by Jenni Moen
“Oh,” Allie said absently, “movie night. Yeah, I forgot about that.”
“Dear, please tell me you’re staying through the evening. Your father will be incredibly disappointed if you don’t. He has been out of his mind all day, and it’s been everything I can do to keep him out of the Macallan.”
As if I hadn’t actually been standing there the entire time and had just appeared out of thin air, Ms. Harper’s gaze finally found me. “Well, you must be Adam.” She said it smoothly and nonchalantly ... as if we didn’t have a decade of history behind us. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
For the second time, I extended my hand. “And I you, Mrs. Harper.” It was all lies. I hadn’t heard much about her. Allie didn’t talk about her parents – not with me, anyway. She knew how I felt about them, and it was a hot button that neither of us wanted to press. But I also knew she hadn’t been talking to her parents either. If Allie’s mom had heard about me, it wasn’t from her daughter. I had a feeling it was all just posturing, and I had an equally strong feeling that Garrett and Lydia Harper did a lot of posturing.
Apparently, Mrs. Harper wasn’t a hugger like Maria, because she took my hand and shook it. Her handshake surprised me. It wasn’t the weak handshake I’d expected from a socialite who had spent years trailing behind her husband. It had the firm, yet surprisingly feminine, confidence of woman who had shaken many hands and was comfortable doing so.
With her hand still in mine, Mrs. Harper’s eyes roamed over me from head to toe and then back up again, as if she’d reserved her judgment of me until this moment. We both knew that wasn’t the case.
When her eyes met mine again, she surprised me again by pursing her perfectly plumped lips together. “Please call me Lydia, darling, and aren’t you just every bit the doll that Allie said you were.”
What the fuck. Well, hello, Mrs. Robinson.
I dropped her hand like a piece of hot coal. Allie hadn’t missed the exchange. I looked at her in disbelief, and she rolled her eyes and pinched me on the ass in response. That exchange had gone unnoticed by her mother since she still hadn’t taken her eyes off me. If the two of them were going to compete for my attention all afternoon, this might turn out to be a pretty good day after all. It would definitely be the most interesting Thanksgiving I’d ever had.
“Allie,” her father’s voice boomed. “You’re here.” He rounded the corner and came to a dead stop. Rooted in place, he stared at me as if he was shocked that I was actually standing in his house. The large foyer was getting smaller and smaller by the second.
“Dad,” Allie said tersely. “Yes, we’re here.”
So, I hadn’t imagined it. This whole scene was getting more and more fucked up by the second. Allie had said that they had invited me and that they knew I was coming. So the fact that Garrett Harper was now staring at me like he was surprised I was here was both comical and unnerving. Maybe he wasn’t the brilliant man that everyone said he was. Or maybe unnerving me was exactly what he had in mind. Whatever. I didn’t trust him. Never had.
“Garrett,” Lydia said, pulling him out of his stupor. “Say hello to Adam, dear.”
“Yes. Of course,” he said. “We’re glad you could make the trip with Allie.” His voice was louder than it needed to be and echoed around the big marble-tiled room. Unlike the previous two introductions, neither of us extended a hand.
“Yeah ... uhhhh ... can we come in out of the entryway?” Allie said.
“Of course,” Lydia said, turning on a precariously high heel. “I need to get back to the kitchen anyway. Allie, why don’t you give Adam the tour. Show him around before lunch.” She waved her hand in the air, and I wasn’t sure if she was gesturing to the house that was so big it needed to be ‘toured’ or if she was dismissing us.
“Yes,” Garrett echoed, leading us out of the entryway and past a large formal dining room. “Give him the tour and then meet me at the bar. I’ll pour us some drinks.”
“Not too much, though,” Lydia’s voice sang from behind a closed door that I assumed led to the kitchen. “Let’s not get drunk before lunch, please.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Garrett said under his breath. “She’s been sipping wine since eight this morning.”
Allie shot him a concerned look. “Really?” she asked.
