After the Loving

by Gwynne Forster

  “Who’s guilty?” Drake asked.

  “That’s the problem, seems to be an outside problem in some cases and an inside job in others. Think we can have a look at it tomorrow morning? I didn’t think of checking unopened cases, but Velma did, and almost every one of them was short a carton or two.”

  He arose early and went down for breakfast. “How are you?” he asked Velma, leaned over and kissed her quickly on the mouth. “It didn’t occur to me that you’d be eating alone. How’d it happen?” He stared at her plate. “Back on the diet, I see.”

  “After the meal I ate last night, it’s a wise decision. If I keep that up, I’ll pop out of all those new clothes I bought.”

  “Those clothes that you look so beautiful in.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “When are you leaving for New Orleans, and when will you be back? I’d like to meet your plane, if possible.”

  “I’ll give you my flight schedule before I leave. Pray that it goes off without a hitch. I haven’t worked previously with the supplier I’m using. I use top-quality materials and appointments, but if he tries to cheat…”

  “Don’t you have a couple of firms you can use at the last minute if you have to?”

  “One, but I’m getting another. I’ll get there a week earlier, to deal with surprises.”

  “Don’t be taken in by the Southern charm. All business and no small talk will earn you the respect you deserve. If you need me, you have my cell phone number.” She raised an eyebrow. “It’s three hours by plane,” he added. “If you need me, call.”

  She stepped out of the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport into the stifling and muggy heat, thankful for the air-conditioned limousine that awaited her. After checking into the Omni Hotel, she left her bags on the bed and went straight to her supplier of linens and banquet accessories.

  The tall man, Creole from his curly hair to his high-polished black shoes, looked at her the way a cattleman sizes up a prize-winning heifer. Affronted, she said, “May I see the linens first and then the porcelain? If I don’t like the linens, we can’t do business, contract or no contract.”

  “Right this way, Miss Brighton. Everything you wanted is here.”

  She checked the porcelain, silverware, candles, candle holders and vases. “Be sure to shine up those candle holders. And I want a bowl of… Are callas in season?”

  “Why, yes. We have them year-round. Any particular color?”

  “Our colors are lavender and pink, so let’s stick with that for the flowers. I want a large bowl in the middle of each table. I ordered thirty tables, each seating ten.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’ll all be there, in place. I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to work with a professional.”

  “Thank you. I’m staying at the Omni if you need me.”

  She took a deep breath and headed for the food caterer. She knew at once that she needn’t have worried; everything about the establishment was the personification of order and efficiency. The head chef sat with her, went over the menu and the service. She couldn’t have been more pleased.

  She left after an hour and a half and went back to the Omni in the air-conditioned limousine. “Now that I’ve made my points,” she said to herself, “I can travel by taxi.” Inside her hotel room, she kicked off her shoes, hung up her clothes and telephoned Russ. After relating her experiences with the supplier and the food caterer, she said, “Now if you were here, we could go sightseeing.”

  “I’d join you, but Drake will only be here a week, and we want to straighten out our inventory records.”

  “Can you do that in a week?”

  “I can devote only two days to it, although they’ll work at it full-time. But if you need me, I’ll be there.”

  “And you would, too. You have so many ways of endearing yourself to me.”

  “You’re not bad at that yourself. Excuse me, I’d better speak with Bennie. She’s driving Henry out of his mind.”

  “Bennie?”

  “The woman who comes three times a week to clean. After working here for years, she’s suddenly taken a shine to Henry, and right now, he’s mad enough to choke her.”

  “Well, I’ll be. Cupid usually does a better job than that. If he stings one, he stings the other. Give Henry my regards.”

  “I will. How about a kiss?”

  She made the sound of a kiss. “Bye, love.”

  Calling him that was presumptuous, but it would make him think. She took a shower, got a copy of If You Walked in My Shoes and got in bed to read. “Presumptuous or not,” she thought, “might as well call it what it is.”

