A Compromising Affair (The Harringtons)

by Gwynne Forster

  “We can do it together. Six-thirty all right with you?”

  “Sure thing.” He kissed Katherine’s cheek. ’Night all.”

  “Anything wrong with you two?” Clyde asked Denise after Scott left.

  “Nothing yet, but if he spends the entire weekend with you and ignores me as he did when we were here before, there’ll be plenty wrong.”

  Clyde’s frown should have warned her, but it didn’t. “Surely you are not jealous of the time your future husband spends with your father. I don’t have a son or a brother. Every man needs one or the other, and I’m so happy that you are marrying a man who wants to be a son to me and to your mother. You’re with him all the time. Try not to act like an only child.”

  “He didn’t kiss me once when we were here before.”

  “Well, he certainly did a few minutes ago.”

  “Not nearly as well as I know he’s capable of.” She knew she sounded childish, but she didn’t care.

  Denise would learn that her father could be as cross as she could—if indeed, she needed a reminder. “This house has nine rooms, a recreation room, five bathrooms and closets on three floors,” Clyde said. “You ought to be able to find a place to kiss Scott in private.”

  “Sorry, Dad. I’d like the chance to introduce him to my friends,” she said, feeling that she’d gotten the upper hand in the conversation.

  “Then throw a party. I’m going to bed. Six-thirty will be here shortly. Coming, Katherine?”

  Denise knew she had no right to be mad. But she wanted to show him off. She went to bed promising herself that she’d be in the kitchen at six-thirty to spoil their male-bonding fun.

  Denise awakened at ten-thirty, and by then Scott and her father had caught, between them, nine fish—four rainbow trout and five bass. Having finished fishing, they sat under a wild pecan tree near the banks of the Guadalupe River picking up nuts.

  “This place is so peaceful,” Scott said, sitting beside the river, shaded by cypress, pecan and cottonwood trees. “No wonder people down here move slowly.”

  “’Til they get behind the wheel of a car,” Clyde added. “You think you can get Denise to come down here for Thanksgiving? I expect you’ll want to be with your folks for Christmas, so it would be nice if you split your holidays between Denise’s family and yours.”

  “I can try. If she balks, and she’s in a mood to do that, perhaps you and her mother will come to Baltimore. It’s time you met my family.”

  He could see that Clyde agreed only grudgingly. “All right, son, we’ll play it by ear.”

  When they got back to the Miller home shortly after one o’clock, neither Denise nor Katherine greeted them warmly. “I don’t know where the time went,” Scott said to Denise. “It was heavenly. So quiet and peaceful, the only sound was the breeze through the cypress trees and the rushing of the water. It was almost like a symphony. I wish you had been there.”

  “Me, too. Oh, Scott. Let’s go for a ride this afternoon.”

  “Sweetheart, Clyde wants to take us to San Antonio this afternoon to see the annual street festival.”

  “I’ll bet. He wants to fill up on souvlaki, Italian sausage and beer. I forgot about that. It’s the one time Mom lets him pollute his arteries.”

  The weekend had gone by quickly. “What about Thanksgiving?” Scott asked Denise Sunday night after they arrived home. He’d waited until then, hoping to avoid any arguments.

  “No way! Mom and I would spend the weekend alone except at mealtime.” She showed him her left hand.

  “And this ring says I’m entitled to monopolize all your free time. No thanks.”

  “I can’t believe you’re jealous of your own father. It makes no sense.”

  “I am not jealous of him. He’s the one who doesn’t make sense.”

  “I had better go. After such a wonderful evening, we shouldn’t part like this. I’ll call you.”

  “Bye,” she said, her voice so weak that he barely heard her.

  At home, after checking his answering machine, he telephoned Judson. “Hi. I was out of town. You called three times. What’s up?”

  “Plenty. To begin with, who’s your best man? If it’s me, then when were you planning to let me know?”

  “Man, this is a bad time. I hadn’t planned to tell anyone until I put the ring on Denise’s finger. Right now, she’s furious with me over nothing.”

