“When do you want me to meet them?”
“We’re going to their place this weekend.”
“Excuse me? This weekend?”
“Yes. Don’t worry, it’s just lunch.” He squeezed my hand. “They don’t bite and I didn’t tell them we’d stay the night or anything. Relax. It’ll be fine.”
“Why didn’t you ask me first?”
“I didn’t want to give you a chance to say no.”
“Well that was very thoughtful of you,” I said as I dug my nails into his hand before pulling away. “Why don’t we have lunch here in the city, on neutral ground?”
“Scarlet, don’t be so dramatic. There’s no need for neutral ground, this isn’t a peace summit.” He rubbed the nail marks on his hand. “Anyway, they rarely dine away from home. There have been several recent attempts on my father’s life. It’s safer for us to meet them at their place.”
“Can’t you give me a little more time to prepare? Why can’t we go next weekend?” Were any of those failed attempts on Johnson Wilmar’s life the work of the White Queen? What will she expect me to do if she finds out that I’ll be at his house?
“My sister’s going to be too busy after next week. This is the only weekend she’s available for a while.”
“I could always meet her another time.”
“Scarlet, I want you to meet them all at the same time. It’s important to me. Please.”
“Conan, you can’t blame me for being nervous about going to your parents’ house. I won’t just be meeting your family, I’ll be meeting the CEO of the company I work for. I’ve never met him before, and meeting him in his own home puts a lot of extra pressure on me. Can’t you see that?”
“Yes,” said Conan looking across the lounge. “But as you said, you’re working in my father’s company and he does try to make a point of meeting all the good employees. He’s heard about you from HR as well … not just me.”
“Oh, so now there’s more pressure on me.” I stuck out my bottom lip and turned away. I was trying to avoid going to this lunch at all costs. The last thing I wanted was to have to kill the entire Wilmar family in their own home.
“Please Scarlet.” Conan put his hand on my shoulder and turned me toward him. “I think you’ll really like my sister. She’s dying to meet you.”
“Why can’t she make it another time?” I asked.
“She owns an art gallery and they’re getting ready for their first major show. The big opening is next weekend and she won’t be able to leave the city until the show closes.” Conan stroked my cheek. “You know, you remind me of her.”
“In what way?”
“You’re both playful. Come on. What do you say?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s all a bit sudden. I mean you still had your ex’s engagement ring until three days ago. Your family will probably think I’m just your rebound girlfriend, filling in until you find someone better.”
“You’re right about the ring, of course. But the funny thing is that I’ve been telling them about you since you started at Wilmar. I think they know I … I think they know you’re important to me. Anyway, it doesn’t matter to me what they think. Nothing can change the way I feel about you.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Come on Scarlet. Be a sport. And if you can’t do that, then do it for me.”
“Fine, but don’t tell anyone at work.” I knew he wasn’t going to let me off the hook, but I had to try to keep this from my sisters … and the White Queen.
“Agreed,” said Conan as he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
Questions began racing through my mind as the waiter arrived with dinner. What if Conan really is in love with me? Is a future together possible? How could he ever forgive me for betraying him?
Meeting the Wilmars
On Saturday morning, I got ready and put on a light-blue mermaid dress. When I saw Conan’s car pull up, I grabbed my white clutch, said goodbye to Milky, and went downstairs.
Conan opened the rear door from inside the limo. He was wearing a white button-down shirt and designer jeans.
“You look nice,” he said.
“Thanks.”
It took about an hour to get to Staten Island. The car drove through the tree-lined streets and pulled up to a gated driveway.
The gate slid sideways and we inched toward the security booth. Two guards stepped in front of the car and motioned for us to get out.
“Guys, you know me. Is this really necessary?” asked Conan as he got out of the car.
“Sorry Mr. Casey. We can’t take any chances,” said the head guard.
“You’re right, but hurry up.”
“Yes sir.”
The guards ran hand-held metal detectors over us, scanned the car for explosives, and checked my bag.
