Logan had just gotten out of a meeting with the board, when an unexpected visitor caught him off guard, as he walked past his assistant, nodding to her forgivingly, as the person in question had already taken liberties and waited in his office, glancing over Manhattan through the window.
"Dad, what can I do for you?" Logan asked, as he marched confidently into his office, closing the door behind him. Mitchum had stayed well clear of the business for nearly two years now, hence it was a bit of a surprise that he was here, besides he would've expected some warning at least if it was business related.
"Logan! Finally, damn, I don't remember the board meetings ever taking this long," Mitchum commented. He was still wearing his suit, just no tie, which within this building still seemed uncharacteristic of him.
"Well we like to be thorough," Logan smirked back at him, tucking his hands into his pockets. Logan had taken a lot of liberties in changing out a large proportion of the board and it was looking more and more comprehensive to him each day as they learned to work together.
"So, how's Rory?" Michum asked, taking a seat in one of the sleek armchairs.
"She's great. I have no doubt she'll be graduating in May. Finn and the girls are well too," Logan replied, clearly understanding that his father was not here for chit-chat or pleasantries, hence predicting his next stalling question, and looked at his father, raising his eyebrows at him, as if asking why he was there.
"Good," he exhaled and took another deep breath. "So, how did things go in Portland?" he asked, as if the question was just part of the small-talk.
"Ah..," Logan sighed - feeling a little amused frankly that he would come inquiring about that. So much for being indifferent to it. "Things went well - I talked to both of them. He's getting married in June, he seems happy. Catherine too, though she was a little worried how Honor would take it," Logan explained.
"You told her?" he asked.
"Yeah, of course I told her," Logan replied as if it was obvious.
"Right," Mitchum sighed. "And your mother?" Mitchum asked.
"I assume that she knows he exists, but I haven't really spoken to her much, so no, she doesn't know I know or that I reached out," he said, as he leaned against his desk.
Michum nodded.
"Does he need anything?" Mitchum asked, after a moment, making Logan smirk at the question. It was clear proof that Mitchum did care and he liked to think he had part in bringing that part of his father back to the surface.
"Not that he said, but I would suggest he'd be included in our documents, so if he does there would be any issues with it legally," Logan replied. He'd talked to Colin about this a week ago, and including him as much as possible now, before he decided to make any claims was the easiest way to avoid drama and excess publicity and that even if he didn't think the wanted any of it right now. Essentially this way if he ever came asking there would be certain assets already in his name or written into the beneficiaries in case Michum died.
"Yeah, that's done already," Mitchum replied, surprising Logan again. "He's been on my will since he was born, actually," he added.
"Good," Logan replied approvingly. "Were you ever going to tell us, if I hadn't found out?" he asked, curiously.
"I didn't think you'd want to know to be honest. I knew your mother's opinion on the matter, and as you can imagine it wasn't pretty. And I don't really look forward to her finding out. I haven't really spoken to her directly in a while now, but as far as I've heard she isn't doing too well," Mitchum replied, actually sounding a little worried.
Logan of course knew that he was talking about her mother's drug abuse, alcohol along with it. But with her in London, not wanting to return with the embarrassment of divorce at age 62 to the States. But there was little either of them felt like they could do about it unless they wanted her admitted against her will, which seemed a bit excessive especially if it was across borders. But they'd seen enough of these cases in their circles to know that people didn't really get better from things like that unless they themselves wanted to.
Logan stared at the floor in front of him, feeling a little guilty for not interacting more with his mother, having just seen her over Christmas briefly. And as her attitude towards Rory hadn't significantly improved he really didn't want to increase those meetings - but she was his mother after all. Her mother had also inquired a couple of times about Odette, quite innocently really, pondering where she had vanished. Apparently Odette was still talked about in Shira's social circles, most of them thinking she'd just disappeared thanks to a Huntzberger payoff due to Rory's pregnancy with Finny which had been clearly further along when they announced it than the timeline had permitted. Logan could only imagine what kind of theories her mother was enforcing in those very same circles in London but as neither him or Rory was dealing much with London these days he knew it was probably wiser to stay clear of all of that, and behave like a horse with blinkers.
"But I do think that he'd like an apology," Logan added. He wasn't really talking to his father as openly as this, but how else was Mitchum going to find out about it. He knew that Mitchum wasn't very prone to admitting his mistakes. And he also knew it wasn't black and white, but he figured it couldn't hurt.
Mitchum rose, running his palm over the back of his neck and sighed. "We'll see..," he sighed. The thing was that he still thought he'd done the right thing under the circumstances, even Logan could understand that, even if not agree, but what mattered was that he regretted that people had gotten hurt in the process. It was just the matter of formulating a clear thought - one that would also make sense to himself and that wouldn't be misinterpreted, spoiling whatever relationship Logan was beginning to achieve with him. It came as a surprise to him that he actually cared that Owen learned about his siblings, much more than the relationship, if any, he ever developed with him - as if he no longer deserved it.