  Chapter 7

  Russ parked in the garage beneath the apartment building in which he lived and took the elevator to the tenth floor. As he walked toward his apartment, his steps slowed and a feeling of apprehension settled over him. He went inside, dropped his briefcase on the first chair he passed, walked over to the picture window and looked out on the park in the distance, made unappealing by the dark, ominous clouds. He gazed, unseeing, at the scene before him until the ring of his cellular phone startled him.

  “Hello?”

  “Russ, this is Drake. I’m in Frederick, at the hospital.”

  His body stiffened, and his senses jumped to alert. “What is it?’

  “It doesn’t look good for Uncle Fentress. I was on my way to the airport, decided to stop by, and I’m glad I did. He’s not going to make it, Russ, and he asked for you over and over. Telford’s on his way here now. Where are you?”

  “Home. Just stepped through the door. I’ll be there in an hour and a half, provided it doesn’t rain or sleet.”

  “Drive carefully. I’ll be here when you get here.”

  He got a half-pint container of milk from the refrigerator, put two slices of raisin bread in a Ziploc bag, grabbed his briefcase and headed for the garage and his car. While he waited for the elevator, he dialed Velma’s cellular phone.

  “I’ll call you from there,” he told her after giving her the news he received from Drake.

  “I’ll pray for the best. Please don’t drive too fast.”

  “I won’t. Be in touch.”

  He got in his car, put the milk and raisin bread on the bucket seat beside him and headed for Frederick. In the two short months he’d known his uncle, he had developed an affection for him, a man he had learned as a child to dislike. Not that he ever encountered Fentress or even recognized him before he was in his late teens; it was the name Sparkman that came to represent all that was unethical and unscrupulous, an attitude passed from his father to Telford to him.

  He made it a point to visit his uncle often, making up for lost time as it were, and he cherished the hours he had spent talking with the old man. Hours during which he learned precious things about his father, came to understand his mother better and got an idea of his heritage that no one else, including Henry, could have given him. He slowed down to the speed limit in order to exit off the curved ramp. What could he offer Fentress Sparkman other than the comfort of knowing his nephew cared?

  An hour and twenty minutes after leaving Baltimore, he parked in a space provided for visitors to the hospital and rushed to his uncle’s room. Memories of his dash to the bedside of his beloved father in that same hospital over twenty years earlier filled him with uneasiness and dread. He joined Telford and Drake at his uncle’s bed and took the old man’s still warm but weak hand.

  “Uncle Fentress, this is Russ. How are you feeling?”

  Fentress opened his eyes and made an effort to smile. Almost like looking down at my father, he thought. “So glad you got here, Russ. Your brothers are here somewhere. I…I want you to build something lasting that has Josh’s name on it, and I want you three to stay together. If you do that, you’ll always be successful. You made my last days happy.” He lifted his hand, but it fell to the bed. “All of you. Everything’s with Casper Richard, my lawyer. Russ, I’m leaving it to you to see that my wishes are carried out. You hear
?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”

  “Telford, you did a great job raising the boys and yourself. And…and you took this little three-man company and made it a name to be…reckoned with. Wish I’d had Drake with me. I’m getting tired. Too bad Josh couldn’t see what fine men you are.” His voice weakened and Russ bent toward him.

  “What did he say?” Drake asked.

  “He said, ‘would someone say a prayer?’ I can’t…” He bowed his head and said the Twenty-third Psalm and, to his surprise, Drake followed it with the Lord’s Prayer. By the time Drake finished, Fentress Sparkman had slipped away.

  The next morning, Russ contacted Casper Richards and learned that he was executor of his uncle’s will. “Sparkman made that change a couple of weeks ago,” the lawyer said. “You and your two brothers come to my office this afternoon, and I’ll read the will and turn everything over to you.”

