Date: Tue, 9 Sep 2014 11:32:01 -0500
From: Jack Schaeffer <jack.schaeffman@gmail.com>
Subject: Forever - Chapter 4 (Beginnings)

Disclaimer: This story contains graphic scenes of man on man sex so if your
country or state does not allow such material to be read or you have come
across this site by accident, please leave now. Otherwise enjoy.

Nifty is a free service and relies on donations from authors and readers to
operate. Let's help keep Nifty a free service, so if you have the means
please donate what you can to keep it that way.

Authors Note: This story is copyrighted by the author, and no part of it may
be copied, linked to, or used in any way with the express written permission
of the author. This is a work of fiction, and the characters, places, and
events are not real, nor are they based on real events. They exist only in
the mind of the author. Any resemblance to real persons, places or events is
unintentional.

Comments welcomed: jack.schaeffman@gmail.com


FOREVER
By Jack Schaeffer
Copyright 2014. All rights reserved.

Chapter 4

I overslept. I couldn't believe it. When I finally woke up I realized I had
been kissing Seth, his hands all over my ass while he had me pressed up
against the stainless steel cabinets in the first class galley. Things were
rattling on the shelves around us as we made our own turbulence. I was just
about to cum in my pants when I was startled awake, my cock throbbing under
the sheets. Why do the hottest dreams always have to end just before the
climax?

The sun was shining through the drapes, and I was momentarily disoriented as
to where I was. I then heard my pitifully weak watch alarm going off on the
nightstand, muffled somewhat by a pillow that I must have tossed on top of it
during my wild fantasy tryst with Seth.

I pressed the button to silence the alarm and then saw the time: 8:25. Oh,
crap! Billy was picking me up at 9. I was screwed.

I flew out of the bed, used the toilet, and then jumped in the shower. I was
bummed because I didn't have time to enjoy it. The Bulgari shower gel was
astounding - I smelled like a million bucks. I immediately made plans to take
as much of that stuff back home with me as I could.

I did a fast shave, brushed my teeth, spread some deodorant under my arms,
and I was done.

I didn't know exactly when we were to meet the judge, so I skipped the suit.
I pulled it out of the closet, realizing I had forgotten to put in the
bathroom while I showered. It was still horribly wrinkled so I hung it on a
towel hook on the wall next to the shower. Maybe some lingering steam could
work out some of the kinks during the day.

I put on my Thursday uniform of work clothes, found my shoes where I had
kicked them off the night before, and with one final check in the mirror to
brush my hair, I was moving to the door. I stopped momentarily to think if
there was anything I needed to bring with me, but quickly realized I didn't
have anything but myself.

I could smell something wonderful in the hallway, coming from the Club
Lounge. My stomach ached for some attention, but there was no time. I had 5
minutes to get to the lobby, and this hotel was huge. Got to keep moving.

Thankfully I didn't get lost, and I stepped outside the entrance just as a
gleaming black sedan pulled up. I could see Billy at the wheel, and when he
saw me, he gave me that signature, megawatt smile. I could feel myself
finally relax a little bit. I didn't realize how tense and nervous I was, in
the rush to get ready.

Billy was out and holding the rear door open for me in a flash. I think he
wanted to beat the bell boy to the task. This man took his job very
seriously.

"Good mornin', Jack. Sleep well?" he asked in a very chipper voice.

"Like a baby, Billy. Best night in a long time. I overslept - guess I didn't
want it to end."

"I here ya, man. If I had that bed, I'd never want to leave it either." We
both chuckled as he got back behind the wheel.

"Alright, Jack. Next stop, the office." With that he pulled into the
surprisingly heavy morning traffic and we made our way slowly past the
downtown high rise buildings. I busied myself just looking out the window at
the people on the sidewalks around us, fast-walking to get to their appointed
tasks. I tried to ignore the rising anxiety spreading through my system.

After a fairly short drive we were pulling into a parking garage underneath a
mid-sized building. Billy pulled off his sunglasses as he maneuvered the car
around the turns, moving up a couple of levels before pulling into a spot
reserved for Wilson, Matthews and Associates.

As I had no idea where we going, I waited for Billy to open my door (I think
he liked that part of his job a lot) and I followed him toward a bank of
elevators about twenty yards away. I zipped up my jacket as there was a
definite chill in the air.

We rode up to the seventeenth floor, and I trailed Billy to Suite 1701,
stealing glances at his muscular ass moving under his tight black suit pants.
Magnificent ass.

The entrance was floor to ceiling glass walls and doors with polished brass
fixtures and an engraved plaque announcing the firm's name. As we entered, a
young, blond woman wearing too small of a blouse and just a tad too much
makeup looked up from her desk and her smile got very big.

"Good morning, Billy. It's great to see you again." I could have been
mistaken - I'm no expert in these things - but it appeared to me like she was
flirting with Billy. She had so far ignored me.

"Mornin', Shelly. We're headed in to see Mr. Watson." He didn't bother to
introduce me, and she paid me no attention. Her eyes never left Billy. He
barely seemed to notice her or how she was looking at him.

We moved further into the inner sanctum, Billy walking quickly along the
interior corridors, nodding occasionally to someone sitting at a cubicle or
desk as we passed. We made a right turn and entered into some kind of
executive wing, as the décor became more refined, with dark polished wood
accents and a thicker carpeting under our feet. The ambient office noise fell
off quickly, hushed perhaps by the more important work being done in these
offices. We passed a couple of doors on our left with names on them, probably
partners with the firm, I guessed, and opposite them were a couple of
executive desks out in the open, manned by two mature, elegant women, quietly
working, answering phones and typing at computers. They both smiled as we
walked passed, then returned to their work.

Billy never slowed down as we made one more right turn and entered what
looked like a lobby of sorts. It was oval shaped - I immediately thought of
the Oval Office in the White House - the center of which was occupied with a
large work area with a curved panel in front of it. It looked big enough for
three people to work behind it. The whole work area acted as a sentry in
front of two doors in the wood paneled wall behind it.

Billy had stopped and was looking around, so I did the same. There was a
large conference room to my right, with the entire wall facing us made of
floor to ceiling glass. Inside I could see a huge cherry wood conference
table with various pieces of communications equipment sitting in the middle.
I wondered for a moment if there was anything in there from our company. That
would have been a "small world" moment for sure.

A large credenza sat at the far end of the conference room, with a silver
coffee and tea service decorating the top. I could see fresh pastries and cut
fruit on serving platters, with a stack of fine china plates at the ready. I
couldn't tell from where I was standing, but I was willing to bet the napkins
were linen, not paper.

