Chapter Thirty-Four - Mac
A knock on my office door disrupts my pensive mood as I gaze out the window at the cows. It’s snowing today and all they are are little blobs of black and red on a sea of white. “Come in,” I call out.
“Mac?” Stephanie says from behind me.
“Yes,” I say, sticking my hands in the pockets of my suit trousers.
“She’s on in three minutes.”
I nod without turning around.
“Do you want me to turn your TV on? We’re all going to watch on the big TV out in the Atrium.”
“No,” I say. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Stephanie leaves, closing the door quietly behind her. It’s been six long months since I saw Ellie. Six months of wondering how to fix things and six months of coming to the realization that there are some things people need to do on their own.
Returning to this office after Ellie walked out was mine, I guess. I was hiding when I came here as McAllister Stonewall, I just didn’t realize it. But Alexander has been a dear friend of mine all growing up. Heath and I really are like brothers. And if anyone messed with Camille I’d be there to set him straight just like any big brother. So I guess I rationalized it. I could still be Mac, I’d just take the Stonewall last name until the company was sold. Alexander never wanted to sell, he wanted me to step up. And I guess he got his way after all. Because the thought of walking away from this place after Ellie left was too much. I wanted the job at that point.
No, I correct myself. I needed it. To give me a lifeline to her. To give me some hope that the things I was beginning to realize about myself might not be true.
They are true. Were true.
I was hiding. For ten years I lost myself in the charity. In philanthropy. In the hopes that it would wipe away the dirty stain left over from college.
The guilt.
I didn’t rape that girl. And if she hadn’t accused me, and all my friends, of raping her, I’d probably never even remember her name.
But the guilt after she was killed. That was something I couldn’t live with.
She was dead because of who I am. Maybe I didn’t do it, but if Maclean Callister didn’t exist she would never have been involved in that setup. She’d still be alive if I was never born.
So yeah. I ran. I can admit now, but only because I know what it feels like to be left behind.
Which is why I stayed, I guess. I pictured what my father probably went through after I took off and started giving my money away like it was growing on trees.
I never needed the money. And giving it away isn’t even meaningful. I have so many trusts that are accruing interest, and some mature every year or two. My family set me up this way so I’d never have to work a day in my life.
It wasn’t a risk to give it away. Not even in the denominations I was dealing with. Because barring some continuous financial catastrophe, I always knew there’d be more.
The philanthropic work was satisfying for a long time. It kind of felt like work. I got up every day and had phone calls. Meetings. Made decisions.
I just never had to report to anyone.
Which is why I stayed on here at Stonewall.
I report to Alexander now. I sold him two percent of my interest in the company, just to give him peace of mind that the empire he built would never be threatened by the whims of another partner.
He agreed to sell the company if I wanted to, even after I sold my controlling interest. But by that time I had figured it out.
I want this.
I want what he has.
A family. A fresh start with someone I trust.
Things I had been denying myself ever since I heard that accusation back in college.
Giving away my money to self-select myself out of the company of other billionaires was never going to get me that. It feels good. And I will never give up the charity, but they don’t need me to pretend to work as I write checks. I never did anything meaningful anyway.
Stonewall does though. Camille is successful over in Europe. And Heath, even though I do consider him a total pig when it comes to women, is making major inroads in China. He’s not coming home anytime soon.
So here I am. CEO of Stonewall North America.
And here I am. Still alone.
“Mac?” Stephanie yells. “Ellie is on!”
I’ve had regular updates from Ming about Ellie. We’ve had a standing Friday evening appointment since the week Ellie walked out, but that’s all been about business.
Ellie stopped looking for a publisher for her book.
She got a new editor.
She found a cover designer.
She got the book formatted.
She found a printer.
She pushed publish.
That was last week’s report, so there are no more meetings about Ellie Hatcher’s book release progress. And I haven’t dared to ask even one personal question. I refuse to discuss Ellie like she’s a thing that needs to be planned and plotted.
But every minute—every second—of every day, I wish I had.
Does she have a boyfriend? Does she ever talk about me? Is she happy?
I won’t ask, but I want to. I won’t ask until Ellie agrees to see me. And she hasn’t. I’ve asked her at least two dozen times to meet me somewhere. Drinks? Lunch? Dinner? A weekend at my house?
No. No. No. Hell, no.
All that was in text messages. She won’t take my calls. And she hasn’t answered a text in over two months.
Face it, Mac, she’s moved on. Just like she wanted to. She’s remade her life, her book is on sale, and she’s only here for the interview on the Tuesday Book Review segment of the Living Life show. A low-budget news program with the worst ratings in all of Stonewall Entertainment. Their ratings finally hit the rock-bottom threshold, and even though I hate to cancel shows, I was going to have to do it weeks ago to save more prosperous shows, but Ming said this was the only show she’d agree to.
Ellie and her principles. She won’t take promotion from me—her exact words to Ming. She won’t build a career on contacts and favors. She doesn’t care if she never sells a single copy of her book, she will do this her way or not at all.
So here we are.
She has sold books. Plenty of them, from the reports I’ve gotten. So I guess it’s true, she didn’t need me.
“Mac!” Stephanie yells from the other side of the door. “Hurry! You’re going to miss it!”
But today is the day I let her know… I need her.