  “Join the club, buddy. If she’s merely furious with you, you haven’t done much. If anything, you probably deserve it. If it was serious, man, she’d just stop talking to you. So chin up. It isn’t so bad. I’ve been calling because Drake and Telford told me to ask you to come down next weekend. We are celebrating Russ’s thirty-fifth birthday on Sunday. He wants some books on ancient architectural design and Middle Eastern architecture as gifts. He told Telford that he needs a new Western saddle.”

  “Thanks for the tip. I’ll see you Friday afternoon. Give Heather my love.”

  “Can we meet for lunch? I have a business engagement this evening,” Denise said.

  “I can meet you at the Willard. What time?” Scott asked.

  Once they were at lunch the debate resumed, although Scott wasn’t quite sure what the underlying issue was.

  “I want to introduce you to my friends in Waverly,” she said at lunch, “but my father doesn’t give me a chance.”

  “I can appreciate that, but couldn’t you resolve this easily by giving a party?”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake. You men are all just alike. That’s what my dad said.”

  Why should she get ticked off about that? “Well, wasn’t he right?”

  She speared an asparagus with her fork. “Is he ever wrong?”

  “Sweetheart, I see that we have to let this issue cool off a bit more before we can move on. What do you see when you look at me?”

  She leaned forward and looked him in the eye. “When I look at you, I see my man and not my father’s son.”

  He laughed, since laughing gave him a good feeling. “Tell him that.”

  She let out a long, deep sigh. “It won’t do a bit of good.”

  “Too bad. I have to go. I’ll call you when I get home tonight, provided it’s not too late.”

  Denise telephoned Scott twice that afternoon. “I don’t have anything to say,” she told him during the second call. “I…I need to feel closer to you. I know it’s my problem, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “If I knew how, I’d tell you,” he said. “You’re not going to like this, but I keep thinking of the word trust even though I believe you trust me. Do you think your dad cares more for me than for you? It isn’t possible, you know.”

  “I don’t think that’s true, honey, but when you are with them, I feel left out.”

  “How are you going to feel when we have children, especially if we have girls who will undoubtedly try to monopolize their father’s time?”

  “I know, but—”

  “That’s something for you to think about.”

  “Are you still sore with me?” she asked him.

  “Put it this way. I’m not happy because I know you won’t give in and allow us to spend Thanksgiving in Waverly, as we should, and as I want to do.”

  “Let’s not go over that again.”

  “Of course not.”

  It wasn’t until she was in Saks Fifth Avenue shopping for her wedding gown that she reflected upon the bitterness of those words…of course not.

  “You need to get your act together,” Katherine told her when they spoke later that day. “Clyde is so proud of having an ambassador for a son-in-law, and we both like Scott so much. Scott wanted to invite our families to get together for Thanksgiving dinner and your father is so disappointed.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. Honest, I am.”

  “That isn’t good enough.”

  If her mom was annoyed with her, her dad was probably even more disappointed and unhappy. After talking to her mother, Denise realized that if the three people sh
e loved most were vexed at her, she had to do some rethinking.

  She telephoned Pamela. “Can you stand a houseguest this weekend?”

  “Sure. Where’ve you been lately? We’re past thinking of you as a houseguest, Denise. Drake even refers to that room as Denise’s room. Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you to come over because we are celebrating Russ’s thirty-fifth birthday on Sunday. Roast pork is Russ’s favorite, so Henry is roasting a huge pig. Come Friday, so we can catch up on things.”

  Late Friday afternoon, sipping wine with Pamela and Heather, Denise could barely contain her misery. Scott would be in Eagle Park for Russ’s party, and he hadn’t mentioned it to her.

  “Did you tell him you’d be here?” Heather asked her.

  “You can’t expect more than you give,” Pamela said.

  “What’s wrong with you two, anyway?”