I heard a door click, and a beautiful woman exited one of the offices
immediately behind the work area and walked around toward us, the dark skin
of her face shining in the ambient light coming from above. She looked like
an angel. She wore black pants and a frilly looking off-white blouse with
lots of ruffles, and it struggled to cover what my Aunt Helen would have
called her ample bosom.

"Mornin', Mama," said Billy.

"Morning, baby," she replied sweetly, receiving his gentle kiss on her cheek.
He had to bend down to give her that kiss.

I had been somewhat hidden behind Billy, large as he was. He stepped to the
side and reached back to usher me forward. "Mama, may I introduce you to Mr.
Jack Schaeffer."

I would have been amused at his sudden formality if I hadn't been in shock at
his greeting. This was his mother? She smiled at me, and I immediately knew
that they had to be related. She had that same incredible, all-the-way-to-
the-eyes smile of Billy's, and for a split second I could see something
familiar in her eyes as well.

I couldn't explain it, but she looked almost in shock, kind of like she was
looking at a ghost. She stared at me for several seconds, her eyes studying
my face intently. Then she seemed to recover herself, and her smile returned.
"Jack Schaeffer, it is an honor to finally meet you. I'm Sharon Adams. We
spoke on the phone yesterday. Welcome to Denver."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'm glad to be here - I think." My nerves were settling a
bit in her presence, for which I was very grateful.

"Has my son been taking good care of you? He may be big, but I could still
turn him over my knee if he doesn't do right." Her eyes were dancing at that,
and we all burst out laughing at the image she had just painted. I think
Billy was the most amused of all.

"Mama, you're too much." He looked at her with obvious love, and something
else - respect, I think.

She was looking at me again with studied wonder. "So Jack, I'm sure you have
a million questions running through your mind, so why don't we get you
settled here in the conference room where you'll be more comfortable while we
wait for Clyde to finish his call, okay?"

We moved into the conference room. "Have you had breakfast, Jack? Would you
like something to eat?" At that moment my stomach made a gurgling noise that
echoed in the room. She laughed and said, "I'll take that as a yes. I know
young men such as yourself need to eat often to keep up your strength. My
Billy could eat enough for ten men when he was your age." Small wonder, the
guy was huge. And strong.

I followed her to the credenza and selected a couple of pastries and some
fruit, putting it all very delicately on to the china plate she handed me,
along with a napkin. I was right - linen.

I declined coffee, taking a proffered Fiji water bottle instead, and took a
seat at the table near the center, where I could look out through the glass
wall into Sharon's domain. I prefer to have my back to the rear of a room -
fear of surprises, I guess. I didn't recognize any of the communications
equipment adorning the table.

"Jack, I have a couple of things to finish up quickly that Clyde will need,
so will you be okay here for a few minutes? If you need anything, I'll be
right outside there at my desk."

"I'm fine, ma'am. Thank you."

"You can call me Sharon, baby. I won't take it as disrespect, I promise."
With that she stepped out and returned to her desk. I could see her chat with
Billy for a few minutes, at one point he leaned into her and gave her a kiss
on the cheek again, and she smiled at him. They clearly loved each other.

I found myself feeling very jealous of Billy all of a sudden. It looked to me
like he had the kind of relationship with his mother that I had always
wanted. Warmth, respect, affection. My mother made sure my basic needs were
met growing up - food, shelter, clothing. But there had been little
affection, and to be honest, I wasn't convinced all the time about her love
for me. She didn't hate me, or even really dislike me, I don't think. But
there was no warmth or joy in the relationship. It became an obligatory co-
existence.

I sometimes wondered if it had been different before my father left her. I
had vague recollections of her smiling and laughing more when we were little.
She would play games with us. We had birthday parties with all my cousins and
they were big affairs. She was a room mother in our elementary school. Even
my brother Terry and I seemed to get along back then, like brothers should. I
actually enjoyed my early childhood. I liked to believe we had been a typical
happy family, before my father gave in to his selfishness and left us in
relative ruins. He tried to tell my brother and me that he only left our
mother, not us. But that is never really true in divorce.

I was putting my empty plate off to the side of the credenza, not sure what
else I was supposed to do with it, when I heard a deep voice behind me say,
"Jack, I'm so glad you made it."

I turned to face Clyde Watson for the first time. He was a trim, fit man in
his 60's, I guessed, but when he saw my face the color drained instantly from
his and he suddenly looked like he was going to faint.

Sharon was standing next to him, but couldn't see his face. I took a step
closer to reach out and help him should he start to fall, but he quickly
recovered, and steadied himself with a hand on a chair. He seemed suddenly
embarrassed by his reaction to me.

"Are you okay, Mr. Watson?" I asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yes, yes, my boy. I'm fine." He still seemed shaky, but determined to move
on. "Let's have a seat, shall we?" He gestured to the table, and I returned
to my previous place.

As we were situating ourselves I noticed he stole several glances at Sharon,
who joined us at the table. There was a silent communication going on, as
only two people who have worked closely together for years can do. What they
were saying I had no idea. I just knew my nerves were back, an unsettled
feeling rising quickly.

"Sharon tells me that you made it in okay, and Billy got you to the hotel
last night. Was everything satisfactory there?" He was shuffling papers as he
tried to make opening small talk.

"Yes, sir. It was very fine. The hotel is beautiful. Much more than I
expected. Also, thank you for the airplane ticket. First Class was so not
necessary."

"Nonsense, Jack. We take very good care of our clients here, and you are a
special client indeed." That was the second time I had been referred to as a
special client. First by Sharon yesterday on the phone, and now by Clyde. The
anxiety ratcheted up a notch.

"Jack, to be honest I'm not sure where to start. We have a lot of ground to
cover in a short amount of time." He kept glancing up at me, and then back
down to his papers. I think his thoughts were shuffling as much as the papers
in his hands. This went on for several uncomfortable seconds.

Finally Sharon cut to the chase. "Clyde, just tell him. The boy deserves to
know."

It was a very matter-of-fact statement, but it sounded immensely ominous to
me. Know what? What had I gotten myself into? I suddenly suspected I had been
played. A first class plane ticket, a five-star hotel, private driver. This
was a set up. My thoughts started racing. What do I do now? How am I going to
get back to Chicago? I don't even know where I am actually. I felt trapped.

Clyde's continued silence was irritating me, so I blurted out, "Will someone
please tell me what is going on here?" There was no mistaking my frustration
now. Things had taken a decidedly downward turn in my mind.

