chapter Twenty
Schuyler
ordelia Van Alen had been a connoisseur of the world's grand hotels, and Schuyler knew she would have approved of the Casa del Mar. The hotel on the edge of the Pacific had a panoramic view of the coastline and the Santa Monica Pier. Oliver had chosen the hotel for its proximity to Los Angeles and its excellent bar. He had booked them separate rooms on the penthouse floor. They were in Schuyler's room, having gotten into the city via a stopover in New York. The remnants of a late room-service banquet were littered around the living area - silver platters of shrimp and salad, along with empty green bottles of sparkling water.
"You only live once." Oliver smiled and admired the view.
"Not if you're a vampire," Schuyler reminded him.
"Point taken," he agreed. "Now, shall we have a dip in the pool and enjoy the scenery, or should we get right to work?"
"I'm a little too anxious for relaxation right now. If my dad is alive, I want to see him as soon as I can. Let's get started," she said.
"Excellent." Oliver got out his laptop and started searching. "Let's see...the Bendix Corp Web site doesn't have much information on its board of directors or officers, so that's not going to do it. Checking for Stephen Chase in LA, but there's only about a million listings....This is going to be tough."
"Look up Bendix, or Ben Chase - I don't think he always went by Stephen, at least not when he was younger."
Oliver checked again. "Nothing for Bendix. Another million for Ben. We need to try something different."
Schuyler peered over his shoulder at the screen. "Are there any news articles about the family? Maybe they're not in LA proper?"
Oliver ran a search for news articles on the Chase family. "Looking to cross-reference the Bendix Corporation," he muttered to himself. "Got something - a charity event sponsored by the Chase family. In Malibu. No names or pictures, though."
"That's okay," Schuyler said. "We can look for phone numbers in Malibu - maybe there won't be as many as in the other places. Stephen, Bendix, Ben, whatever."
Oliver typed furiously. "No Bendix, which is too bad - that would have been the easiest. No Ben or Stephen, either - found an S. Chase, though. What do you think?"
"Worth a shot." Schuyler got out her cell phone and dialed the number.
A deep male voice answered. "Good afternoon, Chase residence. Who may I say is speaking?" Schuyler recognized the voice of the butler, of the help.
"This is Schuyler Van Alen. Is this the number for Stephen Chase?"
A pause. Then, "This is the home of Mrs. Chase, his widow."
"Widow?" Schuyler blurted out.
"May I ask why you're calling?" the butler asked, sounding a little suspicious.
"I'm, uh...Stephen Chase's daughter."
The man coughed. "I'm afraid that's quite impossible," he said. "Are you certain you are calling for Stephen Ronald Chase?"
Stephen Ronald Chase. Her paternal grandfather. Her heart beat in excitement. This was her grandmother's house. "My name is Schuyler Van Alen and I'm looking for his son, Stephen Bendix Chase. Ben is my father," she said quietly.
There was a much longer pause.
"I will relay the message to Mrs. Chase, Miss Van Alen. Where can I say you are calling from?"
Schuyler gave him her room number at Casa del Mar and hung up the phone.
"What happened?" asked Oliver.
She told him. She could barely process the idea before the phone rang. It was the butler calling back, with the Chase home address and instructions. Schuyler thanked him profusely before hanging up.
"So apparently my grandmother wants to meet us tomorrow. She's in Malibu, not too far."
"Us? I think he just meant you, babe."
"Ollie! I'd hate to go alone," Schuyler said.
"If all goes well, you won't be alone. You'll be with family," he said firmly. "I'm sure your grandmother won't want an audience. Shall we discuss it over cocktails?"
Schuyler wondered if she should be concerned that Oliver seemed to be a little too carefree, getting to be more like Kingsley than trying to save the vampires. But then she could really use a drink herself.
The lounge at the Casa del Mar looked out over the ocean, and the bartenders were attentive mixologists, who made up special drinks for each of them. Schuyler's was a bittersweet (appropriate, she thought) mix of orange blossoms and something she couldn't quite put her finger on - Pimm's? Oliver's was some kind of martini made with absinthe.
"Warn me if you start hallucinating," Schuyler said.
"A snack will take the edge off, just in case," Oliver replied, and ordered oysters and sushi. "Now, why are you so nervous about meeting these people? Isn't this what you've always wanted?"
