39. Thirty-Nine

Val

It’s Wednesday, and I’ve been on pins and needles, waiting for everything to come together.

Our department has been working around the clock to get the changes to the software ready. It’s come a long way from the rough draft that Carson was originally shown.

The team took my ideas and ran with them. They came up with some very innovative improvements on their own. Excitement is high.

I’ve barely seen Chase as we’re working opposite shifts.

I’m getting ready to grab some lunch because I’m hungry. I skipped breakfast again this morning. My stomach has been acting up. Maybe Ellen was right, and I”m coming down with something.

“Val, it’s Jaxson Gibson. Would you be able to stop by my office today?”

“Hi, Jaxson. Yes, I was getting ready to leave for lunch in a few minutes. I could be there in about fifteen minutes if that works?”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

When I walk into Jaxson’s office, I’m shown into a small conference room in the back.

Jaxson comes in. “Val, thanks for coming in so quickly,” he pushes a file toward me, “We were able to pull the bank statements of ReConstruct as well as Victor’s accounts. We went back quite a few years. ReConstruct has made multiple mid-sized payments to your uncle. Each one into a different bank account belonging to your uncle.”

“Why different accounts?”

“It’s a common practice to use different accounts if you don’t want anyone noticing the transactions.”

“I see.”

“We matched the dates of each of the deposits, and they were two to three days after Carlucci Software approved a bid made by ReConstruct. Almost all the bids were for renovations of the Carlucci building and office spaces.”

“Mid-sized, like possible kickbacks?”

“By mid-sized, I would say they are roughly twenty percent of the completed renovation cost. In this instance, the renovation, which was quite extensive, was three million. This one here cost only one hundred thousand. So, the deposits range anywhere from twenty grand all the way up to six hundred thousand.”

“Over how many years?”

“We only went back five years. If you add up the funds over the last five years, we’re looking at about two million dollars.”

“Do you know if this is the only company my uncle has been receiving kickbacks from?”

“There were other deposits that looked suspicious, but they were petty amounts. If he is or was taking kickbacks, it wouldn’t add up to the funds he received from ReConstruct. Carlucci’s hasn’t had that many high-cost types of service or work done. Carlucci Software occupies the top floor and rents out the remaining ten floors. Renovations were typically required whenever a business moved out and another business came in.”

“I understand. Now that I have this information. Where do I go from here?”

“You paid me to collect this information, proof if you will. If you decide to share it with your board of directors, it would be up to you and the board to decide if you want to press criminal charges.”

“Thank you, Jaxson.”

“Of course. I’m available for questions if you decide to press charges.”

As I leave Jaxson’s offices, my head is reeling. I don’t even feel like getting lunch as my stomach is churning again.

What my uncle did was wrong, unfair, and, yes, criminal. But do I want to be the person responsible for having him convicted?

I look at the time. It’s now after one o’clock. I swing by the house to see if Chase is up. I need him to help me figure this out.

When I pull up to the duplex, I see a realtor”s car in the driveway. When I open the door there’s a young woman standing in the living room with a tape measure in her hand.

“Hello, I’m with HomeRes Realty. May I help you?”

“I’m Val, and I live here.”

“Valentina Carlucci? You own the other half of this duplex, don’t you? I’m Jeannie. Carol Watkins is the realtor for the owner of this apartment. She asked me to stop by and get some measurements.”

“Measurements? Is the apartment up for sale?”

Jeannie nods, “Yes, it will be put up for sale soon.”

“I see,” my head swims, “Is the listing for the entire duplex or just this apartment?”

She looks at the listing. “Only this apartment. So, no worries. It shouldn’t affect you at all.”

Jeannie explains, “There’s a note that states each side has its own title, so each side can be sold separately--”

“Are you sure it”s going up for sale?” I interrupt, “Chase would have told me if he was thinking of selling the apartment.”

She just gives me a sympathetic look, “It only has the one side listed. If you’re that close, I’m surprised you didn’t know the apartment was going up for sale.”

