Who I Am With You (2 page)

“You shouldn’t have. I don’t want to take away from your duties.”

“Hospice care is as much about the family as it is about the patient. It really was no bother, I had to stop at the market for Catherine and me anyway.”

“Well, thank you.”

Olivia opened the package and gingerly took out the keys. She hadn’t considered where she’d stay in her rush to leave California but figured if she was hell bent on facing her ghosts, her childhood home was the perfect place. She reached into the envelope again and extracted a stack of papers.

“What’s this?”

“Your grandmother asked for you to read those and deliver them to the VDB office. Last quarter’s financial reports she had to sign, or something. She believes the sooner you re-familiarize yourself, the better.”

Olivia blinked, not really that surprised at what she was hearing. Catherine always played the puppet master, pulling strings to ensure those around her fell in line, all the while believing it was their decision in the first place. Not Olivia. Not this time.

“I didn’t return to take over the company.” Confusion muddled Anna’s features. “Never mind, I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow. I will drop the papers off, then head straight here after. If my plans change, I’ll call you. Thank you, for everything.”

A little while later, pulling her suitcase behind her, Olivia trekked through the familiar neighborhood, using the twenty minutes to prepare for the next shock to her system. She passed under a dark green awning, where a doorman greeted her, and entered the virtually unchanged lobby of the building her parents called home for seven years and her for five. So many versions of herself had crossed these floors, every single one of them now a stranger. She trudged to the elevator, weighed down by exhaustion and dread, then put in the key allowing her access to the top floor. Olivia rolled her head on her shoulders and shoved aside the relentless, gnawing hunger. As much as her body was telling her otherwise, with stomach cramping and muscles twitching, drugs would not save her from the pain she was about to encounter.

After a short ascent through seven floors, the doors opened into a marbled foyer and memories swept over her in a crashing wave. Her mom always ensured a vase of fresh flowers stood on the now empty table by the wall, purchasing them from the same vendor down the street twice a week. Olivia recalled standing there in her cap and gown on graduation day, full of hope, or picking up her final box when she moved to an apartment closer to NYU.

Like always, thinking about her parents cut deep, but this time as the wounds opened, it felt cathartic. For so long, she convinced herself that reminiscing did more damage than good. This most recent trip to rehab had allowed her to finally understand how satisfying it was to remember, to relive a happy and safe childhood. She loved having them with her again, alive in her memories.

Of course, it didn’t mean confronting the past would be easy.

She knew her old home would be different and had prepared for the shock, but an impractical part of her half-expected the elevator doors to open and her surroundings to look exactly the same. Only, no fragments of her life remained. Leaning against one of the marble columns separating the foyer from the living room, Olivia took a minute to steady herself and studied the space with forced detachment.

The sprawling penthouse boasted an open floor plan allowing plenty of natural light to flood in and she detected a closed up smell, proof it had sat vacant for far too long. The familiar wood floors gave it a warm and inviting feeling, but emptiness filled the shadowy corners. Once she felt capable of exploring, she ventured in, followed by dozens of memories. In the hall, her mom called for her to hurry up or they’d be late to dinner. Three sets of hysterical laugher from a game of Monopoly flirted with her ears. She watched her dad hollering at the Yankees game on TV, red-faced and indignant. The sights and sounds were so vivid, as if she could reach out and touch them.

The furniture she’d helped her mother pick had been replaced by simple, masculine pieces and most of the walls were bare. Floor-to-ceiling windows leading to the large terrace let in the warm sun but, instead of feeling the heat, Olivia shivered uncontrollably.

The huge, gleaming kitchen called to her, easing the agony. Over the past year, baking had become her outlet, her passion. Following recipes, and experimenting with her own, kept her thoughts centered and her soul fulfilled. It came surprisingly natural to her, proving she had something to offer the world at a time when she needed that affirmation most. Her fingers itched to get lost in the rhythm of measuring and stirring.

“Soon,” she whispered.

Creeping deeper into the living room, she caught a whiff of perfume, the same floral scent her mother ordered special from Paris. Her shaking hand held onto the wall for support, and grief erupted in her chest, an empty burn that stole her breath.

“M-mom?” she gasped, feeling like an idiot, but desperate for a reply.

