A Compromising Affair (The Harringtons)

by Gwynne Forster

  “Hi, Pamela, you called me?”

  “You bet I did—three times. Haven’t you missed your wallet? You left it on your night table.”

  “Good grief. No, I haven’t missed it. Thanks. I have to go to Whispers Tuesday morning to close up the school for the winter, so I can stop by when I leave there, maybe around five.”

  “Okay. I’ll be home about five-thirty. See you then.”

  Denise hung up, looked at Scott and pursed her lips in self-mockery. “Before I fell in love with you, I didn’t misplace things. Pamela found my wallet.”

  A smile radiated on his face. “I had no idea that I possessed such power. Where are we headed, your place or mine? We have to eat something, and I haven’t kissed you enough today.”

  “You didn’t kiss me in my apartment this morning?”

  “Yeah, but that was more of a promise than a real kiss.”

  “In that case, let me at the real thing.”

  Shortly after eleven that night, Scott rolled onto his back and pulled Denise on top of him. “Nana told me that she thinks you’re wonderful. I’m glad my family likes you and that they’re prepared to love you. But if they hadn’t received you so graciously, I’d still love you. Their embracing you makes our path that much easier. I hope you won’t feel badly if I leave you tonight. My briefcase and papers are in my apartment, and I have a meeting with the chief at nine-thirty tomorrow morning. I’ll see how much autonomy he plans to give me.”

  As he sat in the elegant office the next morning, he remembered that only fifteen years earlier, the chief had been an ambassador to a middle-level country, when he told Scott to make every minute count. “A number of organizations are promoting immigration policies. But the trouble is coming from outside the immigrant community. Groups like Upward and Onward, Halfway There, Second Chance and Americans for Liberty aren’t immigrant groups. They’re wealthy liberals, and they also contribute to members of the Congress. They have a voice.”

  “I’m aware of them,” Scott said, “and I believe our program is sound.”

  “So do I,” the chief said. “If you have any problems, and especially if you’re short of resources, come straight to me. I want this plan to succeed, and if I find that anyone responsible for implementing it drags his or her feet, that person will be out. A lot is hanging on this. We have a good team, and we ought to be able to make it work.”

  He’d have to have a talk to Denise about Second Chance. He’d postponed doing so, because he didn’t think she’d give in, and he was concerned about where the discussion would lead. But when they met that evening, he’d decided that he’d bite the bullet and tell her that her group was at odds with his policies. However, news traveled fast in the nation’s capital, and Congresswoman Katherine Miller got to Denise first.

  Denise was surprised to receive a call from her mother at two o’clock in the afternoon. Katherine usually didn’t socialize during working hours. “I’m going to make this snappy,” she said, after greeting her daughter. “The secretary served notice to Scott and some of his aides that the failure of his immigration policy would not be tolerated. He promised that heads would roll. Second Chance was one of four groups mentioned as causing some problems, so watch it. He loves you, but he won’t tolerate your undermining him.”

  While Katherine talked, Denise paced from her desk to the limits of the phone cord and back. “Who told you this?”

  “I have my sources.”

  “I see.”

  “I hope you do. A public fight between a man of Scott’s status and his fiancée won’t be good for either of you. Incidentally, Clyde wants us to announce your engagement this weekend. Chew on that. I have to go. Love you.”

  Denise dropped into the chair. Hadn’t she told officers of local Second Chance chapters to be less vocal about the issue until the administration spelled out its policies and goals? But they hadn’t heeded her and would nonetheless expect her support. She imagined that Scott left that meeting incensed with her. In fact, she was sure of it, because he hadn’t called her to complain about it.

  Her cell phone rang, and the temptation not to answer it weighed heavily on her. “Hi,” she said to Scott after the sixth ring.

  “Hi. I have to overhaul a report I just received. So I have to cancel our date this evening. Can we get together tomorrow evening?”

  Hmm. Not hi, sweetheart. Just plain hi. He was sore, all right. “Fine, but I’ll be at Whispers tomorrow afternoon, and I planned to spend the night at my house in Frederick.”

