An Irreconcilable Difference

by Lynda Fitzgerald

  As I’d anticipated, it was warmer today. The grass was still wet with dew. Georgia and humidity are synonymous. We walked toward the fountain, much as Darren and I had done a few days before. The morning sun felt wonderful. I leaned my head back and took a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air.

  “I love the weather here,” the doctor said, as if agreeing with my unspoken thought.

  “You’re not from here?” I asked, knowing as I did that he was not.

  “No. From Watertown, New York,” he said. Then he smiled. “You don’t walk in shirtsleeves there in February. There are usually several feet of snow on the ground right about now.”

  “We’re about to get hit with a cold snap.”

  He looked over at me. “Don’t tell me you feel it in your bones. You’re much too young for that.”

  I laughed. “I’m not that much too young, but no. I saw it on the Weather Channel. We’re going to have a hard freeze tonight.” I looked down at the tulips that lined the walkway, proud little heads only now beginning to show their color. They might not make it.

  We walked for a few minutes without speaking. When we reached the fountain, he gestured to the bench, looking at me expectantly.

  I sat. “Doctor—”

  “Mrs. Graham—” he said at the same instant. Then he laughed. “I know I should say go ahead, but I need to get this off my chest.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I think I do. I told you yesterday that I owe you an apology. I also feel I owe you an explanation.”

  I started to protest again, but curiosity got the best of me.

  At my nod, he sat on the stone bench beside me, stretching his long legs in front of him. He looked over at me, his face thoughtful. “What I owe you most of all is a sincere thank you. You know, when you asked me the other day who I was really mad at, I felt like snapping your head off.” He looked embarrassed. “It wouldn’t have been the first time, as we both know. At that moment, though, I would have sworn it was you and only you I was reacting to.

  He glanced toward the Manor, then back it me. “You were right, of course, and I’m grateful you said what you did. You made me face some things I had been avoiding for a time.”

  I felt a little uncomfortable with his confession but, in fact, I really wanted to know why he’d jumped down my throat so many times.

  He turned on the bench and faced me. “I had a relative with Alzheimer’s a number of years ago. In Scotland. I knew he was ill, of course, and that the family had put him in a nursing home. I didn’t inquire further. He was a long way away, after all, and I was a busy man.” There were volumes of bitterness in those last two words.

  “When he died, I almost didn’t attend the funeral. I probably wouldn’t have if my sister hadn’t pushed me into it. You’ve met her. The nurse at the front desk.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “She’s your sister? But her accent—”

  He nodded. “Our parents divorced when we were young. Gillian stayed in Scotland with our mother while my father brought me to America with him. Gillian had moved to Georgia by the time of the funeral, and I fancy she wanted a trip back home as much as anything.” He smiled. “She badgered me until I agreed to go. I planned to make it a quick trip. I had to rearrange a lot of patients as it was.”

  He stared straight ahead. I had no idea what his recollections were, but I didn’t think they were happy. His next words confirmed my suspicions.

  “While I was there, I paid a visit to that nursing home. It wasn’t a nice place like this,” he said, gesturing back toward the main building. “It was crowded. Unclean. It smelled of urine and unwashed bodies. The patients were lined up against the walls waiting to die. The doctor in me was revolted, and I was shamed by my neglect.”

  He blinked suddenly, as if realizing where he was. He looked over at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burden you with all that, but it was an awakening for me.” He laughed, embarrassed. “You might say it set me on the path I walk today.”

  I suspected there was a lot more to the story, but I wasn’t sure he wanted to share it with me.

  “So you see,” he continued after a moment, “it wasn’t you I was mad at. It was me.”

  I did see.

  “That’s one apology. I owe you another one. About your husband—”

  “No, really—”

  He ignored my protest. “Your mother had mentioned in passing that you were in the process of divorce. When I saw you come in looking as if you’d spent a week at a spa and then walking with a man’s arm around you, I jumped to the wrong conclusion. It was none of my business in any case. I’m very sorry.”

  “Darren is my husband.”

  “So you told me.” He gave me a rueful smile.

  “Darren and I are in the process of getting a divorce. You probably think our behavior strange.”

  “More admirable than strange, and I say that sincerely as the product of an acrimonious divorce. It’s tragic what that can do to children. Even though your mother told me your kids are grown, it’s still very painful.”

  I thought of the pain still ahead for Jana and Greg and said nothing.

  “So,” he said, bracing his hands on his knees, “I was hoping we might start over.” He held out his right hand. “I’m Jules Proctor, Mrs. Graham, and I’m pleased to meet you.”

  I shook his hand, smiling into his eyes, which were quite remarkable now that I really looked at them. Gray, with golden flecks that seemed to light up when he smiled. “It’s Lou, doctor, and I’m glad to finally get to know you. I’ve heard quite a lot about you from my family. All of it good, by the way.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The overnight freeze materialized. It was twenty degrees when I left the house for the office, huddled in my heavy coat and gloves. The pansies I’d planted in containers beside the front door were lying flat, wounded but not mortally. I wondered, and not for the first time, how any flower that appeared so fragile could be so hardy.