It never came.

Instead of using the large master bedroom, with its commanding views and luxury bathroom, she chose her old one. Nothing remained the same here either and it hurt the worst. Until leaving for college, this had been her sanctuary, where she dreamed and planned and cried. Her legs trembled and finally a tear snaked down her cheek. Gone were the posters of her beloved city—the architecture, the bridges, the Broadway shows she’d enjoyed. The bed was cold, utilitarian, not the dark cherry sleigh one she’d gotten for her sweet sixteen.

She didn’t know this place.

Yet, as she pawed at her cheeks to dry them, she noticed the deep gouge in the wooden floor where she dropped a heavy snow globe her grandfather had bought at Saks. A blossom of joy chased away some of the iciness. Inspired, she strode over to the closet. Yes, it still wobbled and stuck when opened halfway. Those two simple imperfections lessened Olivia’s agony. It wasn’t much, just enough to remind her that traces of her life lingered.

She put her luggage on the bed then wandered out to the window in the living room and its unobstructed view of Central Park. Itching the inside of her arm, a phantom tickle left over from her early needle use, she couldn’t help but think it was insane to feel alone in this big city.

T
he next morning, Olivia stood in front of the mirror quietly picking herself apart. Her grandmother would certainly approve of the simple gray slacks and white blouse, but would it be enough to give an added boost of confidence? To show whomever cared to look close enough that she was fine? All she saw were terrified eyes and a messy mane of auburn hair she should have taken the time to straighten.

Her wardrobe in L.A. was more casual—jeans, flip flops, gauzy skirts. Already she felt too constricted, wedged into a role she didn’t fit. A decade ago she was determined, focused, wearing clothes that defined her and told the world she was a professional, or wanted to be one day. Her gaze shifted towards a bright yellow sundress. What would the people at her family’s company think of her showing up in it instead, the phoenix tattoo gracing her left shoulder blade in full view? Better to save the extra shock for another visit. Today, her unexpected presence would be surprise enough.

Olivia planned to drop the unread documents off, say hello to a couple of her father’s old colleagues, then inform Catherine she didn’t have the strength to be in charge of a multi-billion dollar empire. There was no place for her at Van den Berg Enterprises, not anymore. Olivia sighed and left the apartment before changing her mind about her clothes again.

When the cab pulled up in front of the tall, imposing building that housed VDB Enterprises, Olivia froze with a hand on the door and her heart beating in her ears. Unable to think or move, she stared at the glass and chrome skyscraper, half-expecting it to fall to the ground in front of her, another scar from that fateful morning, and a totally unreasonable one. What grown woman was afraid of skyscrapers? Fear clamped down on her, making it impossible to breathe, and black dots peppered her vision.

“You are not passing out here, you idiot,” she muttered.

“Excuse me?” the driver asked.

She shook her head, annoyed to be caught muttering by yet another cab driver, and forced herself out of the car. It’d been long enough, and she was tired of being afraid.

Olivia gathered herself together and walked into the lobby. After checking in with security, she took the elevator to the executive offices on the eighteenth floor and stepped into a space once as familiar as her own home.

Beautiful, dark Brazilian wood dominated the reception area and plush chairs invited clients and associates to wait in comfort. Tasteful black and white photos dotted the beige walls, pictures of the company’s finished buildings and one of Lloyd Van den Berg, VDB’s founder and her great-grandfather. During her internship, she had entered through this office every day, striding across the room with purpose. Now, even though it hadn’t changed, she was an intruder.

Perched behind a massive desk, the receptionist smiled warmly and motioned her over.

“How can I help you today?”

Unsure of who she was supposed to see, Olivia blurted the name of her father’s best friend. “Thomas Fillini, please.”

“And who may I say is here?”

Her relief turned to uncertainty. “Olivia Van den Berg.”

The young woman’s blue eyes widened as she picked up the phone. Reputation, it was everything in the business world, and her last name said it all. Instantly, she wished she hadn’t used it. By the time she reached Thomas’s office, everyone in the building would know she was here.

“He’ll be out in a minute.”

“Thank you.” Ignoring the receptionist’s curious stare, Olivia moved to the side of the desk to wait, absently scratching her elbow.

