Chapter 45: Found!

All of the pieces were coming together, just not the way Rachel hoped. Just as she was starting to collect her thoughts after her conversation with Beatrice, she saw a limousine pull up in front of the bakery, to the attention of the people both inside and out of the bakery. For those in the parish who saw it, the vehicle was a huge curiosity. For Rachel, it was doomsday. Within seconds of parking, the man who exited the limousine was no stranger; it was her father!

He entered the bakery and commented, “quaintly provincial” under his breath with a tone of disdain, then his eyes located his daughter. There was no exchange of emotion or even a hug. She knew why he was there and she also knew that her life in Clovelly was over.

“Rachel,” he addressed her.

“Father,” she replied.

“The car is waiting.”

As upset as she was, she had no more words, too overcome with fear and embarrassment. Although she was a young woman, being in the intimidating presence of her father made her feel like a seven year old who had misbehaved and was nervously awaiting her punishment.

Faye heard the commotion and came to the front. “May I help you, sir?” she said, a little afraid of him herself seeing him in the presence of his six foot four burly chauffeur and body guard.

“No. I doubt that you can. I’m taken care of, thanks. I’m here to collect my daughter,” as though Rachel was an inanimate series of disorderly pieces, more to be owned and objectified than understood.

“Rachel, do you know this gentleman?” Faye inquired, also overcome by his powerful presence, the likes of which she had never experienced before.

Rachel, dutiful daughter that she was, nodded, then got her purse and left the bakery without even a goodbye, taking her place in the limousine.

“Thank you and good day,” her father said and left, closing the door to the Clovelly bakery, with all that it meant, setting off the jingle bells on the door behind him.

# # #

Once both were seated in the car, her father addressed her as though nothing had happened and they had never been apart.

“If you have any personal effects that you would like to gather, kindly supply the driver with the address for your humble abode,” he suggested, more as an acknowledgement of his wanting his daughter to actively participate in putting the entire experience behind her. He already knew her address from his private security sources and could have easily found it without her help.

“We’ll take the jet back to London this afternoon and then leave Heathrow the first thing in the morning,” he droned on. “I have meetings this evening to tie up some of my own loose ends in the U.K. You’ll stay at the London penthouse, with the driver outside your door, should you want anything. He’ll call for it and have it delivered.”

Her father continued to talk at her. “Remember, there’s a full spa in the building, so that you can pull yourself together before we leave. Kurt will meet us at JFK. The wedding is set for Saturday and will be a small affair: all four hundred of my closest business associates will be there to see you tie the knot and recognize and celebrate the merger. We expect your full cooperation.”

Neither his tone or his dense yet informative message left any room for discussion, so she sat there and took it, the words washing over her like hot soap and wax over a car in a car wash, where it was only able to emerge and escape after the entire messy process was finished.

Riding through town and stopping at the lights that marked sites of memories alone and with Arthur, was painful medicine. There had to be some other way to break free of her family. Obviously a continental shift from North America to Europe was not drastic enough. Finding her was probably facilitated due to the financial contribution she made to the bakery. Even though her time there was nearing end, she would always have fond memories of the parish as her mom had experienced many years before her.

They pulled up to the cottage. The chauffeur helped Rachel out of the car, then accompanied her every step of the way. Inside she wanted to bolt and run again, like she had the first time she was scheduled to marry Kurt. But her father had gotten wiser and the man that she thought was there for his protection, was truly there to keep her on a short leash before, until, and throughout the marriage ceremony.

If she never uttered another word, she doubted anyone in her father’s camp would notice the difference. But she had a few more words to say, and these were for Arthur’s ears only. This was probably not how Beatrice imagined it, but the silent expectation with her father allowing her to make this stop to gather “personal effects” was more about Rachel’s peace of mind that might make her more amenable to embrace her duties to her family than any belongings she might have wanted to take from her time with her friends.

Stopping at the cottage itself was especially about tying up her loose ends with the significant people from her adventure so that she could fully and completely perform her new role in the family and produce an heir without any hesitation. Kurt, however, was not required to do the same, although he had significantly more romantic attachments in terms of mistresses across all of the continents and at least one in each big apple borough of the city that never sleeps.

She vacillated between hoping Arthur was at home and hoping he wasn’t. If he wasn’t, maybe she could send a letter that he could read over and over again explaining everything. At different stages of his grieving the loss of the relationship, he might eventually come to clarity about the lies, her father, and his billions, with all the power and obligations that amount of money brings.

But how could she get the letter mailed or any other form of communication sent with a body guard on her 24/7 to make sure she did not escape going through the wedding ceremony this time. Once she was married, it would be too late. True, she’d have access to her father’s billions, but to what avail if she no longer had access to Arthur?