To Slay a Dragon

By John D. Loscher

I like to joke how this is sort of two novels which kinda got merged. This occurred whenever inflicted with “burn out” during those heavy days I pounded on the computer keyboard writing, Three Cheers for Father Donovan. For anyone who’s never done it, let me attest as to how the necessary research and the required language translations extract a costly toll. {Latin is the official language of the Holy See. Yes, some Vatican documents are translated into English, but many are not.} Thus, it is agony to enjoy the ecstasy for me to say, “J.D., you did good job.” And it happens only when it’s over…

It never fails. I always embark on writing one of these grandiose, epic historical novels completely cognizant of the scope, but utterly ignorant of the scale. Such was the case writing The Bolsheviks…Three Cheers for Father Donovan…The Black Madonna to some degree. It is a one to four year odyssey in which I will ask myself many times, “J.D., is this really worth it?” It must be. I always persevere until completion. However, in search of a diversion, I would—from time to time—seek escape by prattling about the exploits of the Rearchek, Langer, Machado, and Benelli families. Nothing much. Twenty pages here. Thirty pages there. In the end, I found myself with a lore of exactly two hundred pages when it came time to submit my manuscript, Three Cheers for Father Donovan, to the publisher. Then came, The Pontchartrain Connection. I never experience a need for any “down time” when I wrote that novel. For some reason, with that novel, I was in a state of perpetual “writer’s groove” from start to finish. {Writer’s groove is what I call that weird clarity of knowing full well beforehand as to where this is all going and how my characters will get there.} Once again, after handing my publisher the manuscript for, The Pontchartrain Connection, I did find myself examining those two hundred pages and saying, “J.D., let’s finish it.” So I did. Hence, everything from the point when Sherrie and Sheba fall in love onward constitutes the new novel. Everything prior to that is the old. As my copy-editor, Mandy, told me after a review of my old script, “Gee, J.D., why all the sex?” Answer: “I was toying around when I wrote it.”

So, why in the hell am I boring my readers to death with this whining confession as to why I wrote what amounts to a trashy potboiler? Well folks, the answer to that is two-fold: One, it makes for a fun read. Two, another epic is in the works. Yes, it’s about to happen all over again. I am now toiling with my attempt to mate Mary Shelly’s novel, Frankenstein, with Dale Brown’s novel, The Da Vinci Code. The outcome will be something I call, The Maltese Messiah. Now, there is some good news: I have in the works not one, but two novels to fall back on should I need a break…The sequel to this novel, The Unholy Family, and the follow-on novel, The Run for the Roses…

May the God of Our Fathers be with me!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665528955

John D. Loscher

John “J.D.” Loscher holds a Masters Degree in Public Administration and is a Certified Teacher. He served in the United States Air Force and is a veteran of the 1991 Persian Gulf War. His novels, Three Cheers For Father Donovan, along with the epic two-volume narrative, The Bolsheviks, put him at the forefront as an author of historical fiction. He authored the novels The Heart of the Matter, The Pontchartrain Connection, and The Maltese Messiah. He is the dramatist for a highly successful double trilogy. The first trilogy: Coming Out of the Dark, The Black Madonna, and In the Hands of the Gods. The second trilogy: To Slay a Dragon, The Unholy Family, and The Run for the Roses. Writing under the penname of J.D. Cooper, he wrote the novel Window to the Soul. He is currently hard at work researching and writing his next novel.

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2021 John D. Loscher. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/28/2021

ISBN: 978-1-6655-2896-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-2894-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-2895-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021911913

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Author’s Note

Book I

Pouring The Foundation

When Raptors Feast

How On Earth Did I Get Myself Involved In This?

Book II

Happy Anniversary…

Happy Anniversary…

Happy Anniversary…

Happy Anniversary…

When Titans Clash

Different Strokes For Different Folks

When Prejudice Rears Its Ugly Head

Book III

Admit A New Player

Surveying The Homestead

To Take The Bad With The Good

Fame…Fortune…And Fear

Bestowing Regality Upon A Child Of The Night

Admit One Ticketholder To The Carnival From Hell

What Happens Upon Learning There Is Definitely No More Ace Left In The Hole And Growing Old Is No Longer An Option

Book IV

A Scapegoat To The Rescue

Avoiding The Fallout At All Costs

When That Single Thread Holding The Sword Of Damocles Is Cut

Epilogue

Afterward

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

As always, the situations and incidents pertaining to my characters and their exploits described herein exist solely within the author’s imagination.

In memory of the late Nick Winebruner and Jennette Willamette. Why is it the comrades we love the most from work are the same ones we lose too early?

BOOK I

POURING THE FOUNDATION

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WHEN RAPTORS FEAST

T he two women were opposite; yet, analogous at the same time. To begin with, one was black and the other white. While one was a mathematical genius, the other found it such a struggle to balance her checkbook every month that she turned her finances over to Quicken and remained content to let a computer take care of her money. However, the mathematician was also flawed. Oh sure, she could compute quadratic calculus equations in her head. In spite of that, she was universally detested by her co-workers because she could not deal with people. Her counterpart, on the other hand, was a woman loved by all who knew her. Not surprisingly, one of these women suffered from bouts of depression with suicidal inclinations, while the other was acknowledged by all to be the happiest girl in the whole U.S.A. The happy girl was a stylishly sharp dresser too. Never so much as a wrinkle could ever be found on her blouse or skirt. On the other hand, the sad girl naturally cared little for her appearance and her clothing reflected that melancholy. Her constant presentation of a disheveled, sloppy appearance complimented her dreary outlook. Yet, despite these glaring differences, both were distinguished graduates from two of Chicago’s premier schools of law. Currently, both were at the pinnacle of their careers—and the elder of these two women was only thirty-one years old! Both were good friends; both wore glasses; both were single mothers; each had a pair of children—one male and one female; both were non-smokers; and neither one could cook worth a tinkers damn.