“Yes, but I think Maria keeps hiding her glass so she’s still in good shape. I think she’s a little nervous. She wants this afternoon to go well.”
I couldn’t imagine the seemingly infallible Lydia Harper being nervous about anything but truth be told I hoped she was nervous. For Allie’s sake, I wanted this afternoon to go well, too. We had a better chance of that happening if at least one of her parents was playing along.
A door near where I thought Lydia’s voice had come from swung open, and she breezed back through the room. “Has anyone seen my wine? I seem to have misplaced it ... again.”
“See?” Garrett mouthed to Allie.
Allie rolled her eyes and for a second I could see it. They’d once been very close. I’d just been given a glimpse of the father-daughter relationship that they’d had before he had jacked it all up with lies. As I witnessed their exchange, I wanted that for her again ... even if it meant spending every Thanksgiving for the rest of my life with the asshole.
Lydia moved out of sight again. Her heels tapped across the tile floor as she wandered in and out of rooms, looking for the elusive glass of wine.
“Come on,” Allie said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the back of the house. “I’ll show you around.”
For the next 20 minutes, Allie led me through a maze of rooms. Each room was professionally decorated and seemed to have some sort of purpose, but I couldn’t understand how a family of three could possibly need this much space. There were more living rooms than there were people to enjoy them and enough TVs to fill a sports bar.
Allie led me down a long hall, and I felt like I was in an actual house instead of a museum for the first time. I slowed down as I walked through, taking it all in. Framed pictures lined both sides of the hall. There were pictures of Allie wearing softball uniforms, tennis uniforms, cheerleading uniforms ... just about any uniform you could think of. There were pictures of her in her graduation gowns all the way from kindergarten through law school. There were also pictures of her mom and dad ... Garrett holding up various sizes of fish and shaking hands with judges and politicians ... Lydia accepting awards at charity events.
“This is the hall of fame,” Allie said. “Kind of obnoxious, isn’t it?”
I stopped in front of a picture about midway down the wall. It was cheerleader Allie. She must have been about 15 or 16 at the time. Her blonde hair was lighter and her face was thinner than it was now, but it was the same gorgeous girl.
Well, it was, and it wasn’t.
The photographer, who I assumed had been one of her parents, caught her jumping in the air, pompoms waving. Her head was thrown back and a huge smile took up her whole face. There was a lightness in her eyes that probably hadn’t made an appearance in more than 10 years.
It was Allie before the accident.
“What are you looking at?” she asked, backtracking to where I was standing.
“You,” I said. “You were beautiful. I mean, you still are, but I forgot how beautiful you were back then, too. You had that spark, you know. Something that made you shine brighter than the rest.”
“I didn’t shine,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t a very nice person. I was shallow and bored ... and mean. I was a spoiled brat.”
She looked at the photo as if she wanted to tear it apart, but then turned softer eyes on me. “I wish I could remember you, though. I don’t know why I wasn’t into hotter, older men. Rookie mistake.”
“Hey, I’m not that much older,” I said indignantly. “Three years is nothing.”
“Yeah, well when you’re 50, I’ll still be in my mid 40s. I’ll be a cougar, and you’ll be retired,” she said laughing.
“And I’ll
be lucky to have you ... if you look anything like your mother,” I said, throwing an arm around her neck and pulling her into my chest.
“Gah,” she said, pushing against me with both hands. “That’s disgusting.”
“I’m totally kidding. Your mom’s an old hag. Now show me your room. I want to see where you grew up.”
Really, I wanted to see more pictures, and I wanted to study them. I needed to figure out how to make her smile like that again.
“I don’t think you’ll be too impressed,” she said, as she led me to the end of the hall. She flipped on a light. The room was pale and flowery, and nothing like our apartment.
“This is your room?” I asked. There wasn’t a trace of Allie anywhere. It didn’t look like it belonged to her or anyone else for that matter. It was a vacant space that spoke of no one in particular.
