Karen & Alexa Ch. 03

Rodney's phone, sitting on the table in front of him, buzzed. He ignored it, although it was plain to see he was distracted by the sudden notification. It buzzed twice more, clearly indicating an urgent matter, and even Ripley seemed worried by whatever this portended. Ripley's phone was going off as well.

"That must be your banker, Roddy," Karen mused, resting a finger under her chin while looking at his phone. "Your son's, too. They seem rather frantic to get in touch with you."

They heard Greg yelling in the hallway now, not unlike Ken had done the day before. From the sounds of it, he hadn't even been aware of the losses before Karen mentioned them. Had Rodney? It was hard to tell, and tempting to think he hadn't, since the losses were posted just as Karen and Alexa were pulling into the parking lot.

Timing. Everything relied on her exquisite sense of timing.

Before Rodney could begin yelling, which he was clearly on the verge of doing, her uncle Alistair spoke up.

"Karen, while I agree that Ripley and Greg were phenomenally stupid in their judgment about Streak, this is not the point of contention on everyone's mind. Not to seem indelicate, but we really must address the issue of your sister and your son. This relationship of theirs is ... unseemly."

"That is your opinion, uncle, and you are entitled to it," Karen said levelly. "But it has nothing to do with how this boardroom is run, and it has no bearing on our profits."

"I understand your point, Karen, and would be happy to agree, but I find I cannot," Alistair persisted, shaking his head. "If your approval of this union is to be considered a lapse in judgment, and there is a strong case for that, then I am forced to consider your judgment as chairman and CEO, I confess."

"Fine, shall we consider my judgment?" she said simply, allowing the debate to continue. It needed to. There could be no doubts or contests left. She couldn't push through this and sweep it under the rug. "I didn't just cheerfully approve this relationship the moment I was aware of it. Long and heartfelt conversations were had, involving myself, Alexandra, my son, and my husband. Once we agreed that they were indeed in love, we resolved to have the laws changed. Did we throw cousin Hersch off the board when he came out as gay?"

"Several people wanted to," Alistair pointed out. "And it was already newly the law of the land, gay marriage. No sense fighting the law."

"So all I have to do is change the avunculate marriage laws, and then magically my judgment is sound in all your ears?" Karen queried. Alistair looked annoyed, but Karen smiled at him. "You really should see them together, uncle, it's quite charming."

"It's a disgrace, is what it is!" her aunt Florence said from her end of the table. "Beyond unseemly!"

"I seem to recall this being your reaction when Hersch was outed as well," Karen mused, looking at the woman passively. "Your objection at the time was Biblical, yes?"

"Moral laws are every bit as important as the legal ones," Florence sniffed.

"And yet in Genesis, Abraham married his niece," Karen pointed out. "I believe her name was Sarai."

"I ... I wouldn't know ..." Florence stammered, caught off guard. "And sometimes laws change for the better, even from the Bible."

"I couldn't agree more, auntie," Karen said, nodding. "For a man to marry his niece was considered meritorious, and yet an aunt was not to marry her nephew, because it compromised patrilineal inheritance matters. So yes, auntie, sometimes, even Biblical laws are changed for the better. And these are laws relating to the Old Testament and the Talmud if memory serves in any event. And since your husband is a man of the Hebrew faith, he can no doubt clarify --"

"My husband's faith has no bearing on my ability to sit in this boardroom!" Florence said hotly. "How could such an absurd notion compromise my judgment?!"

Karen let her statement hang in the air for several seconds, and Florence flushed in embarrassment and sat quietly. Karen was reasonably certain that neither Florence or Alistair were a part of this attempted coup, but they were of an older generation and strictly guided by those social mores. She hoped this wouldn't cost them dearly.

"Very clever, Karen," Roddy said from his seat, but he was clearly unimpressed. "You may shut our aunt up by talking her in circles because of her outdated ideas, but that won't fly with me. The real problem here is that word of your sister and your son is gonna get out, and --"

His phone began buzzing frantically again, as did his son's right beside him. Ripley looked very uncomfortable, and even anxious. He glanced at his father, wondering what to do.

"Dammit, boy, take the call out in the hallway," Rodney spat finally. "It's your mess, you need to learn how to clean it up!"

