Chapter Nineteen

Gavin

I didn't get home until midnight last night. Kate was asleep and was still asleep when I left for work at six this morning. I didn't want to wake her because I know she's tired and needs to sleep, but I miss talking to her. It seems like the only time we talk now is on a quick phone call during the day. But if we did talk, I don't know what I'd say. I can't talk about work because then I'd have to tell her about my job, which I know I need to do but not if telling her will stress her out. With the restaurant about to open, the last thing she needs is more stress.

"Late night?" Jett asks as he walks in my office, a big smile on his face, showing off his shiny white teeth. Sometimes I wonder if he's purposely making me work here because he knows it's not what I want to do. Guys like him love exerting their power and he knows he holds the power in this situation.

I stand up so I'm at his level. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."

He checks his watch; a designer watch worth at least fifty thousand. "I have a meeting in a few minutes. You'll have to make it quick." He gets his phone out and swipes through his messages. "I saw your email last night. That's why I stopped by. You said something wasn't working on the website?"

"Um, no. I got that fixed. That's why I was here so late. Jess was here too. She's actually the one who fixed it."

I always give credit where credit is due. I can't stand people who take credit for work they didn't do in order to get ahead.

"But you identified the problem," Jett says.

"Well, yeah, but anyone could've done that."

"Don't be so modest, Gavin." He grins as he puts his phone away. "Nobody got anywhere by being modest. You have to sell yourself. Let others know how great you are. You have to be your biggest fan. Inspire others to follow you. That's how to be a leader."

I don't believe that's what makes a good leader but I'm not going to argue with him. I have a feeling nobody could win an argument with Jett.

"So anyway," I say, hurrying to tell him this before he leaves, "I can't keep working this many hours. A few extra hours now and then is fine but working until midnight every day is too much. I was wondering if I could have help on some of the things you gave me to do so I wouldn't have to be here so late."

He chuckles as he walks over to the window, looking out at the city skyline. "This is about Kate."

How does he know about Kate? I've never even mentioned her to him.

"She's your girlfriend, right?" he asks.

"Yeah. Did Peter tell you about her?"

"A little." He turns to face me. "But I did my own research as well. I like to know all I can about my employees." His eyes fix on mine. "This is politics after all. You never know who might betray you. You have to know who you can trust."

Why wouldn't he trust me? I have no reason to turn against him. If anything, I'm the one who should be distrustful. I don't know that much about Jett and the more I learn about him, the less I like him. For instance, I don't like the fact that he's done research on me. He doesn't need to know everything about me. My private life should be private.

"It's not just about Kate," I say. "It's about my job taking over my life. I saw that happen with my dad and I don't want the same thing happening to me."

"Your father wasn't working at a job. He was working toward a dream. A dream to help ordinary people have better lives. Better places to live. Better jobs. The hours he put in had meaning. Purpose. Just like the hours you put in here. This isn't just a job, Gavin. We're here making a difference."

He says that, and maybe he truly believes it, but working late to fix the website doesn't seem like making a difference. It just seems like work, with the goal being to get Jett elected.

He walks around me, making me turn back to see him. "You know why I gave you this office instead of a cubicle?"

"No. Why?"

"Because you have potential. I saw it the moment I met you. In fact, everyone sees it but you."

"Potential for what?"

"For things greater than writing contracts. You're smart, good-looking, likable, and a born leader. People want to listen to you and be around you. You may not realize it but you're an influencer. And influencers can't hide in a cubicle all day typing away at a computer. You need to be out there, talking to people, changing minds." He gives me a toothy grin. "The political circles are already buzzing about you. They see a future with you, Gavin. You have what it takes, just like your father did."

"I appreciate the compliments but I'm not interested in being a politician. I told you that when we first met. I didn't even plan to work on a campaign ever again but you and Peter were so insistent that I—"

"Do you want to make a difference? Improve the lives of people less fortunate than you?"

"Well, yeah, of course, but I can do that by educating policy makers on the issues and convincing them to make changes."

"Politicians are swayed by money and favors, not charts and graphs."

"Which is why I don't want a career in politics. I don't want to be part of that world."

"You're already in it. Writing proposals to influence policymakers and local politicians is politics, whether you like it or not."

"But I'm not directly part of it. I'm working behind the scenes."

"Which will do nothing for anyone. You're not making a difference sitting at a desk writing proposals. Hopefully working here will show you how much more you could do and how much influence you could have."

"You're the one influencing people. I'm just helping you get your ideas out there."

"You're learning from me. Observing what your future could be like. Think about it, Gavin. Think about following in your father's footsteps. Think about how proud he would be, seeing you carry out his ideas and truly make a difference in people's lives."

His words conjure up images of my dad and me having late-night talks around the kitchen table. We'd talk for hours about all that could be done to make the world a better place. How just a simple change in policy could make a huge difference or how a new program could change people's lives. Sometimes we'd disagree but our disagreements would often lead to a better solution.

God, I miss those times. I miss my dad.

"If you could truly make a difference," Jett says, "would you really pass up that opportunity?"