“All clear,” said the head guard.
We got back in the car and slowly made our way along the driveway. There were sculptures dotted around the perfect green lawn and a decorative pavilion overlooked a duck pond with swans.
The car stopped in front of a sprawling modern mansion with a lot of shiny glass. It was practically surrounded by a small forest of towering trees.
Mr. and Mrs. Wilmar were waving at us from the front door. Mrs. Wilmar’s sparkling diamond necklace stood out on top of her long purple dress with a faint floral pattern. Mr. Wilmar was wearing simple khaki pants and a white polo shirt.
Conan’s face lit up when he saw his parents. He enthusiastically waved back at them.
My heart was pounding and I wanted to run away. I shouldn’t be here … not yet. My allegiance is still to the White Queen.
Conan got out of the car and offered me his hand, but I was frozen in my seat.
He leaned over and looked at me. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not ready for this,” I said. “It’s too soon.”
“Well we’re here now. Come on. My parents are nice.”
“What if they don’t like me?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Take my hand.”
“Okay.” I reluctantly took his hand and got out of the car.
He put his arm tightly around my waist as we walked to the steps.
“Scarlet, I’d like to introduce you to my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Wilmar.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, holding out my hand.
“Call me Susanne,” said Mrs. Wilmar with a warm smile. “It’s lovely to meet you.” She took my hand in both of hers and gently shook it.
A strange sensation radiated up my arm. It was somehow familiar, and visions of yellow sunflower fields whooshed through my mind. Mrs. Wilmar had long blond hair, just like my mother. The wrinkles on her face made me think she was in her mid-fifties, and her hazel eyes reminded me of mine. I looked closely at her face. Could she be? No, don’t be silly. I shook off the feeling and smiled.
“I hear great things about you.” Mr. Wilmar gave me a firm handshake. “You may call me Johnson.”
Johnson Wilmar was known in the company as the Eagle, and he looked exactly like his pictures. His eagle-like eyes were set in a round face, and his gray and white hair was starting to thin a bit around his temples and forehead.
“Where’s Clarissa?” asked Conan.
“She should be here soon,” replied Mrs. Wilmar just as a white limo was coming up the driveway. “Oh, here they are.”
A young woman popped out of the limo and wildly waved her arms in the air. She looked about twenty. She was wearing a white tank top and blue jeans, and her hair was tied back in a pony tail. With her brown oval eyes and reddish hair, she didn’t look like her parents or Conan.
“Mom! Dad! I’m home!” Clarissa skipped over to her parents and hugged them.
“That’s my sister. I told you she’s playful,” Conan whispered in my ear.
“Conan! You’re here.” She threw her thin arms around her brother’s neck. “And this is?”
“Clarissa, meet Scarlet, my girlfriend,” said Conan.
“Scarlet, nice to meet you. My big brother finally brings a girl home. Nice,” said Clarissa, pinching Conan’s cheek.
Conan scowled and swiped her hand away from his face.
“Okay, lunch is ready.” Mrs. Wilmar motioned for us to go inside.
We walked down a long hall. Clarissa chatted away to her mother and I followed closely behind Conan and his father.
As I walked into the dining room, I noticed a CCTV camera tucked up high in the far corner. There was a large vase full of red roses in the center of the long table, and Venetian blinds on the tall windows gave the room a classic look. The table was set with sterling silver cutlery, blue china, linen napkins, and crystal glasses. Mr. Wilmar sat at the head of the table. Mrs. Wilmar and Clarissa sat across from me and Conan.
A butler moved the flowers to a sideboard and placed butter and freshly baked bread on the table. He filled our water glasses before opening a bottle of white wine and pouring some into Mr. Wilmar’s glass. It would be easy enough for the White Queen to get an agent in here to poison them. Mr. Wilmar swirled the wine around his glass, sniffed it, and took a small sip. He let it sit in his mouth before swallowing.
“This is a good wine,” said Mr. Wilmar as he signaled for the butler to fill our glasses. “Some wines age better than others, and this one has aged fairly well.”