  “How is six-thirty in Frederick?”

  “Okay.” She thought for a minute. It might be reckless, but she wasn’t afraid to test the water. “Is everything all right with you?”

  “Not entirely, Denise. But I expect it will be…one way or the other. See you tomorrow. Love you.”

  She hung up and stared into space. One way or the other! He was furious with her or with somebody. Maybe he’s disappointed, her nagging conscience suggested.

  What was she to do? Second Chance had its agenda before she knew Scott. Still, he had a right to expect her to support him. And at the very least, to refrain from undermining him. She telephoned Priscilla. “I’ll be spending tomorrow night in Frederick. Think of something real nice in case I have a dinner guest.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You bet.”

  Denise telephoned Carole Jacobs, the Second Chance national secretary. She suspected that the woman had her own agenda, and that she didn’t enjoy following her leadership. “Hello, Carole, this is Denise. We don’t know the government’s policy on immigrant children, so let’s not make an issue it.”

  “But if we can get ahead by promoting our own plan, we’re more likely to succeed,” Carole said. “I have contacted Upward and Onward, and they are ready to join us. I’ll bet some others will, too.”

  Denise tamped down her anger, which threatened to spill over in harsh words. “Carole, we’ll abide by the board’s decision. That’s why we had a meeting.”

  “Whatever you say!”

  Denise hung up. The crack in Second Chance had to become a fissure. Too bad, she thought

  At Whispers the next morning, Denise closed the riding-school section of her stables and called Morton Sykes to her office.

  “Morton, I’ll come here occasionally to ride, but as manager, I think it’s best that you take care of supplies and the operations, in addition to training and caring for the horses. How much more per month will you need for the added duties?”

  “A few hundred will do it. I’ll send you the monthly receipts, and you pay the bills. I don’t need to handle anybody’s money but my own.”

  “Perfect. I’ll add five hundred to your monthly salary.”

  “I hope that’s Galloway’s ring on your finger. He’s solid.”

  “Thanks. We’ve been engaged a little over a week, but we may never marry.”

  He put a cigarette in his mouth, removed it, put it in his pocket and let out a deep sigh. “Why do you say that?”

  She gave him an overview of the conflict between Second Chance and Scott’s job in the administration. Morton’s keen whistle split the air. “You’re damn right, you won’t. If you don’t drop that business right now, he’ll be long gone. That’s a no-nonsense man. If I was in his place, I’d be walking this minute. Don’t you love him?”

  “Of course I love him.”

  “Then, that should be your answer. You’re doing volunteer work, but he’s making a living, and there’s a hell of a difference. Denise, I married the daughter of one of this country’s wealthiest men. I was CEO of a multibillion-dollar company. I fired a female employee for insolence, and she said I fired her because she wouldn’t sleep with me. The media and the women’s groups loved it. It was an absolute lie. My in-laws were mortified, and so my wife didn’t support me. The minute I knew she wasn’t with me, I walked and never looked back. After six years, she’s still sorry, but I barely remember what she looks like.”

  “I get the message.”


  “Do you? He loves you, and if you two don’t marry, I’ll know you let him down.” He took the cigarette from his pocket and was about to put it into his mouth.

  “Funny thing. He asked me to stop smoking and, for the first time, I’m trying. I like the guy. Be careful, Ms. Miller.”

  “Thank you, Morton. I will.”

  Between Carole’s insolence, her mother’s warning and Morton’s prediction, Denise had plenty to think about. Somehow, she hadn’t foreseen a problem. They would work it out. They had to!

  She left Whispers, arrived at Pamela and Drake’s home and approached Pamela, who was accompanied by Heather. “I came for my wallet. My driver’s license is in it. Lord help me if I’d been pulled over.” She hugged the two women. “I can’t stay but a few minutes.”

  “I hope you’re rushing off to meet Scott,” Heather said.

  “Well, I’m not. I’m headed home.”

