Carson's Tree

"Mr. Graniston, how do you do. I’m Countess Juliet Macallister." And the battle lines were drawn. She had thrown the gauntlet and it remained to be seen if he would pick it up.

"Please, call me Jordan, if I may call you Juliet."

"Of course. Shall we sit down?" Juliet led the way to Donald’s favorite table, in the far left corner, the best to see and be seen. As they sat down, she looked at him more closely. He was an older version of Tony, seemingly more collected and in control. An amused smile played across her lips as she watched him counting her assets, from the neck down. It was not difficult to see from whom Tony had gotten his winning smile and incredible charm. It was all there, the cleft in the chin, the passionate mouth, with its even white teeth, the straight nose and the wide-set dark eyes. The only difference was the gray at the temples and the wrinkles around the eyes that she knew came from squinting into the sun without sunglasses, a habit of Tony’s that had always annoyed her.

Jordan Graniston was stunned. He had barely recovered from the news that his son had been married to an English art student, that he had deserted her, she had gotten a divorce, and she had had a child, which Tony had rejected, all without him knowing. He had not believed his wife when she had told him that Juliet was beautiful, in an exotic sort of way, a famous painter and also married to an aristocrat. Prepared to deal with his worst fears, he was shocked to discover that his wife had understated the truth, at least about Juliet’s physical beauty. Tall, slender, with shapely legs and ankles, with what he sensed were sensational breasts, and that amazing red hair, long, smooth and silky, cascading down her back. Paired with that short, tight and quite dangerous dress, it was a devastating combination. He cleared his throat, but Juliet spoke before he could open his mouth.

"Jordan, I’m sure that you have a great many questions to ask me. Before you begin, let me show you the same documents that I showed Emily this morning." She pushed the envelope across the table. As he picked it up, the waiter appeared and poured the champagne. As he slid out the four pieces of paper, he knew it was all there; the sordid history of his son’s weak nature.

"Have either of you told Tony that I’m here?" Watching his face carefully, she sipped the champagne to be polite.

"No, I don’t have a clue as to how to tell him that the part of his life that he chose to keep hidden has just come back to slap him in the face."

"Jordan, please understand. I’m not here to punish Tony. If Carson weren’t in need of a bone marrow donor, none of this would be happening. Donald is Carson’s father in every respect, except for this, and it is the only thing I want from Tony. A blood test to see if he would be a suitable donor."

"And suppose that he isn’t?"

"There is an international donor network. If Tony is not a match, it is the last option we have. We thought about a transplant using his own marrow, but he is so young and it seems that the disease is too advanced for that."

"And if all that fails?"

"We take him home and watch him die. It’s as simple and as terrible as that."

"I’ll make sure that he gets the blood test, tomorrow if possible. We’ll all take the test, just to be sure. Tony’s sister, Jennifer, lives in Los Angeles. I’ll call her and make sure she gets tested as well. I want my grandson to have every chance. He’s my only one, so far, I’d like to have him around for a while." She smiled at his predictability.