"I guess," Schuyler said. "But I know so little about them, and I don't think they know anything at all about me. I mean, that butler didn't really sound surprised that there might be some secret granddaughter roaming around, although maybe that's just how butlers are supposed to sound. What if my grandmother doesn't want to have anything to do with me? Don't you think it's weird that she agreed to meet with a stranger off the street? And what if this trip turns out to be pointless? We could be wasting valuable time here."
"Or what if we find exactly what you've been searching for all your life?" Oliver said.
"What do you mean? We're here to find the sangreal, aren't we? That Blood of the Father thing."
"That's what we need, or the vampires need," he said. "But it's not the same thing you've been missing."
"What are you talking about?" Schuyler said, annoyed. She pointed her cocktail fork in his direction. "Stop being so cryptic."
"Let's take a step back," he said. "For most of your life you only knew your mother as an unconscious figure in a hospital bed. You were told that your father was dead. The only family member you thought you had in the world was your grandmother, and she's gone now, as is your grandfather, who you met only a few years ago. But your father's family is your family too. Your human family. I can imagine why that would be a scary thing to think about. But it could also be awesome."
"Awesome how?"
"Well, why assume that they'd be such skeptics about you? Why not assume they'd welcome you with open arms, thrilled to have found you? Isn't that how you'd feel if it turned out your father were alive? Ecstatic?"
"I used to think so," Schuyler said. "I kept hoping....But what if I'm wrong? What if he's awful? Cordelia always intimated that he'd done something terrible. She always told me to stop thinking about him, that he wasn't worthy of my mother."
Oliver squirmed in his chair. "She probably just meant he wasn't worthy of her because he was human."
Schuyler nodded. "You may have a point there."
"Cordelia wasn't a big fan of the relationship, but do you really think your mother would bond with a guy like that?" Oliver asked gently. "Allegra gave up everything for him. He must be pretty special."
"Maybe," Schuyler grudgingly admitted. She'd always loved her father in that obligatory way that anyone has toward an absent relative - like she was supposed to love him because of who he was. But she'd never known him at all. Cordelia had never talked about him, and for Schuyler's entire childhood, Allegra had been in a coma. When she'd woken up, all she'd cared about was the Van Alen Legacy. There had been no time to tell her daughter anything else, it seemed. Except, when she'd really needed her, Schuyler realized - her mother had appeared to her, right when Schuyler had been torn between choosing to follow her heart with Jack or to remain with Oliver. You cannot be with someone just because you don't want to hurt him. You have your own happiness to think about.
But if Bendix was still alive...then where the hell had he been all these years? Why had he never visited Allegra? Never tried to contact Schuyler? Not once, not a card, not a phone call. Cordelia might have been an impediment, but what could that matter to a father who loved his daughter?
"Now, finish your drink, eat some oysters, and fortify for your Oprah reunion." Oliver winked.
Schuyler laughed. "You're a good friend, Ollie."
"Happy to be of service," he said, and bent over the table in a mock bow.
"Watch it, you almost dunked your hair in your drink," Schuyler pointed out. "You just missed because it's pretty much gone."
"My hair?" Oliver asked in mock horror, running his hands through his thick locks.
"No, your drink." Schuyler laughed.
"Must be time for a refill, then," he said.
But before Oliver could summon the bartender, Schuyler heard an unusual beeping noise coming from his cell phone. "Did you get a text?" she asked. "That's not what it usually sounds like."
Oliver looked nervous as he picked up the phone to check his message. "Give me a second," he said, and stepped away from the bar.
Must be pretty bad, Schuyler thought, because she saw his face turn pale.
He walked back to her chair but didn't sit down.
"What is it?" she asked.
"That wasn't a text message - it was the emergency beacon from the Repository in New York. It's never gone off before, or at least I've never been the one to receive the signal, so it took me a minute to figure out what it was. Something really bad has happened. I have to go back right away."
"Should I come with you?" Schuyler asked, worried.
"No, you have important things to do here. Go find your family tomorrow, and keep me updated on what happens. Stay and finish your drink, and get some food in you. We'll talk soon."
It was just as she'd expected. She was on her own. Except for that lingering feeling that someone was very close - and keeping an eye on her. But she had gotten accustomed to it; and since nothing had happened so far, she chalked it up to nerves and anxiety and decided to forget all about it.