  I arrived at the office earlier than usual, hoping to have a word with Jeff and Sam about their talk with Darren before anyone else showed up, but by the time I got there, they were bent over a layout table with two men I’d never seen before. I gave them a quick wave and headed for my office. They both gave me sad looks, the kind you give someone who has just learned they have a terminal disease, but they didn’t break off their conference.

  At least the office wasn’t frigid. I was able to remove my coat and scarf. The first thing I did when my computer booted up was to go online and order the automatic door closer for the back door. We didn’t need any more thefts, even if it was only cookies and cokes. I had no intention of adding to the dental bills of the neighborhood children. Besides, the next time it might be a real thief who would take computers instead of cookies.

  That done, I began recapping the backup for the invoices. I attached documentation to every invoice I sent out. People tended to disbelieve that they owed us several hundred dollars for photocopies unless they saw it in black and white. A lot of our copying was of blueprints, which printed out on a monster they called the KIP machine, on long rolls of paper that cost the moon. Color copies of renderings were even more expensive. Same with phone calls and overnight deliveries. So much of our communicating was done via phone and fax that the bills were huge, and when we shipped overnight, it usually wasn’t a tidy little letter pack. Our shipments usually contained heavy tubes full of drawings. We used project numbers for every job we billed, and all job costs were applied against the project number. It was a long and tedious task getting the invoices out the door. I was sure there was a better way to do it, but no one I’d talked to in firms like ours had found it either.

  I was up to my ears in documentation when Sam barged into my office. “Klee really did it,” he said without preamble.

  For a moment, I thought he was talking about the bear and flowers, but then I realized Sam was grinning.

  “Did what?”

  “T
hose men we were meeting with? They’re developers. Klee gave them our name. They are planning a massive shopping center up by the Mall of Georgia. It’s going to be huge. Bigger than anything we’ve tackled so far.” He was pacing my office maniacally. “We’re going to have to put on more people. There’s no way we can handle it with the staff we have now. We have plenty of room, but we’ll need more desks. Jesus. He told us he’d double our workload in sixty days, and he did it in a week. This is terrific.”

  He stopped suddenly and looked at me as if remembering who he was talking to. “Lou, about Darren. I’m really sorry. Jeff, too. We had no idea.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you—”

  “You aren’t obligated—”

  “—but we only filed last Tuesday,” I finished, feeling rotten. “I was going to tell you both, but I was waiting until the right time.” The story of my life, it seemed. “I’m sorry you had to find out the way you did.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t your fault. Klee has a big mouth.” Then he ruined it by smiling. “But goddamn, he can bring in the business.” He dropped into the chair across from me. “It’s going to mean more work for you, too, Lou. More hours. I hope you can handle it….”

  There was no threat in his words, but I felt uncomfortable anyway. “I can give you more hours, Sam, but I can’t go full-time. Not yet. Not with dad so sick.”

  “Is he worse?”

  I pushed the papers on my desktop to one side and rested my elbows on the blotter. “He had a bad turn Saturday. We weren’t sure how it was going to go. He was a little better yesterday, but…he isn’t going to get better.” It hurt to say the words.

  “Yeah, I know. That’s really tough. You’ve got an awful lot on you right now. Darren said the kids are taking the divorce pretty hard. But, hey, we’ll take as much time as you can give us. The money might come in handy. Speaking of which, Jeff and I talked about it. We’re doubling your hourly rate.”

  “Doubling?” It came out a squeak.

  “And you’re going to need benefits. If you’ll fill out the paperwork, we’ll sign it.”

  I hadn’t given more than a passing thought to benefits, although I vaguely remembered our attorney saying something to me about it. “I think I’m still covered on Darren’s insurance.”

  “You’ll need your own. You can’t have too much insurance.”

  I had to smile. It sounded like something my father might have drilled into his head over the years. Sam’s next words surprised me.

  “You need a title, too. We thought Vice President of Finance or something like that.”

  “That’s a bit much for a glorified bookkeeper—" I began, then broke off when the phone rang.

  As I reached over to answer it, Sam sprinted out of the office, giving me a wave.

  “Hi, mom,” Jana said. “Are you busy?”

  I looked at the papers stacked two inches high on my desk. I would have been honest with her, except that Jana never called me at the office unless it was important. “No, sweetie. How are you?”

  She ignored the question. “I thought I should tell you. Greg called me.”

  The thought pleased me. I sat back in my chair. “That’s great, Jana. You two are in danger of forming a real relationship. I think—” I broke off as Gideon Klee walked into my office. “Uh—can I call you back, Jana? I have someone in my office.”

  “Okay. Don’t forget, mom. It’s really important.”

  “All right, honey,” I said, already mentally forming my attack on my visitor.

  I waited. Klee leaned against the door frame, looking somewhat dangerous and, I thought, pleased with himself. The way he was looking at me made me uncomfortable. A little smile tweaked the corners of his mouth. He really was an extraordinarily handsome man. Somehow that fact had escaped me until now. That the thought had surfaced at all made me ask, more irritably than I’d intended, “Yes, Klee? What is it?”

  His smile broadened. He looked around my office, then back at me. “May I come in?”