My mind snaps back to the present and the reason I wanted to talk to Jett. "It's just not the type of life I want. I'm sorry if that makes you think less of me but I have to do what's right for me, and being a politician just isn't it."

He chuckles. "Give it some time. You're young. You haven't been in the real world long enough to see how it works. Once you do, your attitude might change." He walks to the door. "Have a good day."

"Wait." I race to the door. "About my workload...can you take anything off my plate so I could get home at a more reasonable hour?"

"If you want to work fewer hours, find a way to do it. I don't care when my employees come and go as long as the work gets done. Find a way to work smarter and you could leave at noon."

"I don't know how to do that."

He smiles. "I just told you how. You're a born leader, Gavin. People listen to you. They'll do what you tell them to, so get them to help you out. Delegate. And don't take no for an answer." His phone rings and he answers it as he walks off.

I return to my desk and review my never ending list of projects. Maybe Jett's right. Maybe I could convince some people to help me out. Testing that theory, I approach some of my co-workers to see if they'd take on some of my projects. Surprisingly they all agree to it, but to be fair, they didn't have much to do. One girl was just sitting at her desk, surfing the Internet.

Maybe Jett purposely gave me all this work to see if I'd take the leadership role he seems to want me to have here at the office. I get the feeling everything he does has a purpose. I don't like being manipulated that way but in this case, it worked in my favor. If he hadn't given me that lecture earlier, I'd still be trying to do everything myself and be here until midnight. But instead I'm leaving at four-thirty.

Rather than go home right away, I decide to go to one of the Kendal Properties to check it out. I can't stop thinking about that key I found. I want to know what it's for.

One of the Kendal apartment buildings is close to the office so I stop there but have no idea what to do next. As I approach the elevator, I notice it can't be used without an access code.

"Are you visiting?" the doorman asks when he sees me staring at the elevator. He's an older man with gray hair and a thick gray mustache.

"I was just checking out the building, seeing if I'd want to live here."

He chuckles. "You know what these run?"

"Um, yes. I do."

His eyes narrow and he cocks his head. "You one of those Internet kids?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Those kids who spend all their time making videos and end up making millions."

"No, that's not me."

He waits for me to explain but I'm not going to. He doesn't need to know why I'm here.

"This is a Kendal Property, right?" I ask.

"Yes." He folds his arms across his chest. "Why do you ask?"

I take the key from my pocket and hold it up. "I found this on the street. It's from one of the Kendal Properties. I wanted to return it to the owner but I don't know where to take it. There's like twenty Kendal Properties in New York."

He takes the key from me and smiles. "I remember these."

"What?"

"Keys." He turns it over in his hand. "Hardly anyone uses real keys anymore. Now it's either one of those key cards or people just punch numbers into a security panel. Some even use their phone to open their door. As for me? I like a key. An actual key you can put in a lock and turn. Why did they have to get rid of those? They're a hell of a lot easier to use than some high tech gadget that requires a code you can't remember."

"Yeah, so anyway, would you happen to know which building it belongs to?"

"Sure I do. It's the only one that still uses these." He hands the key back to me.

"So where is it?"

"Down in SoHo. I can't think of the street but you can look it up. It's an old brick building. Not too big. Has a lot of charm. You should think of living there instead of here. The rent's a lot lower. Of course you gotta give up some space."

"I'll think about it. Thanks." I hurry off before he starts talking again. He seems like a talker and I don't have time to listen. I want to check this place out before I go home.

It's rush hour and taking a cab will take too long so I hop on the subway. When I'm back on the street, I look up the address for the Kendal property in Soho. I know this area well because I dated a girl in college whose brother lived here. He traveled all the time so we'd stay at his place whenever we wanted a weekend in the city.

Making my way through the crowded streets, I finally reach the building. It's tall and narrow, maybe six floors high. There's no doorman but the entrance is locked. There's a place to swipe a key card, which I don't have. People are looking at me like I'm trying to break in so I stand by the side of the building and pretend I'm waiting for someone.

My phone rings. It's Kate.

"Hey. What's up?" I hold the phone closer to my ear. I can barely hear her with all the street noise.

"I was just checking in. Any idea when you'll be home tonight?"

"Probably in an hour or so."

"You're not working late?"

"No. I should be home around six." I'd like to tell her I'm done working late but I don't want to make promises I may not be able to keep. "You want to go for dinner?"

"I can't. I have to be here for the plumber. He has to fix one of the faucets. But if you're home at six, stop by the restaurant. I'll make you dinner. I'm testing meatballs tonight."

"Sounds good. I'll be there."

"Great!" She pauses, then says, "I miss you, Gavin."

"I miss you too." It's not something either one of us should have to say. We live together and yet we miss each other. That's not right. "I'll see you soon. I love you."

"I love you too. Bye!"

A woman walks up to the building and I quickly put my phone away and race up to the door.

"I forgot my key card," I say, smiling at the woman as she swipes her card.