On paper, Counselor Candi Washington, as Chief Legal Officer for Sharanski Enterprises and Private Attorney to the Chief Executive Officer—a man who was also a corporate lawyer by degree—was the senior of these two. As the daughter of a dentist from Aurora, Illinois, Counselor Washington had enjoyed a rather privileged upbringing. Not only did she attend the most elite of Chicago’s private schools from kindergarten on up, with her deceased uncle being none other than Harold Washington, first African-American Mayor of Chicago, Candi was a woman for whose color of skin had proven to be no handicap. Her pedigree allowed for easy access to what passed as High Society within the City of the Big Shoulders. That proved fortunate. Candi found the idea of spending an eternity labeled as the token black to be revolting. She would enjoy success in her own right and on her own terms...not anybody else’s. As a magna cum laude graduate from the University of Chicago Law School, Candi had gone to work at Sharanski Enterprises as a young attorney out to make a name for herself. It didn’t take long for Candi to impress twenty-five-year-old Counselor Janos Rearchek, then Chief Legal Officer and Private Attorney to the Chief Executive Officer…but then the CEO was his biological mother! Some fine work on a special project sealed Candi’s fate: Janos trusted her implicitly. So much so that he named her as his replacement when promoted to Operation Director at twenty-six. When Janos became CEO a few months shy of his twenty-seventh birthday, Candi was able to add the title, Private Attorney to the Chief Executive Officer, to her résumé.

Her counterpart, Counselor Leah Gordon, was four years Candi’s junior. She began her career as Candi’s legal secretary during her first year of law school. Upon the start of the second year, Leah moved on to become Candi’s paralegal assistant. She clerked for Candi as an intern—yet she still received a paycheck—during her final year. Upon passing the bar, Leah got a BIG promotion. As the Deputy Chief Legal Officer for Sharanski Enterprises, Leah comfortably played second fiddle within the company’s hierarchy. But that too was only on paper. A summa cum laude graduate from Northwestern’s Union College of Law, the legal credentials advertised by this former small-town girl from Vermont were by no means any less impressive than those of her African-American counterpart. As Private Attorney to the Chairman of the Board, Leah had direct access to the company’s founder, Drusilla Rearchek. Yes, Drusilla officially retired when she relinquished the office of CEO in order to accept what was largely a ceremonial position. Yet, everyone recognized how the influence of Mrs. Drusilla Rearchek loomed large over Sharanski Enterprises. Furthermore, Leah, like Mrs. Doris Langer, had been adopted so to speak as a sister by the company’s founder. Only for Leah and Doris, this honor was a concept for which the term, blood brothers, did not even begin to do justice. A Trekkie both old and new since her childhood, Leah—like Doris—was Gin-Tar…which in the Klingon language translated into an advisor so trusted that she had become a part of the family. In essence, both Leah Gordon and Doris Langer were now scions of the House of Rearchek!

In accordance with their dichotomy, each woman was the best. In most companies, the head of the department is an administrator and thus—more or less—a business executive. The deputy, on the other hand, is a manager for whom day-to-day work scheduling and evaluation of personnel becomes the primary responsibility. But with Leah being a meticulous bean counter and Candi being a dynamic people person, these two women—by mutual agreement—simply ignored the designation which came with their titles and reversed roles. The outcome? Harmony!

Demanding schedules aside, the mid-day meal was always a private affair for these two women. As was her custom, Candi was dining on a bowl of Ramen noodles flavored with a splash of soy sauce. When it came to preparing nourishing meals, Candi lived out of a microwave oven. Her freezer was full of packaged, pre-processed TV-style dinners all alphabetically arranged. For Candi, her idea of cooking consisted of simply tossing one of these packages in the microwave and then feasting in six to eight minutes. Beyond this, boiling water—for which Candi always used a microwave—was all there was when it came to cooking. Leah’s culinary skills were even worse! (Though she graduated valedictorian of her high school class, competition between Leah and the salutatorian proved intense due to the only non-A grade Leah ever received in high school. Somehow, by the grace of God, Leah managed to squeak by with a D in Home Ec!) In addition to the TV show Star Trek, Leah became addicted to junk food during her childhood. She was a firm believer in the motto: "If God wanted women to cook, he wouldn’t have invented McDonalds. Hence, daily nutrition for Counselor Gordon consisted of sugar, grease, alcohol, and toxic chemicals. Today, Leah was having her typical mid-day fare—a quarter-pound hamburger purchased from a nearby fast-food joint with lettuce, tomato, ketchup, mustard, and secret sauce—Thousand Island dressing—dripping everywhere. Candi marveled watching Leah eat. It was so much in tune with her slovenly persona. In perfect conjunction with her junk-food junkie character, there were always two enormous coffee mugs which occupied a prominent place on Leah’s desktop. The first of these mugs was actually used for drinking hot coffee—the beverage which sustained Leah from the moment she reported for duty each morning until quitting time at the close of the day. Like her overall appearance, Leah’s coffee cup was badly stained—a consequence of being run through a dishwasher once or maybe twice a year whether it needed it or not…which it did—with a permanent brownish film. To many of Leah’s co-workers, this coffee-stained mug was absolutely grotesque. However, it also served to spawn a running joke at Sharanski Enterprises: So, you think you’re brave? Prove it, man. Show us some REAL courage: TAKE A DRINK FROM LEAH’S COFFEE CUP!!!" The other coffee mug was just as important—at times more so—to the young attorney: This cup was also just as heavily stained. Only this cup was constantly lined with a greasy residue…for it served as the repository for the cheetos, fritos, pretzels, nacho chips, raisins, M&Ms, assorted nuts, or trail mix. Whatever just happened to be the assorted combination of munchie snacks—Leah always referred to them as her energy foods—which happened to find their way into this cup at any given time. Thus, along with guzzling her coffee non-stop, the girl would snack continuously throughout the day. She did so in order to provide herself with what she maintained to be an abundance of the so-called nourishment that she so desperately needed in order to get her through her demanding workday.

Finished up on Janos’ closing? Leah inquired before gorging herself on another mouthful of warm, dead animal.

The interior decorators should be done by the end of the week, Candi replied, before spearing a piece of pasta. They should be ready to move inta the place immediately thereafter. That’s good. Per Janos, Konstantina supposedly has her heart set on hosting some big anniversary bash to christen her new summer palace.

Well, they will have been married for three years now, Leah pointed out, just before taking her final bite.

Naw, there’s more to this little wing-ding than just the two of them.

Whaddaya sayin’, Candi?

"What I’m sayin’ is this: Leah, Janos’ wife wants to make up for their, umm, shall we say, ‘abortive cruise,’ by hosting a grand anniversary party to christen their humble, multi-million dollar, Chicago-getaway abode…"

As an obviously bored Counselor Gordon proceeded to use her blouse sleeve to wipe the grease off her fingers, Counselor Washington continued with her tale:

"…Only she wants to celebrate everybody’s anniversary at one time…your big sister and her husband…your big sis and her husband…and the one-year anniversary of your big sister’s youngest daughter gettin’ ceremoniously hitched to the youngest son of your big sis!"

