“Then why are you leaving like this?”
He got up and locked his suitcase, uncomfortable with her queries, but unwilling to hurt her by refusing to answer. In three hours he’d be on the plane, and nobody he knew in New York dared question him about his behavior.
“Let’s just say I’ve paid for an innocent, youthful indiscretion. Nobody can screw up your life for you, Mother. You have to do that yourself.”
She frowned. “Is yours screwed up?” He released a grudging smile. His mother hated that word.
“Is it?” she persisted. Adam dropped a hand lightly on her shoulder, at once consoling her and attempting to stop her. She shook it off, and he knew that she’d have her say, but he didn’t have to answer her.
“Why can’t you wait until after Christmas?”
How could he tell her that he needed distance between Melissa and himself, that he had to push aside temptation? How could he tell her that Melissa had erased from his consciousness every other woman he’d ever known? That he’d come close to loving her?
“I’ll fly down Christmas Eve and spend the night,” he threw out as he set a case down in the hallway. Mary unfolded the paper that he had handed her and read its contents.
“Adam, do you love her?” Her voice sounded less firm than it had a little earlier, as though she fought tears. He was about to tell her he didn’t think so, that he wasn’t certain, when Wayne walked in and saved him the necessity of a reply.
“We’d better get moving, if you want to stop by B-H’s place.” Adam kissed his mother’s cheek. “Don’t worry about me, Mother, I can take care of myself.” He noticed her somber expression and the absence of her usual confident air.
“You always could do that,” Mary said, “but you haven’t ever hurt like you’re hurting now.” He felt the heat of his blood burning his face.
“Let’s go, Wayne.” They didn’t speak during Wayne’s demonic drive the short distance to Bill Henry’s house. Adam got out of Wayne’s car, glad to be alive, and wishing he’d driven himself in the Jaguar as he’d originally planned.
“This thing won’t fly no matter how much gas you give it, don’t you know that?”
“Thought you could use a little diversion,” Wayne answered, obviously unperturbed by the faint rebuke.
“Like having my heart plummet to my knees? You’re so considerate.”
They sat around the fire on either side of their uncle, prepared to tolerate one of the latest herbal teas Bill Henry had received from Winterflower. He did hand Wayne a warm glass fragrant with rosemary, but he opened a bottle of fine VSOP cognac, gave Adam a glass, and poured him a drink.
“I expect you’ll be full of this stuff by the time you get to New York. If I were in your place, I know that’s what I’d do. The day Emily married Rafer Grant, I stayed sober until after the wedding, making sure the deed was done, you might say. But an hour later I was three sheets to the wind and stayed that way for two weeks. Then I sobered up, and signed on for Vietnam. I must have been the only man in the service who didn’t want to go back home.” He changed the subject so quickly that Adam had to laugh. His uncle knew just how far to go with him.
“Run over to see Winterflower first chance you get and tell her what’s happening with me. ’Course I expect she knows. Go anyway. Westchester’s beautiful this time of year with its hills and snow and the Christmas lights decorating the houses and lawns. And I like the peace—it’s so quiet there.” He raised his head as if to bring himself back from a dream. “You go and see her. Maybe she’ll put some sense into you.”
Adam sipped the drink, savoring its flavor and aroma, but he remained silent. When Bill Henry wanted to say something, he said it. He was that much like his sister, Mary.
“I hate to see you walk away from something you want, Adam. There’s no virtue in useless martyrdom. If life has taught me anything, it’s that one lesson.” Adam turned toward his uncle to announce that he was leaving, but the faraway look in the eyes of that strong man stopped him.
“I didn’t pressure Emily enough to stand up to Mittie and Moses Morris, and I should have. I’ve paid for that every day since.”
Adam downed the remainder of his drink, stood, and signaled Wayne to join him, but his brother remained seated. “I know what you’re saying and what you’re trying to protect me from, B-H,” Adam said, “but don’t let it bother you. I can handle it.”