“Are you ready for the show?” Mrs. Wilmar asked Clarissa.
“Not really. Some questions have been raised about the provenance of a few of the paintings, so that could be a real problem. And I can’t decide where to hang everything.”
“Well, you’re the owner. These things come with the territory,” said Mr. Wilmar.
“Yes dad, I know.” Clarissa looked annoyed. “But I never thought it would be so stressful … or so much hard work. I’ve been lugging ladders and paintings around like there’s no tomorrow. I won’t be able to afford full-time help unless the show sells out, so I have to do practically everything myself.”
“Sweetie pie, work is called work for a reason,” said Mr. Wilmar.
“What’s for lunch?” Conan asked.
“Mushroom soup … salmon and asparagus … and your favorite for dessert … chocolate lava cake,” said Mrs. Wilmar.
“I can’t wait. I’ve been looking forward to your cooking all week,” Conan replied.
“Hey, what about my favorites? No pumpkin soup?” asked Clarissa.
“Sorry dear, next time. … I promise.” Mrs. Wilmar patted her daughter’s hand.
I wish I had a mother who cared for me and made me my favorite soup. Images of my mother walking away through the bright yellow sunflower field flashed before my eyes. She floated toward the sun and disappeared in the blinding light.
Clarissa huffed and grabbed a piece of bread. She ripped it apart and poked it in the butter dish.
“Clarissa! Where are your manners? Use a knife. Scarlet dear, have a piece of bread,” said Mr. Wilmar, holding up the basket.
“Thank you,” I said. I dipped my butter knife in the soft butter and spread it on the warm bread. It was delicious.
Conan looked at me and slid his hand along my leg underneath the table. I pushed his hand away and kicked him which seemed to amuse him.
The butler returned and served the soup. I took a sip and it was out of this world.
“The soup is really delicious,” I said. The mushrooms were perfectly blended with cream, fresh herbs, and a dash of black pepper. It was nothing like the canned mushroom soup I was used to.
“It’s our mother’s specialty. If you’re nice, maybe she’ll give you the recipe so you can make it for me whenever I want.” Conan smiled.
I kicked him under the table again.
“I prefer pumpkin soup,” whined Clarissa.
“Yes dear. We know,” said Mrs. Wilmar.
“Dad, when will you be retiring?” asked Conan, taking a sip of wine.
“In a few years … as long as I have the right person to take over.” Mr. Wilmar took a big drink of wine and the butler refilled his glass. “Conan, do you think you’ll be ready by then?”
“I don’t know. But maybe you should look for someone with CEO experience.”
I was surprised that Conan wasn’t interested in taking over Wilmar. The White Queen may be happy to know this. I looked at the shiny fish knife beside my plate and resisted the urge to stoke the blade.
“I have been looking, but I’m not impressed with any of the yahoos the board wants me to consider.” Mr. Wilmar held his wine glass up and peered through the golden liquid with his eagle eyes. “I don’t like their track records, and I’m not confident that I could train any of them up even if I had ten years. Most of them are the idiot sons and nephews of board members. Anyway, we need more women higher up in the company, and you know I prefer to bring someone up through the ranks.” Mr. Wilmar put down his glass and his face softened. “Scarlet, where do you come from?”
“I grew up in Los Angeles,” I lied.
“I’ve always preferred the East Coast myself,” said Mr. Wilmar. “I’m sure Conan’s told you that he and his sister are adopted.”
“I know he was adopted,” I replied.
“Scarlet, what’s your last name?” asked Mrs. Wilmar.
“Walters. Scarlet Walters.”
“Her last name will be Casey before long,” said Conan.
Did he really just say that in front of his parents? I pinched his leg.
“In that case,” Mr. Wilmar laughed and raised his glass, “welcome to the family! Cheers!”
We raised our glasses to the toast. I felt my face flush as I took a large gulp of wine. It left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.
Two different middle-aged butlers came into the room. One cleared the soup bowls and the other served the main course.