“Well, it was at one time,” she said, shrugging. “My mom redecorated as soon as I left for college. When I left, my stuff was everywhere. When I came back for Christmas, it looked like this … well, an earlier version of this. She’s probably changed it five times since then.”
“That’s kind of crazy,” I said. My room at my mom’s house looked exactly the same today as it had 15 years ago. My mother wouldn’t touch it. She preferred to live in the past, which was bizarre since our past wasn’t all that great.
“I used to think it was weird,” she said, looking around. “But now it makes sense. She got rid of everything that would remind me of high school. All of my yearbooks. Cheerleading competition trophies. Pictures of Thomas and Brittany and our friends. Everything.” My eyes followed hers around the room. It was sad. Sterile and sad.
“At the time, I didn’t have friends any more so I didn’t think anything of it. I thought they were trying to make me feel better. I didn’t realize they were trying to help me forget.”
I didn’t want to be in here for a second longer. Her parents may have thought they were doing her a favor. They may have thought that they were helping. But I could tell when she looked around all she saw was unhappiness ... a whole lot of washed-out flowery unhappiness.
“Aren’t you glad we’re staying at the W tonight?” I said, wiggling my eyebrows at her.
She flipped the light off, and we wandered back down the hall. “Time to hit the bar,” she said.
As we passed through the hall of fame again, I took one more look at cheerleader Allie. I studied it for just a second, committing it to memory. I wanted to know that girl. I wanted to see that carefree smile on my Allie’s face.
She led me back down the wide staircase, through the formal living room where we had been earlier, and down a smaller, narrower set of stairs that led to the basement.
The lighting in the basement was darker and more intimate. “Holy shit,” I said, looking around. It was no wonder that she’d been the most popular person in her class. I would’ve been, too, if I’d had this room to offer up to my friends as a place to hang out. It was the den of iniquity.
The gaming area was to my left. A full-size pool table took up most of the space, but there was also a foosball table, a shuffleboard deck, and a dartboard hanging on the wall. A Vegas-size slot machine sat in the corner.
The space to my right included a television that took up the better part of the wall. The Packers and the Lions were currently lined up on the almost life-size forty yard line. Three rows of stadium-style seating were lined up in front of the movie screen. I wanted nothing more than to flop down and finish this game and the next ... and then maybe I’d make it through the day.
Instead the tour continued to the most impressive part of the room, which unbelievably wasn’t the movie-theater-sized screen. It was the bar.
It was as if someone had picked up an old Irish pub and set if right down in the middle of the Harper basement. The heavy wood bar was framed on three sides. The back wall was mirrored with the phrase “Harper’s Bizarre” painted across the top half. Below that was a shelf that housed every possible type and brand of liquor. And behind the bar stood Garret Harper, playing bartender. Allie pulled out a barstool, sat down, and gestured for me to do the same.
“Did you give Adam the 25-cent tour?” he asked his only daughter.
“I did. We haven’t been out back yet, but I think he’s seen enough for now.”
“Tell me about the Baumgartner case,” he said. “I understand you’re going to be pretty busy for a while.”
“Well, I’m sure you heard that settlement negotiations broke down. I’ve been working my ass off since Saturday. It looks like we are going to trial after all.”
“That’s great,” he said. “Good experience for you.”
“This case has no business going to trial and you know it,” she said.
They were talking over my head. I stared off at the television. The Packers were ahead by seven. I immersed myself in the game until Garrett’s voice pulled me back to the bar. “Adam, how’s school? Allie tells me you’re about to finally graduate.”
I hadn’t missed the ‘finally.’ Bastard.
“Yes,” I said, leaving off the ‘sir’ because he didn’t deserve it. “Allie and I will be celebrating next month. We are looking forward to it.” I hoped he didn’t miss the ‘we.’
“And what are your plans after graduation?” he asked.
“I’m looking at my options. I’ve got a few irons in the fire.”
“Good for you,” he said, nodding his head like he cared. “It’s a good idea not to put all your eggs in one basket.”
“Did somebody say eggs?”
