Hope Returns

by Dorey Whittaker

  Never changing her expression, the woman muttered something under her breath. It was obvious that she did not care to hide her disgust, which made Hope just a little bit more than nervous. People have strange ideas about people in the public eye, even those who are just bystanders, as she was. Hope slipped by the woman quickly and made her way back to the ballroom where she would feel safe—albeit bored. By the time Michael was finally ready to leave, the woman’s behavior was forgotten so Hope did not mention it to him on their way home.

  Chapter 20

  Hope was anxious to get back to work on Monday morning. The office was officially closed for the holidays, but she knew there would be several managers who just could not stay away. She had not yet been entrusted with an office key but was certain she could gain entry this morning. She wanted to throw herself into the waiting project so she could stop thinking about Michael. One would think this a bride-to-be’s normal dilemma, but there was nothing normal about it. There were more questions than answers and since her conversation with her grandmother, she did not like any of the answers. As she pulled into the parking lot she noticed Mr. Davenport’s car was already there, as were several others. Knowing the receptionist would not be one of them, Hope sat in her car writing out her list of thank you note recipients and waited for someone with a key to pull into the parking lot.

  A manager came out the side door and made his way to his car. Hope remained in her car for a moment, fearing he would not recognize her. She watched as he opened his trunk and removed several binders and started back toward the side door of the office. Hope quickly gathered up her purse and made a dash for the same door. “Good morning. Mind if I slip in the door with you, Mr. Sawyer? I am Hope Winslow, the new proofer and I have some rewrites to do.”

  Sawyer held the door open and allowed Hope to enter, “You work directly for Mr. Davenport, right? Did you have a nice holiday, Hope?”

  “Sure did,” was all Hope was willing to offer before excusing herself and making a beeline to her office and closing the door behind her. She turned on her office light, removed the project copy from its folder and spread it out on her desk, but she could not stop going over Michael’s cold remarks from the night before. Noticing her boss’s familiar red inked notes in the margin meant he had been in her office recently. Hope reviewed his notes and tried to concentrate on the suggestions in the margin, but her eyes would not focus through her tears. Fearing someone might see her crying, Hope quickly dabbed away the tears and scolded herself, “Stop this right now. You always read too much into his behavior. Last night was not such a bad evening. Even Mr. and Mrs. Gundersol were nice to you. What more do you want? Michael keeps telling you to stop the fairytales and to grow up. Did you expect him to sweep you off your feet, carry you into another room and make mad passionate love to you?” Hope turned and looked at herself in the mirror that hung above the credenza. “It wouldn’t hurt. Is this how our marriage is going to be? Is he so focused on his political career that he doesn’t need affection from me? How come I am supposed to make every effort to show him my love and support but he doesn’t have to do anything to convince me that he loves me? Why is this forgiveness thing such a one-way street?”

  Squaring her shoulders and forcing a smile, Hope turned back to her desk only to see her boss standing in the doorway. “Hope, what are you doing in the office? Didn’t you go to Georgia for Christmas?” Noticing the glisten of tears in her eyes, Davenport asked, “Are you okay? You look a little upset.”

  “I’m fine, Mr. Davenport, I think the jetlag is just hitting me this morning but as soon as I get to work on this project I should be fine.” Wanting to change the subject, Hope asked, “I noticed that you added several additional points to your memorandum and I was starting to read through them. Is there anything else you wish to add before I begin?”

  “No, Hope, I came into the office yesterday afternoon and went through all your notes. I’d much rather be here working than being dragged around a mall. You’d think Christmas would drain my wife of the thrill of trekking through malls, but her energy is endless. I like the way your edits did not change the tone of my comments. When I saw you in your office I wanted to stop by and tell you that you did a really good job on it. Once you have gone over these last few additional comments I think we will be ready to send this to the printer.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Davenport, I love working here. Once I have reviewed these last changes I will put it on your desk so you can do a final read-through. However, the art department has not yet finished the inserts so we will have to hold off sending this to the printer until they get that to me. Since tomorrow is New Year’s Eve the printers will not even start on this until Thursday.” Davenport just smiled as he went on his way, leaving Hope to her work.

  By lunchtime the biggest project she had ever attempted was on Davenport’s desk and she knew he was very satisfied with her work. Hope climbed into her car and headed for the mall, feeling better than she had when her workday had started. Needing to replenish her supply of thank you notes, she made her way to her favorite stationery store on the second level of the mall. As she entered the store she pulled out the thank you note list she had made that morning and noticed something rather odd about it. At the top were the names of her mom and dad and two siblings. That was not odd. They had always been at the top of every Christmas thank you note list she could remember. It was the next several names that were quite different this year. Lisa and Ben, Benny, Mrs. Reiner, Gladys, Susan and Scott, Harry and Carol Anne, Ruth and, of course, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, her gracious holiday hosts. She could not help but smile as she read through this list. “They are my family and I can’t wait to be with them again.” Then she let her eyes drift down to the bottom of her list and noticed she had just written “The Gundersols.” Not Michael and his parents. Michael should have been at the very top of her list but she knew she did not want him up there and that bothered her. Actually, she knew she did not want him on her list at all. These days there was very little about him, or his parents, that she felt thankful for.

