Melissas Legacy Ch 02 03

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This story originally appeared as Melissa's Legacy, and was written around Valentine's Day for my wife. There was reader interest in my continuing the story so Chapters Two and Three appear here. I have renamed the original Melissa's Legacy as Chapter One and have made some subtle factual changes in Chapter One to facilitate plot continuity with Chapters Two and Three. Enjoy!

Recap of Chapter One

Galen Kendall was an advertising executive in Manhattan. He lost his wife Melissa to breast cancer about a year ago. On Valentine's Day he saw a homeless woman who reminded him of his late wife. She was shivering in an alcove of a shuttered store. He took pity on her and gave her his coat. He told her he would return the next day to swap his wife's favorite winter coat for his coat. The coat was made by his wife's mother Bea and had a tag in the collar that said "Made with Love by Beatrice." He swapped coats the next day. About three months later Galen was interviewing candidates for an administrative position. As he was escorting the successful candidate to the elevator he was asked by a woman in the lobby (Millie) if the position was still open. Millie reminded him of Melissa. As she was walking away disappointed Galen noticed that her coat was Melissa's and still had the tag that said "Made with Love by Beatrice." Galen felt as if his Melissa returned to him. Chapter Two

I was faced with a dilemma as Millie walked towards the elevator. Did she know that I gave her the coat? Will she be ashamed that I saw her as a homeless person? I can't let her go!

"Millie! I couldn't help noticing your beautiful coat. Where did you get it?"

Millie pivoted to face me. She paused. I'm certain she was trying to decide if she should tell me that it was given to her as an act of charity while she was homeless. Her pause said everything. She didn't know I gave her the coat.

"It was a gift to me," she replied truthfully but of course carefully worded to disguise the whole story.

"Well, it was a very generous gift," I added, hoping that she would reveal more.

"It was, and it was at a difficult time in my life so it meant the world to me." Her statement touched me.

"Sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier, I'm Galen Kendall." We had a stilted handshake. "Look, I was just about to leave the office. I'm so sorry the position was filled but perhaps I can help you find another one. I do have a lot of connections in the advertising business. Do you have time for a cup of coffee before you head home?" I slipped a glance at her left hand. As expected, no wedding ring.

"Uh, sure. I don't have any more appointments today." My heart soared.

I told her to wait in the lobby and I went back to my office to grab my trench coat, the very coat that Millie wore for a day. I doubted that she would recognize it if she hadn't recognized me. I wanted to take her to a friendly spot where we wouldn't feel rushed. I knew just the spot. It was a diner down the street that served burgers and fries in a 50's formatted theme.

I returned to the lobby. Millie was patiently waiting. Before she noticed me I stole another gaze at her. She wasn't a carbon copy of Melissa but she was a truly beautiful woman in her own right. Her matted brown hair was now a luxurious mane of long naturally wavy hair. Her mottled complexion was now a smooth porcelain white.

We rode down the 26 floors to the lobby. We were in a crowded elevator cab so we were closer than we would have been during casual conversation. I felt a peace I hadn't felt since Melissa was at my side.

I took her to the diner. It was only five o'clock so the restaurant was practically empty. I picked a booth in the back of the restaurant. I decided to ease into the conversation. I wanted so badly to take Millie home with me but I didn't want to scare her away. "So Millie, tell me a bit about yourself. It'll help me in recommending some places for you to look for a position."

"I went to Wesleyan College in Middletown, Connecticut and majored in journalism. I worked at the New Britain Herald as a copy editor for about ten years. I've been out of the workforce for about five years. I'd like to get back in some sort of position involving writing. I really enjoyed the technical aspects of writing. I think I would really like to try advertising. It looks like a real challenge to use words with great precision to persuade."

She certainly gets the advertising business.

"I think you're pointed in the right direction. There is a real art to writing ad copy. You won't really know until you try and it seems like you have the background to be successful. You know, I've been to Wesleyan," I replied with enthusiasm. "I went to UMass Amherst and had some friends that went to Wesleyan. I visited them a number of times. It's a beautiful school."