  The Harrington brothers had made themselves wealthy by their brains and sweat, but Fentress Sparkman made them rich, leaving each of them two million dollars, as well as a vast amount of property to be divided equally among them. After the funeral and burial in Eagle Park, Russ, Telford and Drake sat in the Harrington House basement recreation room, sharing their feelings about their uncle, what he gave them and how different their lives might have been had he been a part of it when they lost their father. They agreed to name the apartment complex Russ was designing for construction in Philadelphia “the Joshua Harrington–Fentress Sparkman Manor” and to upgrade the structure to luxury level, ensuring its longevity.

  “Have you spoken with Velma in the last couple of days?” Russ asked Alexis after he left his brothers.

  “Yes. She said you told her Fentress passed, and she accepted that you were caught up in the things that had to be done, but Russ, don’t shut out the person you need. When people who love you know you hurt, they need to help you heal.”

  He let the wall take his weight. “I know you’re right, and I need her, but she has an enormous load down there in New Orleans, and I didn’t want to add to it by dumping my feelings on her.”

  Alexis treated him to a withering look. “She won’t appreciate that—at least I wouldn’t. When a woman loves a man, she wants to be there for him when he needs her.”

  His heart seemed to leapfrog in his chest. “You’re suggesting something that she hasn’t confirmed.”

  Both hands went to her hips and immediately dropped to her sides. “What? Well, if she hasn’t, it must be because you haven’t encouraged it. I wish one of you would tell me what’s keeping you apart. Maybe I can help?”

  “You can if you find out why she can’t trust me fully, can’t let me know who she is deep inside. I haven’t the slightest idea what will make her cry, and she’s hung up on the way she looks. She refuses to see that she is beautiful, hates her size and God only knows what else. It’s a foolish vanity that has begun to test my patience.”

  She stared at him, wide-eyed. “I had no idea. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  He went to his room and dialed Velma’s cellular phone number. “Russ here. How’s it going down there in New Orleans?” he asked when she answered.

  “Great so far. The gala is tonight, and after this job, my reputation is going to soar. Everything is in place and perfect. Now, tell me about you. How are you handling this? I know you cared a lot for your uncle, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that. I’ll bring you up-to-date when I see you Sunday.”

  “You still planning to meet me Sunday?”

  “Of course. If I tell you I’m going to do something, I do it unless it’s not humanly possible.”

  “I know, and it’s just one more thing that sets you apart. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

  “Me, too.”

  Two days later, he awaited her arrival as she emerged from the airport’s security area. He knew his face was one big grin, and he did nothing to squelch his obvious pleasure in seeing her. “You got some suntan,” he teased and wrapped her in his arms. “You’re just what my eyes need to see.” Realizing how deeply he meant it gave him a moment’s pause, because every word came from his heart.

  She squeezed him to her, reached up and caressed his cheek, a gesture he had begun to anticipate from her. He relished the tenderness and caring that it conveyed.

  “Thanks for coming. Because you’re so sweet, I’ll cook you a nice dinner.”

  “Not after your long flight, but I’ll take a rain check on it. That makes two you owe me, and I am going to enjoy collecting. But tonight, I’m taking you to dinner. You’ve probably had enough seafood for a while. If you like Italian food, let’s go to the Ristorante Panzini.”

  “I love it. What’s the atmosphere like?”

  “Jacket and tie. Sedate.”

  She rubbed her left cheek. “All right. I can do that.”

  He hugged her a little tighter and wished he was someplace where he could sample the sweetness he always found when she opened up to him. “I’ll be at your place around six.” He picked up her suitcase, took her right hand in his left one and made his way with her to his car.

  “You’ll be warm in a minute. It heats up quickly,” he said of his 2004 Mercedes. “If you don’t mind seeing some blighted areas, I’ll take a shortcut to your place.”

  “This must be one of the worst,” she said, as they drove through Dolphin Street. “All these boarded-up houses, crumbling steps and broken windows on both sides of the street.”

