Page 48 of A Man of Prestige

All our phones show missed calls and text messages.

“And so it begins,” Sebastian states dryly as he makes a phone call. Conner goes next. I look down and see texts from Sadie and Hugh. I call Sadie who shares the news of my father’s death. She’s upset, but not nearly as upset as she should be pretending to be, for the sake of appearances, of course. She’s arranging burial details and will let me know about the funeral tomorrow. I roll my eyes at her fakeness. She never loved my father. She just wanted his money and his name. I know from the prenup that she’ll inherit a sizeable amount. Even Hugh will get some money. I don’t even care about any of it at this point. I hang up with her and look to Conner.

He shrugs. “My grandfather is flying in for the funeral, which will be next week.”

Sebastian gets off his call and glances over at us. “My mother is a goddamn mess. Harriet and Jay are trying to figure out the press nightmare. Mom wants Dad to lie in state but obviously the president will be doing that. Anyhow, the next week is going to be a shitshow. I say we wait to have Vivienne print everything until after the funerals.”

Both Conner and I nod in agreement. “I should go see Chuck. I want to tell him in person,” I say.

“That’s probably a good idea. Maybe he knows more. Just…be careful, don’t tell him too much. I’m sure the old guy will be upset enough. We don’t need to drag him into this,” Conner says.

“I agree,” I state as I slide my phone in my pocket. It’s time to visit the last father figure I have.

* * *

“He’s out back,”Gertie says with a warm smile. I have always liked her. She’s older and I know she’ll retire soon, but she’s been with Chuck for years now, helping to take care of his property since his wife passed away.

“Thanks, Gertie.”

I walk out back and follow the paths along the garden. Chuck has always had a thing for plants. The first time I came to his home on a cliffy shoreline along the Chesapeake Bay, I was shocked by the variety of plants in his yard. Each species is marked with a placard. His fascination has always been in the medicinal uses of plants. I survey all his thyme as I follow the pebble pathway toward the cliff. I remember his fascination with thyme and how it could be used for good or bad when it came to the human body.

He has other plants in his greenhouse, some of which I’ve never heard of, but he always prided himself in discussing their medicinal values of them with me. There’s one I remember, euphorbia resinfera, an evergreen found in Morocco. I recall a funny story Chuck told me about how his hand became temporarily paralyzed while he was grafting the plant one day. I try to remember why that plant name seems familiar to me, but I can’t put my finger on it. Shaking my head, I keep following the trail. I smile at the memories of spending time here in college.

That’s where I first met Chuck. He was a faculty member who encouraged me to join TOD, even though I had already argued with my father about it. I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. I wanted to be an oncologist. I didn’t want to run drug trials. Even in med school, Chuck had helped me to deal with the pressures from my father. In the end, when he pointed out that the drug trials were the heart of the fight against cancer, I couldn’t deny that point. And it changed the course of my career. Strings were pulled, networking happened, and suddenly I was at the National Institute of Health working on drug trials.

I still like to think that my hard work helped me get to where I am in my career, but as Ella pointed out recently, my TOD connections likely played a bigger role.

He is sitting on the bench overlooking the cliff. I’ve always hated that bench. There’s no railing in front of you. One wrong turn or stumble and you would fall several stories down to your death on the rocky coastline.

“Chuck,” I say as I walk across the sprawling grass field between the gardens and the cliff.

He turns and waves at me.

I make my way toward him and take a seat, wrapping my jacket tightly around me. The wind is wicked today even though the skies are clear.

“It’s a cold day,” I mutter.

“It is.” He pats my leg. “I’m sorry to hear about your father and the others.”

“The funerals are planned for next week. After all the presidential formalities are addressed, of course. Caroline wants Montgomery to lie in state at the Capitol, but the Speaker wants the president there alone for a few days.”

“Yes, yes. So many formalities to address. Pomp and circumstance…” He trails off as he looks out at a sailboat in the distance. It’s cruising fast with the wind behind its sails.

“I still can’t believe they are gone,” I admit with a small shake of my head.

“It was time…I mean, they can’t live forever. It’s a shame how it happened, but now you boys have your chance to shine,” he says as he glances over at me.

I furrow my brows at his words, all his words.

“You should head home. There are so many things to do,” he says as he stands with his wooden cane, the one with an eagle carved as the handle.

“Chuck?”

“Yes, Aiden?”

I stand. He’s shorter than he used to be. When I first met him, he was such a tall imposing figure, but now, he’s an old man, his age showing throughout his weathered body.

I don’t know when exactly the full picture comes to me. Somewhere between my walk through his garden and standing up from the bench, it’s dawned on me. I don’t know how I’ve been so blind. He’s the fifth member of the elite. A million memories, a thousand conversations play through my head.

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