"Hey Jenn!" Celeste greeted as she walked into Truncheon a few steps behind Jess having shared a ride to the office on Friday. April had taken Evie to the Forth Greene playground nearby and as April's class was beginning in an hour, just ten minutes from there, this proved a good chance for Celeste to have her meeting without worrying about what Evie was up to at the same time.
"Hey, it's been too long!" Jenn greeted friendlily, adding, "Noah, just went to take a phone call, he should be right back," Jenn explained, gesturing towards the event hall to indicate where the man had disappeared to.
"That's fine," Celeste replied, and headed over to the kitchen nook to get herself an espresso. Jess had already scattered to his office, running a bit late to a web conference, casting a supportive look towards her through his glass cubicle. She'd been sensing he'd been behaving a little strangely the past week - sure he was still trying to be home earlier and involve her in the things that he did like his writing, but he was taking less initiative, being slightly more passive about things, offering her easy-outs. And frankly for that part that involved him asking her 'how she was doing' - the most dreaded question - she was grateful not having to try to present some simplified version that, one that wouldn't hurt him too much.
The shrill of the coffee machine echoed through the room as she waited, browsing a book that someone had left on the kitchen table. Truncheon always seemed to have books around - their own and everything else, and she actually kind of missed that immersion into the world of books when she'd worked there part time. The current book was a book by Naja Marie Aidt titled "When death takes something from you give it back," and she read the citations on the back cover, the book definitely catching her interest.
"Oh, that's mine," Noah's voice asked as he continued to grab his half-drunk coffee cup from the table, he'd left there earlier.
"Oh, sorry, it just caught my eye," she apologized, handing it back to him.
"It's fine. Are you ready?" he replied, gesturing towards the conference room, hurrying her a little. He didn't seem too cheery that morning, like he usually was, but she figured he just had a busy day ahead of him.
Celeste followed him, grabbing her espresso, and noting him grab her portfolio from his desk in passing.
He waited for her to enter, closing the glass door behind them, either taking a seat on either side of the table. Celest drank half of her espresso in one sip, needing a little boost that morning, while Noah waited to have her full attention.
"So?" Celeste asked anxiously, placing the cup down and leaning her elbows on the table, wanting him just to rip the bandage off if it was bad news.
He cleared his throat, as if picking his words carefully. He looked a little tired, notably more serious than the last times they'd interacted, but she couldn't quite read him well enough to know what was up.
"I really looked at these and honestly I don't think it'll make a great graphic novel," he said. It was clear that he wanted to say something more, but again, his words were delayed by a silence.
"Oh, okay…," she reacted in a weak voice, before he had a chance to say anything, clearly the news hitting her harder than she'd wanted it to.
"Graphic novels are pretty specific - they're like regular novels with the traditional parts, this at the moment doesn't have it and I can see that trying to begin to build that is a lot of work. Like three or four times the work you've put into these," he began and took a deep breath, trying to stay realistic. "But we can do something with them," he sighed, as if hesitant to suggest what he was about to.
"Like what?" she inquired, nervously pushing her hair behind her ears.
"Well for one I do think they speak alone also - so if we simply make a collection out of them, maybe a few more than you have here and see that they create a thematic - it could work as such - an art book essentially. But personally I'd think that'd not quite use up their full potential. I have another idea but I'm not sure you'd go for it as it'd probably involve working on them with me to some extent. I don't know if that'd be something you'd be willing to consider. It might not happen straight away - I sort of have something personal going on right now - but maybe if you bear with me for a couple of weeks, I could try to write some small texts to these. I like the game these drawings seem to play, sort of hidden in plain sight kind of message - it's in these drawings and I think I could also make that happen in text, allegorical text almost, and it would work great as a whole I think," he explained, and Celeste got what more he wanted to say but thankfully didn't - she was hidden in plain sight as well.
"Here - I made an example for you," he handed her a copy of one of her drawings with a simple text written underneath it - 'sometimes we scream but our voices are not heard'. It was an image of people's feet up to their knees, in various shapes and forms, in different footwear, all standing and waiting for something - in a bus or an elevator, somewhere unspecified. It was simple, but with good composition and despite it being perhaps one of her less exciting pieces, she did like it. "The message can be something else of course, preferably your message, which I can help put into words if you want," he offered.
"Can I think about this?" she asked, hesitantly.
"Of course, as said, I might be out for a week or so anyways, and if you want me to work on this, this probably won't be directly Truncheon related until it reaches the publishing stage," he explained.
"So this would mean co-authoring essentially?" Celeste inquired carefully.