“So, Scarlet, you’ve been with Wilmar for almost six months now. How do you like it?” asked Mr. Wilmar.
“I still have a lot to learn about everything Wilmar does, but I really enjoy my job.”
“Excellent. That’s what I like to hear. HR gives you glowing performance reviews.” Mr. Wilmar smiled. “Conan hasn’t complained about you once. That means your direct boss is very happy with you. Who knows, maybe you could be my next CEO.”
“You flatter me Mr. Wilmar,” I said. “I’m just a secretary. I don’t think I’d be able to run a huge corporation.”
“No, not tomorrow, but in time you could,” said Mr. Wilmar. “I didn’t even finish high school and now I’m a CEO. I want control of the company to stay in the family, but my son isn’t chomping at the bit to take over and my daughter is only interested in art. Bringing my future daughter-in-law up through the ranks sounds like a fine idea to me.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He’d have a heart attack if he knew the real reason I’m at Wilmar. I wish I weren’t such a good liar.
“You do that.” Mr. Wilmar raised his glass at me and I did the same. “In the meantime, you just keep doing a great job and look after Conan. To good health and a prosperous future.”
We all sipped from our glasses and smiled. Mrs. Wilmar’s hand began to tremble as she drank her wine.
I didn’t want to stare and I began eating my mi-cuit, or half-cooked, salmon. It was perfectly done and the flaky flesh was delectable.
“Mom, how’s your health?” Conan asked. He sounded concerned.
“I’m doing okay. … I just have some … lightheadedness and … the occasional headache,” she replied.
“Are you still on the pills?” asked Conan.
“No, not anymore.” Mrs. Wilmar took a sip of water. “They’re quite addictive and … I’m trying to stay off them. … I’ve been taking some … natural supplements.”
Mrs. Wilmar was noticeably short of breath. She hadn’t spoken much at all and I realized that she’d been speaking in short sentences throughout lunch. I wondered if she had a heart cond
ition or asthma.
“I’m worried about you,” said Conan.
“There’s no need to worry … the doctor says I’m fine.” She took a few deep breaths. “Johnson gave me a … diamond and sapphire … ring for our anniversary. … Isn’t it gorgeous?” She extended her arm across the table.
The ring was beautiful and it matched her diamond and sapphire earrings. The diamond must’ve been at least three carats. How many years would I have to work as a secretary to pay for jewelry like that?
“It is,” said Conan, tilting his mother’s hand from side to side to see how the gems caught the light. “Dad, where did you get it?”
“I’ll give you the guy’s card after lunch,” said Mr. Wilmar. “He makes one of a kind pieces. Your mother’s ring took three months.”
The butlers cleared away the plates and brought in dessert. It was chocolate lava cake—à la mode if we wanted. Clarissa dug into her dessert. The cake and ice cream seemed to make her forgive the lack of pumpkin soup.
“The lava cake was scrumptious as always. Thanks Mom,” said Conan, wiping chocolate from the corners of his mouth.
There were smudges of chocolate around the edges of my plate when I was done, but Conan’s plate looked like it’d been polished clean. I guess I’ll have to learn how to make chocolate lava cake to keep him happy.
“If you’ll excuse us, I want to show Scarlet the house,” said Conan.
“Go,” Mr. Wilmar said with a grin.
Mrs. Wilmar nodded approvingly and winked at us. Clarissa was too busy making triangles in her chocolate to notice our departure from the table.
“Excuse us,” I said as I stood up, embarrassed.
“I’m going to take you to my room,” Conan whispered as he squeezed my hand and led me out of the dining room.
“We’re in your parents’ house. Don’t you even think about being naughty,” I whispered back.
“No hanky-panky, I promise,” he said, tickling my palm.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees and flooded through the wall of glass in the foyer. It was almost like being outside as we walked up the curved glass staircase to the second floor. Conan led me down a long corridor and opened the door at the end.
“This is it,” he said. “I haven’t been in here in ages.”
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