Ripley stood hastily and left the room, already talking on his phone. Rodney tried to regain his footing and returned his attention to Karen and Alexa. "As I was saying, when word gets out, there will be a scandal, Karen. You know it, I know it. It's going to cause problems."

"People said that about Hersch too, didn't they?" Karen retorted.

"Our enemies will use this, Karen!" Rodney said tightly. "It's inevitable!"

"Who, Rodney?" Karen asked. "What enemies? And if they did, wouldn't we all stand together to fight off the threat?"

"We need to protect the family, Karen, even if it's from its chairman and CEO," he announced, thinking he was finally going back on the offensive. While he was speaking, Karen took a white envelope out of her pocket and handed it to Alexa. It was fairly obvious to everyone this was the same envelope Alexa had imparted to Karen the other day. "If ... Karen, what the Hell is your sister doing?"

"We were discussing enemies, so I thought I'd throw in my two cents," Alexa replied, walking around the table and giving everyone a series of cue cards on which was printed information. By the time she'd reached Rodney on the far side, the room was deathly silent as people looked at the contents of those cards.

"These ... Karen, these cards spell out who was involved in the attempted ouster against your father," Alistair said, looking stunned and aghast. He looked at Ainsley, who was sitting beside him and flushing with embarrassment. "Ainsley, how could you?"

"What is this nonsense, Karen?!" demanded Greg angrily, holding up the card. "Your father said that there would be no investigations, by any board members!"

"And there weren't," Karen said simply. "It was Alexa who did the digging and figured it all out. I didn't even ask her to. We haven't voted Alexa on to the board now, have we?"

"This is bullshit!" Greg hissed, colouring furiously, since everyone now knew he'd been in on the attempted coup. "Your father said there would be no repercussions! He closed the matter! Felix was punished and that was that!"

"But now the rest of us have to live with the knowledge that you tried to oust Jonathon, Gregory," Alistair said gravely. "You were a greedy bastard, just like Felix. Jonathon was perfectly compos mentis, but ambition got the better of you lot. It's ugly."

"I didn't expect this from Ken, either," Rodney breathed, shaking his head as he looked at the list of names and their roles. Laid out the way it was, the plan had indeed been doomed to failure and its conspirators summarily punished for their incompetence. "This is really amateur."

"How can anyone look at you, Gregory, knowing that they could be next for a knife in the back?" Alistair pushed, obviously getting irate. He glared at the younger man. "Inexcusable ambition!"

"You're being pulled off topic here," Rodney interjected, almost pleading for people to pay attention to him and his original point. How had everything gone so awry? "Karen is using this to distract us from the issue of her suitability for the role of chair and CEO!"

"If you all actually believe that a vote is necessary, then I'll happily call for one," Karen said levelly. "But it's important that everyone around this table knows exactly who they are voting with. As I've said before, I would hate for narrative and naked ambition to determine our family's future and fortunes."

"I for one have many questions that I did not have when this meeting started, and would appreciate if we called a break to the proceedings," Alistair said, raising his hand. "I need to take some time and think all this through."

"The meeting barely started fifteen minutes ago, uncle!" Rodney protested.

"And I would dread to think what else was revealed if we let it drag along for another two hours yet," replied the older man. "No, I must insist, Rodney. Let us call for a break, and return in an hour. You should see to your son in any event; this has been another hard day for him."

Rodney coloured at the mention of his son, but did not object when Florence also called for a recess. The gathering adjourned for the next hour, with people filing out of the room, until only Karen and Alexa were left. The older sister sighed and hung her head.

"Strange to say, but things are still going according to plan," she muttered, looking at the exotic wood the table was made of. Elegant inlays of brass and even threads of crystal ran through it, and she'd always loved it. It was another relic of the early nineteenth century, commissioned by Randall Blackwell, then patriarch of the family, and one of its most successful members. "I can't believe how badly I want to punch them all."

"Even poor old Alistair?" Alexa asked, putting a hand on her sister's shoulder.

"Well, maybe not uncle Al ..." Karen admitted.

"Good," the blonde said, her tone becoming hard. "Because I was looking forward to punching him if he kept that 'unseemly' nonsense up."

