Moore Forgiven

A young man entered a gilded elevator, and pushed the button for the top floor. In his hand, he held a small package. To be honest, he was surprised he had made it so far.

“What could have induced Robert R. Moore to see me,” he wondered. The elevator let him off in record time. There was a young woman waiting for him. She looked like a model, with long legs, and flowing blonde hair. Usually, such women would make the young man nervous. That was probably her purpose after all, but he wasn’t going to be distracted. He followed the young woman to another elevator, which took them up further to an unnamed floor. There, they were greeted by a second woman, equally beautiful, but with brown hair this time. Again, the young man wasn’t nervous.

The three of them took a third elevator up to another floor where they were greeted by a red-headed woman. Long story short, it took two more elevators before the young man was let out at his destination…Mr. Moore’s office. The room was massive, and covered in gold, with marble statues, and crystal chandeliers. At the back of the room, Mr. Moore sat waiting for him; his hands rested on a wide mahogany desk.

“When the guard said you were downstairs,” Mr. Moore said, slightly amused. “I wasn’t sure who to expect, you or your father. You’re the spitting image of him by the way.”

“You know my dad passed away,” the young man said. “I called here myself. Your secretary told me you were out of town, but I’m sure she gave you the message.”

“Oh, yes. Now I remember, I did hear about that,” Mr. Moore said, “He was a good man. So, what brings you here today.”

“Before my father died, he confessed one last wish to me. That I should tell you he’s sorry.”

“That’s nice of him, but I can’t imagine what for?”

“For not forgiving you sooner. Only in his last days did he tell me that you two used to be good friends. You were even supposed to go into business together.”

“So, he blamed me for ruining his life? Is that it? He blames me for cutting him out,” Mr. Moore said.

“No, that’s just it. It’s the opposite.” the young man said, daring himself to smile, “At first he was mad, yes, but then he realized that you saved him. While you spent all your time working to surround yourself with beautiful objects, he was able to become a husband, and a father.”

“I’ve been married three times.” Mr. Moore said, wagging his finger.

“There’s more to being a husband, than just being married,” the young man said.

“So, everything was perfect. There weren’t any money problems,” Mr. Moore said.

“You might think so, but I personally feel that one house is enough.” the young man said, and he walked right up to Mr. Moore’s desk, and placed the package down firmly, “I brought you a gift. My dad wanted you to have it. Don’t worry, it’s not dangerous or anything.” the young man didn’t wait for a response. He turned to leave. Where most people might have minded waiting for the elevator, the young man enjoyed it. He had just enough time to hear a picture-frame shatter in a waste bin.

________________

Written by Alex Schattner (11/28/12)

Tags: alex schattner, american, angels, art, arts, beauty, belief, confidence, fairy tale, fairytale, folklore, folktale, inspiration, lesson, moral, short story, value, wisdom, forgiveness, money, power