“I need to get back to the office. You said you’re with HomeRes Realty?”

“Yes, here’s my card.”

“Thank you.”

I turn and walk out the door, feeling blindsided, confused, and numb.

Once I’m in my car, I drive blindly. My mind is a blur. I can’t even think right now. It’s like my mind is shutting down from overload. I see a park with a river view. I pull in, roll down the window, and turn off the engine.

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the seat.

Chase is putting his apartment up for sale. What does that mean? In a few months? In a year? Our agreement was for one year. Is he already feeling restless? Hemmed in? He hasn’t mentioned that in a while. I thought he was fine with our arrangement— because I am.

Maybe he’s met someone— No. No. I know he hasn’t. He wouldn’t do that to me, anyway. I trust Chase. Besides, we discuss almost everything— If that”s true, then why didn’t he tell me he was putting his apartment up for sale?

Maybe he wants me to sell too, for both of us to move. Then why didn’t he discuss this with me? At the very least, mention it. He’s already seen a realtor and listed it for heaven”s sake.

I put my hand on my head as I feel a tension headache coming on. I truly can’t think right now.

What about my uncle? I realize I don’t even care what happens to my uncle. Right now, I’m more concerned about losing what I have with Chase—my best friend, my husband.

I grimace. It took this to get my priorities straight? I lean my head back against the seat again, but my eyes remain open as I stare at the ceiling of my car.

All of a sudden, my head swims, and I feel nauseous. I quickly open my car door and lean out just in time as I get sick. When I’m done, I pull a napkin out of my glove compartment and wipe my mouth. I lean my head weakly on the steering wheel. Am I coming down with something?

That’s when it hits me. I count back over the months and realize it’s possible. My periods have always been irregular. I could be pregnant.

I’m on the pill. I do the math again. I decide I need to confirm it by taking a pregnancy test.

I drive to a nearby store and buy two pregnancy kits. When I pull into the driveway, I’m relieved that Jeannie is gone and that Chase isn’t home.

I let myself into my apartment and make my way to the bathroom. My hands shake as I wait for the results of the tests. I feel lightheaded again when I look and see two dark pink lines. I check the second test. Same pink lines.

I’m pregnant.

I sit down on the toilet lid and just sit there for a while. My head spins again, probably because I haven’t eaten anything today. I wash my hands and throw the tests in the trash can.

My first instinct is to call Chase and tell him everything. Tell him about the baby and also ask him why he put his apartment up for sale. After all, he is still my best friend.

But I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone. I’ll send him a text telling him we need to talk.

I pick up my cell phone and bring up my texts. I see the red beating heart that was in my last text message to Chase. The next time I talked to him he said he’d be working nights, and he sounded different. I thought he was just stressed because of all the press, what with Knight Security being in the spotlight. But what if he”s been working nights to avoid me? Maybe he’s feeling hemmed in again and just needs his space.

I think about how sweetly he made love to me on Monday morning. Then I sent that stupid beating heart. What if it scared him? We haven’t had sex since then, but we also haven’t had the chance to, so I try not to jump to conclusions. Still, this certainly feels too coincidental.

I look down, and my hands shake again. I get up find a box of crackers and tear them open. They’re a little stale, but I eat them. They seem to help get rid of the nauseous feeling.

I sit down at my table. I shut my eyes and place my hand over my stomach. I let the wonder of having a baby fill me. My eyes start to water. “It’s okay, little one. I love you no matter what.”

What if, by having this baby, I lose everything, my marriage, and my friend? How will Chase react? He doesn’t want kids. I remember he asked early on if I was on the pill. He doesn’t want children, period. What will he do when he finds out I’m pregnant?

I sit there for another hour, just trying to decide what I should do about everything. Chase, the baby, the duplex, and my Uncle Victor. I’m so lost in thought that I jump when my cell phone rings.

“Hi, Mr. Jenkins. I hope you’re calling with good news.”

“Well—”

After I hang up the phone, I grab a pad and pencil. I have some important and hard decisions to make. I need a plan.