Making Magic

Chapter One-1

Chapter One

Thea swiped ineffectually at her dripping nose with a wad of tissues as she stood at the desk of her father’s personal assistant. It would be very ironic if a microscopic virus derailed years of careful planning.

“Your daughter is here to see you.”

The announcement had the condescending tone her father’s assistant always used. It had never been “Ms. Woodruff,” but always “your daughter”. From the moment she’d walked in the doors of Hartford five years ago, that little cloud of nepotism had hung over her head.

But it didn’t matter. When she walked out of here today, she would never have to hear that tone again. And she would take that oh-so-perfect flower arrangement out of the vase on the witch’s desk and pour the water over that oh-so-perfect blonde chignon of hers. Or at least she would visualize doing it.

The thought made Thea smile as she stuffed the tissues back into her pocket. Her father opened the door to his office for her and she stepped inside.

Marshall James Woodruff exuded health and vitality—and power. With only hints of gray in his auburn hair and very few wrinkles in his pale freckled skin, he looked much younger than his fifty-six years would suggest.

“That went even better than we expected. Even if the stock takes a hit, it will recover even higher in a few days. I call that a gigantic win, considering how it could have gone.” He reached for the decanter of brandy waiting on the credenza. “Will you have a drink to celebrate, Althea? I would invite you out to celebrate with Dave and Hal and I, but you know how that would look.”

“I imagine it would look as if you were actually celebrating paying out four billion dollars in fines and forfeitures,” Thea said in a cool voice. “Your marketing geniuses wouldn’t approve.”

He didn’t react, but poured himself a generous amount. “It has been a long five years.” He admitted as he turned to her. “In fact, we’ve fought this damn thing since you walked in the door, haven’t we?”

“Yes, sir, you have.”

“Are you still fighting off that bug?” He frowned. “If you would take some Synprex-D, you’d be breathing free, instantly.” He almost sang the stupid jingle.

She casually walked over to shut the door and enjoyed the slight sound of disapproval this got from his blonde gatekeeper.

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s this about?” Then he gave her one of those boyish grins that had won over the hearts of politicians and stockholders everywhere. “Are you going to hit me up for a raise, young lady?”

Thea went to pick up her briefcase and pulled out what was probably the most dangerous piece of paper in the building, if anyone understood what it signified. It had taken her days of wording and rewording to prune it down to a few concise statements. She pulled out an ivory linen envelope as well.

“No,” she said. “I am offering you my resignation, as of Monday.” Her voice was as steady as she could manage. “Since I secretly encouraged the Qui Tam whistleblowers and did everything legally possible to support the DoJ’s case, I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to continue working for Hartford.”

For a moment, there was an expression of complete surprise on his face. It was rapidly replaced by fury. His green eyes turned to ice and that fair complexion flushed furious red. The amber liquid in his glass sloshed.

“You…what?”

Thea enjoyed that moment, reveled in it for as long as she dared. Then took a deep breath and used the voice. “Until I open that door to leave, you will remain quiet and calm. You will listen to everything I am about to tell you. You will do everything I say with the same determination that you have in all of your affairs. You will do nothing to indicate that these directives came from anywhere but your own mind. You will accomplish these as swiftly as possible, displaying the same business acumen and attitude as always.”

Her father’s flushed expression faded into a blank sheet. His eyes went flat as her voice reverberated around them. Thea pressed cold fingers to her temple and willed away the twinge that promised a headache soon. Between that and the damn virus, the drive home tonight was going to be an endurance test.

“Item one: you will do nothing to retaliate against any of my friends or associates because of my resignation.” Thea read on through the list. She had timed this to the minute and didn’t dare risk an interruption. It had been painful to include only the most critical demands and some things, some very precious things, had to be eliminated to save time.

The headache continued to grow as she read. All too soon she’d reached the last item on the list, but it was the best she could do. Sweat had started to bead on her father’s forehead and a trickle of red showed at the edge of one nostril. Time to wrap things up.

“You will do all of this in addition to meeting all of the demands of the five-year Corporate Integrity Agreement with the Department of Health and Human Services, and you will follow that agreement without fail, with no attempt at deceit or evasion.”

With her briefcase strap over her shoulder, Thea strode over to his desk, placed the envelope on his blotter and picked up his expensive cigar lighter. She set fire to the list and held it carefully over his trash can, making sure nothing remained but ashes. She dusted off her fingers and returned to stand in front of him.

She held out a tissue. “Wipe your nose and give it back to me.”

He did so, with stiff motions. She tucked the bloody tissue into her briefcase. To see that proud, expressive face so blank and malleable was…distasteful. She remembered seeing him like this before, but that had been ages ago, back when she had been young and much more innocent.

She had been terrified then, too, commanding him to let her and her brother and sister stay on Woodruff Mountain with their grandfather and leave them all in peace. Things weren’t so different after all. But now she recognized what she was doing for what it was—violation.