  “What’s wrong with you, girl?” Pamela said. “How many times do you have to be told that you’re not going to find another man like Scott Galloway?”

  “Besides, he’s crazy in love with you,” Heather added. “You’re going to lose him to somebody who isn’t half the woman that you are.”

  “Not hardly,” Denise said, running up the stairs to get her wallet. “Why do you two think you know Scott better than I do?” she asked when she got back to them.

  “Because—”

  “Because nothing,” Denise said and extended her left hand.

  “Holy cow!” Pamela screamed. “Look at this rock!”

  Heather grabbed Denise’s hand. “Well, I’ll be!”

  Denise’s grinned. “And all this time, you thought I’d need to make Scott look good to me.” She threw up her hands and laughed aloud. “You thought we were fussing when we were buzzing.”

  “We’ve got to drink to this. When did it happen?” Pamela asked.

  “I said yes a few weeks ago and I got the ring Sunday.”

  “I’m so happy for you,” her friends said in unison.

  “Thanks. I love you both, but I have to go. I’ll call.”

  “You’re coming to Russ’s birthday party, aren’t you?”

  “You bet I’ll be there.”

  Scott left the office at four, went to his house in Georgetown and got a book of poems that had belonged to his mother. He had loved the poems, when as a small child, his mother recited the lyrical lines that he didn’t understand. But he remembered the words of her favorite poems. He bought a dozen roses for Denise and, for the first time, he mixed white with the yellow. If that conveyed a meaning, he didn’t know what it was, but he liked the mix.

  The door to Denise’s house at 271 Henderson Street, in Frederick, Maryland, opened in response to his ring. Denise faced him with her arms open, eyes wide and a look of vulnerablity. Unable to resist, he drew her into his arms, parted her lips with his tongue and sipped the nectar that she gave him. When he released her, she asked him, “Do you mean that?”

  “Mostly,” he said, honestly.

  “I planned for us to have dinner here, because something is wrong, and I know what it is.”

  “What is it?”

  “Mom called me shortly before you did. She has spies, and it seems she’s heard something. I’m not sure what you should do with that information.”

  “I’ll keep it to myself.”

  Priscilla came into the den, where they were about to sit down. “Hi, Mr. Ambassador. I brought you some of my cheese sticks. Think you’d like a vodka collins to go with them? I’ll make it nice and weak, and I’m bringing you some hot snacks. Sure is good to see you.”

  “I’m glad to see you, Mrs. Mallory. Make that drink very weak, please.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Priscilla returned with the drinks and hors d’oeuvres. “Dinner will be ready about seven-fifteen, ma’am.”

  “That’s fine, Priscilla.”

  Scott sipped his cocktail and put it aside. “Where do you want to start?”

  “I’m not the one who put pressure on your office about immigrant issues, and I called Second Chance’s national secretary this afternoon to reprimand her. The board decided to do nothing until the federal policy was announced. And I had pushed for that.”

  “So far, so good. But suppose your group doesn’t approve of it? Then what?”

  “I don’t intend to work against you.”

  “What about supporting me? That’s what I need from you, Denise. I respect your desire to help bring about the changes that you would like to see, and your willingness to work toward that end. But that’s why we have government policies—to manage the bigger picture. If every citizen or group tried to implement its own policy, we would have chaos. My goals aren’t so different from yours. Why can’t you find a way to help me? This is your avocation, but it’s my career. It’s our life.”

  “Were you angry with me?” she said.

  “If only it was that simple. I was mad, but I was also hurt. Deeply hurt.”

  “I’m sorry. If Second Chance won’t change tactics, it will have to have a new president.”

  “Denise, a portion of our policy involves ensuring that all foreign-born immigrants have an opportunity to learn English. You could help in that and in other ways.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  He took the book of poems from his jacket pocket.

  “When I was little, my mother read poetry to us. I still remember several of the poems. From Marlowe, she especially loved these lines, ‘Come live with me and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove.’ When I read it, I need you close to me.” She moved closer to him, and he read the entire poem to her.