My outburst startled Clyde into action. I don't think he planned to say it,
but his first words rocked me to my core.

"Amanda Franklin was your mother."

I felt blood start rushing into my head, the veins in my neck got tight, and
my chest got tight as well. I suddenly needed air, feeling as if the
conference room walls were slowly compressing towards me. My hands started
shaking violently and I was a curious mix of afraid and angry. I tried to
process what he had said, but nothing was registering in my brain. It made no
sense.

I had had enough. I stood up, fury rising. I was fast losing control, and I
knew it. I started yelling at Clyde. "Are you crazy? Why would you say
something like that? That is the meanest thing you could say to me. My mother
is back home in Illinois. And she is definitely not dead."

Clyde's face was now ashen white, with a look of real alarm on it. I could
feel Sharon watching me closely, but strangely she seemed unmoved by my
reaction. She probably had witnessed more than her share of angry outbursts
in that conference room over the years, and she was prepared for it, even if
Clyde seemed totally uncertain as to how to proceed.

I shifted my flashing eyes from Clyde to Sharon. She looked at me with what I
can only describe as compassion and love, and a touch of sorrow that I had
been hurt by Clyde's statement. I don't think either of them had anticipated
that.

"Jack," she said softly, "Of course your mother is still alive. I spoke to
her briefly myself last week when we were tracking you down. Try to calm
down, baby. No one wants to be mean to you or hurt you, I promise." Her voice
in that moment possessed such a kindness that I did immediately calm down. My
hands stopped shaking, and I could feel my legs weaken as the adrenaline
drained away. I collapsed back into my chair, the fight gone out of me.

Sharon looked sideways at Clyde as if to say, "Fix this, mister." He cleared
his throat, looked once more at her, and found the courage to try again.

"Jack, my apologies. That was not kind of me. I shouldn't have started with
that. I know that your mother is alive and well. I didn't mean to be
confusing or hostile. But Jack, let me ask you a question. Were you not
adopted as a baby?"

With that statement, everything fell into place and started to make sense.
Sort of.

Yes it was true that I had been adopted as a baby. This was not news. I had
known this since I was five years old, if not sooner. My mother had been told
she could never have children, so after three years of marriage, she and my
father agreed to try adoption. Less than a year later they brought me home, a
perfectly normal 2 month old baby boy. To their shock and amazement, two
months later my mother was pregnant with my brother Terry. There were no
other surprises after that.

I don't think Terry liked the idea that I was adopted. As we got older I
think he came to think that maybe I wasn't his real brother, especially since
our relationship was non-existent. That of course was due more to his
behavior and violence than our mismatched genetics, but he would never
perceive that on his own.

Being adopted had never been an issue for me. In fact, I had worn it like a
badge of honor when I was younger, until I offended half of the third grade
with my arrogance. Apparently telling 9 year olds that you are special
because you were chosen by your parents while their parents had been stuck
with whatever they got, was not the way to make friends. But that was how I
saw it at the time.

Later, as I grew up, it ceased to even be a thought. It really had no bearing
on my life whatsoever. Occasionally I would hear about a celebrity searching
for their long lost birth parents, but it never intrigued me enough to care.
To be honest, I think I had just assumed they were dead. I never dreamed they
would show back up in my life. I know that I never spent any time thinking
about them.

My first thought when Clyde mentioned my adoption was of my mother - my
adoptive mother. My real mother. I suddenly was afraid for her, like she
would somehow be threatened by this revelation. Imperfect as she was, she had
always been my mother. And she deserved that place in my heart. Not some
stranger I knew nothing about and who had done nothing for me ever. A few
minutes ago I was jealous of Billy and his mom, and now I was mentally
defending my own. I think that's why I had reacted so violently to Clyde's
initial statement.

We had been stewing in silence while I processed his question. They were
probably grateful I was still sitting there, reasonably composed again.

"Yes, Clyde, that's true. I was adopted. So, are you saying that Amanda
Franklin was my birth mother? I think that's the right term." My voice
sounded stronger than I felt on the inside, but I was coming back.

"Yes, Jack. I believe that that is true. I can only imagine how this must be
a real shock to you. And I'm very sorry you had to find about her in this
way. As much as I have wanted to meet you, I have been dreading this
conversation." Now that we were talking, I could sense he was relaxing a bit
more as well. I could see and hear the true kindness in the man, and Sharon
was looking at him with a renewed respect. Apparently he had fixed things to
her satisfaction.

My head started to fill up with a lot of questions about Amanda. Who was she?
What was she like? How did she live her life? Why did she give me up for
adoption? Now that she was dead, I assumed I would never know the answer to
that last one.

I had no sense of any emotional connection to her, but I assumed that Clyde,
and perhaps Sharon, did. I think Clyde had even called her a family friend.

"Can you tell me a little about her, Clyde?" I asked more for him, I think,
than to satisfy my own curiosity. I sensed he needed to talk about her and
had waited a long time to do so.

"Yes, of course. Amanda was first and foremost my good friend, long before
she became my client. She and her husband, Phillip, were longtime friends
with my wife, Shirley, and I. We spent a lot of time together: dinners and
golf at the club, ski weekends, concerts, theatre. The usual. The girls would
go shopping on weekends a lot. I knew them for more than 20 years, and I miss
them both very much. Phillip was probably my best friend." His eyes got a
little misty as he talked.

He continued on, telling me the story of meeting Amanda for the first time,
how head over heels in love his friend Phillip had been. Clyde was asked to
stand up in their wedding, and his wife Shirley, a real estate agent, helped
Amanda and Phillip locate their dream home in the hills just outside of
Denver. Apparently Phillip and Clyde were avid golfers, and together with two
other guys, were a frequent foursome at the country club they both belonged
to. Being Denver, golf was not exactly a year round sport, so when the
weather was good, they played as often as they could.

I interrupted him at one point to ask the unspoken question. "Was Phillip
Franklin my birth father, then?"

Clyde looked pained at the question, and he looked over to Sharon again,
perhaps for direction on how to answer. She gave him the look that said, "Go
ahead, tell him the truth."

"No, Jack. Phillip was not your birth father. As far as I know, he never knew
anything about you. None of us did, you see. Amanda never told anyone that
she had had a child, not until about four months before she died. By then
Phillip had been dead for nearly two years. She and Phillip never had
children. To be honest, Jack, I don't know who your birth father was, or is,
or if he is alive now or not."

Okay, that's an open question now - one that I had never considered, but in
light of that morning's revelations, might become more important than I ever
imagined.