"It was beautiful. I haven't had a chance to go back there for a long time," Millie said wistfully.

The waitress arrived and we each ordered a cup of coffee. I ordered a slice of cherry pie to share with Millie.

We had a delightful time talking about our college days, my upbringing in rural Minnesota and hers in rural Connecticut, and also about what prospects there were for jobs in Manhattan. We found out we both had a love for dogs and would get one when time permitted. The hour was almost seven before we noticed that the diner was full. We decided to have dinner there and we both had the sense that neither of us wanted to leave and neither of us wanted the evening to end.

We got up to leave and I helped her put on her coat. Just touching the coat again brought back a flood of memories. I wanted so badly to turn her around and kiss her. I settled for taking her hand and walking out of the diner with her. As we exited the restaurant into a dark, crisp spring evening I finally couldn't resist the urges that had been building up in me all evening. I turned her toward me and my lips lightly brushed against hers.

"Thank you for spending the evening with me," I said with affection. "You're a beautiful woman and I hope I didn't offend you with the kiss."

Millie held my face in her hands and replied by kissing me full on the lips. Our lips parted and we shared a long kiss followed by an tight embrace.

"It's been a long time for me," Millie admitted. "I've almost forgotten how nice it is to have a dinner and pleasant conversation with a charming and handsome man."

I didn't want to say goodbye and suggested we go to my apartment to continue the conversation. I didn't think I had anything to lose at this point short of following her home. I was relieved and grateful that she accepted. We hailed a cab and made the ten minute ride to my apartment in silence. I couldn't help but compare Millie to Melissa. Millie was quieter, more reserved. She was a few inches taller and was slightly more buxom than Melissa, who had more of an athlete's body. Her hair was much longer and fuller than Melissa's. I desperately wanted to know more about her but felt uncomfortable being forthright in asking.

We arrived at my apartment which thankfully I always keep neat. We sat in my small sitting area with me on the sofa and Millie in an arm chair and shared a bottle of 18 year scotch that I've been savoring over the past few weeks. It's good to know that she knows and appreciates scotch. I decided to lay my cards on the table. "Millie, I'm sure you noticed I'm not wearing a wedding ring. I wanted to tell you that my wife passed away last year from breast cancer and I've only dated a couple times since she passed away. It's been hard for me but I'm sure that my late wife Melissa would have wanted me to rebuild my life."

"Galen, I'm so sorry to hear about your wife. I can see that you're a kind person and it must have been so hard for you to go through that ordeal with Melissa," Millie said with great empathy.

"It was something that no one should face. Melissa had just turned forty when she died. Fortunately I guess we didn't have any kids. She was the love of my life." I was holding back tears.

Millie came over to the sofa and sat down next to me and put her arm around me in a consoling gesture. "I guess we were both hit by tragedy. My seven year old son was killed by a hit and run driver when he was crossing the street near his school. That was five years ago. I still haven't gotten over it."

We both could feel what was coming next. I took her in my arms and kissed her forcefully. There was a sense of urgency on both of our parts as we kissed passionately. I moved my hand down over her blouse to cup her breast and she moaned softly in my ear as I lightly kissed her neck. She unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse and I knew she wanted more, as did I. I slipped my hand under her black lacy bra and felt the soft skin of the underside of her breast. She was starting to pant as I rolled her now erect nipple between my fingers.

"Please," she whispered. She used her hands to bunch up her skirt, exposing her black panties to me. I moved my hand from her breast to the inner part of her thighs, touching the lacy tops of her thigh highs and then higher to the supple skin of her inner thighs. Our kissing became more frantic as I moved aside the edge of her panties to feel the wetness of her pubic hair and the slippery lips concealed beneath it. She moved her hand to caress my penis, now straining against the fabric of my pants.

We stood up and I undressed her. I started by unbuttoning the rest of her blouse, revealing her lacy demi-cup bra and the snow white tops of her breasts. She unfastened her bra and I helped slide it over her arms. Her breasts were perfect, rounded, with their ample size causing a slight sag. She shimmied out of her skirt and I dropped to my knees to roll off her stockings and slide her panties down and over her feet. Her brown pubic hair was matted with the evidence of her desire. She was beautiful and oh so desirable.

