LEGACY
Chapter Seven
Cal made his way down the
hallway, following the sound of voices. He’d freshened up and changed clothes
in the guest room, bitterly admitting to himself that the Dawson household was
not as rundown and low class as he had expected. To be honest, it was a spacious,
beautifully decorated Italian-style home. For all its luxuries and priceless
antiques, Cal had never seen the Hockley mansion as home; it was too cold, too
impersonal; too pretentious in its muted display of wealth. This, this on the
other hand, was something different.
Cal wanted to hit someone.
*****
The calming sea breeze swept
through Cal’s hair and rustled his napkin. The meal set out in the backyard was
ripe and rich and delicious. He sat between Tom and Joseph, running his fingers
along the cool, smooth silver handle of his fork.
"And how long have you been
in California?" he asked.
With just the hint of a smile,
Rose coolly turned to him and replied, "A lifetime."
"Tom says you live in a
palace!" Mark suddenly exclaimed, sitting up to hear the stranger’s
response.
Cal chuckled. "I wouldn’t
call it that. Ever been to a museum?"
Mark nodded.
"It’s like that, only no one
ever explains what anything actually is. You just can’t touch anything."
"No one lives in
museums!"
Cal squinted against the
sunlight, speaking low. "Some people do."
*****
After dessert, Joseph and Mark
went back into the house, and Jack, Rose, Cal, and Tom were left on the
backyard veranda, sipping coffee.
"Thank you again for having
me here," Cal said to no one in particular.
"It’s not a problem at all.
We’re really glad to have you here," Tom replied. "Actually, I can’t
imagine what else we can do after everything you did for me. I owe my health to
you."
"I think I owe you."
Tom laughed. "Why would you
owe me anything?"
Cal became acutely aware of two
sets of daggers, disguised as Rose’s turquoise eyes, searing into him.
"Well, you came all that way just to see me, and I really couldn’t tell
you anything. I’m sorry to have been such a disappointment."
"Yes, Tom, perhaps next time
you can just write a letter," Rose tightly told her son.
"But I wanted to ask Mr.
Hockley if he could help us."
"Help you with what?"
Cal looked up, surprised.
"We don’t need his
help!" Jack spoke, some of his first words of the meal.
"Yes, we do!" Tom was
suddenly adamant. Why were his parents trying to coop him up, keep him from
pursuing his destiny? He began to wonder if it was a mistake to even come back;
maybe he should have stayed near the Atlantic. He turned to Cal, speaking
quickly, his words laced in desperation. "My dream has always been to go
to Harvard University. I’ve worked hard; I have the knowledge. I deserve this.
But I’m not a legacy. We’re not wealthy and influential. Hell, I could barely
afford the train ride to the East Coast. I know you went to Harvard, and I know
you must have some sort of influence. It’s my future. Please."
Cal was taken aback. After all
these months of failures, after day after day of second guessing himself,
suddenly here was this boy who thought Cal was a demigod, a superpower that
could sway everyone and get anything done. And hadn’t that always been the
case? Until that one moment, until the moment Cal yearned to forget, hadn’t he
always won? "One day I had that type of influence. I had the wealth that I
could have tossed at you and made everything better in your life. I’d love to
be able to do that again. I’d love to be able to do that for my wife, my
children, for you, Tom. But I’m not that person anymore. The Hockley name fell
with the company."
The Dawsons looked at him, not
understanding. "I’m sorry, Tom, but your research was all a bit outdated.
I’ve lost everything. The October crash shook up the market, and I came
tumbling down." The words came faster, tinged with bitterness. "I’ve
got a few assets left, and I’m praying I can ride those out for another year or
so. My father blames me for the bad investments, for putting my trust in the
wrong hands and my life into the wrong banks. My family has turned against me.
My business associates looked at me with pity, then—when they realized they
were in the same boat—anger. My whole life I’ve been a provider, a protector, a
goddamn winner at everything."
Cal suddenly looked up, becoming
aware that he had an audience, that these were no longer the pungent words of
his thoughts, but that he was sharing them for the first time. He looked away,
embarrassed, and mumbled, "I’m sorry I couldn’t have been of more
help."