What about Tomas and Madonna or the Captain and Eloise for that matter? Candi noted. Granted, they both may have gotten married over the Memorial Day weekend, but that’s still pretty close, eh?

Yeah, I’ll admit, that is pretty close to the month of June, Leah pointed out as she reached for her processed cola-flavored sugar-water once her fingers were clean. But, with newly promoted Navy Captain Timothy Rearchek finishing up his astronaut training? There’s no way he can marshal his ‘troops’ so to speak to get outta Houston right now. Not with the start of his mission fast approaching.

Candi snickered. She had to admit that she rather liked her counterpart describing Timothy Rearchek’s family as ‘troops.’ It was appropriate. When the former Miss Eloise Prebble became the bride of then Ensign Rearchek, no one—the exception being only his wife and daughters Hannah and Pamela—ever addressed Timothy by his first name. Outside of a few private moments, even members of the Rearchek family addressed this eldest son of Geoffrey and Drusilla by the title that went with his rank as an officer of the United States Navy. Furthermore, with his wife Eloise being the daughter of now retired Admiral James Prebble, Chief of Naval Operations? These factors combined—perhaps conspired—to make Capt. Rearchek patriarch of a red, white, and blue American military family with his wife and daughters something akin to sailors without uniforms!

Now, when it comes to Madonna? Leah continued. As usual, the Benelli family will be graciously hosting the tribe that belongs to those two.

That makes sense with all those kids, Candi admitted with a hearty laugh. There’s no way that Michigan beach house would ever be big enough to have them all staying there at the same time!

Like before, Leah nodded in profound agreement. Mrs. Tomas Benelli…the former Miss Madonna Rearchek…was yet again pregnant. Giving birth to heirs of the Benelli banner seemed to be the one thing the middle daughter of Geoffrey and Drusilla managed to do best during the course of her decade-long marriage. As a result, Madonna would soon be giving birth to child number eight! Furthermore, to the utter delight of the doting grandparents that were her in-laws, Madonna made known her intentions that she and her husband wanted another seven to twelve more children after this one! That fact that Madonna chose to celebrate her wooden anniversary with her husband’s parents rather than her own was quite fitting. For Madonna’s Polish Rearchek blood was plasma at best. As her married name indicated, Mrs. Tomas Benelli truly was a Benelli. Nothing else. What that meant was this: The eldest Rearchek son remained firmly committed to fulfilling another ‘obligation’ prerequisite to his highly distinguished military career. The middle Rearchek daughter would dutifully celebrate her anniversary with her Italian in-laws. Then, of course, there was Doris Drusilla…Dee Dee. This breathtakingly-beautiful, shrewd businesswoman born as the eldest Rearchek daughter was now doing the very thing that came to her as naturally as making money…‘playing the field’ in search of a new beau. It was the outcome from the divorce capping off her fourth failed marriage! With all the players now accounted for, Leah’s thoughts quickly returned to the ‘contestants’ in this upcoming drama slated to be hosted in a mansion situated on the shores of Lake Michigan.

Let’s see...

Always the meticulous number-cruncher, Counselor Gordon amused herself by calculating the mathematics:

…Hmmm, it’ll be a total of thirty-two years now of wedded bliss for my big sister and the doc—

Not to mention their full first year of retirement! Candi interrupted, reaching for a nearby paper napkin as she spoke.

Yup!

And it’ll be three for the boss and his wife.

Keep goin’!

Your big sis and her make-believe doc of a husband…two years—

And one year for the prince and princess! Counselor Gordon broke in, sensing that it was now her turn to finish up the other party’s statement. Or, is it the other way around when it comes to those two?

Counselor Washington smirked outright upon hearing this by her friend and co-worker. She proceeded to nod her head in agreement with Leah’s insightful observation before tossing the spent paper napkin into a nearby trash can. It was an accepted fact that, as the offspring of the company’s founder, all five of the Rearchek children held a certain special status within the framework of Sharanski Enterprises. {The same also held true for their wives, husbands, or offspring. Only ex-wives and ex-husbands found themselves ostracized.} It was a simple case whereby, "What the king wants, the king gets!" All five Rearchek children were privy to this axiom. However, it fell exclusively upon the youngest child—currently a pre-med student in college—to be the only sibling who never failed to invoke this proverb in order to press her own advantage whenever possible. However, that very same trait also served to make the baby of the Rearchek family most unpopular.

I’ve been told Konstantina swears she’s never gonna go to sea again, Leah continued, changing the subject. Fresh or saltwater.

Counselor Washington shook her head in a disgusted manner.

I like Janos’ wife, Candi confessed. She’s good for him and he loves her to no end. But for God sakes, she won’t ride a roller coaster because she gets nauseous. Riding a Merry-Go-Round can make her dizzy. She gets carsick. She gets airsick. She gets seasick. But, despite all that, she goes out on a Lake Michigan cruise aboard the Rearchek family yacht during the spring stormy season with eight-to twelve foot swells at two months pregnant. Humph! Care to guess why Konstantina mighta spent the entire voyage in her cabin with Janos and the kids puking her guts out?

It was probably that slice of bad pizza she ate, Leah speculated.

Candi snorted once to demonstrate her outright dismissal of Leah’s diagnosis.

So, how are you comin’ along with this vineyard thing? Candi asked her understud.

It a winery, Candi, Leah corrected.

It grows grapes on a vine, doesn’t it?

Yeah.

Then it’s a vineyard.

Call it what you want. It’s a money-loser if there ever was one.

I dunno, Leah. Everything your ‘big sister’ seems to touch always turns to gold.

"Trust me, it won’t happen this time."

What makes ya so sure?

Do you know who my ‘big sister’ has tapped to run this winery slash vineyard?

Counselor Washington shook her head. In reply, Counselor Gordon uttered a single name. Candi’s eyes practically bugged out of their sockets. The African-American attorney wore a stunned, look on her face that clearly said, "You’ve got to be shitting me!"

No mother fucking way! Counselor Washington exploded, her people skills completely forgotten.

I’m afraid so, Candi, Counselor Gordon confirmed. It seems my big sis has somehow worked her magic yet again and bewitched our company’s founder.

Upon hearing this, one African-American attorney went ballistic:

Jesus Christ! Candi stormed. When will she EVER learn?

"Oh, after they put her foot in the grave, I reckon," Leah estimated.

"For God sakes, Leah, his track record is awful! He’s even been fired by Sharanski…twice!"

"May I remind you that the middle son of my big sis has never been fired. He resigned both times after failing the drug test."

In order to keep from getting fired!

Very true.

What the hell ever happened to three strikes and you’re out?