All heads swung around to the source of the voice. Lydia stood at the bottom of the stairs. “I could use some help with the deviled eggs. The little devils aren’t cooperating, and Maria left me.” She giggled at her joke.
“Stay. Away. From. The. Deviled. Eggs,” Allie said under her breath.
“Sage advice,” Garrett muttered from behind the bar.
“Adam, darling. Allie says you are amazing in the kitchen. Do you think you could help me?”
“Uhh, sure,” I said, sliding off my stool. I looked to Allie for assistance, but got none. Instead, she nodded her head in apparent agreement with her mother.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I was in safer territory with her mom in the kitchen than being grilled by her dad in the bar. I grabbed my drink off the bar and met her mom at the bottom of the stairs.
“Let’s go, love. I need assistance.” She placed a hand on the middle of my back and shoved me up the stairs with a startling amount of strength. I was starting to think that there was a lot of power behind Lydia Harper ... all 5’2” of her ... and not all of it was Garrett Harper.
The door to the kitchen was one of those galley doors that swings both ways and has a circular window at eye level. I had to admit that it was actually pretty cool. And the kitchen was also something else.
White marble countertops stretched out in every direction. Gargantuan stainless steel appliances were tucked into every nook and cranny. The range had at least six burners, and I counted three separate ovens. I wouldn’t mind cooking in this kitchen every day.
“This is amazing, Mrs. Harper,” I said, looking around appreciatively.
“Please call me Lydia.,” she said, as if she was mildly offended. “Allie said you know your way around the kitchen. I’ll be honest with you though. I’m really only well acquainted with one area of the kitchen.”
She swung open an upper cabinet door to expose a fully stocked bar. Apparently, alcohol was going to be the theme of the day. “Can I top you off?”
“I’m good right now,” I said, as she emptied an open wine bottle on the counter into the glass that she must have located somewhere.
“Well, then, let’s get to those eggs. Maria mixed up the insides, but left it up to me to stuff them.”
Stuffing deviled eggs meant picking up a spoon, scooping up a blob of the shit from the bowl, and depositing it in an open half of a boiled egg. At the risk of being disrespectful, I
decided not to point that out to her. “I can help you with that,” I said, instead. I pushed my sleeves up my arm to prepare to get dirty.
“Oooooh,” she said, brushing the tattoo around my wrist with her perfectly manicured finger. “What’s this?” she asked.
I was positive that Garrett Harper did not have any tattoos that warranted an ‘ooooooh’ out of his wife. “It’s a friendship bracelet,” I said, vaguely. “I got it to remind myself of someone who meant a lot to me.”
Lydia handed me a spoon and hopped up on the island without taking her eyes off my bare arms. A tray of naked boiled eggs sat in front of me. Apparently, she was going to be a spectator during this process.
“Well, it’s really lovely. I bet you have a few more of those somewhere, don’t you? Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to have a man tattoo my name on his body,” she said.
“I don’t know about that,” I said, laughing at her audacity. “No man has ever tattooed my name on his body either.”
“Hmmmmm,” she said thoughtfully, while taking a sip of her wine. “I need to know ... would you ever tattoo Alexis’ name on your chest?”
“My chest is pretty occupied at the moment, but ... yes ... if it would mean something to her, I would tattoo her name on me.” I began scooping deviled egg stuffing into the empty eggs.
“That is just so romantic,” she sighed. “Where are you thinking? Maybe I should take a look?” She arched her eyebrows up in a devilish smile.
Well, I hadn’t actually been thinking about it at all, and ... to be honest ... this was more than a little awkward. I didn’t need Allie’s mom looking at any part of me, tattooed or not. “I’ve got some available real estate on my back,” I said, sliding a little further away from her.
Maybe Garrett Harper should think about getting a tattoo and satisfying his wife.
CHAPTER 16
Alexis
“Sometimes clients don’t know what they’re getting into. They think negotiating a settlement will be easy, but that’s not always the case. What are you thinking, Alexis?”