Chapter 13
It was the next day. James had just finished breakfast with his parents and had retired to the rooms he stayed in when he was at their house. At the breakfast table, he had announced he wasn’t going to work that day.
Since James had started working at Ore many years ago, he had rarely missed a day at work. He only took days off he was sick or was on vacation with the entire family.
At the breakfast table, his father had been surprised by James’ announcement. Adam Sorenson had asked James if he had been feeling okay. James had confessed he had not been feeling well.
He had not told them that the cause had been his conflicting feelings about Mariah. Nor had he confessed his growing suspicion that she might be his missing childhood friend, Anastasia.
He had thought deeply about how Mariah had reacted to the playhouse, the oak tree in the park, Anastasia’s father’s restaurant, and Anastasia’s old home.
She had done her best to hide from him the effect they had had on her. He guessed that she had had years of practice in hiding her pain. But he had noticed every flinch she had had.
He, too, had years of practice in covering up pain. He covered up the pain of losing his mother. He covered up the pain of losing his best friend—the girl his parents had said he had had puppy love for.
No one had understood the pain he had felt. He felt that that was why he was able to easily see that Mariah was hiding her pain from him, from everyone.
Several days ago, he had found the old, worn picture of Anastasia and her mom. The picture was faded, and the faces weren’t so clear. Even so, the resemblance between Mariah, Anastasia, and Allison Chandler had been striking. It had raised his hopes even more that Mariah and Anastasia were the same person.
It also made him frustrated because it was a theory he didn’t know how to prove.
After breakfast, he had retired to his room. An hour had passed him by in the blink of an eye. Now, he sighed and opened his eyes to be greeted by the golden glow of his room. He was lying face up on his king-sized bed atop its soft, olive-green sheets. Pillows of different sizes lay scattered on the bed around him. Other pillows had fallen off the bed and now lay by the bedside tables. He was glad none of the haphazard pillows had knocked over any of the ornate lamps.
With a soft groan, he lifted himself to a sitting position and stared at his room. The wide double doors that led to the rest of his suite lay open. He sighed again when he saw Greg sprawled on the golden lounge chair in his room.
Very few people had the liberty to invade his space. Most would wait for him in the living room instead of barging into his bedroom. Greg was his best friend and had privileges he often misused.
As he slid off the bed, James”s bare feet touched the soft gold carpet of his room. He smiled. Every detail about his suite had been built to suit his taste —a sort of haven for him. In his suite, he had his study filled with his favorite books, a living room, a balcony that had an outdoor eating area, a mini kitchen with a stocked fridge that he hardly used, two spare bedrooms, and the master bedroom that he was in now.
His closet was as big as the guest room and stood opposite his bathroom door. Both doors were slightly ajar. The dim lighting of his closet revealed rows of designer suits hanging on racks and lots of glass closets holding shoes, trinkets, and accessories. A bright white light emanated from his bathroom door, and a glimpse of a large white tub could be seen.
James walked past the open doors towards his couches where Greg lay. There were four couches arranged around a golden coffee table. Three normal couches and one chaise lounge were arranged to face the large flat-screen TV hanging on the wall.
He stood over Greg, who was dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. Greg’s glasses were lying on the table, and his breathing was calm. Greg never slept during the day. James knew this about his best friend and shook his head at Greg’s attempt.
Then James teased, “Don’t you think it would be better to use this day off—to- I don’t know—work on your book or find a girlfriend or even travel to Venice for lunch.” He sat on a couch next to Greg.
“And miss out on you moping about a girl?” Greg mumbled. His eyes fluttered open. He fixed his brown eyes on James and smiled. “Never! I want to be present when James Sorenson finally figures out, he’s whipped.”
“Ha, ha,” James deadpanned and rolled his eyes at Greg’s comment. He ran a hand through his brown hair and caught his reflection in the window. His hair was ruffled in every direction, and its color matched the brown cashmere sweater he wore. His black sweatpants hid his long legs but not his bare feet. Sighing, he turned his attention to his friend. “Please tell me you have what I asked for.”
Greg grinned and sat up. He had been lying on his satchel. He pulled it out and fished out a notepad and his tablet. “It’s not like I had all day today, free,” he smiled. “You somehow found something for me to do.”
“Sue me,” James tilted his head to the left and gave Greg a wry smile. “I did this for your good. I had to keep you busy, else you might have fallen into debauchery.” James laughed.
“Ha ha,” Greg imitated James’s fake laugh and handed James the tablet. “There”s not much to know about Mariah. She’s as clean as anyone can get. She’s an orphan as she said. Met Veronica during senior year—I have to tell you, your bridezilla has a good heart. You should consider her if you ever get over Mariah. Anyway, Mariah, took on the last name of the owner of the orphanage. She finished second best of her class in high school and with the Singers’ help, got into college and well… nothing much to know,” Greg patted the tablet in James’ hand.
“And the other stuff?” James asked, lifting his eyes from the screen to look at Greg.
“Scroll left on the tablet and read my notebook,” his friend answered and tossed his notepad on the table before going back to lying down on the chaise lounge chair. “What do you hope to accomplish with this anyway? I see the correlations, but still—”
“You think I’m pushing my hopes for finding my dead friend onto a living person because they look alike?” James said slowly. His eyes scanned through the police file of Anastasia and her family’s case.
In the morning on the day they went missing, he had begged his stepmother one last time to be allowed to join them on their camping trip. She had given him a firm ‘no.’
He had told himself not to cry as Anastasia drove away in her father’s truck that morning. If he had known it was going to be the last time that he would see her, he would never have let her go.