She wondered what her grandmother had shared with the company, either intentionally or not. Gossip flowed through the office as freely as the imported coffee, it always had. She remembered a time when she eagerly devoured the goings on of the empire her family built, especially the tawdry tales told at the water cooler. Now, she knew it would be her name whispered behind closed doors, her story eyebrows were being raised over.

The longer the minutes stretched, the more her stomach rebelled, anxiety twisting her insides into a painful knot. Doubt crippled her, tempting her to turn and leave. Her Narcotics Anonymous sponsor warned she would be confronting too much by being home, but instances such as this were how Olivia tested herself, good or bad. So she did her best to ignore the nerves and fidgeted, refusing to give in.

“Liv!” A familiar voice snapped her back to the moment. “I’ll be damned. I wasn’t ready to accept it until I saw you for myself.”

Before she had a chance to answer, she found herself engulfed in a tight embrace. Thomas, the big Italian man she’d known since childhood, pulsed with his usual energy. As he pulled away, his dark brown eyes twinkled at her happily and his thick, black hair was slicked back from his handsome face, silver at the temples.

“You look as gorgeous as ever.”

“I can’t believe you’re still here,” Olivia said.

“Well, you seem to forget, I lost my apprentice a few years ago.”

Refusing to let the comment guilt her, she replied, “This place was always full of young, hungry interns. I’m sure you replaced me right away.”

“You’re impossible to replace. Let’s go to my office, we can catch up in peace.” He led her down the hall. “I have to admit, the way Catherine spoke of you, and the things I’ve heard around the office, I expected something a little different.”

Thomas opened the door to the same office he’d had for years and offered her a chair. As she sat, her gaze strayed to a picture of him and her father at a charity golf tournament a couple summers before he died. Laughter filled Anderson Van den Berg’s lean face, his sandy hair mussed from play, and he looked so tan and healthy it made her heart ache.

“I’ve graduated from walking corpse to practically human again.” She sighed. “I didn’t even know she was sick until yesterday. We haven’t exactly stayed in touch.”

“You’re here now, that counts.” He studied her with sadness. “Not a day goes by I haven’t prayed you were okay. You went through a lot, witnessed a terrible event. We all lost something that day.”

“Thanks, Thomas.” She swallowed thickly, working to repress the threatening tears. “Wherever my parents are, I hope they understand why I acted the way I did.”

“Neither of your parents would judge you. All they’d care about is that you’re healthy. I knew them well enough to say they’d be happy you’re alive and on the road to recovery.” His lips expanded into the wide, happy smile she remembered. “And you’re good now? What have you been up to in California?”

“I am good. I found my true love.” Thomas’s eyebrows rose. “Baking. I’m pretty dang good at it too. Who would have thought?”

“Me. You were a prodigy, the kind of person who excelled at anything they put their mind to.”

“Which, ironically, included heroin.” He didn’t find the same humor she did in her statement, so she plowed on. “Being sober is hard, but it also feels good to be me again, or close to it. It’s tough taking all these trips down memory lane—the office, Grandmother’s, the penthouse—but at the same time, I’m home.”

“Catherine never failed to assure us you’d show up some day and, as she put it, do your duty.”

“She never changes.” Olivia touched her wrist tattoo. “I’ve already been informed she expects me to take my place in the company, but what if it isn’t what I want? Or can do? I mean, who’s been filling in since she got sick? I figured you were next in line.”

“So did I.” A flicker of anger raced across his face. “Her replacement is this new hot shot, Simon Greene. He’s a bit of a prodigy, I guess you could say, much like you were, but he’s also an ass.”

“Uh oh.”

“We old-timers don’t understand him. Catherine literally plucked him from cubicle-land and set him on the fast track, claims he is who will take us into the next phase. Whatever that means. Granted, he seems to have a solid grasp of what he’s doing and has implemented quite a few impressive changes, but he’s not winning a lot of friends. His laidback approach grates on me. I’m used to a more rapid fire brand of leadership.”

“You always had high expectations,” she joked. “I remember your stern lectures all too well.”

“Mentoring you was not a hardship, this guy is another story. Obviously your grandmother saw something in him that I lacked. I’ll adjust.”