"Clyde, if it's not too painful, would you tell me how she died?"

"Well, I need to start with Phillip. He and Amanda were deeply in love their
whole married lives together. I love my wife Shirley, don't get me wrong, but
I have never seen the intensity of Amanda and Phillip's love for each other."
Sharon was nodding her head silently, apparently also in the know about their
deep love.

"Almost three years ago now, Phillip and Amanda were in Vail for a ski
weekend. Amanda skied a little, sticking to the bunny hills. Phillip was
always more adventurous. So one afternoon he decided to tackle a pretty
serious hill at the resort. Apparently, according to the coroner's report, a
bracket on one of his skis broke and he lost control in a particularly steep
portion of the run, and sadly he hit a tree on the side of the trail. He died
instantly from severe head trauma. He wasn't discovered until Amanda got
concerned that he had not arrived at the bottom of the hill when he was
expected.

I think at first she just figured he had stopped to talk to someone on the
lift or something. He was always doing that - talking to strangers. It's like
he never met a person he didn't already know. Anyway, after about an hour of
searching, the trail boss came to her and told her the horrible news. She
called Shirley, Shirley called me, and we got to her later that evening. She
was devastated to say the least.

We did the best we could to help her pick up the pieces of her life. She and
Phillip had retired from their work doing pharmaceutical research together
when the company was sold, so she was kind of at loose ends. Thankfully a
mutual friend of ours encouraged her to help out with a charity organization
that helped disabled kids, and she put herself totally into that. I think it
saved her sanity, to tell you the truth."

Clyde had gotten up to get himself some coffee while he talked. He now came
back and sat down, looking sadly into his coffee cup. "I'll never forget the
day Amanda came here to my office to talk with me. She never came here. I had
done some legal work for Phillip on occasion, and I had set up their estate.
Wills and trusts, that sort of thing. But Amanda had never involved herself
with any of that. Anyway, she came in one afternoon unannounced and said she
had some news she needed to discuss.

Apparently she had discovered some lumps in her left breast that appeared to
be growing rather rapidly. She quietly had them biopsied. As far as I know
she told no one in advance. The results came back positive for cancer. A
particularly aggressive variety. Her prognosis was not terminal, but it
wasn't good either. She told me that day that her mother had died at the age
of 50 with the same kind of cancer. Amanda had just turned 52. We had
celebrated her birthday with a small party at the club two weeks before.

She started chemotherapy right away, along with some radiation treatments.
For a while it seemed like it was working. The lumps disappeared, her
strength and her hair returned. If anything she looked more beautiful than
ever.

She got very involved in her charity work. I think it gave her a real sense
of purpose to be helping people. She always said the reason she got into drug
research was because she wanted to really help people, and with the right
medicines, millions of people's lives could be bettered. I know Phillip felt
the same way. It was that passion that connected them more than anything I
think.

But then came the day when a follow up exam showed the worst. The cancer was
back - and it was everywhere. At the time she had no symptoms, but within
weeks her strength started to fail. She was given three to six months to
live. She worked with her charities as much as she could, but eventually she
couldn't hardly leave the house anymore. Shirley and I would go out there and
visit at least once a week. Maggie and Charles, the couple who lived in the
house as caretakers, took really good care of her that whole time.

As I said before, about four months before she died, she asked me to come to
the house one afternoon alone. Apparently she had sent Maggie and Charles on
some errands so they wouldn't be around to hear what she wanted to tell me.
It was on that day that she revealed that she had a secret - a child that she
had given up for adoption during her first marriage.

I was shocked. About the baby, but also about the previous marriage. I don't
think even Phillip knew that she had been married before him. But I recovered
quickly as she told me what she wanted to do.

You have to understand, up to this point, Phillip and Amanda's estate was
earmarked almost entirely to go to various charities upon the death of the
final survivor. Neither one of them had any living relatives. With Phillip
already gone, Amanda's passing would mark the end of their estate. As I was
the executor, it fell to me to see to it that all assets were taken care of
as planned. Nothing had been changed for years - really since they sold the
company two years before Phillip died. That's when we set up the family
trust.

Amanda told me that she had been doing a lot of thinking - about her life and
her legacy. She asked that I change some of the benefits to some specific
charities. Two in particular that she had spent her recent years helping were
to receive significant increases.

She then turned to the subject of her baby. She didn't know much - she had
chosen to remain anonymous in the process, having no interest in an open
adoption. She had been living in California, near Los Angeles, at the time,
and the adoption was handled by the local social services agency for the
county. She remembered that she had given birth on May 18th and she was
allowed to hold her baby boy for a couple of hours, then surrendered him to
the agency. She had been assured that there was already a good local family
planning to adopt him.

Less than a year later, Amanda decided to move to the Denver area, though she
never said why. I had always assumed she lived here her entire life. She
never spoke of anywhere else. She got a job in the research lab at Franklin
Pharmaceuticals, where she met Phillip, the founder's son, at a company mixer
a short time later. They were married eight months later."

Clyde looked exhausted. I didn't really know what to say at this point. It
was all so surreal. This Amanda person had gone from being just a name
dropped on the phone to becoming a real life person, and my birth mother to
boot. I assumed that that part was true. I couldn't imagine now that Clyde or
Sharon would involve me like this if it wasn't true.

Sharon quietly interjected, "Jack, would you like to take a break? I'm sure
you still have a million questions, but we would understand if you wanted
some time to process." The kindness flowing from her heart across the table
to me was uplifting and very welcome.

"I do have a couple more questions, if I could?"

Clyde replied, "Of course, Jack. Whatever you need."

"Well, I understand the she told you about the baby, but how did you find me?
Are you really sure that I am her son? I don't mean to doubt you, but that
seems like a pretty important fact to get right, you know?"

"How about I let Sharon tell you that part, since she did most of the work."

I turned to Sharon, and she settled into her chair to tell me her part of the
story.

"It was almost four months after Amanda had dropped this bombshell on Clyde
here. He told me she had asked for me to come out to the house. She wanted to
talk to me about some things. Now I did things like that from time to time
for Clyde's clients. It goes with the job, so I didn't think anything of it.
A couple of days later I headed out to the house, and again, no Maggie or
Charles, which was unusual, because one or the other was always there by this
time, keeping an eye of her. It was my understanding that she was in the end
stages of her disease.