  “But Denise, these lines from Oscar Wilde also apply to us. He said that men kill what they love and, ‘A coward does it with a kiss.’ I’ve been down that road, sweetheart, and the experience was a lesson I have tried never to repeat again.” With his right hand covering hers, he said, “Love is fragile, sweetheart, but affection, loyalty, fidelity and genuine caring strengthen it. I’m offering you that and so much more.”

  “And I’ll give you the same and as much love as you can tolerate.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth.

  When Priscilla served dessert, she put a bag of cheese sticks beside his plate. He kissed her on the cheek in a gesture of thanks.

  “You know, I’m always gon’ remember what you like,” she said, referring to the bag of cheese sticks. She patted her hair. “Good night, ma’am. I’ll see you tomorrow, ’bout eleven.”

  “Good night, Priscilla. And thank you.”

  “What time do you want to leave for Waverly?” Scott asked Denise.

  “If I had my way, we wouldn’t go, but I promised. So let’s take an early flight. Mom said that Daddy wants to announce our engagement this weekend.”

  “Great. I’ve been so tied down with policy issues, my first in this administration, that I’ve neglected to get with Judson and tell him how things are going. But I had better, or he’ll be sore.”

  “I’m sure he knows about us, because I showed Pamela and Heather my ring.”

  “He needs to hear it from me. He’s closer to me than my own brothers.”

  Clyde Miller met Denise and Scott at the airport. “I’m glad you took an earlier flight. I want to show Scott around San Antonio.” He hugged Denise. “Scott said last time that it was his first visit to Texas, and I didn’t show him very much of it.”

  “Whatever you say,” Denise replied with a notable lack of enthusiasm.

  Clyde seemed put out. “We should at least show him The Alamo, La Villita and the San Antonio River that runs through the city,” he said. “People come here from all over the world to see that river, take a ride in the Yanaguana and to see the way the city looks from the River Walk.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go to La Villita first, so Scott can get a taste of the effects of some of our immigration laws.”

  Scott didn’t like her tone. “I left my j
ob back in Washington, and I’d appreciate it if it stayed there.”

  “Sorry,” she said.

  The Alamo surprised him. He had thought it was much larger, and asked himself why anybody would fight over it. He could easily have mistaken La Villita, a city within San Antonio, for a place in Mexico. He wasn’t much of a tourist, but he wished the ride down the San Antonio River on that flat-bottom river taxi, known as the Yanaguana, had lasted for hours. He imagined an awesome sight at Christmastime, when the number of shops and cypress trees along the riverbanks were all lit up with colorful lights and decorations.

  “It must be beautiful here during the Christmas holidays,” he said.

  “Oh, yes,” Clyde replied. “It’s wonderland, indeed.”

  “Mom must be holding supper for us. Shouldn’t we head home, Daddy?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so,” Clyde said, in a lackluster voice.

  Katherine met them at the door wearing a red jersey caftan. Clyde rewarded her with a warm greeting.

  “I was beginning to wonder if the plane ever landed,” she said airily. “Wash up, and let’s eat.”

  After supper, Clyde produced several scrapbooks. “These will tell you something about our family, son.” He pointed to a blue leather one. “Katherine put this together, when she was recuperating from a riding accident. This is Denise’s life from birth ’til she left home.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll go through these tonight.”

  “But Daddy, some of these pictures are too, uh, personal.”

  “Nonsense. There is nothing personal about a baby’s bottom, and I know that’s what you’re talking about.”

  Scott laughed. In more appropriate circumstances, he’d have reminded her that he had already seen her without her clothes.

  “What’s funny?” she asked.

  He laughed harder. “There are few things as cute as a baby’s bottom, and they all look the same.” When her eyes narrowed, he got up from the chair and, carrying the large album, walked over and kissed her in a lingering embrace. “I can’t wait to see these.” He looked at Clyde. “Who’s cooking breakfast? You or me?”