Mason's Story by David Camily

Author:David Camily
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: David Camily
Published: 2022-05-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Caleb rubbed his eyes and then returned to the form that was staring at him. Outside, the sounds of the city began to creep in as evening settled over the city. He finished the form, glanced over it for any mistakes, and closed the folder it was in, tossing it into the outbox.

He reached his arms up to stretch out the cramp that was forming in his neck. He grabbed the following file folder and opened it.

Outside the office, Caleb could hear voices. Joseph was talking with someone.

Caleb sighed and glanced at his watch. About an hour and a half before quitting time. He turned back to the form.

“No, I don’t have an appointment!”

Caleb looked up, putting his pen down in the folder.

“Well, Mr. Olivera is very busy. You need to make an appointment. I could probably squeeze you in tomorrow at...”

“No, I’m going to talk to him right now!”

Wait, that voice sounds familiar. What the hell is going on out there?

Caleb stood up from his desk and walked around it.

“No, sir, you can’t go in there!”

“You fucking watch me!”

The door of Caleb’s office came crashing open, and Mason came storming in, surrounded by a thundercloud. Joseph was hot on his heels.

“Mr. Olivera, you have a lot of nerve, you son of a...” Mason’s face froze into a glaze of disbelief. “Son of a...” he stuttered. His eyes were the size of quarters as he scanned Caleb up and down.

“Son of a bitch? My sentiments exactly.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Joseph took a step forward. “I’m sorry, sir. He barged right past me, and...”

Caleb glared at Mason. Then raised his eyes to Joseph. He held up his hand to stop Joseph from approaching. “Thank you, Joseph. I’ll handle this. Please hold my calls.”

Joseph nodded and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.

“Please have a seat, Mason.” Caleb motioned to one of the seats in front of his desk.

Mason glanced down at the letter in his hands, peered up at Caleb, and then looked back at the letter again. “C. Donald Olivera?”

“Caleb Donald Olivera. Nice to finally make your acquaintance properly.”

“I wanna know the meaning of this.” Mason thrust the letter into Caleb’s chest.

Caleb took the letter and read it over. It was his letter to Ethan Dale about the foreclosure of the farm property. Caleb’s eyes went wide. What in the holy fuck did he do? To his benefit, the mortgage was in a different name and he’d had no way of knowing.

“This is a letter I sent Ethan Dale regarding his farm. We held the mortgage, and he was behind on every payment. What does this have to do with you?” Caleb handed Mason back the letter.

“Ethan Dale was my father.”

“What?”

“I’m Mason Dale. My father died about a year or so ago, and I took over the farm.”

Caleb’s heart sank into his stomach. Every colorful word in his vocabulary came flooding up to his mind from somewhere deep inside. “Honestly, Mason, it’s business. It’s nothing personal.

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