“He sounds much more qualified than me. I didn’t finish college and I’ve only worked odd jobs here and there, a true trust fund party girl,” she rambled, tapping her foot restlessly. “I’m not corporate material. Not anymore”

“You’re too hard on yourself. You had a great head for the business. It’s in the blood.”

The door to Thomas’s office flew open and Olivia was startled by the man who entered—tall, with dark blond hair cut close to his head and striking blue eyes set in a chiseled face. It took tremendous effort to tear her gaze away, but she refused to be caught gawking.

“Thomas, we need to discuss the Chicago deal before our meeting. I know you’ve got reservations, but I think with a little more work, we’ll be on the same page. This is a huge client we don’t want to lose.” He got down to business, not even excusing himself for interrupting. Energy pulsed off the athletic body draped in dress pants and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“Sure, Simon. First, let me introduce someone.” Thomas rose and walked around his desk to stand beside Olivia. “This is Olivia Van den Berg. Olivia, this is Simon. He’s been filling Catherine’s shoes.”

Olivia rose and offered her hand. He stared at her in silence. After a minute, she dropped her arm and a wave of self-consciousness passed over her. Simon’s glare cut into her, sending her anxiety into overdrive.

“Thomas, do you have a second?” an unfamiliar man asked from the doorway.

“Excuse me.” And he left her alone with Simon.

She feared Simon would stand there all day and not say a word, but he grunted. “Catherine has weeks left to live and you choose now to make your grand return?”

“Excuse me?” Heat flared in her gut.

He crossed his arms and smirked. “You can’t waltz in at the end and expect her, or the company, to welcome you with open arms. Not really fair to anyone, is it?”

His words slapped her across the face, knocking her speechless. She struggled to defend herself, but he’d held up a mirror showing her the same crimes she berated herself for. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her embarrassment, or having the last word, she calmly passed him the papers Catherine asked her to deliver and said, “I can see why Thomas speaks so highly of you. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Scott.”

Without another word, she walked out, grinning at the way he frowned when she called him wrong name.

~~~~~

On the street, Olivia stood rooted to the concrete, desperate to regain control of her trembling body. Her parting remark might have showed strength, but it reminded her, yet again, that she didn’t belong in this world anymore. Simon’s accusations breached her walls, a deadly strike to her defenses. The addictions she survived had stripped away her confidence and self-esteem. Luckily, she found a way to begin rebuilding herself in the last ten months with baking.

Begging strangers for money in order to score her next fix—hell, sleeping with strangers to get her next fix—that was what her days had boiled down to. Simon was dead on with his assessment, she neglected her family for years and had no right being involved in a company as important as VDB. The entire world would watch as she teetered on a very dangerous ledge. If she fell, it would be best if she did it alone.

The cravings kicked into high gear, her knees grew jittery and an ache sprouted deep inside, doubling her over. Fingers itched for a syringe and her mind craved the routine of cutting and heating and tying her arm, frustrating her to no end. It should be easier after nearly a year, dammit. Where was her serenity now? With shaking hands, she searched with her phone and found an NA meeting starting in about ninety minutes, not far from Central Park. She’d go for a walk, then head over to the church. Lurching to the curb, she hailed a cab and didn’t manage a full breath of air until settled in the backseat. The faint odor of sweat did nothing to ease her nausea.

She placed a call to her sponsor in L.A.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Nona’s throaty tone greeted. Her no-nonsense attitude fit her Harley Davidson-loving lifestyle, but she often described the tranquility she found in gardening, a time for her to be alone with her thoughts, the calming monotony of movement, similar to the peace Olivia had discovered in baking. “How is it?”

“Better and worse than I anticipated.” Olivia’s voice wobbled, but there was no point hiding it from Nona. The woman never failed to miss a thing. Olivia detailed what happened since arriving then said, “I’m headed to a meeting, so erase the scowl I know you’re wearing.”

“Good. A meeting is exactly what you need. I wish you would’ve called me earlier. Being at your parents’ apartment is a bad idea. It’s too soon. You haven’t realized your limitations yet.”

“It’s fine, and yes, I am grieving for Mom and Dad all over again, but I don’t think I let myself before. In fact, as hard as it is, I feel closer to them than I have in years. You said it yourself, closure is important.”