Chapter 11
A/N: really, this is the concluding chapter for this little shipper experiment. There will be an epilogue that closes the circle for our protagonist, I suppose; if another thread begins, it'll pick up from here and lead to the epilogue, but jeez, that's a lot of years to cover...we'll see.
Thanks for all the encouragement along the way on this project- reviews were much appreciated and helped in some instances to guide the story. In particular, I decided to go for a more positive end after reading a guest review that noted how this thread had followed her own- hope your own situation ultimately resolves positively. Family rifts are too common; often resolution never comes in time. Truthfully, you do have my best wishes. -M1
Face to Face
Helen blinked at her laptop's screen, realizing that she had been reading the same email for the last five minutes without comprehending it. Giving up, she closed her mail folder and found herself staring at the photograph that she had chosen as a screensaver. Usually it was hidden by open spreadsheet windows and folders, and it had faded into the background of her consciousness.
It was an old photograph that she had found years ago. A much younger Jake sat on a threadbare sofa, their two little girls in pajamas alongside, Daria on his right, and Quinn on his left. Both were asleep, leaning into their father, and Jake had his arms around both of them. He looked tired; that was when he was working for that horrible pharmaceutical company back in Texas. Tired, but content. That was a hard time; money was tight. They had just moved into the apartment, making do until they could save enough money for a down payment on a house.
Helen studied the three faces in the photograph. Jake, who had sacrificed so much for them all. He had put her through law school, and she was just starting off her career, having relocated the family to Highland, Texas to accept a position with a law firm. Daria and Quinn, faces like little angels. When they were asleep, they looked very much like sisters. When they were awake, it was a different story, even back then.
Still, she and Jake had two beautiful girls. She remembered how she would watch them as they slept, thinking about what wonders they might accomplish in their lives.
Helen Morgendorffer leaned back in her leather chair, looking around her office. It had been a long road to finally make partner in this well regarded law firm, in a suburb of Washington, DC.
The price had been high. So many hours as an associate, shoring up an incompetent boss. She had stolen much of that time from what should have rightfully gone to her family, to her two children. But what choice did she have? Jake barely kept his consultancy running, making just enough to cover the mortgage.
It had fallen to her to cover the living expenses, and to set aside money for retirement and for… college.
On her polished mahogany desk was a frame that held three small photographs. One was of she and Jake, copied from a newspaper story about a march on Washington from their college days. Next to it was Quinn on the stairs, in a formal Prom dress. The last was of Daria, asleep in bed, a heavy Russian novel open on her chest. She had taken that photograph after carefully removing her daughter's glasses, wanting to capture that face before putting the book away and turning out her light.
It was funny how her favorite pictures of Daria were of her asleep. Perhaps it was only then that her beauty could not be hidden. It was only then that she relaxed, and that lovely little smile she worked so hard to suppress would surface.
She closed her eyes, and after a long moment pushed the intercom button on her phone.
"Marianne, please get me a flight to Logan International, Boston."
"Is she expecting you, Ms. Morgendorffer?" the receptionist asked politely, looking at her monitor. "She's in an editorial staff meeting that is scheduled to run till 1:00 pm."
"Could she step out for a few minutes?"
"She's running the meeting- her direct reports. I could slip a memo in and let her know that you're here. Her meetings always run exactly as scheduled, and she usually takes her lunch break afterwards."
Helen checked her watch. It would be another forty minutes; she glanced at the nameplate on the desk. "Thank you, Nicole. I'll wait. I'll send her a text message and catch up on some work for now."
"Certainly. Would you like to use one of the guest offices?" she asked, indicating a row of glassed-in enclosures close by. Nicole handed Helen a small card. "If you need internet access, you can use this wifi password."
"Thank you, that'll be helpful," Helen replied. "What exactly does Daria do here? I thought she was a part time staffer."
The young woman laughed. "Your daughter is quite the overachiever. She started off as a part time junior writer but got quickly promoted to an assistant editor. She put in a lot of hours over the summer. You should be proud of her, she's thought of highly around here."
She opened a particularly difficult case folder, and distracted herself by working up an alternate legal strategy that might prove to be highly effective, based on the preliminary results of an ongoing data forensics investigation. This proved easier to focus on, as it dealt with a woman who had been wrongly terminated and scapegoated by an old, supposedly reputable firm.
The bastards had covered their tracks well, but not well enough. Helen smiled grimly; this was the kind of thing that had led her to become a lawyer in the first place.
This was the kind of stuff she believed in, stuff that she was willing to go to the mat for.
And just like her, her eldest daughter was a fighter. She would not put up with crap that went against what she believed in, no matter who it was that was dishing it out.
The door opened behind her, and she turned. Daria was leaning up against the glass wall, laptop under her arm.
"Hello, Mom," Daria began quietly. She tilted her head slightly, her auburn hair cropped shorter, still a striking frame for her piercing, intelligent gaze.
In her own subtle fashion, she was confident, professional, and clearly capable of intimidation. "Even under the present circumstances, it's still good to see you."
For Helen, it was like looking into a mirror, many years ago; Daria had the same steel in her gaze. Helen could only smile. We're so much alike, and I pray she can hold on to her ideals longer than I did mine.