  As Hope lifted her purchase off the counter and headed for the door she had a strange feeling of being watched. Securing her wallet deeper into her purse and tucking her purse close to her body, she increased her steps and made a quick right turn just as she cleared the doorway. She remembered the coffeehouse was just two doors up and made her way quickly to one of the tables toward the back of the shop. Positioning herself with her back against the wall, Hope tried to look calm as she studied every person entering the shop. This was the second time in one hour she had experienced this strange feeling. No one seemed interested in her so after a few moments Hope gathered up her purchases and made her way to the mall exit.

  Feeling calmer as she reached her car, Hope unlocked the door as she reprimanded herself, “What a drama queen you are, Hope. Who cares enough about you to be following you around?” Once in her car, Hope started the engine, then adjusted the rear-view mirror to check her lipstick, “You silly little girl. Michael would make such a big deal over your behavior, if you were foolish enough to tell him.” Straightening up the mirror, Hope caught a glimpse of a woman standing between the two cars directly behind her. Straining to get a better look, she was certain she had seen this woman before, but where? Putting her car in reverse, Hope reached up and made sure her car door was locked before backing up much farther than necessary in order to clear the parking space. She wanted to get a better look at this woman who was standing between the two cars without any packages or any attempt to gain entry into either car. Just as Hope had her car in position the woman made a quick dash in the opposite direction, making sure her face was turned away from Hope.

  By the time she arrived back at the office, Hope had convinced herself this was simply a woman who had misplaced her car and was not spying on her. Checking her lipstick in the mirror, she chided herself, “Hope, you have to stop getting hysterical. That is one of the things Michael hates about you. You need to start
growing up.” Suddenly, the words she had just used began to sting as she realized she had just used Michael’s familiar words against herself. Looking back into the mirror as she gathered up her things, she sighed, “It is bad enough I have to hear it from him—don’t you dare turn on me too.”

  After lunch on Mondays had become Hope’s regular time to call Lisa’s answering machine in Jefferson, Georgia. She would usually jabber on about whatever had gone on during her weekend, but not today. Lisa was still on her honeymoon and would not even get home to Jefferson until after New Year’s. Tapping the receiver, Hope really wanted to call and chat with her mom. “It is funny how quickly you come to depend on another person. I wonder if she and Ben are having a good time at the Old Plantation? Ben is sure crazy about her and she turns to mush whenever she is around him. I am so glad they found each other.”

  Rummaging through her purse, Hope was certain her little pocket phone book was in there somewhere. Then she remembered stuffing it into the upper pocket of her overnight case when she was packing to come home. “I should have unpacked yesterday and put my little phone book back into my purse. I have Grandma Reiner’s phone number in it but now I don’t have it with me.”

  Hope quickly jotted down a reminder note to put her phone book back in her purse, slid the note into her pocket and headed down the hall to meet with the art team. As soon as she entered the conference room and saw Judy, the art team coordinator, Hope remembered where she had seen the woman at the mall. Seeing Judy standing there jogged her memory because they looked so similar. It was the same woman who had entered the ladies lounge at the Marriott the night before; she was certain of this and wondered to herself, “Why would a reporter care to follow me around? The next time I see her I am going up to her and tell her to stop following me around.” Then remembering Michael’s admonition to not talk to anyone, ever, Hope decided it best just to avoid this snoopy reporter.

  Around four o’clock Judy stopped by Hope’s office and asked, “Are you just about finished, Hope? You and I are the last ones here and you don’t have a key.”

  Hope grabbed her purse and turned off her office light. “I’m sorry, were you waiting for me to be finished? I didn’t even think about how the alarm and door would be secured.” Hope followed Judy to the main entrance and waited while Judy set the alarm and locked the door. In late December it starts getting dark by four o’clock so the security lights were already on in the parking lot. As they turned the corner of the building Hope noticed there were three cars in the parking lot. Judy’s car was next to the building with her car parked beside it, but the third car was parked against the back fence and backed into the space. Hope did not mention this to Judy. Unable to see the driver from this distance, Hope noted the car’s type and color then quickly climbed into her car, locked the door and started the engine. She wanted to make sure she was able to follow Judy out of the parking lot and onto the busy street before that car had a chance to come near her.

  That evening as she and Michael drove over to the Gundersol home, Hope decided to mention this strange woman. “Do you have reporters following you around?”

  “Sure, it is just part of the political game.” He responded with a tone that warned Hope he was not interested in this line of questions.

  Ignoring his tone, Hope continued, “Well, some woman reporter has been following me around and I do not like it. She was in the ladies lounge at the Marriott last night, she was standing near my car at the mall today, and then I know it must have been her sitting in her car in my work parking lot when I left tonight. What in the world does she think she will learn from me?”

  Turning a puzzled look toward Hope, his tone quickly changing, he asked, “Are you sure it was the same woman? Did she question you?”

  “No,” Hope replied. “Besides you told me not to talk to reporters, remember? Who else could be following me around? How can you stand this type of invasion of your privacy; doesn’t it get old?”