“Then you’re a better man than I am, son.”
Adam’s eyes widened, their often luminous twinkle dulled by his vision of the future. For the second time since he’d left home for college, indeed in the last five days, his uncle had called him “son.” Somewhere in that was a message. He slapped B-H on the shoulders in a gesture of affection.
“You’re making too much of this. I feel like I’ve had more lectures today than in my first week as a college freshman. Hang in there, B-H, and if you want me for—well, for whatever, call me.” He brought himself up short. B-H didn’t want his hopes raised, and he had almost offered to be his uncle’s best man.
Wayne drove through Frederick, past the Taney house, and Adam felt his heart constrict when he glanced out of the window and remembered Melissa’s funny and foolish little habit of spitting in its direction. He spread his knees and slid down in the soft leather seat.
“Want me to drive by there? Just for a minute?” Adam didn’t ask where, and the negative movement of his head sufficed for an answer.
Sitting at last in an aisle seat in front of the curtain that separated first class and cabin class of his Piedmont flight, Adam released a deep breath and surrendered to the fatigue that had dogged him for days. He’d been hoping that he wouldn’t have a seatmate, but one arrived and immediately attempted to press him into service. Would he put her carry-on in the overhead bin? He would and did. Would he excuse her so she could go to the lavatory? He did. She returned, sat in her seat beside the window, and decided she needed a magazine. Would he—? Adam turned to face her.
“Madam, this is a fifty-minute flight. Please resist the temptation to spend the entire time getting in and out of your seat.”
When her scowl failed to move him, she offered her feminine charm. Adam laughed.
“Lady, I’ve had it up to here with women.” He sliced the air above his head. “You’re wasting your time.”
She crossed a pair of long brown legs, adjusted her suit jacket to avoid wrinkling the hem and leaned back in her seat. “That’s no surprise. I’m out of practice.” She opened her lizardskin handbag and took out a deck of cards. “How about some blackjack? I usually play against myself, but it’s nice to have a real game for a change.”
He didn’t want a conversation with her, and he didn’t want to play blackjack, but she had aroused his curiosity. A good-looking woman, around thirty-five, he supposed, who dressed with taste and money. And she’d just admitted to not having a man in her life for some time, at least not one susceptible to her brand of allure.
“Deal.”
She dealt him two jacks, and he thought of the song about new fools. “I’m really not interested in a game,” he told her, and turned away. She pushed a business card toward him.
“You wouldn’t happen to need an office manager, would you? I just got fired from a big insurance company, and I have a child to support.”
He tried not to listen, but compassion was as much a part of him as his skin. “What for? What were you accused of?”
“I refused to lie for my boss. I could fight it in court, but I need the money. Besides, I wouldn’t win—it would be my word against his. I worked there for ten years, and I can’t get a reference.”
Adam sat up straight, adjusted his pants at the knees, and looked her over. He asked her the name of the company and what her duties had been. The flight attendant offered drinks, and he took a bourbon and soda, but she declined. One in her favor, he noted. He steered the conversation to other areas while he wondered how an office manager could afford such expensive clothes. She
answered his unasked question when she told him. “Half of my salary went for clothes, because my boss demanded that the women working there dress like socialites.”
Adam heard the change in the thrust of the engines and made up his mind. “Come to see me Monday morning.” She looked at the card he handed her and drew back.
“You’re—I didn’t know who you were, honest. I mean, I wouldn’t have—” Her hands dropped into her lap. “Mr. Roundtree, please don’t build up my hopes for nothing.” The pilot turned off the seat belt sign, and Adam stood and took her bag out of the overhead bin. “And to think, I asked you to...I don’t know what to say.”
“I know. I’ll see you Monday morning at eleven.” He looked back at her. “The women who work in my office wear whatever they like.”
Adam walked rapidly through LaGuardia Airport. If the energy pulsing around him was an omen, he wouldn’t have time to think of Melissa. And at least he wouldn’t have to go back to her for another office manager.