He still has one strike left.

"Not if you count all the other jobs Jose got only because of Drusilla’s influence. When you factor in that, Jose’s been canned around two to the seventh power times and all for the same goddamn thing. He’s an irresponsible compulsive gambler! You can’t depend on the guy…"

Counselor Washington stopped to reconsider for a moment.

…other than to fuck up, that is.

What makes you so sure he hasn’t got his shit together this time by turning over a new leaf?

I did his dad’s divorce a few years back.

"I thought your boss did that? At least, that’s what I’ve always been told…privately and off the record, of course, but I got it straight from the mouth of my big sister and the individual in question."

Janos wrote the petitions, I grant you; but, I was the one who had to go to court and represent that no-good, wife-beating, son-of-a-bitch. Even back then, when it came to her three boys, it was always the middle child of your big sis that proved to be a handful.

"That’s a good way to describe him…he is a handful! Of her three boys, I’d say he’s the one most like his father."

Counselor Washington then began to plead:

"Leah, you’re her baby sister! Can’tcha say something which will convince Drusilla of the folly she’s embarking upon here?" she asked hopefully.

Candi, her mind’s made up, Counselor Gordon firmly declared. "You know how she is when it comes to family…she latches onto kin and she won’t let go of them…Janos is the same damn way too."

But I would have more faith in my ex-husband!

I wouldn’t.

Oh Leah, Gregg just wasn’t the same after the Cubs traded him to Toronto for a relief pitcher and minor league player to be named later, Candi recalled.

We both know the Cubs were just trying to save on salaries, Candi, Leah intoned, trying to make her friend feel better. "With Gregg’s salary of twenty-two million a year for five years? That too deeply cut into the team’s profits."

So they sent him off to the Blue Jays.

And your marriage, like his major league career, went downhill from there.

Especially when you factor in Canada’s tax rates. Good God, even with Gregg’s salary, he needed an allowance from me just to make ends meet.

And like I said, Candi, it all went downhill from there.

Well, I cut off his allowance on the day we separated.

"Candi, if I had gone to Toronto in order to throw my husband a surprise birthday party and then found my husband and the father of my two children in bed doing sixty-nine with another man? Candi, I swear to you, I WOULD HAVE CUT OFF A HELLUVA LOT MORE THAN JUST HIS ALLOWANCE!!!"

Is that why you elected to give birth to your kids out of wedlock, Leah?

I found it to be far less complicated, she admitted.

Oh yeah? Counselor Washington challenged. So tell me, how are your little twins, Brandon and Miranda, dealing with the fact that their daddy is now a girl, Leah?

That’s the part I haven’t yet tried to explain to my kids.

Are you able to explain it to yourself?

Hell no.

I thought as much.

"You know, I thought it was rough when Mickey walked out on me once he learned I had just gotten pregnant with the twins after two years together. Granted, we never married, but I always liked to think that we were a family."

You know, you didn’t have to carry that pregnancy to term, Leah, Candi pointed out.

As she had always done whenever the issue of abortion was mentioned, Counselor Gordon shook her head in outright dismissal.

I’m not a murderer, Candi, Leah replied. "And now, whenever I hold my children, just the thought of me even having considered the possibility of doing something which would have kept me from holding them? That absolutely sickens me to no end. I mean, you just can’t blame an innocent child for its shithead parents!"

Upon hearing this proclamation of love, Counselor Washington decreed to herself that it would be unwise to torment her friend and work partner any further. She proceeded to change the subject by lamenting over her own marital misfortunes:

"With Gregg signing over custody of our two kids to me in exchange for three thousand a month in child support and my silence concerning his bisexuality as a part of the divorce decree? All in all, it was a fair deal. But for you—"

I was able to cope with it when Mickey packed his bags and left, Candi, Leah interrupted with her frank confession. "But when Mickey became Michaela right after the birth of the twins? Candi, when that happened, for the second time in my life I was ready to down an entire bottle of cyanide capsules in a single gulp."

I knew it was bad for you, Counselor Washington tearfully informed her co-worker and friend. "But I didn’t know it was that bad. Why didn’t you tell me?"

I told Doctor Rearchek, Leah sniffled. Thank God for him, Candi…

Leah’s sniffling continued. She spoke the remainder between sniffles:

"He saved my life…Candi…for the second time…the husband of my big sister…he kept me from dying by my own hand."

Leah, I’m your friend, Counselor Washington wept. You could have told me. I would have understood. My God, with everything I went through concerning Gregg?

"Candi, with your saga? You had more than enough drama going on in your life. You didn’t need to be saddled with some storied soap-opera involving a co-worker having to deal with being left to raise two kids on her own because the…creature…she trusted enough to be the father of her two children was, in reality, a transsexual."

Does this Michaela ever try to visit its children?

Candi could see Leah bristle.

Sorry, Counselor Washington apologized. I didn’t mean to refer to the father of your kids as an ‘it.’

"Oh, I don’t take any offense to that, Candi, Counselor Gordon acknowledged. But I cringe every time I am compelled to even consider the issue of visitation. Because it’ll be a cold day in hell before I allow this, this, THING called Michaela to ever see my children. And if this Michaela thing thinks he, she, or it is ever gonna be a part of their lives? Should that happen? Both your boss and my big sister have given me solemn assurances that this so-called Michaela will vanish into thin air."

Counselor Washington nodded with understanding. Leah Gordon was Drusilla Rearchek’s baby sister. Now Candi wasn’t aware of the exact particulars, but she was all but certain the Rearchek clan had strong ties to the Chicago Outfit. The fact that Drusilla’s middle daughter, Madonna, was married to Tomas Benelli, the only son of the supposed current Boss of Bosses for the City of Chicago? That marriage right there surely made Drusilla’s connection to La Cosa Nostra an absolute certainty as far as Candi was concerned. However, the fact that the previous don—now the Windy City’s geriatric premier philanthropist—Albino Luciani, was godfather to Janos’ eldest son? That cinched it beyond question! In its storied history, the City of the Big Shoulders’ government, the Roman Catholic Church, and the mafia somehow managed to join forces in order to achieve harmony in the exact same way a trio of violinists must unite in order to perform a beautiful Mozart concerto. Yet, thanks to Al Capone, the Chicago Outfit, unlike the five families of New York, had developed a great distain for blowing people away while the sun was at meridian height. This was the positive outcome from the Chicago gang wars. The Outfit discovered that, for some reason, a random display of excessive firepower in broad daylight always seemed to have a rather nasty way of drawing unwanted attention. That was why when La Cosa Nostra decided it was time to have somebody rubbed out in the Windy City for whatever supposed misdeeds, The Outfit simply made sure that this poor unfortunate soul moved to parts unknown—actually it was always at the bottom of Lake Michigan—and left no forwarding address. Counselor Washington felt certain such would be the fate for this Michaela should he, she, or it ever attempt to go near the children of Leah Gordon. The Chicago mafia would be called upon to ensure this creature simply disappeared!