I bent forward to kiss her pubic area and she responded by using her hands to gently grind my face into her. I didn't dwell there but stood up to lead her to my bedroom. She reclined on the bed and I undressed. My penis was already erect, and as I laid next to her she reached over to gently stroke my penis. She bent over to lick the precum that was already leaking from the head of my penis. It had been two years since I had sex and the feather light touch of her tongue was almost enough to cause me to ejaculate. She continued taking more of my penis in her mouth. I arched my back in response and did everything in my power to resist cumming. When I sensed I was close I gently pushed her back and slid down the bed to resume my kisses to her glistening pussy. I pushed my tongue in and made broad strokes from her lips to her clitoris. Millie was twisting under me and pressing her thighs together as she ascended to orgasm. Her breathing quickened and she announced her orgasm with a series of quick breaths. She had her back fully arched and used both hands to hold my head in place as an orgasm rippled through her body.

"Hurry," she pleaded breathlessly, and then added, "I've had my tubes tied."

I quickly moved up to mount her. She used her hand to guide my penis into her sopping pussy. I felt wetness and warmth as I entered her. She met my thrusts with the same force as I delivered them. She started to cum and the contractions in her vagina triggered my orgasm as I flooded her with my seed. I collapsed on her and we held each other tightly as my penis softened while still in her. No words needed to be spoken.

We fell asleep with the lights on and awoke about an hour later. She rose first to take a shower and I watched as she glided to the bathroom with grace even when naked. When she finished I gave her my bathrobe and slippers and she went into the living area to wait for me. I decided to take a long and welcome shower. It wasn't more than fifteen minutes later that I exited the bathroom and called for her. There was no reply. Alarmed, I slipped on a pair of sweat pants and a sweat shirt and went into the living area. Millie had dressed and left.

I sat down on the couch flabbergasted. My dream had vanished without a trace. I looked up at the coffee table and noticed a family album I kept there was opened to the page documenting Melissa's 30th birthday party. Prominent on the page was an enlarged photo of Bea putting the Pendleton coat on Melissa for the first time. Millie had realized that I was the person who gave her the coat and saw her as a homeless person. The shame must have been too much for her to bear. I had to find her.

Chapter Three

I searched the apartment for a note. There was none. Other than her lipstick on a scotch glass there wasn't a trace of Millie's presence in my apartment. It was as if all of this happened in a dream.

It was two o'clock in the morning and I didn't think there was a chance I would go back to sleep. I wanted to retrace my steps to the women's shelter where I had donated Melissa's clothes. I jotted down that address as well as two other shelters in Manhattan. I'd take the day off work tomorrow and search for her.

I was kicking myself. I should have talked to her about how I first saw her as a homeless person. That way I could have assured her that I wanted her as she was and that she didn't have to reveal her entire story if she didn't want to. Now I'd lost her. I felt like I lost Melissa all over again.

I knew that the homeless shelter opened to the public at 8 a.m. I arrived 15 minutes early. It was in a tough part of Manhattan that I usually don't visit, and even on this chilly spring morning there were already a dozen women in line, presumably to claim a ticket for a bed that night. Two of the women were clinging to the hand of a small child. I temporarily forgot why I was there and vowed to support this shelter in the future.

When the front door opened at 8 a.m. the line slowly filtered into the shelter. I waited about 30 minutes for my turn and was greeted by a warm smile and a friendly woman's face. "You're not from around here," she said in stating the obvious.

"I'm not. I'm looking for someone."

"Of course you are. How can I help you honey?"

"I'm looking for Millie Pierson."

The woman invited me to take a seat on the nearby bench while she finished the intake process. She'd look in her register. I waited for about a half an hour and the woman approached me holding her register and shaking her head. "I've checked the register going back a month and I see no record of a Millie Pierson at this shelter."

I asked her to go back to Valentine's Day, the day I met Millie.