* * *
Melissa opened her door reluctantly, hoping she wouldn’t have to deal with her father. She stared, tongue-tied, at Bill Henry until he asked her if he could come in.
“Why, yes. Yes, sure,” she stammered.
“I know you’re surprised,” he said, “but probably not much more than I am. I’ve been sitting home counting off the hours, and it just got to be too much. About the only other person whose company I could stand right now is Adam’s, and he’s not here.” When Melissa’s raised eyebrow allowed him to see her skepticism, he explained.
“I wouldn’t want to be near your mother, either, until after midnight tonight, because I’ve never yet put my hands on another man’s wife and the temptation to do that would be too great. Three more hours.”
“But that’s nothing compared to how long you’ve waited already.” He took the chair she offered and stretched out his legs. So much like Adam, she thought.
“Melissa, don’t you believe that. I could bear it before, because I didn’t think of Emily in relation to the passing time. She was lost to me forever. I came to terms with it, but now I have hope. I trust I’m not intruding—I just wanted to while away the time with a friend.”
“I won’t ask if you’d like coffee, because Adam said you don’t drink stimulants, just those teas that Winterflower concocts. How about some mint tea?” He accepted her offer, and she brought large mugs of the fragrant tea for them both. He took a few sips and set the cup aside.
“Melissa, have you decided to give Adam up? Is there a chance that you two could learn what happened to your mother and me and let the same thing occur to you? Adam told me Emily bloomed into a different woman when Rafer moved out, and I know how much more like a live and breathing man I’ve felt since then. Looks like we both just shriveled up inside, and I hate to think that the same thing will happen to you and Adam. Did he call you before he left?”
“Yes, but only to tell me about the arrests.” His look of disbelief disconcerted her.
“Come, now, Melissa. He wasn’t obliged to do that. Sounds to me as if he used it as an excuse to call you. Didn’t you talk?”
“Not really. I was so surprised and pleased to hear from him that I blurted out the wrong thing, and I knew it. He didn’t call me again, just left town without another word.”
“You’re a businesswoman, and I hear you swing some heavy deals. So use your head. Adam is strong, and he’s tough, but you can bend him with your little finger. Just apply what you already know.” He stood to go, and she walked with him to the front door.
“B-H, I’m glad you stopped by. I’ll pull out of this, but it may take me a while.” He bent and kissed her cheek, and she stood with the door ajar until he reached the sidewalk. Ten o’clock. She hadn’t known a night could be so long, and it had only begun. She went to the kitchen, put the mugs in the dishwasher, doused the downstairs lights, and started up to her bedroom. She got the phone on its fourth ring.
“Melissa, darling. Tell me you’re watching this beautiful black dancer with the long neck right now on the public television station. She is exquisite. Such a ballerina!” Melissa told Ilona that she hadn’t been watching.
“Then you are with Adam. Hmmm. What eyes this man has!” Melissa tried to pull herself together before Ilona sensed her mood, but she didn’t succeed. “He isn’t with you?”
“Ilona, Adam is in New York, maybe four blocks from you. We’ve split.” Ilona’s silence told her more than words would have.
Finally her friend asked her, “Is it over for good? It can’t be.”
“He didn’t tell me goodbye.”
“I’m sorry—” then after a minute “—but darling, turn on the ballet. You can be unhappy and still enjoy this wonderful ballerina. Call Adam and tell him you made a mess of things and you want to make it up.”
“How do you know it’s my fault?” Melissa huffed.
“Because I’m sensible. He didn’t give you up voluntarily, darling. I saw him with you. Remember? You’re the one who needs to have the head examined.”
“Alright, I’ll watch the ballet. And don’t worry, I made my bed hard, and I won’t complain about lying in it.”
Ilona snorted. “Big words, darling. Just think how much more fun it would be if the bed was a little less hard and you weren’t in it by yourself.”