  He drove around the remnants of a discarded sofa bed and nearly hit an old automobile tire. “I forgot it was this bad,” he said.

  “With all the abandoned houses and thousands of people sleeping on the streets, you’d think somebody would—”

  “Wait a minute,” he said, cutting her off, “I’m going through some of these side streets to see how they look. I just had an idea.”

  When she opened the door that evening, it pleased him to see that she wore a fitted lavender dress with long sleeves and a flirtatious hem that suggested he’d find what he was looking for if he lifted it.

  “I haven’t gotten this place straight yet,” she said.

  He walked around, observing her taste. “I like what you’ve done so far,” he said of the beige velvet sectional sofa and the Doris Price paintings that hung above it.

  “I can’t seem to find a coffee table.”

  “Get two of ’em. They don’t even have to match,” he said. “If you find a couple that you like, use them. I don’t believe in fashion. Do what makes you feel good.”

  She raised an eyebrow and laid her head to the side as if contemplating a newly perceived idea. “You wouldn’t be a nonconformist?”

  The thought amused him. If you kept your own counsel and did things according to your own desires, you could expect that label or that question. “If you mean, do I follow my own counsel, then I’m a nonconformist from my head to my toes. But I don’t do anything just for the hell of it. That would be professional suicide for an architect.”

  “And for any other professional. What do you think of my getting a Persian carpet for this room?”

  “I wouldn’t cover this great hardwood floor completely. I’d put a colorful carpet, preferably a beige-tone Tabriz, in front of this sofa and smaller ones in the same family elsewhere in the room. To me, that gives a more inviting and more elegant look. But…some other scheme might suit you better.”

  “I like that. I like it a lot.” She left the room and returned with her scarf and a pair of gloves.

  “Where’s your purse?” he asked her.

  She handed him her door keys. “I don’t need it tonight, do I?”

  He looked at the keys. “Never can tell,” he said, juggling them in his hand. “This may give me ideas.”

  She walked to the closet in the foyer, got her coat and handed it to him. “Honey, if I trust you with my life when you’re driving on a highway, I can certainly trust you with my door
keys. Besides, your pride won’t let you do anything unseemly.”

  The seriousness of her facial expression nearly provoked him to laugh, but he managed to maintain a straight face when he said, “Your confidence gives me strength.”

  She looked hard at him for a minute before giving in to the mirth that suddenly erupted from her, and then his laughter joined hers, binding them in a joyous frivolous moment.

  They walked arm-in-arm to his car, and he realized that she was becoming a fixture, an important part of his life, and in spite of his reservations, he admitted to himself that he’d rather be with her than away from her. He ignited the engine, felt her leg beside his, warm and assuring, and switched off the engine. She looked up at him, her expression questioning.

  “Were you serious when you said you missed me, or just making talk?”

  She turned fully to face him. “I missed you. I always miss you when I’m not with you.” Her hand caressed the side of his face, communicating her feelings in a sweeter, more loving way than her words had managed.

  He stared down at her almost unwilling to believe what was happening to him. Her gaze met his steadily, unflinching, and when she opened her arms, tremors streaked through him and he gripped her body to his own. Then, with a groan that he knew signaled his capitulation, he plunged his tongue between her parted lips and gave himself to her. She took him and loved him until he trembled in her arms. Stunned at the strength of his feelings, he relaxed his hold on her and leaned back in his seat.

  With her head against his shoulder, she said, “Does this mean you missed me?”

  “Definitely,” he said, igniting the engine again, “whenever you’re not with me.”

  At dinner that evening, she listened, fascinated, as he told her about his inheritance and the plan for its use that had begun to unfold in his thoughts.

  “Uncle Fentress wanted me to build a monument to my father, because he felt responsible for dad’s failure and his early death. But as I see it, my father was responsible for his own mistakes, for being too trusting and not watching his back. Still, I was closer to my father than to anyone else and his passing broke me up, so I’m happy to erect a lasting monument to him.”