Michael closed the folder with his copies of the investigative reports about Belinda Hope and tapped his fingers on his desk. Part of the mystery of the woman had been solved, but the reason for her disappearance had not, and he knew in his gut that Vicky had discovered something significant about the decades old mystery.
He walked to the bank of windows and stared at the Willamette River below, wishing his life would get back on track. For months a feeling of only going through the motions of living had plagued him, and it had only gotten worse after spending Thanksgiving with Vicky at Gabby Hope's home.
He sighed and returned to his desk to shuffle through inquiries from firms wanting contracts in some phase of the construction of Somewhere's resort. All of his resorts were built by the same general contractor who coordinated with Michael in subcontracting portions of the work to local businesses and those in nearby towns.
Since the final approval for the resort had been voted by the council, he was now negotiating the price of the beach property and he should have been ecstatic, but he wasn't. He kept remembering Vicky's brave attempts to thwart him.
Punching the button on his intercom he said, "Lettie, cancel my appointments for the remainder of today and all of tomorrow. I'm going to Somewhere."
She responded, "One of your appointments has been waiting three weeks to see you about a real estate opportunity in Belize."
"Reschedule the appointment for another day that works for them, even if it means we have to meet after hours."
"Yes, sir." She hesitated and then gushed, "It does my heart good to see you spending less time at the office."
Michael smiled at his secretary's remark. She was now in mother-mode.
Four hours later, after changing into comfortable clothing, Michael pulled to the front of the museum. His heart jumped when he entered and saw Vicky in one of her Victorian outfits. "You look lovely."
Her expression registered surprise at seeing him, delight at his compliment, and then her usual disapproval. The sound of visitors descending the stairway waylaid any conversation and Michael told her he would wait in the parlor. Vicky nodded and turned her attention to the visitors.
Michael strolled around the parlor/gift shop picking up trinkets now and again while he waited for Vicky. When she finally joined him she said, "This is a surprise." Then her expression changed to one of excitement. "Did you learn more about Belinda?"
"No. But I do have a request. I want to know what you discovered that sent you searching for a woman who disappeared decades ago."
Vicky's expression morphed from excitement to indifference. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Michael stepped until he was directly in front of her. "Yes, you do. And now you owe me an explanation."
Anger entered Vicky's eyes. "I do not–"
"I've repaid my debt with two reports and it's only right that you don't leave me in the dark."
Vicky glanced away and said softly, "You can never repay stealing Somewhere from its citizens."
Folding his arms across his chest, Michael refused to be intimidated. A couple of times Vicky glanced at him, and then glanced away. Finally, she said, "Watch the front door and I'll return in a minute." She then hastened from the room.
The front door opened and Michael realized he was now the greeter and cashier. He grinned and walked to the front desk.
By the time Vicky returned, he had received twenty-five dollars to cover the entrance fee for five guests and was now handing them brochures and giving highlights of some of the rooms. "And there's a great mystery that's never been solved." He glanced at Vicky. "A woman and her daughter, years apart, mysteriously disappeared without traces." As expected, the two female guests gasped. He continued, "The brochure gives all the information that is known." He motioned toward the dining room. "The dining room and kitchen are good places to start your exploration of this magnificent home."
The visitors thanked him, smiled at Vicky, commented on her period clothing, and walked toward the dining room. After they entered, Vicky said, "Michael, I'm going to allow you to read something that you have to promise you'll keep secret."
Michael was surprised and pleased to hear her use his first name and place some trust in him. Seriously, he said, "I promise."
She reached into her pocket and removed a small leather pouch and bit her bottom lip. Michael inwardly groaned. Vicky had no idea how sensual her action was, and her naivety only increased his desire to kiss her.
"I found this diary written by Belinda that solved the mystery of her and Rose's disappearances, but not pinpointing exactly where they went in New York. That's why I asked you to hire an investigator."
"How did you find the diary?"
Vicky bit her bottom lip again. "I'm not telling." She handed the pouch to him.
Michael accepted it, but in the process gave in to his desire. He leaned down and touched his lips to Vicky's, gently kissing her. When he stepped back her eyes were wide with shock, but before she could explode with anger, he said, "I'll bring the diary back this afternoon," and hurried out the door.
Two hours later Michael lay on the couch in his oceanfront home and finished his second reading of the diary. It was so captivating he almost started reading it again. He closed the tiny book and gently set it on the coffee table. If he were a moviemaker, this would have been an excellent selection for the big screen, and all the more desirable because it wasn't fiction.
He sighed and placed his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes he decided to go for a walk on the beach. He needed to air out his head.
The day was cold and overcast, with dark clouds gathering for a storm. He pulled the collar of his jacket up to his chin and stuffed his hands in his pockets, all the while listening to Belinda's words swirl in his head.
It is a sad state of affairs that my husband, the man I once loved, was more devoted to his business affairs than to his family, for Rose loved him dearly, even though he shunned her.
In those words, Michael saw a lifetime of sadness; not only for Belinda, but for Randall Hope. The man had squandered the love of an amazing woman and innocent child because of business interests, and not only acted criminally, but destroyed lives in the process. Had his love for his second wife returned his humanity? Perhaps the answer to that question was lost to eternity, but it brought up a question for Michael.
Was he losing his own humanity in his quest to conquer Somewhere? His drive to bring his resort to a community that clearly didn't want it—a community he had come to love—had been consuming. The only reason he'd received approval for the resort was because a selfish council member had finally convinced two others to vote in his favor.
Suddenly, and shockingly, Michael realized he was fulfilling Randall Hope's quest for a resort.
He pressed his fingers to his eyelids. He hadn't cried since childhood, but now he couldn't hold back tears. He was a despicable person. In emotional pain, he saw Vicky's face. The woman was an angel—a brave angel who had endured heartache, the same as he, but transformed that heartache into goodness. He, on the other hand, had transformed his heartache into greed for personal gain and some kind of weird retribution against his father and mother, which was insane because they were dead.
Standing straight again, he wiped his eyes, stared at the storm clouds that were closer, and made a decision to redeem his mistakes.
Shortly thereafter, he returned to the museum, entered only long enough to hand Vicky the diary, kiss her forehead, and leave without a word.