She shook her head and pressed on. “You will forget that I told you I encouraged the whistleblowers or was involved in the DoJ’s case in any way. You will forget that I planned to resign. You will remember only that we chatted about the case and I congratulated you on the settlement. You will not open that envelope until Monday. You will accept my reasons for resigning and will not question or investigate those reasons any further. You will leave Grace and Daniel and I, and our families and friends alone. You will not interfere with or pry into anything we do in any way. You will stay away from Woodruff Mountain. You will not do anything to question or challenge Pops’s will. You will not attempt to take Woodruff Mountain away from Grace or her heirs or try to develop the mountain or the land around it. Ever.” She walked toward the door. “When I say ‘dad’ you will say goodbye to me and tell me, in front of your assistant, to take a couple of weeks off because I deserve it.”

As she opened the door, she looked back over her shoulder and smiled. “I’ll be sure and tell them you said so, Dad,” she said, her voice normal once more.

“Goodbye, Althea. And you take a couple of weeks off. You deserve it after all your hard work on this case,” her father said, oblivious to the last five minutes.

“Thank you.” Thea smiled brightly at his assistant, who glared right back. Calm and casual, she walked across the elegant waiting area to the glass doors and out into the quiet corridor. It was floored in plush carpet and hung with original oil paintings that were probably worth more than what Hartford would end up paying for this record-breaking settlement with the US government.

Thea felt as if shards of ice were being driven through her skull, but she kept smiling in spite of the nausea until she got past the secured doors and reached the elevator lobby. She still had to make it down to ground level and into a taxi. She had packed something in her tote that she could take for the headache. She stared at the elevator doors, willing the car to arrive. Despite it all she still managed a sigh of relief.

It was over. It had to be done, and the most distasteful part—the part that had given her a headache—was over.

No one would ever know that she had hand-picked the whistleblowers and smoothed the way for the DoJ’s case to succeed. She imagined some lawyers at the DoJ were scratching their heads over the whole thing even while they celebrated.

All it had taken was a trained attorney with unlimited access who knew what to look for and where to look and how to get it into the hands of the right people without detection. The combined years of experience and expertise of those she had found who were willing to expose Hartford’s dangerous and deceptive practices had been overwhelming. Almost all of the people she had selected had come forward and exposed Hartford’s moral and ethical wrongdoing. And she hadn't had to use the voice once throughout the whole ordeal—until now.

There had been times when it felt as if she was living through one of those espionage movies, only she didn’t need a cloak or a dagger.

It’s over. Ten years later, Becca, and we finally kicked them in the teeth. But it’s not enough.

“And here she is—Hartford’s secret weapon.”

She nearly staggered sideways. She had been standing with her head down, like an exhausted animal. She turned to find Greg Whitehead smiling at her. The admiring expression in his eyes quickly turned to one of concern.

“Althea, you don’t look so good.” He took her arm. “Are you all right?”

Thea took a careful step backward, freeing herself gently from his grasp. “No, not really. This bug is kicking me in the teeth. I haven’t been able to shake it, with the case and everything.” She made a vague gesture at the executive suite doors down the corridor. “I need to go home and rest. It might be a while.”

Home. I’m really going home. A sob lodged in her throat, but she turned it into a cough.

“That’s too bad. If your father’s not taking you out to celebrate, I had hoped to do the honors.” He made an exaggerated pout. “But I suppose I can go home with you and feed you miso soup at Althea’s instead of eggplant cannelloni at Farmicia.”

Swallowing hard to calm herself, Thea pasted on a thin smile. “No, I’m definitely contagious and not very sociable at the moment, but I’ll take a rain check.”

Greg’s square jaw tensed, then he smiled and shook his head. “I have a rather large collection of those. Someday I’m going to redeem them.” He reached for her arm again, but Thea sidestepped as the elevator doors opened behind her.

“Why, I’m certain I have no idea what you mean, sir,” she said, with the exaggerated Southern accent he loved so well.

It had the effect she’d hoped for as his stiff smile softened. “You know, it’s not good PR for the daughter of the CEO of one of the most powerful pharmaceutical companies in the world to have a bad cold.”

Thea stepped back into the elevator. “I know. Ironic, isn’t it? Synprex-D does nothing for me,” she singsonged, as the doors started to close.

“I’ll call you,” he said with desperation, the little indentation between his eyebrows deepening with concern.

She nodded at him as the doors closed on his clean-cut face. She straightened herself and hoped she looked a lot better than she felt. Just a little while longer. Her silk shirt was sticking to her skin, her blunt-cut bangs clung to her forehead and, to top it all off, the pencil skirt was hanging sideways on her hips. Either the damn safety pin had broken or she had lost more weight than she thought over the last few weeks.

At least she hadn’t lied to Greg. The bug that she hadn’t been able to throw off seemed to be settling in with a vengeance. But when the elevator doors opened, she stepped out into the lobby with a sense of freedom she hadn’t felt in years. She was going home. She could rest on the rich cool loam of the forest floor, listen to the music of the mountain, play along on her flute—and finally mourn for those she had lost along the way.