I remember she was sitting in her favorite chair by the big picture window in
her bedroom. She had a blanket across her lap, and some paper and a pen
sitting on the small table beside her. She looked very frail, but she was
smiling, eager to talk. After our hellos, she asked me to have seat and if I
would be willing to listen to a story. She told me that she had decided to
trust me with her secrets.

Her request seemed a little odd, but I wasn't going to say no to the lady, so
I got myself setup in the chair next to her and got myself ready to listen,
and for the next four hours or so she told me the story - the story of you.
She then asked me what I thought about it all, and we discussed it a bit. I
think she was wanting a mother's perspective on it. Then she asked if I
thought it was appropriate for her to write you a letter, telling you about
herself and why she made the decisions she did. I thought about it for a few
minutes and then told her I thought it was the right thing to do. I asked her
if she needed any help to do that, because by this time she was very tired
and having trouble concentrating. She said no, that she would do it tomorrow,
she wanted to sleep on it one more night. Maggie had come back from whatever
errands Amanda had sent her on, and together we got her back into bed.

Sadly, I never got to talk to her again. She died in her sleep two days
later. Maggie found an envelope on the nightstand by her bedside, sealed and
addressed 'To my son...'."

I sat there speechless. My mother - my birth mother - had written me a letter
on her death bed. I was suddenly filled with all kinds of emotions, the most
surprising of which was deep sadness. I almost didn't want to know what she
had said about me. It would make the loss of her more real, and it was
rapidly becoming more and more real to me by the minute.

Clyde open the folder that had been sitting in front of him all this time and
carefully extracted an envelope. I could tell it was a lady's stationery, the
borders covered in intricate, colorful floral patterns. He handed it to me
like a priceless heirloom, and I gingerly accepted it across the table. I
looked at it and found myself fighting back tears. It was sealed. I wasn't
ready to read it. Not yet. Not here. I wanted to be alone with it. With her.

"If you both don't mind, I would like to read this a little later." My voice
was shaky, and both Clyde and Sharon looked at me across the table with
concern.

I still wanted to know how they had determined I was her son. "I understand
Amanda passed away 6 months ago or so. How did you find me and what took so
long?" This I addressed to Sharon, as Clyde had said she was the one who did
the finding.

"Well, Jack. Amanda died without giving us a whole lot to go on. She of
course had no idea where you were, what had happened to you, or if you were
even still alive. We had a birthdate but no year, a place of birth, and the
name of the adoption agency. Not a lot to go on.

After the funeral, Clyde let me know that we had a short window within which
to find you, if you indeed existed, otherwise her final wishes could not be
honored. He was adamant that we try our hardest to do so. So I got busy. I
first called California and got what I needed in the way of filing formal
legal requests for adoption information. The adoption was closed, but as we
are a law firm seeking to handle legal affairs, I can sometimes get people to
tell me more than they would tell the general public.

Three months after filing my requests, I got a packet of information in the
mail that gave me a few of the missing details. Inside was a note from the
court clerk for the judge who finalized the adoption. She said I was in luck,
that there had been only one adoption case for a boy with a birthday of May
18th in a three year window prior to her marriage to Phillip. So that fit the
timeline she had given Clyde.

It had your original birth certificate, as well as your adoptive one. Both
had your birthdate of May 18, 1988. Now I had your current adoptive name, so
the rest was locating your current address. I figured you were now over the
age of 21, so you probably had a credit report with the reporting agencies.
So I ran that, got the different places you had lived, and was now reasonably
sure I knew who you were and where you were. The only thing I didn't know was
a phone number. I called the only number we had, which was your old home
phone number. I spoke to your mother but she said you didn't live there
anymore - you were now in Chicago. She refused to give your current number to
a stranger, and I didn't blame her. More confirmation. I had no home phone
number or cell phone in any of the reports, but I did have your employer's
name. So I looked that number up and that's what I ultimately gave to Barry
Wilson so he could reach out to you, since Clyde got sick and couldn't come.

Before contacting you, Clyde wanted me to be absolutely sure, so I dug
backwards into your parents address history as well, and I was able to create
a definitive line of information back to when they lived in the Los Angeles
area at the time you were born. Apparently they must have left California
shortly after adopting you, because your brother Terry was born in Illinois."

I had been holding my breath as she unfolded her steps of discovery, and with
the knowledge that she had linked my parents all the way back to California,
I knew that this was all true. My parents had in fact been planning a move
back to Illinois the whole time they were waiting for the adoption to be
completed. The only reason they stayed as long as they did was because they
didn't want to start over in Illinois. Within two weeks after my adoption,
once the court required doctor's exam was completed, they were free to take
me out of the state. This part of my story I already knew.

I was quiet now, trying to process all that I had taken in. I don't know if a
person can really be in mental shock, but it sure felt like it. I didn't
trust my brain to connect the dots anymore, so I stayed quiet.

Sharon broke the silence, this time deciding for herself that it was time for
a break. "Clyde, Jack, we all need to take a few minutes. This has been
pretty intense, if you ask me." With that, she got up and started collecting
empty coffee cups. "Jack, there is a restroom right around the corner from
our office area where you came in. Feel free to use that to freshen up."

Clyde gathered his papers, looked at me with concern in his eyes, and then
turned and headed back to his office. I wasn't sure who needed the break
more, him or me. My guess is Sharon was reading him and knew when to call a
halt. She had probably been watching out for him like that for years. Seemed
like something she would do.

I did as Sharon suggested, and headed to the restroom. I was the only one in
there. It was clean, quiet, and much needed. I did my thing and then stood at
the mirror looking at my haggard face. I appeared a little shell shocked, I
think. I splashed some cold water on my face and neck, which helped. I
wondered how much more could I take.

I returned back to Sharon's area, since I did not know where else to go. I
didn't see Billy anywhere; he was probably driving someone else around now.
Sharon came out of Clyde's office just as I got to her desk.

"How you doin', Jack? Are you alright?"

"I think so. A little shocked I guess, but I'll be okay. It sure is a lot to
take in like that."

"I'm sure it is, baby. I'm sure it is."

I wanted to say something to her, but I wasn't sure how to do it. It had come
up in me the second she told me what she had done for Amanda. I hesitated for
a few seconds, but then went for it.

"Sharon, I want to thank you for what you did. For talking with Amanda and
sitting with her and listening to her story. My story. And...for encouraging
her to write me a letter." I started to cry then. I couldn't help it. The
tears just flowed down my face, the dam of emotions bursting under too much
pressure.

Sharon quickly came around her desk and put her arms around me and pulled me
into a tight hug. I felt so safe and warm there, pulled up against her. I
once again thought about what it would have been like to have her as my
mother. That brought on another wave of tears. She held on to me, patting my
back and make soft, comforting noises, until I finally settled down. She let
go of me, leaned back, and looked intently at me.

