care of your mean mama.
So I know you got money. But when your secretary called me all them years ago and said you wanted me to handle your mother’s finances for her, I always expected you to throw other business my way too. Not just your mama. But you never did.”
Stuart didn’t feel it was his responsibility to throw business anybody’s way. Every man, in his view, had to make their own way.
“Not that I’m complaining,” he said as he continued to complain. “But we grew up together, Stu. It would have been a big boost for my business had you remembered me.”
Chris probably had never had a millionaire walk through the doors of his tiny office before. Let alone a billionaire. It was absurd on its face. “I left this town when I was sixteen. I hadn’t seen you in years by the time I had money to move around.”
“But you thought of me when Miss Vera needed an accountant to help her out. That’s all I’m saying.” Then he smiled. “What does them black folks say? Can you help a brother out?” he said and laughed. “That’s all I’m saying.”
Although Stuart smiled, it was still absurd to him.
He had an entire accounting department handling his finances, and they were the elite of the elite.
Chris barely passed grade school. “I understand what you’re saying,” was all he would say about it.
“Now about my mother’s will? I want to handle her estate as seamlessly as possible and get out of town. ”
“Well damn, Stu, you just got here!”
“And I’m ready to leave.”
Chris laughed at that too. “If I wasn’t so entrenched in this place, I would have left long ago too. But once you got something going, it’s hard to give that up on a maybe. I admire you for going for it.” But he hesitated. “You know what else I don’t understand though?”
Stuart had grown unaccustomed to being treated without everybody jumping at his command and kowtowing to him to gain their own advantages.
He appreciated that Chris was comfortable enough with him to speak his mind without feeling as if it could cost him.
It was refreshing to Stuart. Which was why he smiled.
“What don’t you understand this time, Christopher? ”
“Your mama been dead two days. Where you been?”
It was still a sore thought for Stuart. “I had some loose ends to tie up.”
“Bad loose ends, or good loose ends?”
Stuart didn’t answer that.
The door to the office suddenly opened and a very attractive blonde stepped in. “Why if it ain’t MaryAnn,” Chris said.
“I got tired of you badgering me,” MaryAnn said as she handed him a small envelope.
“About time you start paying me back,” Chris said as he looked in the envelope.
But MaryAnn’s attention was already on Stuart. “Who’s this handsome individual? I ain’t never seen eyes that blue.”
Chris looked. “Who him? That’s Stu Jacobs. That’s Miss Vera’s son.”
MaryAnn was surprised. “That old mean ornery woman your mama?” Then she caught herself. “Oops. I didn’t mean to call her mean. I meant no disrespect. I am so sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. She was quite mean.” He stood up as he extended his hand. “I’m Stuart. Nice to meet you.”
“Wow,” she said, looking down at him. “This is what I call a nice body. Strong too,” she said as she squeezed his muscular bicep. “And tight. You work out?”
“Okay, MaryAnn, that’s enough,” Chris said with a grin. “I’m sure your husband won’t appreciate your flirtin’ with strangers.”
She smiled. “What stranger? He’s Miss Vera’s son.”
Stuart laughed.
“Bye MaryAnn,” Chris said.
But MaryAnn was serious. She continued to assess Stuart’s good looks and body. “If you ever need a good time, big boy, look me up. I’m a Coulter. I’m in the phone book.”
Stuart didn’t realize they still had phone books. “Have a nice day,” he said to her.
“I’m already having one,” she said with a grin. She was still smiling and assessing him as she walked back out the door.