Karen shrugged: "Older generation, Alli, different values. And they're as bad at accepting the value of progress as millennials are at admitting anything remotely good happened before they showed up in the mid-Eighties. It's a never-ending struggle for the rest of us, assuredly."

"God, you love to pick on millennials," Alexa sighed, rolling her eyes. "Is it really that enjoyable?"

"I can think of other activities to indulge in with you," the bronze-haired woman said, rising from her chair. "Let's go, this act is far from over ..."

***

Karen was walking down the hallway, having dropped Alexa off at the elevator, so she could head down to the lounge. She was confident in her little sister's ability to handle herself in a social situation, if need be. Karen, meanwhile, was headed to her office. It was the corner office of the chairman and CEO of Blackwell Enterprises, and every member of the family envied and coveted it.

She opened the door and stood just inside, sighing at the sight of the room. The walls were paneled with carved dark wood, all of it ancient and brought over from previous iterations of this most high office. Given how perfectly the panels fit, she could only assume that this room's dimensions were precisely the same as those that had come before it.

Plush chairs and furniture, all of it made of strong, exotic woods, the latest pieces dating back to Victorian times, were placed around the room. Portraits of the powerful men who had run this empire since the colonial era lined the walls, many of the paintings originals. The huge desk, made of rosewood and so large that even her colossal husband fit behind it, dominated the back half of the space. Her father had told her that it had been made in the eighteenth century, from rare rosewood trees in the Caribbean. Like the long table in the boardroom, it had inlays of brass, but also mother-of-pearl and those crystal threads as well. It had always fascinated her.

Karen left the door open, but rubbed at her face wearily. Why did it always have to be this way? The mere mention of Quebec City could put her stomach in knots. She went over to a small bar area and poured herself a glass of brandy from the crystal decanter. Belgian crystal, of course. Eighteenth century.

She held the snifter up to the light and swirled the amber liquid about slowly, smiling at the rich colour, detecting notes like mahogany.

Ararat Armenian, at least thirty years old ...

She may have preferred cognac to Armenian-style brandies, but this was nothing to sniff at either. She took a sip, relaxing slightly as the velvety warmth hit her tongue and caressed her throat, with hints of fruit for a soft contrast.

"I suppose you think you're pretty slick, Karen ..." said a rather terse voice from the door.

Karen sighed inwardly, but she had been counting on this moment. It was necessary. If she wanted this all to end, she had to take care of the ringleader. She turned around slowly and nodded to her cousin.

"Roddy, whatever could you mean?" she asked, looking at him standing in the doorway, scowling. She noticed that Ripley was at his side, looking rather cowed, even though he was slightly taller than his father. His suit fit poorly, and she was rather disappointed in Rodney for allowing that. The stitching was subpar, to say the least. It was ... unseamly.

She smiled at her own jest, but Rodney coloured, thinking she was smirking at him.

"You think you're so clever, throwing monkey wrenches into the works, hm?" he almost demanded as he stepped into the office. She noticed his body language, seeing him try not to fidget, not to gaze around in wonder. This office was everything he hoped for in life. His normally cocky stride was replaced with a barely muted shuffle. It seemed the history of his surroundings was weighing down on him. The poor fool.

"Rodney, is being chair and CEO really that big a deal to you?" she asked, putting him on the spot. "We both know that contesting the will and your little moral crusade about my son and my sister are just excuses to oust me and install yourself as the family's leader."

"At least it means something to me, Karen," he shot back, trying not to pace. "You, you barely have any interest in the company, except for this weird devotion to your father's legacy."

"It's the family legacy, Bif, and you know it," she chided, using his nickname from when they were younger. "No one believes that you're looking to succeed my father for the good of the family. You're in it for you."

"I'm hardly the first Blackwell to understand priorities," he said coldly. "Why should I care about fuck-ups like Greg, Ken or even uncle Alistair? They're the ones holding us back. And frankly, so are you."

"You've shown lapses in judgment before, and we've bailed you out," Karen reminded him.

"I was young, and I learned my lessons, same as Ripley will," Rodney growled. "There's no hope for Alistair or Greg, and you know it."