  Denise sipped her wine as she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Mr. Ambassador is enamored with my dad, and vice versa. When we are in Texas, I can’t even get a friggin’ kiss. They’re always together. You’d think he’d never bonded with a man. He’d have a fit if I hung out with his dad.” She giggled. “Raynor Galloway is one fine-looking brother. He puts most thirty-year-old men to shame.”

  “Hmm. Looks like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Pamela said.

  At her house after dinner that evening, Heather made the mistake of relating part of Denise’s conversation to Scott.

  “Why the hell would she tell you anything about it?” Scott asked.

  “Please, Scott. I wanted to try and ease the situation, not to make it worse.”

  “Well, you missed the mark.”

  “Are you going over to Drake’s house?”

  As mad as he was, he didn’t dare go there. “No. I am not! I’m going to bed.”

  “But she knows you are here,” Judson said.

  “Right. And I know she’s there. See you in the morning.” But he didn’t see them the next morning.

  At a quarter to seven the next day, Scott rang the doorbell at Harrington House, and as expected, Henry opened the door. “I had to clean the flour off me hands. Lock the door behind you. I’m in the kitchen.”

  “How are you, Henry? Mind if I watch you make the biscuits? I’d like to learn how you do it.”

  “You can learn some other time. Get the bacon and sausages and fry a pound of each. Sit down over there. You don’t look so happy. How’s Denise?”

  “Where do I start?”

  Henry broke four eggs into two cups of buttermilk, tossed the egg shells into the compost bucket and squinted at Scott. “Bacon and sausage. You can talk while you do that. What’s wrong with you and Denise?”

  Scott told Henry as much as he thought he needed to know. “Last night, I was mad enough to have doubts. Why can’t she—”

  Henry interrupted him. “But you didn’t, and you won’t walk away, because you ain’t that stupid. Sit her down and tell her what you just told me. She’s everything to ya. But you ain’t gonna put up with her nonsense. She’s an only child, and she ain’t used to sharing. When is the wedding?”

  “She hasn’t set a date.”

  “Tell her you want to set the date. Now that that’s settled, turn over that bacon, ’fore it burns.”

  “That simple, huh?”

  “She’s backed herself into a corner,” Henry said, “and she don’t know how to get out of it. Quit reacting, and be direct. Women are never completely sure of a man, and they shouldn’t be. You can handle it. Brush some of that melted butter over these biscuits, so they’ll brown evenly.”

  “Henry, I hope I can come to you for advice for as long as I live.”

  “Humph!”

  A few minutes later, Scott wrapped six hot biscuits in aluminum foil and headed toward the river, eating them as he walked. He had to tape an interview that evening, and he needed to pull his thoughts together. He needed to see Denise, too, but he was tired of skating around the issue between them, and he didn’t feel like pretending. He sat on a boulder beside the Monocacy River with his back against the cypress tree, took a small pad from his pocket and began to make notes.

  “Is Scott down there?” Heather asked Pamela when she called at about eight-thirty that morning.

  “No. We haven’t seen nor heard from Scott. Denise is ready to climb the wall.”

  “Let me speak with Heather,” Denise said. “Is Scott’s car in your garage?” she asked Heather.

  “Yes. I figure Scott is down at Telford’s house,” Heather said. “Are you two going to make up?”

  “How do I know? He’s acting as if I’m on an island somewhere.”

  “Well, you’ll see him at the party tomorrow, Denise,” she said.

  “According to Drake, this is all my fault.”

  “I agree, but—”

  “I don’t know how to beg, and I do not plan to start now,” Denise said.

  “Atta girl! Scott’s got a TV interview taping at five this afternoon, but he’ll be back here for dinner. You want to join us?” Heather said.

  “Thanks, but that smacks too much of outside interference, and he’ll balk at it. There are other ways.