"Don't you ever, ever be ashamed to cry, Jack Schaeffer. Sometimes it's the
only way we know we are human." I noticed she had a few tears on her face as
well.

We shared a Kleenex box and got ourselves put back together. Clyde stuck his
head out of his office and asked if we would both come in.

All I can say about Clyde's office is if it had been mine, I would have never
gotten any work done. The view of the city and the snowcapped mountains in
the distance was breathtaking. He had the expected large desk with two guest
chairs in front of it, plus a round table with four additional chairs off to
the side. There were stacks of papers and folders all over his desk and the
table, in direct contrast to Sharon's very tidy and orderly work space.

"Jack," Clyde said. "I know we have all had a bit of a shock, but we do still
have some more we need to accomplish today. Do you think you are up to
meeting Judge Bartells this afternoon? I think we are all agreed here that we
have the right person. Now we just need to let him meet you and satisfy his
curiosity, if nothing else. Whadda ya say, Jack?"

I took a deep breath. "I think I can do that, Clyde. But I was planning on
wearing a suit to meet with him, and that's back at the hotel. And I'm
getting kind of hungry. What time do we need to be there?" Sharon chuckled at
my need for more food.

"Our meeting is scheduled for 2:00 this afternoon, during his usual trial
recess. How about we have Billy take you back to the hotel, you can get
yourself changed and maybe grab a bite to eat. I apologize, but I have a
Partner lunch meeting I have to attend here. We'll have Billy pick you up at
1:00, then he can swing back by here to get me and we will head over to the
courthouse. We can just make that work, I think."

"Works for me I guess." I was wanting a change of scenery, I realized. I
needed to put a little space between me and the events of the morning thus
far.

"I'll get Billy," said Sharon, as she departed the office. I followed her
out. While Sharon was on the phone letting Billy know he was needed, I paced
a bit back and forth, trying not to act like a caged animal.

I didn't know what was happening to me. One minute I thought I was doing
okay, the next I wanted to climb the walls. It seemed to come in waves. I
knew one thing though - I was talked out for now. I just wanted to get back
to the hotel, get something to eat, and try to relax a little bit. I was
starting to realize this trip was more of a journey of emotions than I
planned on.

Billy arrived within minutes, from where I have no idea, and Sharon detailed
the plans for the afternoon. He gave his mother a hug - she gives great hugs
- and we were on the move. Following Billy is like following a bulldozer.
People just sort of get out of his way lest they be run over. I was glad to
be behind him and not in front. Plus I liked looking at his ass.

We got to the car, he opened my door, and I collapsed on to the seat and
closed my eyes for a minute. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. I
caught Billy looking at me in the rearview mirror, concern etched on his
brow, but he didn't say anything. I was glad for the silence.

When we got to the hotel, he got out quickly and when my door opened, it was
him standing there. I could see a bell boy sheepishly stepping backwards
toward the curb. Nothing was said, I don't think, but the bell boy must have
figured out from Billy's look that he was in charge of this vehicle and all
who rode in it.

I got out and looked at Billy, and he smiled. A Billy smile. And I smiled
back. I was feeling better already.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Jack? You got everything you need right
now?"

"Yeah, Billy, I'm good. Thanks. I'll meet you down here at 1, right?"

"Sounds good, Jack. See you then. Hey, maybe you should try to get a nap. You
look a little beat up."

I laughed, thinking he didn't know the half of it.

I got to my room with no more interference from staff and let myself in, then
made my way to the bedroom. I was thinking a nap sounded pretty good right
about then, but first I needed to figure out what to do with my suit.

I stepped into the bathroom and immediately froze. My suit was gone! I was
sure I left it hanging next to the shower this morning. In a panic, I ran to
the closet and pulled it open, only to see a garment bag hanging there next
to my shirts. I cautiously opened the garment bag; inside was my suit, fully
pressed. I pulled it out and looked at it, then noticed that all my shirts
hanging in the closet had been pressed as well.

There was a note attached to the garment bag that I had missed.

"We noticed your suit hanging in the bathroom and thought we would help you
out by having it pressed. Your shirts as well. We hope you are enjoying your
stay here with us." It was signed Housekeeping. I don't care what the front
desk manager said, I'm leaving a big tip for Housekeeping when I leave.

I had put Amanda's letter on the desk when I entered the room, and I could
see it there from where I was standing. I debated on reading it now, or
waiting until this evening when I would have more time to deal with whatever
emotions came up. I decided on later.

I was hungry, so I went down the hall to the Club lounge, where I found some
of the most delicious hamburgers and French fries I had ever eaten. Even the
ketchup was top notch. I saw some more of that chocolate mousse I had had
last night, and took two glasses of the stuff back to my room.

I ate them looking out my window at the mountains in the distance. They were
so beautiful from that far away. Up close I supposed they might be
treacherous in places, but from here, they made me feel peaceful.

I dressed in my suit and tie - I even polished my shoes with the little shoe
shine kit in my room - and was back down at the lobby entrance at 1:00pm. I
patted my breast pocket to make sure I still had Amanda's letter safely
stored there. I never had a nap, but the food and the view had helped restore
me back to some semblance of my version of normal. As I stood there, watching
people come and leave the hotel, I noticed a couple of very sexy men in three
piece suits walking by. I laughed at myself - yep, if I was ogling the guys,
I was going to be alright.

Billy picked me up on time - again intimidating the bell boys to stay back
from his car - and we had Clyde with us in short order. The ride to the
courthouse was spent listening to Clyde browbeat some court clerk who was
holding up some kind of paperwork that he needed processed. He was still
giving them grief when we walked up to the door of Judge William Bartells'
chambers. Billy had waited with the car, as we did not expect to be too long.

Clyde hung up his call after being assured the requested paperwork would be
ready this afternoon, then knocked on the judge's door.

"Enter," said a loud, booming voice. So we did.

Sitting behind a standard issue desk was a small, unassuming man. His
official robes were hanging on a coat rack next to the desk, he had his shirt
sleeves rolled up and a napkin tucked under his chin. He was eating a
sandwich. He wiped his mouth and hands, and stood up to greet us.

"Clyde, great to see you again. Been too long. How are you?"

"Fine, Bill, just fine. I have with me Jack Schaeffer, the heir to the
Franklin estate that you had requested to meet. Judge William Bartells, meet
Jack Schaeffer."