So, how long do you give Jose Machado to run this vineyard into the ground, Leah? Counselor Washington asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Leah sighed heavily.

My initial estimate is somewhere between thirty to ninety days, Counselor Gordon projected. However, knowing how much love my big sister seems to have for nepotism? It’s hard to tell.

"Your big sister can’t seem to operate without surrounding herself with family members. That’s always been her problem."

Don’t tell me what I already know, Candi, Leah challenged. "But, in my case, that’s really good. In addition to providing me with a very fine paycheck, it keeps me from killing myself and provides me with the loving family I always wanted but never got when I was growing up."

Candi nodded her head a single time in understanding. It was then while licking the last trace of soy sauce from her lips that the light bulb in her brain lit up.

Leah, you know, I think this might be for the best, the African-American attorney theorized.

What makes you think that? Leah retorted.

"This is a train-wreck in the making and we both know it. I say, ‘Take advantage of it!’"

How?

Let’s just sit back and watch the middle son of your big sis go down the tubes…as we both know he will. It’s just a matter of time. Once Jose’s done fuckin’ up by the numbers, I should have no difficulty convincing Janos that, for the sake of the shareholders, we have to get somebody in there who can pick up the pieces and make this venture profitable…or sell this Michigan money pit and mitigate the damages as best as possible. Whaddaya think?

"Hmmm…"

Counselor Leah Gordon found herself mentally mulling over this proposal. It did sound shrewd.

Got a replacement for Jose already in mind? she inquired.

Not yet, but I’ve got a month to find somebody, Candi assured her friend.

Leah did some mental calculations.

All right, Candi, I’ll go along with it, Counselor Gordon agreed, climbing on board the bandwagon. Go ahead and start looking a replacement. You’re not stabbing your boss in the back; you’re only being prudent. Because what you just said makes a whole helluva lotta sense...

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HOW ON EARTH DID I GET MYSELF INVOLVED IN THIS?

D r. Scott Langer, Ph.D., took satisfaction {but perhaps ‘satisfaction’ wasn’t the right word} that the only person he could rightfully curse at this very moment was himself. His stubborn insistence that, when it comes to giving guidance to a sibling, the proverb of, this is man’s work had now come back to haunt him. {Truth be told, it had just bit him in the ass!} For in this case, Scott’s wisdom would be for the benefit of a stepson. Despite the fact that the young man current seated in his home office carried nary a drop of Scott’s blood in his veins, Dr. Langer yet felt obligated to counsel him anyway. The educator told himself {tried to anyway} that his rationale for this course of action was sound. With the boy’s biological father now residing in parts unknown, it fell to Dr. Langer to become the de facto patriarch of his wife’s family as well as the de jure patriarch of his own family on the day he wed. But after his two previous failed marriages, Scott found that he was—finally—able to take it all in stride the way a man should. For this third union was sound. It was for that reason, he vowed before God on the day of his wedding, " I take this woman and her children to be my lawfully wedded wife !" Now it was time to prove the validity of that oath. Thus, in order to stay true to his pledge, Scott began by establishing the ambiance: He poured two glasses of wine—one for himself and one for his stepson—who remained seated quietly in his office. Picking up his wineglass, Scott elevated the goblet towards his stepson. Dr. Langer proceed to invoke the blessing:

"Pacem en terra…to peace on Earth."

Jose Machado nodded once. He knew this was the official toast belonging to another family. Granted, his stepfather may have adopted it, but all things considered, Jose recognized how appropriate the toast was…especially for a situation such as this. Besides, upon guessing what to expect as the outcome from this meeting with his stepfather, he craved the alcohol!

Jose took a careful sip.

You like it? a concerned Dr. Langer inquired after watching the young man take his initial sip.

It’s quite good, Dr. Langer’s stepson admitted truthfully. Jose then took a second, larger drink from his own goblet. Satisfied with the pleasantries, Jose set the goblet down on an end table next to his seat. It was time to get down to business.

Somehow, I don’t think you and I are here to discuss vintage wines, Jose declared, launching his opening salvo.

In reply, Scott took his own second sip before answering:

"Young man, you are dead wrong about that!"

Care to enlighten me on that one?

I’ll be happy to.

Don’t leave me in suspense too long, Dr. Langer.

Well, Jose, let me begin by pointing out that, unlike your other two brothers, let’s just say life hasn’t been especially kind for you.

Jose snorted in disgust.

Please don’t tell me it’s wonderful to live the celibate life as Juan does! an incensed Jose Machado snarled.

"Hmmm…We might say your older brother did elect, of his own free will, of course, to forsake some of life’s, umm…finer pleasures…when he entered the priesthood, Scott conceded. But he is now a monsignor of the Roman Catholic Church. And, with Drusilla’s connections? Huh! It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if your older brother, Juan, ends up as a bishop or maybe even more."

Juan’s a fag! Jose bellowed dismissively.

I gotta give your older brother the benefit of a doubt, Jose, Dr. Langer retorted.

What the hell does that mean?

It means your older brother may not be a fruit, Jose, Scott explained. But, I’ll admit, Juan definitely hangs out around the orchard!

Jose snickered. It’s was a clever notation…and it was funny too. Jose had to confess that. It was the one trait about his stepfather that Jose did envy: the guy was very quick-witted. He was also famed for possessing a notoriously wicked, black sense of humor. Yes, as his stepfather entertainingly pointed out, his older brother had elected to give up the joys of sexual intercourse by choosing to remain celibate when he entered the priesthood. Yet, by virtue of his successful career as a man of cloth, Jose Machado did respect his older brother. How could anyone in their right mind not…