She took a deep breath. "It's good to see you too, Daria; I just wanted to see you face to face."
Daria's cool, somewhat neutral expression took on a subtle wariness. Still holding her computer, she brought her arms together. Why is she here?
Helen dropped her gaze to the floor, composing herself.
After a long moment, she looked up, into the eyes of her daughter.
"I want to apologize. I'm sorry, Daria, I was wrong about you and Trent. I had no right to try and keep you two apart."
The younger woman stared, dumbstruck. She studied the face of her mother, who was doing the same. She carefully set her computer down on the countertop, dropping her hands to her sides.
After what seemed to be the longest moment in either of their lives, the two women embraced for what seemed like the first time in years.
Helen followed Daria to her cubicle, and they set their laptops down. "Quinn tells me that you've an hour for lunch. Know a place that does a good crow?"
The corners of Daria's mouth twitched upwards. "I'd have to say that I'll have the same. I owe you an apology as well. I'm sorry to have been so damn stubborn; I know you and Dad only wanted the best for me." She looked her mother in the eye. "You know, you were right about me. I guess all this was sort of a tantrum; my refusing to accept money from you and dad was a way of making you feel bad. Thing was I didn't think about how unfair I was being to Trent; he never complained about the situation and just supported me."
"I really underestimated him, sweetie. Quinn's right; you know what you're doing with him. He's a good man." Helen glanced at the paper bag on Daria's desk. "You usually work through lunch? I used to do the same thing; your dad used to make me a sandwich. He'd put it in my briefcase along with an apple."
Daria smiled. "Trent packs me a peanut butter sandwich and apple because he knows me well. I tend to get into my work and lose track of the time." She looked at the clock on the corner of her screen. "We have time for something at a deli, or maybe at this restaurant nearby. The CEO and my Editor have taken me there a few times."
Helen set her briefcase down. "I'm buying, Daria. Please?"
"Okay, Mom," Daria said, trying to sound put upon for old time's sake.
They were seated quickly at the restaurant; the lunch crowd had mostly come and gone. It was a quiet place, so it was the one that they usually came to for lunch meetings at the office.
"Excuse me, Daria," came the familiar voice behind her. "This must be your mother."
"Ms. Hanlon. Yes, this is my mother, Helen Morgendorffer, of Vitale, Davis, Horowitz, Riordan, Schrecter, and Morgendorffer. Mom, this is Grace Hanlon, the CEO of Hanlon, Page and Meyers, and this is Ms. Marlene Michaelson, my Editor and Supervisor."
"I'm very pleased to meet you, Helen," smiled Grace. "Your daughter here is a real asset to our company. As a matter of fact, Marlene and I were discussing Daria over lunch just now."
Helen beamed. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm quite proud of her; something I don't tell her enough."
"Daria, we may as well tell you now," Marlene smiled. "I know you could use some flexibility in your scheduling, and frankly your productivity is not fairly compensated hourly. We'd like to move you into a salaried position. You've done well as my assistant editor, but I'd like to see more of your writing and insight. We'd like to move you into a research and analysis position, where you'd pretty much be working to your own schedule. We'll need you in the office for meetings but we can work that schedule out. We could probably even do much of that remotely."
"I've also had a few client inquiries about good speechwriters, so I'd like to talk to you about that separately as well," Grace smiled. "Marlene and I have another meeting in a few minutes, so we have to get going. Daria, you'll get an email with a proposed job description and compensation. I've also taken the liberty to speak to Professor Richardson about setting you up in a work/study program so you can receive class credit as well."
"We don't want to lose you by burning you out; your academic commitments come first at this point in your life," Marlene continued. "You'd have access to the research staff so you can leverage the time you do have available. Take a look at the email and think about it over the weekend."
"Helen, I'd like to say again that I'm pleased to have Daria," Grace smiled at both of them. "Daria, I'm sure you'll be happy with our proposal. I'd not be foolish enough to forget that you have a legal resource at your disposal. Helen, sorry to have to run."
Helen smiled and watched the two women leave. Turning back to her eldest, she leaned forward. "You have always made me proud, Daria. Most college students would be working in a coffee shop or the school bookstore."
Daria laughed quietly. "I did work at the bookstore. It paid crap and was boring as hell. This job pays much better; I'll probably have enough by the end of next summer to pay for one more semester at Raft."
Helen's gaze dropped to the tablecloth; she sighed.
"Please, Daria, will you accept our support? Don't drop Raft. We planned to cover the balance of your tuition and your housing; you were to only work enough to cover your living expenses. Give Trent a break, he deserves it."
"He did want to enroll in some classes," Daria said quietly. "He wants a college degree. He used to talk about starting with online classes, but he couldn't even spare the time and money for that. I'm going to take some of the money I've saved and pay for his classes."
She reached over and put her hand on Helen's.
"Thank you, Mom."
Helen smiled, looking at her extraordinary daughter.
She left our home a girl, and today I'm sitting across this table from a strong, smart and beautiful woman.
Perhaps someday, she'll know how it feels to be as proud of her own child as I am of her.