Chapter 15
Melissa closed her desk drawer and opened the wrapper of her fifth Snickers since she’d returned from lunch an hour and a half earlier. She stared at her blank computer screen while she devoured the miniature candy bar. She had dialed her mother and hung up before the first ring. Her walk up to Banks’s office had been without reward, and as she stood looking at Banks’s empty desk chair, she remembered belatedly that her friend had gone shopping when they separated after lunch. At the other end of the long hallway, she found that all of the paper cups had been used, and she had to drink from her hand. Where was everybody on Monday afternoon, she wondered, though she ordinarily wouldn’t have noticed the desolateness, because she, too, would have been busy. She trudged back to her office suite.
“Just a minute, Mr. Roundtree, she just walked in.” Melissa’s secretary punched the hold button, and she went into her office and closed the door. Her heart fluttered and excitement flared up in her as she anticipated the sound of his voice. Maybe this was it—maybe this time he’d tell her he cared, that he couldn’t wait to be with her. She calmed herself.
“Hello, Adam. How are you?”
“Hello, Melissa. I’m just fine. I’m calling to tell you that I have decided not to extend Lester’s contract. We all agree that he’s competent and efficient, but we—my staff, from Jason to the new messenger—dislike him. You’re entitled to know why I’m letting him go. It’s his officiousness. Olivia threatened to quit, and that settled it. She’s indispensable.”
“Are you planning to hire another office manager?”
“I’ve already done that.” He said it too quickly, she thought, as though being able to do so held a measure of triumph. “I didn’t use a search firm this time. I met her on the plane coming up Saturday night, and I think she’s exactly what we need.” You mean what you need, Melissa surmised as she fought a feeling of melancholy, but she refused to allow him the pleasure of knowing it, and her response concealed her real feelings.
“I see. MTG is glad to have been of service, and I hope we may continue to count you among our clients.” She found his silence aggravating, but it was his call, his next move, and she remained silent, refusing to ease the way for him.
“Have you ever done anything that you later regretted?”
“Hasn’t everyone?” she asked, wondering about the question and stalling because she couldn’t figure out what had prompted it.
“You’re not everyone,” he told her in a voice that was a little rough and lacked its usual authority. “I’m interested only in you. Have you?”
“Of course. Why?” She picked up a pencil and began tapping its eraser rhyt
hmically against the phone.
“How did you manage to forgive yourself, Melissa? Or did you?” She stopped the tapping.
“How did I—?” He interrupted and spoke rapidly as if anxious to release something he’d held for a long time, to finish an unpleasant task.
“Something else I’ve wanted to ask you ever since we met.”
“What?”
“What do you think of masquerade parties? Do you like them?”
At first she thought he might want to invite her to one. Then she wondered if he was accusing her of some pretense.
“Adam, this isn’t the best day I’ve had recently, so would you just say whatever it is that’s bothering you?”
“Sure. How about answering my question?”
“I can take masquerade parties and most other kinds or I can leave them. Some of the most unforgettable ones have been distasteful, but I remember others because they brought pleasure that I least expected and that had a lasting impact.” She tried to fathom his sigh of obvious dissatisfaction at her remark.
“Tell me about it!” he said, affirming his frustration. His pause led her to expect more, something he’d forgotten, something more personal. But he only added, “Give my regards to your mother, Melissa. I’m glad I got to know her. Take care.”
“Adam—”
“What is it?”
She thought she detected hope in his voice, but he’d been so distant in recent days that she couldn’t risk more evidence of his disinterest.
“Adam, I— Take care.” She hung up.
* * *
Melissa struggled with the turmoil into which her conversation with Adam had plunged her. She couldn’t decide what his questions implied. The man with whom she’d just spoken had not displayed the tough candor that she thought of as such an essential part of Adam’s makeup. Furthermore, he hadn’t even mentioned the affidavit, and she knew that the document was of importance to him. The oversight bordered on rudeness, a trait that she couldn’t associate with him. She wished he hadn’t called her.
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