Monsignor Juan Machado was acknowledged to be something of a maverick within the Archdiocese of Chicago. It was a designation which suited him well. From the day of ordination, Father Machado lived his vocation as a pastor shepherding his flock. Swearing off the prosperous suburban parishes, he actively ministered to inner city churches which cared for those whom society had purposefully marginalized…the poor and the disenfranchised. His disdain for the wealthy suburban parishes that were the hallmark of success for a Roman Catholic cleric even spilled over beyond the City of the Big Shoulders: his annual summer vacation always involved missionary work in Haiti—the poorest country in the western hemisphere! It all boiled down to the fact that Father Machado was a parish priest far more comfortable with feeding the hungry and caring for the sick than managing a stock portfolio or giving the invocation at some monthly country club board meeting! As such, he was out of favor with the clerical hierarchy which ran the Archdiocese of Chicago—the cardinal-archbishop especially! The Windy City’s rather worldly Prince of the Roman Catholic Church never forgot and remained quite bitter at having Father Machado forced down his throat by the former Boss of Bosses for the Genovese Crime Family. How dare anyone from the laity dictate anything to a man of the church? In this case, it involved the head of the Outfit, the richest woman in America, and her heir joining forces to demand that Father Juan Machado be installed as pastor of a well-to-do parish on Chicago’s Goldcoast! Normally, regardless of life’s station, no member of the laity can do any such thing when it comes to the Roman Catholic Church. However, in this case, with the consequence of facing a life sentence in a federal penitentiary without parole should he fail to comply, the cardinal regretfully relented. In the end, Father Machado found himself pastor of a church taking in over eleven thousand dollars a week in donations! Any other Roman Catholic cleric, after having finished tap dancing for joy, would have dared not upset the status quo. Father Machado proved to be the exception.

Things got off to a bad start almost immediately when he arrived as the new pastor for the parish of Christ Our Savior…a highly coveted posting famed for being jokingly—but actually quite truthfully—called Money Our Savior! When surrounded by a hoard of affluent, God-fearing, rich white people dedicated to Make America Great Again—snobbish parishioners who pompously referred to their parish with gushing pride as The Church of the Most Holy Saint Donald Trump—the Hispanic Father Machado purposefully did himself no favors in the eyes of the parish elite by personally tearing down all the signs posted on parish property which read: NO TRESPASSING—VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED on the first day of his arrival. The replacement placards won him even fewer converts amongst the upper-class parishioners: ALL ARE WELCOME HERE. It got worse from there. At the insistence of Father Machado, infants of African-American heritage were allowed to be admitted to the parish daycare center. Upon noticing how care for African-American infants appeared lacking when compared to those infants who were Caucasian, Father Machado suggested to a caregiver the need to show some comfort to a crying infant of African-American heritage. The response he got shocked him:

"Oh, I don’t hold black babies!" she answered him dismissively.

Father Machado terminated the woman right on the spot. The very next day, her attorney—also an upstanding parishioner—handed Father Machado legal documents informing him that he and the parish were now being sued by this former caregiver for wrongful discharge and violation of her civil rights. Dumfounded, Father Machado attempted to explain the rationale for his actions. He was rudely dismissed:

"Look, Father Taco, it’s high time you realized this is Tea Party Parish," the lawyer snapped. "We are all very proud plutocrats here at Christ Our Savior. We make sure the jig-a-boos already have their own daycare…It’s called, ‘Death Row!’"

Sensing a promising chance to purge himself of this pesky thorn in his side, Chicago’s cardinal-archbishop proceeded to give Father Machado even more responsibilities by naming him pastor of three additional parishes. After all, this was common practice. Due to the shortage of priests, it was not the least bit unusual for a single priest to minister to multiple parishes all at the same time. However, it just so happened that all three of these new parishes assigned to Father Machado were impoverished inner-city churches struggling to remain afloat. Remaining true to his calling, Father Machado began diverting surplus funds from Christ Our Savior to support the other three. This generosity REALLY did not sit well with the wealthy parishioners. Sending sacred parish monies to fund to other churches? This was financial mismanagement at best and criminal at worst! Night after night Father Machado returned phone calls to scores of angry parishioners who reminded him that it was because of THEIR donations that Christ Our Savior was even built to begin with…that made it their parish—because they paid for it! A few were even brazen enough to DEMAND a refund…and these parishioners even went so far as to submit statements to Father Machado documenting just exactly how much money they were owed!

"You’re as bad as our no-good Pope Lenin from Argentina! one angry parishioner scolded the pastor of Christ Our Savior. You and the rest of your lazy-ass kind from south of the Rio Grande need to stop licking food stamps like the miserable parasites you are and start reading the Bible for a change, JESUS WAS CAPITALIST! It’s written in the Bible: ‘For to everyone who has will more be given, and he will have an abundance. But from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.’"

Father Machado had to admit that was true. It was written in the Gospel of St. Matthew. However, St. Matthew also wrote that Our Jesus Christ warned the people as part of his first Sermon on the Mount that being greedy and selfish was the pathway to hell. ‘Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but, lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Because no one can serve two masters. For either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will be loyal to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.’

Exasperated, the caller began screaming at the Hispanic Roman Catholic cleric with the utmost of pure hatred:

"JESUS OF NAZARETH NEVER SAID ANY OF THAT!!! THAT GOSPEL PASSEGE WAS WRITTEN BY THAT PHONY GREEK, LUKE, THE PERSONAL PHYSICIAN TO PAUL OF TARSUS; AND, PAUL OF TARSUS WAS THE BIGGEST JEW SWINDLER OF THEM ALL!!! WHY IS IT YOU BLACK-ASS, SOCIALIST FREELOADERS CANNOT UNDERSTAND HOW OUR SAVIOR WAS NEVER SOME STINKING JEW!!! NO!!! OUR SAVIOR WAS THE PRODIGY OF A WHITE ARYAN MERCENARY SERVING IN THE ROMAN ARMY WHO SPOKE ONLY GOD’S HOLY LANGUAGE OF ENGLISH!!! OUR SAVIOR NEVER WOULD HAVE DELIBERATELY CONTRADICTED HIMSELF BY TELLING A BUNCH OF COMMUNIST LIES!!!"

With that, the caller hung up the phone on Father Machado. Despite all the negativity, Father Juan Machado…Father Taco as he was now known by a vast number of his parishioners…stood his ground. When it finally dawned on these good Roman Catholics that, Father Taco, would not budge, a flood of letters bombarded the Archdiocese of Chicago. All called for Father Machado’s immediate removal. Things seemed bleak. With no one to talk to, Father Machado confessed his sins to the one person he knew would listen—his mother. That was when a beloved saving angel graced Father Machado.