  “It sure does,” he chided, “but I’ve found ways to lose them when I really want my privacy. In this business you need reporters. It’s when they stop following you around that you better start to worry. So if she didn’t ask you any questions what makes you think she is a reporter?”

  “Who else could it be? I’m going to start watching for her car just so I don’t get surprised by her again. At least it should be easy to spot. It is a maroon Chrysler convertible with a white top. I’d suspect there are not many of those on the road.” Hope was so busy congratulating herself on keeping the drama queen routine down and just stating facts, she did not notice how quiet Michael had become.

  As soon as they pulled into his parents’ driveway, Michael excused himself saying, “I need to make a phone call, Hope. I should have confirmed our reservations for tomorrow night before I picked you up tonight. You go ahead into the house and I will be there in a few minutes.”

  It was bad enough walking into the lioness’ den with Michael, having to do it alone was treacherous. “I don’t mind waiting here with you. Isn’t there an extension right inside the garage door?”

  His reaction took Hope by surprise. “No, I said for you to go on in. I don’t need you babysitting me while I make a phone call.”

  “Michael, you know I don’t like to be alone with your parents. Why can’t I just wait for you?”

  His tone became both angry and threatening as he snapped, “Because I told you to go inside, Hope. Why do you always have to argue with my instructions? Can’t I ever count on you to just do what you are told?”

  Hope lifted her jacket and purse out of the back seat and headed for the front door. She knew this was something more than forgetting to confirm dinner reservations but when Michael gets like this there is no talking to him. Hope was ushered into the large solarium, Mrs. Gundersol’s favorite room in the house. The city views from the floor to ceiling wrap-around windows were truly impressive and since all of her Christmas decorations were still up, the room took on a winter-wonderland atmosphere. It would have been spectacular if not for the fact that Estelle Gundersol was sitting center stage and immediately barked, “Where is Michael?”

  “He needed to make a phone call but will be right in.” Hope knew better than to do more than answer the questions posed to her. She wondered who would be joining them for dinner but knew better than to ask.

  “Harold,” Estelle barked at her husband, “take Hope’s drink order and then go find him. Clint and Victoria will be here any minute and Michael needs to be in here to greet them.”

  Hope quickly waved her hand, declining a before dinner drink. “Mr. Gundersol, I believe Michael is on the extension in the garage.”

  Without saying a word, Estelle walked over to the house phone setting on her beautiful mahogany desk, lifted the receiver, cupped her hand over the mouth piece and listened. The look on Estelle’s face as she overheard her son’s private conversation scared Hope. Slamming the receiver down made it obvious that Estelle did not care that her son would know someone had been listening and barked, “Harold, go out there and tell Michael to get off the phone and get in here now.”

  Hope watched as Mr. Gundersol set his drink down on the bar and headed out the side door toward the garage. She pondered the difference in both Mr. Gundersol and Michael whenever Estelle was present. Both men were strong, determined, take-charge kind of men, pushing their weight around and enjoying it, but around Estelle, they both changed into meek, submissive little boys, afraid of making her angry. Hope studied Estelle’s face as she began rifling through some papers on the desk. What kind of person does it take to force such strong-minded men into passive followers? Hope suspected that Estelle had never lost a single argument with either one of these men, or anyone else for that matter.

  As soon as Michael walked into the house, Estelle ordered him to follow her to the back den. Even with the door closed, it was obvious she was giving him a tongue lashing. Seeing their guests pulling into the driveway, Harold quickly knocked on the den
door and all three of them came walking back into the foyer as if nothing had happened. Smiles all around was the order of the day. Harold graciously led the guests into the solarium and played bartender. Estelle, still quite upset, but knowing well how to play her part, kept the conversation flowing. Well trained at following his mother’s lead, Michael made sure their guests remained the center of the conversation.

  Accustomed to being ignored during these VIP gatherings and daring not to join in, Hope feigned interest in the conversation. On numerous occasions a guest had turned to her and asked her opinion, but having no idea how Michael would want that question answered, Hope had learned how to deflect these questions and Michael would quickly answer on her behalf. Once or twice she had not been able to sidestep a direct question and gave answers she had heard Michael give on occasion. She had learned later that, although she had given the correct answer, she had given it to the wrong person. Michael was always playing both sides of the aisle and how was she to know which answer went with which side? Therefore, Michael warned her about answering any questions that were not related to the weather.

  Hope found that when you are not engaged in the conversation it is difficult to appear interested, causing the dinner meal to become tedious beyond measure. Tonight this was especially true, given how it started out. Having sat through two years of these monotonous dinners, Hope was astutely aware of all three of the Gundersol’s mannerisms. Casual guests would not pick up on them but hundreds of these meals to her credit had finally made Hope rather an expert on all of their little tells. Estelle’s strained smile, accompanied by a slight twitching of her right eye, meant Estelle was boiling mad under her calm facade. The fact that she was pushing all the discussion topics toward Harold meant she needed him to carry the majority of the conversation for fear of breaking her practiced calm-façade. Usually, Estelle was the center of every conversation at her table, but not tonight.