  I gestured at the chair across my desk. “Of course.”

  He sauntered across the room and slid into the chair with the grace of a panther on the hunt. “I saw the flowers in the kitchen. I’m glad you didn’t throw them away,” he said, crossing one leg over the other. “What happened to the bear?”

  I avoided the question, but I didn’t tell him I had intended to throw the flowers away but forgot. “It’s inappropriate for you to leave presents on my desk,” I said, sounding like a schoolmarm even to my uncritical ears.

  He shrugged. “I stuck my foot in it. The least I could do was to beg your forgiveness.”

  “The note would have been sufficient.”

  He grinned again. “So, am I forgiven?”

  I nodded only because I thought it would be churlish not to do so. After all, I had to work with the man. I had worked with people I didn’t like before. None that rubbed me the wrong way like Klee, but I had managed to work with them and I would find a way to work with him. He certainly was making Sam and Jeff happy. I did not, however, smile. “No more presents.”

  “I like to give presents.”

  “Then find someone else to give them to,” I said, exasperated. “Seriously, Klee, I would appreciate it if we could keep any interaction between us businesslike. You’re a businessman. I’m certain you know how.” Why did this man bring out the bitch in me every time he opened his mouth?

  “Well,” he drawled, impervious to my nastiness, “that’s an awful lot to ask, but if it’s really the way you want it.”

  “It is. I think it will make both of our lives more pleasant.”

  He rose to his feet. “Yes, ma’am. It’s you call.” He extended his hand. “Shake on it?”

  I took his offered hand. It was strong, and he gave no sign of releasing mine after the handshake. He was looking down at me in a way that made me seriously uncomfortable. “Klee?”

  “Oh.” He let go of my hand. Surely his surprise was feigned. He stepped back. “That’s a mighty pretty blouse you have on, ma’am. The color suits you,” he said before he turned and left.

  Dismissing the man and his compliment, I buried myself in my invoices and left the office as soon after that as I could. I didn’t want to chance another run-in with Klee. Still, if Klee was going to be the hardest thing I had to deal with in the upcoming weeks, I could handle it.

  As I pulled into the driveway at home, I realized I had been overly optimistic.

  * * * * *

  I hadn’t seen Greg’s new car, the one he bought when he moved west the year before, but the one parked in the drive had California plates. The suitcase and garment bag in the foyer would have dispelled any lingering doubts, had there been any. “Greg?”

  “In here,” he called from the family room.

  He was stretched out on the couch, remote in his hand, looking like he had any number of times in the past when I’d arrived home—except now he wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be in California, living and working. He turned off the television and swung his legs to the floor as I came into the room.

  “What are you doing here?” Surprise made my voice sound harsh. I moderated it. “When did you get in?”

  “About an hour ago. I let myself in.”

  “I was at work,” I said, sounding defensive, although I couldn’t imagine why.

  “I know. Jana told me when I called her.”

  Jana. I hadn’t called her back. Well, there was no reason to now. I was pretty sure the important thing she wanted to tell me about was sitting on the sofa, looking as awkward as I felt. No exuberant hugs this time. No smiles.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked again.

  He tossed the remote on the couch beside him and conjured up a charming smile. “I thought I’d visit for a while,” he answered, “You know. Take a break. Spend a little time around the old homestead.”

  “How can you take a—a break?” I asked. “You have a job in California. An apartment. A life.�
�

  “Well….” He grinned at me, dimples flashing like strobe lights. “I kind of took a leave of absence. Sublet my apartment. Half a dozen guys wanted it, even temporarily. It’s a great place. Right on the beach. I can’t wait until you and dad come out to see it.

  I sank into the chair nearest the door. “What do you mean, you ‘kind of took a leave of absence’?”

  He avoided my eyes. “My bosses are cool about it. I told them some stuff was happening here at home.”

  “What did you tell them, Greg?” I demanded.

  “I—uh—I told them I had a family crisis and had to be around here for a while,” he mumbled.

  I closed my eyes. My head fell forward. “You didn’t.”

  “Hey, it’s cool, mom. They understood.”

  I took a slow, deep breath, hoping it would calm me. It didn’t.

  “They understood,” I repeated, shaking my suddenly aching head. “I cannot believe you did this, Greg. I cannot believe you jeopardized a wonderful job for no reason. There is no family crisis. There is no reason for you to be here.”

  “You don’t call my parents splitting up a family crisis?”

  “No, I—”

  “Well, I do,” he said, standing abruptly. “It’s the worst family crisis I’ve ever had to deal with, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to deal with it from three thousand miles away.”

  He seemed to realize how that sounded. He walked behind my chair and began massaging my shoulders. “Hey, I can’t let my best girl go through all this stuff when I’m not even around to help, can I?”

  “Greg. Greg,” I shook my shoulders. “Stop that and sit down.”

  His hands froze. He came around the chair and sat on the arm of the couch.

  “Greg,” I began again, “You need to go back to California. There’s—”

  “This is my home, isn’t it?” He frowned, “Or has that changed now that—you know….” He gestured around as if the rest of his sentence might be found written on the walls.