This is the story of love lost, love explored, and love found in a place least expected. It is also a mystery that involves power, money, greed, and lust. While not as graphic as most here at Literotica I hope you find it an entertaining read. I apologize for the state of the work. It still needs proofing. Please vote and comment.
JPMMURPHY
Chapter 6
Fox News – Republican presidential hopeful, Kerry Richards, put a face on the high cost of housing today when he donned blue jeans and a cotton work shirt and was filmed hammering away at one of the democratic parties pet projects, Home Quest, that grew out of a bill pushed through the Senate two years ago that builds and sells one family, low income housing, selling them to qualified candidates at cost with no interest loans. Some speculate Richards made a two run homerun, also attacking those that criticize his advanced years. At 71 many think Richards would be hard pressed to win a second term in office, that is, if he were able to complete his first term. Richards could be seen literally sweating it out as the crew he worked with installed the interior walls of the three bedroom dwelling. His campaign manager said the presence of a paramedic team and ambulance was routine. Accidents do happen, Richards campaign manager quipped.
*****
A private nurse scanned the array of beeping, whirring equipment and looked at the bundle of bones in the huge four poster bed. An ancient grandfather clock chimed four times telling the nurse it was four in the morning and she stood to check the drip.
She really didn't know who the woman was but she did know a little about Waverly Hill and now, in the wee hours of the morning, the place gave her the creeps.
Theodora was dreaming of late night dances, Pierce Arrows and zeppelins. The birthplace of her journey.
It was ironic that the last breath of the most important man in her life had been drawn here, in this very building, on this very floor, over 70 years ago. More ironic that the first breath of his second life should be drawn at that same place.
*****
The doctor stepped aside and ceded to the stunning, red headed beauty with emerald green eyes. Her heels clicked on the polished floor as she strode into her fathers room.
Theodora didn't gasp, nor did she turn away from the pale bag of flesh, face ashen, eyes closed, that beckoned feebly with a withered hand.
Back straight as an arrow, an air of prideful defiance, she walked to her father's bedside and clasped his withered claw in her hand. No reaction could be seen to the cold damp feeling it left on her palm. No tears of regret.
Leaning down, she whispered close to his ear, "It's me father. I'm here beside you."
His eyes fluttered and finally managed to open halfway. She could tell he wasn't looking at her. She thought he might not be seeing anything at all.
A putrid odor preceded a wet soggy sound and she moved her ear quickly over his mouth to try and catch his words.
A second attempt brought a mumble and some pink spittle that landed on her cheek to slide slowly toward her chin. No move was made to wipe it away.
Moving back to his ear she whispered once again. "Yes, father, I'm here. I love you father."
His grip suddenly became strong, much as she recalled him when she was much younger, his huge, rough hand pulling her down their backyard to the beach so they could play in the waves.
Positioning her ear over his mouth she listened again. Finally he was able to form words.
"There's enough, Teddy. Enough for twenty lifetimes" he stopped to take a ragged, sloppy breath and continued, "The trick, Teddy, is to live long enough to enjoy it."
With that his hand relaxed and Theodora thought death had finally taken him. Straightening slightly she watched his chest. Suddenly the hand beckoned her close again as he drew his last, wet, wheezy breath.
"Keep me in your heart, Teddy, keep me alive."
The hand fell limp and she finally became aware of how cold it was. Pulling back she searched his pale green eyes for any sign of life. One of the nurses raised the back of her hand to her mouth when Theodora leaned over and kissed her father's open, blood covered mouth.
Pulling back she whispered, "I'll always love you father."
With that she dropped the hand and turned on her heel. Back straight as an arrow again, no move to wipe the pink spittle from her cheek or blood from her mouth, she strode from the room, turned down the hall and was gone.
She knew there was nothing left for her in her father's room. The most important thing on earth had just left.
Ducking into the back of the red Duisenberg, Henry Bartholomew handed her a thick envelope. As they drove around the circular, tree lined drive to leave, Theodora chanced a glance back at the red brick façade and one small tear fell from her emerald green eyes.
Later that night, at the estate, she spoke quietly with Bartholomew. It was difficult to fathom a fortune that neared a billion dollars in 1920. Even more difficult to understand that the majority of the Miller wealth was hidden away and that only a hand full of people even understood that Theodora Elizabeth Miller was now the wealthiest, most powerful person on earth. Richer than many countries.
Born in 1890 to Thomas Lee and Elizabeth Ann Miller in a small town just outside of Chicago, Theodora was actually a twin. Something she learned of when she turned ten. She was told her sister died at birth and nothing further was said of the matter.
Pain and heartbreak hit when she turned fourteen. Her mother found herself pregnant much later in life than expected. She'd watched her father watch over and care for her during the pregnancy only to have happiness taken away during childbirth when both mother and child died.
"We're off to California, Teddy. This place saddens me now."
California had been good to them. Her father had arrived in time for the oil boom and the gold rush. Teddy had flourished at their estate by the sea. She recalled many late evenings frolicking in the waves and languishing on the sandy beach.
The month of her eighteenth birthday saw orchestras, balls and oriental lanterns on the lawn of the huge estate. Would be suitors stood in waiting, as much to share the wealth, as to get a chance at ravishing the stunning redhead that would hang on their arm.
It was the drawn, haunted look of quiet sadness on her father's face that finally brought an end to that long summer of wine, roses and dance.
Late in august Teddy bade farewell to her latest suitor at the front door of their mansion and walked up the wide, spiral staircase to her bedroom. There, Lupita helped her undress and was surprised when her mistress asked that a bath be drawn. After almost an hour of primping and preening, her long red hair brushed to a high luster, Lupita was surprised again, and giggled, when her mistress requested only her white silk robe.
"Which one is it, Miss Miller? Is it that tall blond one I saw you dance the last dance with?"
No answer was given and Lupita was dismissed. Stepping out onto the cold marble of the balcony that overlooked the foyer, Teddy padded quietly to her fathers study. A dim glow came from beneath the door.
Pausing long enough to undo the sash of her robe and let it slide from her shoulders, she grasped the crystal door knob and walked in without knocking.
"I'm here father. Your, Teddy."
*****
Linda sat stunned reading the line a fourth time. Tammy only waited.
'Are you there, Linda?'
Tammy stood and pointed at the floor in front of the laptop.
Linda raised her hands with trepidation and typed.
'Yes. I'm here.'
'How do I know this is really you?'