"Yeah, right," she says, her back to me as she opens the door. "Go away or I'll call the cops."

"No, really," I say, hurrying to get my key out. "Look. I live here."

She turns around and sees the key in my hand, then looks at my face and smiles. "You do look familiar."

Is she flirting with me? After assuming I was a criminal just seconds ago?

"So can you let me in?" I ask since she's blocking the door.

She stands there, staring at me. "How do I know you?"

"I live in the building."

She continues to stare. "You look really familiar but I don't remember seeing you in the building before. I must've seen you somewhere else."

"No, it's here. I just haven't been here long. I moved in a few weeks ago."

She suddenly straightens her stance and points her finger at me. "Niles!"

"What?"

"Are you Niles' son? Because you look just like him."

So my dad was definitely here, enough times for this woman to know who he is and know his name. Maybe she's the woman he had the affair with, although I didn't think he'd pick someone so young. She's probably only a year or two older than me.

"Yeah. I'm his son."

She smiles. "I haven't seen Niles forever. What's he been up to?"

She doesn't know he's dead? She must not watch the news. It was a big news story for weeks.

"He passed away."

She sucks in a breath and covers her mouth. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. How long ago?"

"Last fall."

"I'm so sorry." She frowns. "I always liked Niles. Whenever we'd pass in the hall, he'd always smile and say hi, which as you know is rare for New Yorkers. I always assumed he must be from somewhere else. Someplace friendly, like maybe the Midwest."

"He's from Connecticut. So um...you didn't know him that well?"

She shakes her head. "I didn't even know his last name. I'd just see him in the hall now and then, and one time he helped me carry my groceries. He was such a nice man. I'm really sorry for your loss."

I nod. "So can I come inside now?"

"Oh." She laughs. "Sorry. I keep blocking the door."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just kind of in a hurry."

"Go ahead. I have to check my mailbox. I'm Kara, by the way. And you are?"

"Gavin," I say, hurrying past her. "Nice meeting you." I search for the elevator but don't see one. I look around for the stairs.

"Need some help?" Kara asks.

"Nope, I'm good," I say as I spot a door that I'm hoping leads to the stairs. Why can't these old buildings label stuff better?

When I open the door, I'm relieved to find stairs but then realize I don't have an apartment number. I don't even know what floor to go to. I'm going to have to try the key in every door. Why can't the stupid key have the apartment number on it?

I stop to think. My dad didn't usually do something without putting a lot of thought into it. He was smart, and very clever when he needed to be; traits he would've used when trying to hide his affair. He'd try to make sure as few people as possible saw him going into his apartment, which means he might choose one on the first floor to limit his time in the stairwell. And he might choose a place close to the stairs to limit his time in the hallway. But Kara said she used to see him in the hall so maybe his place was on the first floor but wasn't the first apartment. Maybe it was the second or third.

I go down the hallway on the first floor, stopping at the second apartment down from the stairwell.

"Having trouble with your key?" Kara asks as she appears in the hallway. She motions to the key in my hand.

"Um, yeah. It wasn't working."

She comes over and takes it from me and puts it in the lock. "Sometimes you have to jiggle it." She unlocks the door and hands me the key. "There you go."

"Thanks."

"No problem." She walks over to the apartment next door. "See ya later."

"Yeah. Bye." I go inside and find an empty apartment. It's been completely cleaned out. My dad's mistress must've taken everything after he died. Or maybe this wasn't his apartment. Maybe it belonged to the mistress. But then why didn't Kara mention her? Why did she only mention my dad?

I go to the bedroom and see that it's also empty. Has this place been vacant since my dad died? He died almost a year ago. Who's been paying the rent? It's a tiny apartment but it's New York so the rent has to cost a fortune.

I go to the kitchen and start searching through the drawers. The second drawer has some takeout menus. So far they're my only clues so I stuff them in my laptop bag. Continuing to search both the cabinets and drawers, I find nothing until I reach the very last drawer. As I open it, I hear something rattling. I reach my hand way to the back and pull out a tube of red lipstick. Opening the door all the way, I run my hand along the bottom of the drawer and feel something sharp poke me. I pull it out and see it's a diamond earring. I find the other one and take it out.

Holding the earrings up to the light, it looks like they're real, but who would leave real diamond earrings behind? 

Wondering if I might've missed something, I search every drawer again but can't find anything. I tuck the earrings in my pocket and toss the lipstick in my bag, then head to the door. As I'm walking, I spot something on the wood floor. It's a button; a cream-colored button with a silver edge around it, like something that would be on a woman's blouse.

I grab it and shove it in my pocket, then check the time. It's after five. I have to hurry or I'll miss the train back to Connecticut. I lock the door and go out to the street.

My search didn't give me many answers but it did confirm that my dad was cheating on my mom. The question is, why? He was risking everything by doing that. If someone found out and told the press, it would've caused a scandal that could've destroyed his chances for winning the Senate seat. It would've hurt his law business. Ended his marriage. Harmed his relationship with me, his one and only son.

Why would he risk all that for some woman? Who was this woman?