Money, Fame and Love III

Chapter Three

The story so far: Dear Reader, today we continue our story Money, Fame and Love from where we left off. Last time, we were introduced to Derek Orleans, the young lawyer whom Angie Mensah is interested in.

‘Yes this is Mrs Serwaa Mensah, the voice on the other side of the phone replied. ‘I’m calling to enquirie about the five- tier cake I ordered for my husband’s birthday party. It’s supposed to arrive here at my residence in McCarthy Hill by 6:00pm tonight’ Serwaa said.

‘Yes madam, it will be promptly delivered.’

Serwaa racked her brain. Now what was it that she wanted to ask Mercy, she wondered? Oh yes the pastries but there was something else.

‘And Mercy please don’t forget the pastries.’

‘Yes ma’am, everything you ordered would be delivered crisp and fresh; straight from the oven. And the ladies you requested for to serve at the party would be ready too.’

Serwaa heaved a sigh of relief. It was the waiters she was trying to remember. Thank goodness Mercy hadn’t forgotten.

`Thank you Mercy’ she said and hung up.

Serwaa was a bundle of nerves. She had been worrying so much about the party that she now had a splitting headache. She flopped onto a couch and called for Harriet the helper to bring her a glass of cold water.

At that moment Angie came out of her room and gave her mother a hug. She had just woken up from sleep. Her mother glanced at the clock and looked at her disapprovingly. Angie placed an index finger to her mom’s lips to stop the torrent of words that were about to gush out of her mouth.

`I’d be around mom, in case you need my help to get something done’ she said and sauntered towards the kitchen. At the entrance she stopped and whirled around.

‘And mom, I hope it’s okay if I invite a friend of mine over for the party.’

Serwaa waved her approval and immediately Angie was radiant with joy. I wonder what the source of my daughter’s happiness is, Serwaa mused and shook her head. It looked like her daughter was in love.

At 6:00pm that night, dignitaries had begun pouring into the Mensah’s villa. Two hours after that, the party grounds – two enormous lawns — was a kaleidoscope of colours, smells and sounds.

A buffet table stretched round the perimeter of the whole garden and was laid with gleaming silver bowls filled with all the continental and local dishes known. Yaw attired in a black Armani suit and Gucci shoes exuded wealth. His wife looked both regal and enchanting in a strapless flowing white gown, which flattered her feminine figure. Yaw could not help but keep his fingers laced through hers for most part of the party.

Just then he saw Angie walking towards him accompanied by a young, handsome, lanky man.

‘Dad I would like you to meet …’

Yaw was not listening. His gaze was transfixed on the man who stood before him. He blinked three times in rapid succession. Where had he seen those eyes, he thought? They seemed to bore holes right through his soul. And that smile; so teasing and yet so attractive. When the realization dawned on him he could feel his hands quivering at his side and he had to clench his teeth firmly to keep them from chattering.

‘Dad is everythma okay?’ Angie asked worriedly.

Yaw glanced at his disturbed daughter and back at the man who stood before him.

Those eyes were still riveted onto his. By now Yaw’s eyes mirrored fear and dread as though the angel of death stood in front of him and had come to claim his life. The laughter and merriment that rippled through the crowd faded in Yaw’s ears and the only audible sound was that of his heart thumping crazily.

‘Dad are you listening to me?’ Angie asked hysterically, making no effort to mask the rising panic she felt.

`Y-y-y-e-e-s-s’ he stuttered. ‘And may I know this gentleman’s name?’ he said in a voice hardly above a whisper.

‘This is Derek Orleans’ she said turning her face aside to Derek’s.

Derek stuck out his hand and took Yaw’s clammy ones in his. No sooner had he grasped them than Yaw retrieved his hand from the handshake like a little child who had been forced to shake a stranger’s hand. He took some few paces back collapsed into a nearby chair and swigged a bottle of scotch to calm his jangled nerves. Now he remembered where he had seen that face. It was a carbon copy of Judge Orleans, the man whose death he had ordered.

With this twist of events, what do you think would be the fate of Angie and Derek’s budding relationship? Is it a relationship doomed to fail from the beginning? Would the truth behind the mysterious death of Judge Orleans ever be unravelled? Let’s make a date next week to find out how the story unfolds.