Resurgence
RESURGENCE
THE SECOND CHANCES TRILOGY
BOOK TWO
A NOVEL BY
M. M. MAYLE
—INDIAN RIVER INK—
Also by M.M.Mayle
REVENANT RISING
RESURGENCE
Copyright © 2011 by M. M. Mayle.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the written permission of the author.
Published in the United States of America.
This book is a work of fiction. The literary insights and perceptions contained herein are based on experience; all names, characters, places, organizations, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
ISBN-13: 978-1463601928
ISBN: 1463601921
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61914-394-4
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011910431
CreateSpace, North Charleston, South Carolina
Fame and tranquility can never be bedfellows
.
—Michel de Montaigne
Contents
Two:
Midmorning, April 12, 1987
Five:
Afternoon, April 13, 1987
Six:
Late night, April 13, 1987
Seven:
Early morning, April 14, 1987
Ten:
Early morning, April 17, 1987
Eleven:
Late afternoon, April 17, 1987
Twelve:
Evening, April 17, 1987
Thirteen:
Morning, April 19, 1987
Fourteen:
Early afternoon, April 26, 1987
Fifteen:
Afternoon, April 30, 1987
Seventeen:
Afternoon, May 7, 1987
Eighteen:
Afternoon, May 10, 1987
Nineteen:
Late afternoon, May 10, 1987
Twenty-One:
Afternoon, May 16, 1987
Twenty-Two:
Afternoon, May 18, 1987
Twenty-Three:
Late afternoon, May 18, 1987
Twenty-Four:
Early morning, May 20, 1987
Twenty-Five:
Early evening, May 20, 1987
Twenty-Six:
Evening, May 20, 1987
Twenty-Seven:
Early morning, May 21, 1987
Twenty-Eight:
Late morning, May 23, 1987
Twenty-Nine:
Late afternoon, May 23, 1987
Thirty:
Afternoon, May 23, 1987
Thirty-One:
Late afternoon, May 23, 1987
Thirty-Two:
Afternoon, May 27, 1987
Thirty-Three:
Noon, May 27, 1987
Thirty-Four:
Afternoon, May 27, 1987
Thirty-Five:
Very early morning, May 28, 1987
Thirty-Six:
Morning, May 28, 1987
Thirty-Seven:
Late afternoon, May 29, 1987
Thirty-Eight:
Morning, May 31, 1987
Thirty-Nine:
Late morning, June 23, 1987
Forty-One:
Evening, June 23, 1987
Forty-Two:
Afternoon, July 12, 1987
Forty-Three:
Evening, August 1, 1987
Forty-Four:
Early morning, August 14, 1987
Forty-Five:
Midmorning, August 14, 1987
Forty-Six:
Late morning, August 14, 1987
Forty-Seven:
Afternoon, August 14, 1987
Nate Isaacs and Amanda Hobbs are shown to a window table near the one they occupied the first time they lunched together at Rockefeller Center’s Sea Grill restaurant. On this occasion, the circumstances could not be more different and the setting could not matter less. Today, no one is jockeying for position; today, no one is angling for tradeoffs unless intended for the common good.
“So, in review,” Nate says after they’ve been given menus, “she’d already called twice before you heard from me at dawn. Is that right? You were still a little dazed—or maybe I was—and I’m not sure I caught everything you said earlier.”
“Yes, twice. The first time to break the news before I heard it on TV or radio, and the second time . . . I don’t know . . . I’m guessing she needed to repeat herself because she was having trouble believing it. I know it’s gonna take a lot to make me believe it . . . to
really
believe it.” Amanda’s voice trails off, her eyes glaze over.
Two hours after liftoff, the atmosphere of excitement and celebration generated by hers and Colin’s surprise appearance and major announcement has toned down. Now that meal and beverage service has ended, a handful of stalwarts are gathered in the back of the sparsely occupied DC-10, where Rayce Vaughn is holding forth in his usual antic way, but most of the other passengers are settled in with books or headphones for the remainder of the flight.
Whatever Laurel expected to encounter on a charter carrying musicians, record label executives, and other industry types, this isn’t it. This recalls her first encounter with Rayce, when she felt something akin to disappointment that none of his retinue appeared derelict, much less debauched. And she’s never apt to forget that she was once caught gaping at Colin Elliot—her newly betrothed—for the very same reason.
She completes another leg-stretching circuit of the cabin and crosses over at the forward galley to return to her seat. Colin is standing in the aisle, several rows ahead, infinitely gapeable and hers to ogle at will, a realization that will take some getting used to.
After Laurel sits down, the next best reality check short of pinching herself is bringing out the notebook first put into service when she believed notes on the significant details of a rock star’s life wouldn’t fill more than a dozen pages. Now, its few remaining pages are filled with lists and reminders spawned by her decision to kick over the traces and embark on a life of her own.
She can check off as completed the telephoned directives to the nursing home and to her brothers and sister regarding their father’s ongoing care and management. Although mentioned, no agreement was reached regarding final disposition of the family home. Doesn’t it just figure that all three siblings are dragging their feet about getting rid of a place they don’t visit all that often?
In the margin she writes a reminder to secure custodial care for the house, adding asterisks and underscoring to make sure the requirement doesn’t escape her attention later on.
She skips past a question-marked entry for Mrs. Floss to the list of account numbers representing only the tip of the financial iceberg awaiting restructuring. Under normal circumstances she would delegate that task to someone within the law firm—David being the logical choice—but with so much at stake, including her newly vested interest in the firm, a conflict exists. If asking him were an option, Nate Isaacs would be first choice to guide her through these financial shoals. She might, however, discreetly get in touch with Nate to thank him for nudging her in the right direction where Colin is concerned. And while she’s at it, she should write a glowing letter of recommendation on Amanda’s behalf if Amanda’s job offer from Nate hasn’t rendered that unnecessary.
Laurel interrupts her double-checking to again study the photographs of Anthony and Simon that were tucked into the back of the notebook for safekeeping. She’s poring over them as though for hidden meaning when Colin sinks into the seat beside her.
“Losing your nerve?” he says.
“No, not at all. I’m recalling the day you coerced me into reassuring Anthony you weren’t in any danger of going to prison and he tripped me up with my own advice.”
“You worried he’ll trip you up again?”
“If he does, I’m prepared to say that I do love him. And mean it. How could I not?” She caresses the boy’s photograph with a fingertip. “And this little guy.” She strokes the picture of Simon. “How could I not love him?”
“That’s me throughout. Wearin’ out grainy newspaper pictures of you and askin’ myself how could I not love you. And now I can ask myself how I got so lucky. Makes me a bit nervous, it does.” Colin squeezes her hand and looks away for awhile before picking up the thread. “I wouldn’t waste worry on the lad, though. Anthony didn’t raise objection when I rang to tell them you’d be with me. He rather took the news in stride. I think he was expecting it, actually. I know my mum was. Isn’t that consistent with the reactions coming from your family?”