"I'm so sorry. I don't see her name."

Discouraged, I thanked her for her time and took $100 out of my wallet. "Please accept this donation. And thank you for your work."

She smiled and hugged me. As I was leaving she blurted, "Sometimes women don't give their real names. Do you have any idea of what name she might have used?"

I didn't, but maybe divine inspiration would hit me. "Could I please look at your register?"

She gave me the book and I sat back down on the bench.

I scanned the book, looking at the neat handwritten entries for each day. It was the same handwriting each day so this woman must have handled the intake process each day. I went back starting at February 14 and working forward. There was an entry on February 16, the day after I gave Millie Melissa's coat. It was for Beatrice Smith. Beatrice was the name sewn in the coat.

"Ma'am, do you recall a Beatrice Smith?

"I'm sorry honey. I see dozens of women every day. Do you have a description?"

I tried to describe Millie in as much detail as possible, but as I went on there was nary a flicker of recognition in her face. Then I described the coat. Her face lit up.

"Yes, I do recall that coat. Most women arrive in shabby clothes. I remember commenting on the beauty of the coat. She told me that a kind man had given it to her the day before."

I was ecstatic. "Yes, that's the woman. Do you know what happened to her?"

"Why yes. She stayed her for a few weeks to get herself back on her feet. We gave her some donated clothes that fit her quite well and then we gave her a list of residential hotels that would give her a month's residency at City expense. In fact, now that I think about it, did you bring in your wife's clothes around that time? They were business clothes."

"Yes! I brought them in at the end of the day around that time. I don't remember seeing you, but yes."

"I usually leave around 3. But I do remember rummaging through the clothes you brought and commenting on how nice they were. Beatrice was here at that time and took two of the outfits."

The woman jotted down the names of the residential hotels on her referral list and I went on my way. Most were nearby, and on the fourth address I found a desk clerk that was most helpful. He did remember a Beatrice checking in late February, but said she wasn't staying there anymore. I asked for any detail, however small, that could give me a clue as to her whereabouts. He came up dry. I went back to my apartment discouraged and blaming myself again for letting Millie slip through my fingers.

I was in my apartment that night shipping scotch from Millie's glass and thinking about our night together. I felt so comfortable with Millie and alive again in her presence. It was as if Melissa and Bea were whispering to me "This is the one." I thought that fate was cruel to connect Millie to me through Melissa's coat and then to take her away. I was feeling sorry for myself, looking at the bottom of my glass of scotch, when it occurred to me that there were two more places to look. I'd start the next morning and make calls from my office.

I went to the office energized, hopeful that my epiphany would pay off. I first called the temp agency that was sending me candidates. I called there and asked if they had a Millie Pierson registered with them. They confirmed that they did but said that the information she provided was confidential. Our firm did a lot of business with the agency and the head of the agency was willing to confirm if I had the right address. I read her the address of the residential hotel that I had visited the previous day and unfortunately that was the address she confirmed. They either didn't have or weren't willing to share any phone numbers or e-mail addresses they may have had.

Discouraged by the dead end from my first lead, I called the New Britain Herald as my last chance to find Millie. I knew she hadn't been there in many years but somebody there might have remembered her. I bounced around until I found the articles editor, who had been with the paper for 25 years. He recalled Millie and Millie's story well. She was a copy editor there and was well liked. As Millie said, her seven year old son was tragically killed by a hit and run driver. He e-mailed me a copy of the newspaper article. Millie left the paper not too long after the death and divorced her husband and disappeared from New Britain.

"Is there anything you remember about Millie that might be of help in finding her?" I asked with hope in my voice.

"Well, I do know her son is buried in Sacred Heart Cemetery on Osgood Avenue. That's about all I know."

I read the article he sent me. Millie was married and her seven year old son Zachary was her only child. Her husband Noah was a local businessman. Her son died on April 20, 2012.

I decided to make a trip to New Britain on April 19th. Perhaps she would show up at her son's grave on the 20th, which would be the fifth anniversary of his death. In any event I could track down Noah and see if he had any information on Millie.