I stepped up to shake his outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you, your honor."
I hoped that was the right greeting.

"Likewise, Jack, likewise. I have to tell you, when Clyde first came to me
with the story of the lost son and all of that, I didn't know what to make of
it. But I had the privilege of meeting Phillip and Amanda Franklin a time or
two, and I have to say, you are the spitting image of Amanda. Isn't the
resemblance remarkable, Clyde?"

Clyde was looking embarrassed. Now I knew why he and Sharon had looked at me
so strangely when they first saw me. Apparently I looked a lot like my birth
mother. I had never, ever considered that possibility. I caught myself
wondering if anyone had a picture of her. I was suddenly wanting to know more
and more about this mystery mother of mine.

"Well, Bill, as you can see, he is definitely related to Amanda, which should
satisfy the Colorado statute of exclusion for disinterested parties. I have
amended my filing with a notarized affidavit as to his identity and the
supporting legal evidence we have compiled along with his signatures on the
required forms." Clyde had had me sign those in the car on the way over. He
handed the judge a folder containing a lot of papers.

"I'm satisfied, Clyde. You've found your man. Congratulations, Jack. I hope
you will be very happy with your new life. Clyde, I have the final
adjudication report waiting for my signature. I'll sign it right away and
have my clerk file it immediately electronically. If I know you, you have
someone waiting downstairs to stamp it so you can pick it up on your way out
of here, am I right?"

Clyde started laughing, visibly relieved that this part was over. "You know
me too well, Bill. Thanks for everything. We'll get out of your hair now so
you can get back to the bench. Tell Mary Jane I said hi."

"Same to Shirley from me. Don't be a stranger." That last part was said as we
departed out the door and down the hall at a brisk clip. Clyde was muttering
under his breath, and seemed aggravated about something.

"You okay, Clyde?" I asked. "I thought everything went according to plan back
there. You seem upset about something."

"What...oh...yeah, well, sometimes Bill can be a real jackass. I know he's a big
shot judge and everything, but sometimes he has a really big mouth."

"Did he say something he shouldn't have?" I was still confused.

Clyde appeared to calm down a little bit, seeing as how I was not upset. "I
guess not, I just didn't like what he said about how you look like her. I
mean you do, Jack, a lot. It's kind of uncanny really, but I guess that
should be expected. If I hadn't been sure from the demographic data that
Sharon came up with, one look at you would have convinced me for sure. Sharon
feels the same way, I can tell you."

"It is a little weird, Clyde. But I didn't take offense. I'm actually curious
now to see a picture of her. Do you have any that I could look at?"

"I'm pretty sure I do back at the office. We'll look together, okay?" He was
feeling better, and so was I. "Now, let's go see if the dead beat civil
servants downstairs can still figure out how to process a simple court
order."

He was back in lawyer mode, safer terrain for him. We had to wait about 40
minutes for the necessary papers to flow from the court clerk to the circuit
clerk and then to be stamped and filed electronically before Clyde had
everything he needed. He stopped at a public fax machine near the county
clerk's office and sent two copies of the reports, to who I didn't know.

We found Billy by the car in the parking garage next to the courthouse, and
Clyde instructed him to head back to the office. I relaxed back into my seat
while Clyde started making more phone calls. I tried to ignore him as I
looked out at the traffic passing by, the sunlight warming my face. I closed
my eyes and fell asleep.

I woke when Billy opened my door. We were back in the parking garage at the
law firm. I climbed out and followed Clyde and Billy to the elevators and up
to the office. I stepped into the bathroom and splashed some more cold water
on my face. I was feeling drained, and a little queasy. Too much fancy Ritz
ketchup on my fries?

Sharon was at her desk when I returned and she gave me a quick smile as she
typed on her computer. Clyde's door was open and I could hear him on the
phone. I sat down in a leather chair within a small seating area in front of
Sharon's work space. And waited with my thoughts.

The day had been a rollercoaster of emotions. Some good, most of them pretty
rough. A lot of unexpected revelations. I suspected there were more coming,
but I didn't know what or why. Just that we were not finished. Clyde and
Sharon were obviously working on something with focused intensity, and I was
pretty sure it still concerned me. I hoped I would be strong enough to handle
whatever it was. I tried to relax and remain calm. My stomach was not feeling
too good.

I had almost fallen asleep again when I heard someone walk up to Sharon's
desk a short time later.

"Afternoon, Sharon. Is the man in?" Sharon looked up from her desk, gave him
a smile, and pointed to Clyde's open door behind her.

"He's waiting in there for you, Larry. Here, give him this. Tell him that's
the last of it." Larry took the folder from her then scooted around the desk
and walked right into Clyde's office. I heard Clyde greet him as Larry turned
and closed the door behind him.

Sharon saw me watching the proceedings carefully, smiled at me and said,
"That's Larry Weiss. Financial Wizard with First Colorado. He's here about
the Franklin Trust. He and Clyde are finishing up the final details. It
shouldn't be too much longer. Can I get you something to drink, Jack? You're
looking a little green around the gills there." Her concerned mother face was
back.

"Yeah, my stomach is not doing so hot. Would you have a Coke or something
that I could have? That might help settle things."

"Sure do. Wait right there, baby. I'll get it." She went into the conference
room and opened a hidden refrigerator compartment in the credenza and
returned with a can of Coke. I popped it open and took a long drink. It felt
wonderful going down.

"Mmmm. Thank you. That helps, I think."

"You're welcome, baby. Now take it easy, everything's gonna be okay. I
promise." She smiled her big smile of reassurance and returned to her work. I
sipped on my soda and willed my stomach to stop rolling.

Clyde and Larry came out of his office about 20 minutes later and headed
towards the conference room. "Jack, would you please join us in here?" asked
Clyde. I got up and followed them in, taking my same seat from this morning.
I was still holding my can of Coke, but it was almost empty. I eyed the
credenza, trying to see the hidden refrigerator compartment, in case I wanted
another one.

"Jack, this gentleman here is Larry Weiss. Larry, this is Jack Schaeffer."

"Nice to meet you, Jack," Larry said, as we shook hands. He took his seat
across from me; Clyde was two seats to his right. Larry had a very large, 3-
ring binder on the table in front of him.

Clyde looked to Larry and silently gave him the floor. Larry opened up his
binder and was looking at the first page. I could not read it upside down
from where I was sitting.

Larry began. "Jack, I'm the Vice-President of the Private Trust division of
First Colorado Banc Corp. My job is to oversee all private trust accounts and
ensure that they are managed properly for risk and profitability. I have
known Clyde for over 20 years. He and Phillip Franklin and I have played more
golf together than I care to remember."