It began one typical Sunday morning at the late morning/early afternoon cardinal’s mass at Chicago’s Holy Name Cathedral—the last service of the day. The newly installed President of the Chicago Bank and Trust, and the alleged new Boss of Bosses for the Genovese Crime Family, Gino Benelli, was in attendance along with his wife and entourage—the Underbosses, Capos, Soldiers, and Associates along with their wives and children. Also making an appearance that day was Tomas Benelli, only son of the don and his wife, the former Madonna Rearchek, along with their six children plus another baby on the way! Madonna’s parents also put in an appearance with the Langer family as their guests. Pleased with preaching to so many V.I.P.’s, the cardinal began mass as he always did—with a grand opening. The reading from the Old Testament then commenced. The choir singing the prescribed Psalm in beautiful harmony followed. Then came the mandatory recitation from one of the Letters of the blessed St. Paul. The reading from the New Testament rounded out the day’s scripture lessons. Rising from his throne, the Cardinal-Archbishop of Chicago swaggered up to the pulpit as fast as his hangover would allow. He was eager to deliver his homily so as to commence with the most important part of the Holy Mass…the Offertory! But before the cardinal had a chance to finish his first sentence, Gino Benelli stood up. His wife followed suit. The entire mafia entourage did likewise. Tomas Benelli and his growing family followed. Next to follow was the Rearchek family and the Langer family. All then proceeded to form their own procession by turning their backs on the cardinal as they walked out the main isle of Holy Name Cathedral. The cardinal was dumbfounded. Holy Name Cathedral was Chicago’s undisputed mob church since the days before Al Capone! The wiseguys of the Chicago Outfit always made it a point of honor to keep holy the Sabbath Day at Holy Name Cathedral. How can these sinners be so rude? This was a question the cardinal would have to grapple with until his dying day. He could not understand why ANYONE would choose to leave church before donating their tithe to him! With Holy Name Cathedral now practically empty, the cardinal could only wonder what was going on. He learned later how all those who departed celebrated the Holy Eucharist that Sunday morning at an inner city parish where Father Juan Machado just happened to be the priest saying mass. After the service, Gino Benelli made a deliberate show to accept a personal blessing from Father Machado before he departed.

"You preach a fine sermon, Father, Don Benelli announced after receiving his blessing. I must say, I haven’t been this spiritually moved in quite some time. By the way, I look forward to hearing more of your wisdom in the future!"

From that day, Gino Benelli would only worship in churches where Father Machado said mass…and where the don of the Genovese Crime Family worshipped, so did his entourage of Underbosses, Capos, Soldiers, and Associates. The word went out to all the bosses. It would remain unspoken, yet it might as well have been broadcast from the loudest amplifier. Father Juan Machado would be their pastor. Membership in all four parishes soared! Donations began pouring in! A funny thing happened too. For hordes of various reasons, it seemed many business and/or professional licenses possessed by certain parishioners belonging to Christ Our Savior parish were suddenly suspended, denied, or revoked! Father Machado? Shortly thereafter he was summoned to Rome. At a mass celebrated underneath Michelangelo’s dome at St. Peter’s Basilica, Father Machado was advanced to the grade of Monsignor of the Roman Catholic Church at the hands of the Holy Father as a reward for his splendid ministry...

For Dr. Scott Langer, Ph.D., his earlier bit of clever wit was a mere mental exercise which came with his profession as a scholar and educator. His droll, black-humored persona always allowed him the ability to capture the interest of a disinterested audience—a classroom filled with somewhat lazy students—whenever the elected legislative politicians prescribed coursework became boring…which it often was. So, content with having analyzed one successful stepson, Dr. Langer promptly moved onto the next success story:

Now, your younger brother, with his being accepted into the accelerated veterinary program at the University of Illinois? Well, I would say Julio appears to be well on his way to fulfilling his life’s dream of becoming a veterinarian.

Dr. Langer’s stepson purpled.

Don’t even try to snow ME with that lofty load of bullshit, Jose scornfully warned his stepfather. "Julio was NEVER accepted into that program…His wife got him in!"

Jealous, I take it, because your kid brother married well? Dr. Langer answered his stepson with an accusatory tone.

"YOU BET I AM!!! WHY SHOULDN’T I BE??? Jose stormed without the least bit of shame. Just because Anastasia can now lick his cock anytime she feels like it, Julio gets to drive around town in a fully loaded two-hundred-thousand-dollar midnight blue McLaren 12C Spider with all the accessories! Huh! Jesus Christ! How can anyone think highly of him? Shit, Julio’s turned out to be nothing more than just another one of those shithead, no-name, Joe-Smuck dudes who gets married to some rich bitch like Britney Spears, Sandra Bullock, or LeAnn Rimes…a well-kept husband!"

Scott sighed. For There was more than just a smidgen of truth here.

Must you be so graphic? Dr. Langer asked in disappointment.

Why be shy about it, Doctor Langer? Jose countered, sneering each word as hatefully as possible. Was it any different for you when you fucked the shit out of my mother and knocked her up in the process?

"Jose, when it comes to the subject of my wife and your mother, it has taken me a long time…A VERY LONG TIME, young man, to come to terms with our relationship. So let me be kind enough to enlighten you about a few things: First off, our daughter is named Milagra Aurora…which, as you know, means ‘miracle’ in Spanish. Her middle name is indicative of how she is the light of our lives. Secondly, coming to us as she did so late in life? Let me tell you, young man, your sister—"

"Half-sister!" the angry Hispanic lad broke in to correct his stepfather. However, Scott refused to take the bait. Instead, he ignored the taunt from his stepson and kept on speaking as if he had never been interrupted:

"…is extremely well-named! Finally, never once in my entire life have I EVER fucked your mother! Every single time I’ve taken your mother into my arms…even on that VERY FIRST time…I made love to her!"

Oh, how romantic.

Son, if you are trying to piss me off, you are doing one hell of a good job!

"I’M NOT YOUR SON!!!" Jose shouted.

You’re right about that one! Scott agreed, shouting back in reply to the gibe. I’m not the—

Somehow, Dr. Langer was able to stop himself from saying anything further. In the process, Scott was able to keep his vow NEVER to speak ill of the S.O.B. no net discount who had been his wife’s first husband. Upon successfully collecting his wits, Dr. Langer found himself able to speak calmly. He finished his sentence with poise…albeit with more than just a little sarcasm:

…Fine, wonderful human being who gave you the precious gift of life.

Now who’s the one trying to piss me off? Jose asserted, snorting with disgust at having been bested by his well-educated, stepfather. Juan…Julio…Me…We all know how horribly Dad abused Mom.

Then stop hating your mother and I for loving each other, Jose, Scott offered.

"I could never hate her…I don’t hate you, either…I DO hate him…"

As do I, Jose.