"To some extent - and details of that can all be discussed. Think about it, talk it over with Jess, your friends… it's up to you. And if you really do want to make a graphic novel then work on it some more, find a story that you like and draw to the story specifically - we can talk more, when you have. I'm not saying you haven't got what it takes, it just needs to be more in volume and they need to be more deliberate, you know," Noah explained, almost apologetically, clearly reading her disappointment in her face.
"Okay," she replied, and rose to leave, taking her portfolio with her.
"Hey, I'm sorry, if this was not what you wanted to hear…," Noah added, as Celeste was about to slip out of the room. She didn't make eye contact anymore, and that got him a little worried. Had he crossed again some line that would come back to haunt him?
"I got to go, to get my daughter," she added finally before rushing off, despite having more than half an hour until she really had to go. She really didn't want to break down here, not in this office, not in front of him, nor in front of Jess.
She hastily pulled on her jacket as she stormed out, glad to notice Jess sucked into his work as she glanced towards him briefly so he wouldn't notice her urgency to get away from there. It was as she reached the street, walking a few steps, she leaned against the brick wall, panting, and tried to calm herself, taking one breath after another. It wasn't all bad news but it was difficult news. It was still a disappointment, wrapped up in her anxieties when it came to Noah himself. Maybe this was all just a big mistake?
Celeste had managed to pull herself together by the evening, cooking a slightly more elaborate meal for dinner - ricotta ravioli from scratch - offering the distraction she needed, as she watched Evie try to open the various locks on the busy-board Luke had given her for her birthday.
"You're going to make a great escape artist," she commented laughingly, catching her daughter's attention, who's smile seemed to make a lot of things seem brighter than they had seemed that morning. She'd walked home with her, the exercise doing her good and clearing her head a little.
It was just then she heard the door and Jess' voice call out, "I'm home."
"Go see who's there!" she encouraged Evie, who wobbled, a little more confidently each day, towards the foyer, using her toy pram as support.
"Hey, sweetie," Jess' voice greeted Evie in the distance, as Celeste put the water to boil, the sound of the water wooshing taking over.
Jess walked to the kitchen with Evie on his hip, her arms around his neck.
"Dinner should be done in five," she added, only briefly glancing at the two and continuing to clear the excess flour off the raviolis so they'd be ready to be dropped into the water.
"Hey," he touched her shoulder, seeing her all tense and avoiding eye contact. Pretending to be happy was a lot easier when it was just Evie around.
He stroked her back gently, as if telling her to let go. His touch always did work on her and while she didn't look at him, he just leaned her head onto his chest, opposite side to Evie.
"He told me what he said to you, you know," Jess said. He'd been surprised that Noah had frankly, as this wasn't really what he was supposed to do - it was something between an editor and an author, and frankly Jess didn't see it as anything too dramatic. Honest and constructive critique was the best kind. But he'd appreciated his concern, Noah having noting that she'd been a little more broken about the news than he'd expected her to be. He'd even blamed himself, that maybe his personal stuff was influencing the way he'd expressed himself, maybe he'd been too harsh.
But right now, Jess didn't know what to say - saying that he agreed with him, hardly would make things better.
"He said he's sorry, if he put it harshly. But on his defence, he's going through a rough time right now - his mother is in hospice care, so perhaps he's a little off his game too," he added, deciding to shed some light into Noah's personal life that he knew of.
"What?" she glanced up at Jess, not having expected to hear that. Her self-pitty was suddenly replaced by guilt - guilt for having allowed these things to take over her mind like that. What was one novel compared to someone's beloved family member dying? She felt selfish and ashamed of her reaction.
"He's going to be off work for a few weeks, I'm going to have to go to Chicago instead of him at the end of next week. He was supposed to go discuss some organisational changes with the Iron Circle," Jess explained.
"I didn't know," she exhaled, but of course she couldn't have known.
"Are you okay with me going? I could ask Jenn…?" he explained practically after a moment. He was concerned - should he even be leaving her alone when she was like this?
"No, you should go. I mean - you can go, if you need to," she replied, not quite sure what that meant. Surely she could manage some days?
"And really, we'll talk about your work...just let it sit a little. When I got my first batch of comments from my editor I thought I was going to throw it in the corner as well - and clearly I wouldn't be here if I had. It took me a week or something to really wrap my head around it," Jess explained. "But I think you've got to realize that he does know what he's talking about, okay?" Jess added.
"I do… I just..," Celeste shook her head, being disappointed in herself - of her reaction, her thought process and her self-centeredness. She turned away from him, trying to focus on the ravioli instead, taking a deep breath. The water boiled and one ravioli after another plunged into it, as Jess took Evie to her high chair, getting the three of them some water for the table. He wanted to say something more, to help her - but he held back, not wanting her to break down even more.