  Scott left the television station exhilarated. He knew he’d done well, and the host and staff had applauded him when he’d finished taping. He wanted to send a gift to the host. In the elevator, he patted the inside pocket of his suit jacket for his iPhone, but it wasn’t there. He remembered that the last time he had worn the suit he had on was the day he’d left Lithuania. He put his hand inside the pocket and found Helga’s letter, which he had put there as he was leaving the embassy in Vilnius. It had been months since he had thought of Helga. As he drove back to Eagle Park, he was tempted—even anxious—to see Denise, but instead he went directly to Judson and Heather’s home.

  “How’d it go, buddy?” Judson asked him.

  “It couldn’t have gone better. We can watch the piece at nine-thirty tonight.” He knew Judson would phone the Harringtons and tell them. He had already told his dad and Clyde, and he wanted Denise to see it. But he didn’t feel like calling her. Hopefully, Pamela would tell her.

  After warring with himself for most of the evening, he went to bed around midnight without calling Denise. For hours, he lay there staring at the ceiling and at the moon, which he could see through the blinds. Between thinking of Denise and trying to get to sleep, he remembered Helga’s letter and got up.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he read:

  Dear Scott,

  It’s been wonderful knowing you. Unless you come back, we won’t meet again, because my son has grounded me. He’s afraid something will happen to me if I continue to trek around the world by myself. But it’s been a great life. Yours will be great, too. So you remember what I told you, especially the part about horseback riding. It’s a very rewarding activity. Write when you can.

  Yours,

  Helga

  He couldn’t fathom the significance of horseback riding, so he reread the letter several times before it dawned on him. Helga had once told him that she hoped he liked horses. Suddenly he realized she had to have been pointing him to Denise, who owned a dozen of them and who loved to ride. He put on his robe and walked barefoot down to the kitchen, got a bottle of beer, opened it and sat down at the kitchen table.

  His father had often told him that, if he ruined his life, it would be because of his stubbornness. And he had the fortune—good or bad—to love a woman who was just as stubborn as he was. He spent Sunday morning along the riding trail, near the Monocacy River, thinking of his life, of Denise and what mattered most to him. He could barely remember why he’d gotten so angry with her.

  At one o’clock, he headed down the road to Harrington House. A recording of “The Honey Wind Blows” by the Brothers Four—a song he loved—and the sound of human voices greeted his ears. When he walked around the back of the garage, colorful balloons, pennants and streamers greeted his eyes. In a far corner of the garden, beside the b
arbecue pit, a thirty-five-pound pig was roasting on a spit, as the tantalizing smell of seasoned pork and barbecue sauce made his mouth water.

  His heart lurched when he saw her standing with her back to him talking to a man he didn’t know. Was this guy the reason she hadn’t tried to reach him when he’d been only a short distance away from her for the past two nights? Never one to second-guess, he headed straight to her. He didn’t care who the man was; Denise Miller was his woman.

  From his peripheral vision, he saw Henry drop his barbecue fork and stare at him. And from a glance to the side, he saw that everyone, including Tara, watched him—everyone except Denise and her friend, who couldn’t see him.

  “Hello, Denise.”

  At the sound of his voice, she whirled around, and he noted that she was neither nervous nor flustered. “Hi,” she said and fully faced him.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

  “Yes, of course. You totally threw me off. Ambassador Galloway, this is Charles Hamilton, one of the Harrington brothers’ associates. Mr. Hamilton, Ambassador Scott Galloway is my fiancé.”

  He shook the man’s hand and waited for him to make himself scarce. He glanced at Henry, who wore the widest grin he had ever seen.

  “Excuse me, please, Mr. Hamilton. Scott and I have some catching up to do,” Denise said. “I enjoyed talking with you.” Drake appeared and soon walked with his guest toward the bar.

  “If Drake hadn’t pulled Charles away, I would have,” Velma whispered in Scott’s ear.

  Soon, Alexis joined them handed them each a glass of champagne. “I’ve been so scared you two were breaking up.”

  “Not a chance,” Scott said, accepting the flute.

  “Thank God for that,” Alexis said, releasing a deep sigh.

  “Could I have a word with you, Denise?” Pamela asked just when he thought he could sneak away to Judson’s house and take Denise with him.