"Yeah, that's because you usually lose and have to buy the first round at the
19th hole," said Clyde, laughing.

"Yeah, yeah. Pipe down old man. One of these days you'll be too old to swing
straight and I'll be the one gloating over drinks at the bar." He was
laughing too. He was probably a little older than Clyde, which made his
comments all the more absurd.

"Okay, back to business." Larry focused and continued. "When Phillip Franklin
sold his pharmaceutical company to Merck several years ago, he and Amanda
found themselves with a pile of money and no knowledge of what to do with it.
So Clyde sent them to me. Phillip and I were already friends, so it made
sense. Together, Clyde and I setup the Franklin Family Trust, a living trust
for Phillip and Amanda until their deaths. Sadly those deaths happened much
earlier than any of us wanted." He looked a little downcast at the memory of
his lost friends.

"My team has managed the assets of the trust since its inception, with pretty
good results, if I do say so myself. We diversified the portfolio according
to how risk averse Phillip and Amanda were, which was very averse by the way,
and we built things from there."

Clyde took over from Larry at this point. "Jack, if you'll remember, I told
you that Amanda had asked me to change some of the gifts to a couple of
charities that she had worked most with during the last years of her life.
When we set up the trust, all of the assets were to go to a collection of
charities hand-picked by Phillip and Amanda. You see, they had no surviving
relatives of any kind. Both were only children, and they had no children of
their own. All of their parents had passed by this time. So when Amanda made
this one change, it was no big deal to reprioritize the charities' benefits
from the trust.

But Amanda wanted another, more significant change. She told me about you,
her baby from long ago, and she wanted to do something for you that she
regretted having never done before. So she told me her new plan. If I was
able to locate you within six months of her passing, and if I was able to
determine that you were an upstanding citizen with a decent character, she
wanted control of the entire estate to transfer to you. If I could not locate
you, or you were in, I think she called it an 'untenable personal condition',
then the original provisions of the trust would prevail."

I sat there and took all this in, listening to them discuss this like it was
just more boilerplate, same-old same-old stuff. To me Clyde was stating
pretty clearly that not only did he have to find me, but he was to pass
judgment on my character as well. That rankled a bit, though I didn't think I
had any "untenable" issues to speak of.

"So Clyde, did I pass inspection?" I tried to sound funny, but it came off
irritated and flippant. I regretted saying it.

"Yes, Jack, of course," said Clyde, clearly upset that I would have thought
otherwise. "There was nothing in your background of concern, and having met
you and spent the day with you, I am confident that you have a very sound
character. I believe Amanda would have been proud of the young man you have
become."

I was overwhelmed by his heart-felt sentiments. I suddenly wanted Amanda to
be there with me, so she could see for herself that I had turned out alright.
That my life had not been horrible and I wasn't a screwed up drug addict or
alcoholic or criminal. I was a nice, normal guy doing the best I could. I was
gay, but maybe she would have been okay with that. Now there was a thought.

"Thank you, Clyde," I said, as I once again fought to keep my tears from
overflowing. The emotional rollercoaster was running at high speed now and
threatening to derail any minute.

Taking a deep breath, Clyde continued. "So Jack, we found you. And yes, you
are of sound character. The provisions of the trust have been met per
Amanda's last wishes. Judge Bartells signed the official order this afternoon
ending probate of the estate, establishing you as the sole heir to the trust,
and I have given Larry all the necessary legal paperwork to transfer the bulk
of the Franklin Family Trust to you. Congratulations, Jack."

I heard the words, but I know that they were not penetrating my reality at
that moment. I couldn't make true sense of what he was saying. It sounded
like Amanda had given me everything she had, but what that was I had no idea.
More confusion. More questions. Would they never end?

I think Larry could tell I was struggling to take it all in. If I hadn't been
earlier in the day, I was definitely in a state of emotional shock now.

"Perhaps this will makes things a little clearer, Jack," said Larry.

He turned his big binder around so I could read the top page right side up.
Across the top in bold letters was the banner "Jack Schaeffer Living Trust"
and under that was "formerly the Phillip and Amanda Franklin Family Trust".
There were two columns on the page, one labelled "Asset Category" on the
left, the other labelled "Accumulated Balances" on the right.

Under the assets column was a list of entries for stocks, bonds, mutual
funds, real estate, personal property, and transportation, among others. The
balances next to these entries were confusing. I couldn't tell if they were
account numbers or something else. The total number at the bottom of the
right hand column made no sense at all.

"What does all this mean, Larry? What am I looking at?" The frustration and
emotion was mounting rapidly again. I didn't get it. Why didn't they
understand that I just didn't get it?

"Jack, as of this morning, when totaled all together, you now control an
estate of approximately 580 million dollars."

I stood up and shouted at them. "Are you crazy? There is no way. No way. I
can't...I don't know how...what was she thinking?" A fresh wave of emotional and
nervous energy started in my shaking legs and moved upwards rapidly. I could
feel my stomach coming up with it.

I lurched to my right and promptly surrendered my very expensive hamburger
lunch right into the very expensive trash can next to the credenza. I
wretched a few more times, then sat back. I was on my knees now, shaking.
Clyde and Larry had jumped up when I started to get sick, and kept looking at
each other, hoping the other guy knew what they should do to help.

I was humiliated and embarrassed beyond words. I was so ashamed at that
moment. Ashamed that I had behaved so abominably. Ashamed that I had ruined a
very nice trash can. Ashamed that I couldn't control my emotions. That I
couldn't control anything, really. In fact, everything was out of control in
my life now. Nothing made sense, and I couldn't find a mental anchor from
which to hold on until the emotional currents subsided.

I saw Sharon's feet through the glass wall from under the table. She was up
from her desk and moving rapidly for the conference room. She must have seen
everyone jump up, and was now coming to see what the fuss was. I suddenly
wanted desperately for her to not see me like this, laid out on the floor
with vomit on my face. So I exercised every ounce of remaining strength I
had, wiped my face on my shirt sleeve, pulled myself up by a chair and got to
me feet as she entered the doorway. The room was spinning, and I was having
trouble focusing.

Sharon took one look at me and shouted, "Jack!"

I fainted.


To be continued...

Author's Note: Big changes for Jack. And more questions. How will he handle
his new found wealth? What is in the letter that Amanda left for him? Is
there something going on between Billy and Jack? Will he ever come out of the
closet and find love? Stay tuned...