Chapter 24: Comparison

The next morning, Abigail woke with a heavy heart. Today was her competition with Olivia. She’d managed to ask her dad to postpone at least till the morning, since she’d been absolutely exhausted after the day she’d had. Not to mention the screaming.

But now, Abigail wondered if she shouldn’t have rather just gotten it all over and done with yesterday.

With a sigh, she pushed herself out of bed and headed to the shower.

She had no idea what kind of competition her father meant for them to have. And though she’d always understood that he was comparing the two of them, that he was choosing one of them to inherit the company, it stung her just a little hearing it come from him directly.

Abigail showered quickly, and dressed. But she wasn’t in any kind of mood to go for breakfast, even if it was just with her father alone. She still had two hours before the test or competition or whatever, and she was hungry. So she decided she would call room service up with breakfast for her.

She waited a whole five minutes, and then there was a knock on her door. Dorothea brought the breakfast in for her.

“It is a good thing you are heaving breakfast in here this morning,” she spoke with a thick Latina accent. “The rest of the house might as well be a war zone.”

“What’s wrong?” Abigail asked, as Dorothea pushed the cart right to her bed.

“Mrs. Charlotte is angry with Mr. Woodtriche that he is making her daughter take a test,” Dorothea explained. “And Miss Olivia is angry with her mother for making her father make her take a test. And Mr. Woodtriche is angry with Olivia for not wanting to take a test.”

Abigail laughed in spite of herself. At least she wasn’t the only one affected by this.

“If it is between me and you,” Dorothea told Abigail, “I wouldn’t worry too much about the test. Mrs. Charlotte always pays someone to write Miss Olivia’s tests for her. You won’t have anything to lose.”

Abigail thanked the woman, and started in on her breakfast. Then she spotted her phone on the side, and biting her lip, made a split second decision.

She picked up the phone, and dialed a number from her memory.

The phone was answered on the other end without any delay.

“Hello Abigail,” Mark greeted.

“Hey,” Abigail sighed softly into the phone. “I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

In truth, she wouldn’t have cared even if she had disturbed him. She needed to speak to someone right now, someone that knew everything and wouldn’t berate her.

“You sound like something’s wrong,” Mark’s voice came concerned on the other end of the phone line. “What’s wrong?”

Abigail sighed again, fighting back tears. She really didn’t want to cry right now, because then she would have to face Olivia with red rimmed eyes and that was just out of the question.

“It’s just something with my dad,” Abigail admitted.

Because in truth, even though Charlotte had thrown the temper tantrum, her father had chosen to react the way he had. Charlotte hadn’t pitted her and Olivia against each other in a test of wits and wills. Adam had. And as painful as that was for her to admit, it was the truth, and she had to own it.

“But I thought everything went so great?” Mark asked, concerned. “What about all the texts you sent me?”

“That was before everything went to Hell in a handbasket,” Abigail said wryly.

Then she began explaining to him the exact moment everything changed. As soon as she’d finished messaging him and Samantha had come and get her.

She told him about the supper with her father, the celebration of her first success. Then about Charlotte and her outrageous claims and accusations. And then her father’s suggestion, of a competition between the two of them, to see who was better fit to rule, in his exact words.

Mark listened intently as she spoke. He never questioned anyone or defended their actions, sometimes he asked something if he hadn’t heard clearly what had happened, but other than that, he mostly listened silently, until Abigail was done with her story.

“Anyway,” Abigail said, wiping her nose. She hadn’t outright started crying, but her eyes and nose had started leaking. “I’m sorry to bother you with all my troubles, that wasn’t fair of me.”

“Hey,” Mark said gently. “You can always call me if you’re upset. I’m just upset that I’m not working by your house for the next few days, I have work elsewhere, otherwise we could have had another lunch.”

Abigail frowned, she thought they had a date for today. But maybe something had come up.

“I was wondering though,” Mark said, his voice trailing off a little. “I know this isn’t the best time, but I was wondering if you’d like to, instead of lunch, go for supper with me?”

Abigail blinked, unsure if she was supposed to be reading into this, or if her mind was assuming far too much.

“Actually,” Mark said, his voice changing slightly, just an edge deeper, “Let me be clearer. I would like to take you on a date.”

Abigail bit her lip to keep the smile off her face, and then realized what she was doing and that no one could possibly see her. So she allowed the smile to widen on her face unchecked.

“You know, that might just. Actually,” Abigail said, a smile in her voice, “Let me be clearer. I would love to go on a date with you.”

They spoke for another hour, though it was mostly flirting, and then Abigail had to hang up. It was time for her stupid little test with her father.

_______________________________________


Bolstered by the news from Dorothea, and the surprise from Mark, Abigail walked into the solarium with her head held high.

“So, this place does have a purpose, after all,” Abigail said snidely.

Charlotte and Olivia were seated on one side of the table, and Adam seated at what appeared to be the head of the oval table, and the seat on his right open.

Abigail sat at the other end, opposite her father, and depending on which way you looked at it, she could easily be sitting at the head as well.

“Can we start?” Charlotte asked, her voice like ice as she looked to her husband.

“Yes,” Adam clasped his hands. “I’ve made this very simply. A series of problem-solving questions with a little historical fact behind it. How to be at the helm, so to speak.”

Abigail and Olivia both rolled their eyes at their father, but neither said anything.

“First question,” Adam began.

And Abigail listened on in the most boring and detached of senses. She would answer the questions as best as she knew how, but she would place nothing on this today, or on the outcome of this. She well and truly did not care.

If her father wanted her to inherit, and she was most qualified for the job, then so be it. But if Olivia turned out to be better suited, and would better serve the interests of the company, then Abigail was more than happy to let her sister have it.

She had her career path ahead of her still, and she wasn’t going to stoop to their levels.

Adam asked them questions, and whoever could answer first correctly, got the point. Abigail admitted, sometimes Olivia came up with the answer before she did, and halfway through, Abigail was almost ready to admit that Olivia knew quite a bit.

But Charlotte had gotten up after Abigail had answered the first five questions and moved to the other side of the room to ‘calm her nerves’ as she’d said. And Abigail spied her whispering into something, and Abigail glanced to Olivia, and noticed one of her earrings, the one facing her and clearly out of line of their father, was blinking red.

So either Olivia had flashy jewelry – quite literally – or more likely, that was an earpiece.

The mystery was solved pretty quickly when Charlotte – having stood too close to the flowers – sneezed suddenly and Olivia jerked.

Abigail kept calm, though. She really didn’t think Charlotte would be able to keep this up for very long. Abigail even made it a point ot be slower with some answers, to allow Olivia a decent chance.

Eventually, it came down to the last question, and Olivia and Abigail were tied equally, when their dad asked the final question, and Abigail answered it immediately.

“You cheater!” Charlotte screeched from the other end of the room, making Olivia flinch violently.

Olivia simply pulled off her earring, in case her mother had any more outbreaks, and quietly, seething, left the room.

Charlotte continued hurling abuse for a few more minutes, when Abigail calmly picked up the earring her sister had discarded, placed it by her father’s ear, who was able to put the pieces together himself, hearing his wife scream in his ear.