The next day, his stepmother had told him the news of the Chandlers’ disappearance. Just as he had begged his stepmother to go on the camping trip, he begged his father to find Anastasia and her family.
His father had conceded and had done his best and pressed the police to search for the Chandlers. However, after six months of searching, the case had been closed.
Now, as James read the police file, his eyes glistened with tears, and his heart became heavy like it had years ago. Only this time, there was a spark of hope.
“I think I am actually onto something Greg,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Anastasia went missing on July 19th, twelve years ago. Mariah was brought to the orphanage on August 12th, barely a month later. Same state, same county.”
“Same girl?” Greg muttered, sitting up on the couch.
“A very high probability,” James sighed, dropped the tablet on the table, and rose to his feet. He paced the space between his bed and the couches, one hand on his chin, the other in his pocket.
“Your analysis makes some theoretical sense, but we have no proof. If we told someone else, they’d think we were crazy. That would be big news, all right. James Sorenson, the heir to a huge conglomerate, turns crazy right before he takes over the running of the company. Headline news! And it was triggered by memories of his dead friend—”
“Enough with the jokes, Greg!” James snapped. “I know what I feel.”
“Then prove it,” Greg said and laid down again. “DNA, relatives, birthmark? Anything, prove it—”
“That’s it!” James cheered and stopped in his tracks. He turned to Greg on his couch, his green eyes bright with an idea. “I’m reminded why I hired you, for your intelligence.”
“Touché,” Greg laughed. “So, what did I make you realize?”
James walked up to Greg, playing with his hands on the back of the couch directly opposite the TV. “Anastasia has a birthmark behind her ear. Right behind her left ear. She always hid it underneath her red curls, but I saw it many times.”
“And you think Mariah would have the same mark?”
“She might.”
“What happens if she does have the birthmark where Anastasia had it?” Greg asked.
James looked intently into his friend’s eyes. He hadn’t thought about what to do if Mariah turned out to be Anastasia. She wouldn’t believe his claims. She would likely run straight out of his life.
“Well.” Greg sighed. “What do we do now?”
James ran a hand through his brown curls and gave Greg a wry smile. “I think I have an idea.”
***
James eyed his reflection through the rearview mirror. He raked his hands through his brown curls. He looked out the window at the building where Mariah worked. He seldom went to other companies. People normally came to him. Generally, the hotels at which he had conferences belonged to Ore.
The buildings he worked at daily all belonged to Ore. Even the boutiques he bought his clothes from belong to Ore. So, he wasn’t used to entering companies he didn’t own. He brushed these thoughts aside and stepped out of his blue Mercedes and onto the curb.
He stood by the door of his car, observing the quiet and beautiful surroundings of the building. It felt similar to Ore’s estate, and he felt a sense of ease. Reaching into the passenger’s seat, he pulled out a black bag and shut the door.
He smoothed the wrinkles off his black Trench coat. Underneath it, he wore his favorite gray three-piece suit. He wanted to look his best for Mariah—which was a new feeling for him, wanting to impress someone.
He shut the door of his car and made for the building where Mariah worked. It didn’t surprise him when the stares and whispers started. They had started when he began modeling for Ore. His face had been on every billboard and ad worldwide.
He had soared in the public eye when he began representing his father in official meetings and on stages. That was when he had moved from being a pretty face to a dogged businessman. With a stepmother in the Senate, he had met too many people and appeared on TV too many times to not be known throughout the town.
He waltzed into the building and approached the reception desk. The receptionist instantly recognized him. When he asked about Mariah, she told him Mariah was in a meeting but would be out shortly.
James asked how long he would have to wait. The lady hastily promised it would be just a few minutes, apologized that he had to wait at all, and ushered him to a waiting room.
It was a beautiful room with glass walls, sleek, multicolored couches and white tables. Speckled between the furniture were tall white vases bustling with vibrant plants. The room was occupied by a few people who sat far apart from each other. They were all busy on their laptops. He chose to sit on a chair that was hidden by one of the plants. He waited.
James spent the next half hour thinking about how Mariah would take to his presence at her workplace. They weren’t scheduled for another meeting until the next week, so she wasn’t expecting him.
When she walked into the room amid a group of people laughing, his heart sped up. She was dressed in a white lacy dress shirt and pastel pink pants. Her hair was let free, falling over her shoulders in loose waves. Her pink lips shimmered with gloss. He was drawn to her simplicity. Exactly the kind of girl Anastasia would have been.
When her eyes met his, they brightened, and she stopped. The people around her stopped too. Everyone followed her gaze. James rose to his feet with a smile and walked up to her. He gave her a bright smile, which he then extended to her company.
“Mr. Soren—James!” Mariah stuttered. “I didn’t think…when Anna said I had a visitor. I didn’t think-”
“Neither did I,” James smiled, “but I’m here,” he opened his arms in a shrug and turned his attention to the people who accompanied her. There were two women who were both dressed smartly like he and a guy who looked like he spent his days inside the house.
He was pale, lanky, and geeky. James liked him already. They stared at him in wonder and took his hand mechanically when he offered it. When James shifted his attention back to Mariah, they took the cue and offered up excuses to leave.
James watched them scatter with a smile. Mariah watched them go with wide eyes, and then she turned back to James. “What brought you here?”
“Talk. I want to talk,” James responded, waving a hand to the table he had been sitting at. The black bag was held behind him, hidden from her view.
“Talk? Really?” Mariah asked, arching a brow at him. He knew it sounded crazy by his standards, but he had to try. He gave her a pleading look, and her features broke into a soft smile. “All right…let’s talk.” She laughed and followed him towards the table.