Yeah, Doctor Langer, I don’t need you to tell me I’m a major fuck-up, Jose sorrowfully accepted. I don’t know why, but it seems I’ve always been the black sheep of the family.

You have a demon, Jose, Scott diplomatically offered as a possible suggestion to what both men knew was the truth. As did I…well, still do, I guess. But with me, it’s always revolved around a whiskey bottle. For you, it’s a crap table. The only difference between us is that I’ve learned to control my demons and you haven’t.

"So how do I control my…urges?"

Jose, the only way you can ever hope to slay your demons is for you to build some self-esteem.

How do I do that? Join Gambling Anonymous?

Possibly. But listening to what I have to say now would go a long way.

I’m all ears.

Upon making his declaration, Jose picked up his wineglass and downed the contents in a single gulp. But Scott, ever mindful of his alcoholism, took a small, careful sip from his wineglass. He then took a second. To Jose Machado, it seemed the educator who had become his stepfather was lost in thought. It was a correct assessment. However, the object of Dr. Langer’s thoughts concerned not him, but Anastasia Rearchek-Machado, the wife of Jose’s younger brother, Julio…

Scott held a rather disparaging view of the tiny, petite woman who had become the bride of his wife’s youngest son by her first marriage. The reasons were numerous, but they all—more or less—boiled down to the fact that Scott did not trust this woman any farther than he could throw her! A lifelong schoolyard bully coupled with a personality that could only be described as scheming? Yes, in her short lifespan, Anastasia was infamous for being the kind of girl who always got what she wanted…and what she couldn’t have, she took. Scott found the girl to be untrustworthy and downright sneaky. She was the complete opposite of her shy, reserved husband. As the baby of the Rearchek family, Anastasia was the acknowledged brat of the family…with the emphasis on brat! The elopement by the former Miss Anastasia Rearchek, youngest child of Dr. Geoffrey Rearchek and his wife, the former Drusilla Sharanski to a major nobody like Julio Machado, the youngest child of Ernest Machado and the former Doris Alvarez? This surprised Scott to no end. Oh sure, for a hot-blooded sexpot of a girl like Anastasia Rearchek to successfully seduce a naive boy like Julio Machado? That would be mere child’s play for some little vixen like Anastasia. But the fact that she would actually wed Julio after successfully putting yet another notch on her bedpost was the part that mystified Scott to no end. The whole thing seemed rather, well…SUSPICIOUS. Scott recognized how Anastasia Rearchek never did anything without a cleverly crafted reason that was preconceived long beforehand. Not being privy to this ulterior motive only heightened the misgivings Scott felt concerning what his Hispanic bride termed, this mating of Titans. It all happened so fast. The very same night when Dr. Scott and Mrs. Doris Langer returned from their romantic 10-day Lake Michigan honeymoon cruise aboard the Rearchek family yacht, Julio and Anastasia were there on the dock to greet the honeymooners along with the vessel’s owners. It was then that these two young people proclaimed to both families that, yes indeed, they did love each other. They were a couple. They would one day eventually wed too. However, both assured the newlyweds that marriage was completely out of the question until Anastasia was done with medical school and Julio finished veterinary school. So they both said. That assurance was fine for both Dr. and Mrs. Langer as well as Dr. and Mrs. Drusilla Rearchek. An engagement such as this was a sound plan. Hell, Julio and Anastasia would break up and make up a couple hundred times or more by the time they were done with school. So why pay this case of puppy love any attention?

Such naivety would prove to be a fateful mistake!

A mere ninety days later, during the party celebrating the christening of Milagra Aurora Langer, Julio Machado and Anastasia Rearchek apparently suffered a change of heart. {With these two young people tasked to serve as godparents, Scott and Doris put off the christening of their newborn daughter until the Sunday marking the start Christmas break for these two college undergraduates.} Yes, the christening went off without a hitch. So did the party afterwards. But, that evening, both Julio and Anastasia vanished without a trace! Inquires between the Langer and Rearchek clans as to the whereabouts of the baby’s godparents came up empty. Monday came and went with no word from either. Upset with worry, both Scott and Doris Langer took their concerns to the authorities. More or less, Geoffrey and Drusilla did likewise…but they took their concerns to the don of Chicago’s Genovese Crime Family. Tuesday morning passed. Still no word from either. It was then that the CEO for Sharanski Enterprises received an e-mail reading that if Scott and Doris Langer wanted to see Julio Machado, then they needed to attend a video conference to be held at the boardroom of Sharanski Enterprises that evening at 8:00 P.M…Alone. An identical e-mail message concerning Anastasia Rearchek was sent to Geoffrey and Drusilla Rearchek. It went without saying that, when the computer screen was powered up, both the Langer and Rearchek clans were expecting the worst. True to form, both families got exactly what they were expecting.

Precisely at the appointed time the computer screen presented the patriarchs and matriarchs of the Langer and Rearchek clans an image of a smiling Anastasia Rearchek seated alongside an equally happy Julio Machado on a leather sofa. Immediately it seemed to fall to the petite girl to begin speaking while Julio remained silent, wearing a face that Dr. Langer would describe as expressionless. As Scott would come to know, this would become standard procedure:

"Mom…Dad…Doctor Langer…Mommy Doris…you don’t need to worry. We’re fine. So, here’s the good news everyone: Mom, you and Mommy Doris ARE now sisters…BECAUSE WE’RE MARRIED!!!"

"Say what?" Mrs. Langer shrieked to high heavens.

Whether his wife’s outburst triggered Anastasia’s actions was something Dr. Langer could not say. Personally, Scott doubted it. Because Anastasia went on talking as if she didn’t have a care in the world:

"I’m now Missus Julio Rearchek-Machado!" Geoffrey and Drusilla’s youngest child proclaimed with the utmost of joy.

The proof of that declaration came in the form of Anastasia presenting the diamond ring cut in the shape of a heart with matching wedding band which adorned the ring finger of the girl’s left hand…Actually, it was for everyone’s horror. Scott guessed the diamond to be somewhere in the range of ten to twelve carets. All the while, Anastasia’s husband looked on, beaming with delight. Perfectly on cue this youngest Machado son sired during Doris’ first marriage confirmed his bride’s words: Smiling ear to ear the young Hispanic boy raised his left hand to show off the golden wedding band he now wore on the ring finger of his left hand.

"WHERE ARE YOU???"

The question posed by the Rearchek matriarch was no interrogative. It was an order. Like the dutiful daughter she was, Mrs. Julio Rearchek-Machado obeyed the command from the woman who bore her:

"Unlike the Windy City, it’s someplace that’s