"Money and profit at any cost are not the reason we operate the way we do," the bronze-haired woman said tightly, growing weary of his petulance. "It's always been about looking after the family."

"You're like something out of a different era, and you probably belong there," Rodney sneered. "Just so you know, cousin, no matter what else happens, I will see you voted off this island. You and your deviant sister have no place in these halls."

Karen sighed inwardly, but kept listening. She fished out her phone and played her final card with Rodney.

The nuclear option.

***

Alexa sighed as she walked away from the bar, Lloyd having given her a tumbler of Scotch. She sat in a chair by the window, looking out at the riot of fall colours stretched across the vista. It was beautiful. She waited patiently, knowing that she would soon have company.

"Well, hello," said a not unkindly voice from beside her. She turned her had and smiled up at her uncle Alistair. "Care for some company?"

She gestured to the other chair at the small, low round table and he eased himself into it. He swirled the ice cubes around in his glass of Scotch, looking at them for a few moments and then up at her. "Probably not the reunion with your family you were expecting or hoped for, hm?"

"Karen prepped me for it, to be honest," Alexa replied, shrugging. "More accurate to say it wasn't the reunion I wished for."

"I'm sorry about that," Alistair said quietly. "I'll admit, it's almost like your reappearance was meant to cause a stir, Alexandra."

"It was, uncle," she agreed, sipping at her Scotch. "Poor Karen knew that this meeting was going to be a shitstorm anyway, and we decided to use it to our advantage."

"Mission accomplished," he allowed. "Admittedly, you taking care of that snot Ripley wasn't unwelcome. Nice to see Roddy taken aback too. He's got it in for Karen, of course."

"Apparently he has ever since she married my brother-in-law."

"Yes, Michael DeBourne is rather unpopular with the Blackwell family," mused Alistair. "He upsets our notion of impeccable breeding equalling superiority."

"I liked him instantly," Alexa said readily. "Wish I could say the same about my blood family."

Alistair assumed a somewhat stern aspect. "I think it's your affinity for blood family that has caused so much consternation, my dear."

She'd expected this to come up. She'd counted on it. "None of us planned it, uncle. Alex and I were more stunned and frightened by it than anybody. But we couldn't stop it, either. Only thing I could've done was turn around inside that airport terminal and hop on the next flight back to Europe, the moment I saw him."

"That bad, hm?" he mused, giving her the benefit of the doubt. "And nothing to be done?"

She sighed and leaned forward, as if this was meant for only him, even though no one else would hear it. "Uncle Alistair, I want to know my Blackwell family. I want to be a part of it. But if it's between the Blackwell family or Alex, I know who I'll actively work to destroy. Please help me make sure it'll never come to that."

Alistair sat back in his chair and looked at her pensively for some time. She just waited, leaning forward, holding her Scotch between her hands.

"Is Alex really that fantastic, Alexandra?" he asked finally.

She nodded, slowly. "He's a DeBourne and a Blackwell, so what's not to love?"

"Damned if I know," the older man chuckled. "It's going to be a bloodbath for a while, my dear, but I'll do what I can to mitigate the damage and smooth ruffled feathers. Karen seems to be the leadership we need, even if she's the first woman to be chair, and we'll somehow keep making money despite your unusual relationship with your nephew. And promise me, please, that you'll give me time to adjust. I will, but I'm old and crotchety, so these things can take a little while."

Alexa sighed in relief and smiled. "Thanks, uncle. Anyone else I should put the arm on?"

"Well, don't even bother trying with Florence," he said, shrugging. "She's got her dander up and she'll sputter and hiss, but eventually she'll just go off in a huff if you ignore her."

"Duly noted," Alexa replied. "Anyone else?"

"Ainsley is probably a relatively easy sell," advised the elder Blackwell. "As long as his profits don't take a hit, you could be married to an Arab communist black Satanist lesbian and he wouldn't care."

"So all I have to do is convince him that marrying my nephew will drive his profits up," Alexa snickered. "A cakewalk."

"To be honest, the other people who would be good allies for you are not represented at the table," Alistair admitted. "Other shareholders and business owners who don't sit on the board but are not quite as ambitious and driven as the alpha wolves you've met. Even Florence is a ruthless woman when she sees the need."