Sundial

by C. F. Fruzzetti

  Reid’s eyes danced as he lobbed his parting shot. His timing was impeccable. I could only give him a reproachful scowl as the bell rang.

  The flaw in the afternoon outing was Ruth. She gave me several weak excuses why she couldn’t come until I finally told her to tell me the truth. She confessed she didn’t want to be trapped on a boat with Reid for several hours until she knew if she could stand him or not. I agreed that was fair—as long as she agreed to give him a chance. She said she would…eventually.

  I knew Ruth was dubious this would last. She didn’t want to put out the effort for a guy I wouldn’t be talking to in another week. I couldn’t blame her reluctance since Reid’s reputation of how quickly he cycled through girlfriends preceded him. I would be doubtful myself if I didn’t feel there was something more to Reid than even I fully understood. I told her she was off the hook for now but that once school was out she was going out on the boat.

  Blair and Shannon needed no convincing. I knew Blair was hoping Patrick would cross her path again soon, but he worked a lot after school and on weekends. Patrick had to pay his car payment and for his own gas so he took extra shifts as a waiter whenever possible. Blair found this simultaneously admirable and frustrating.

  Reid had no shortage of other friends so, unless we were going out alone, there was always a crowd down at the dock and ready to enjoy Sanctuary. Shannon loved it. She coordinated her headscarves with her large sunglasses and even bleached her hair so she could fully emulate the Marilyn Monroe icon she was currently embracing. She relished rubbing suntan lotion on some of Reid’s lacrosse or football player friends and would often mime the words “he is so hot” to me from a distance when she didn’t think anyone was watching.

  Reid asked me to take the helm of the boat whenever he needed help. I was pleased he trusted my judgment and ability. It showed me I had his respect, and emotionally it meant more to me than anything else.

  On the boat, Reid was a charming and attentive host. I saw how thoughtful he was by the way he looked after his guests. Ruth would have been pleasantly surprised.

  “Don’t your parents ever miss the boat?” Blair asked Reid one afternoon as we headed out yet again. She took a sip of her Perrier, her new favorite since becoming a Sanctuary regular.

  Reid shrugged. “They don’t even know I take it out. I just make sure it has a full tank of gas when I get back. My mom is always playing golf at the country club and my dad has been working these past couple of months in London. Only Helga, our chef, even knows where I am.”

  At least someone did, I thought. My dad had no idea I was on a luxury cruiser out on the river but he would expect me to be able to handle myself wherever I was and to make the appropriate decisions under any circumstance. I tried to recall where he was at the moment. That’s right; this week he was in Berlin.

  “What’s your father again?” Blair asked Reid, playing the D.C. name game. Families that have been in Washington a long time don’t find it as transitory as it seemed to outsiders. There was usually an influx of new people with new administrations, but it was very interconnected.

  “He’s an intellectual property attorney. He is the Wallace of Wallace, Campagna and Fielding. His firm is downtown on Seventeenth Street, but he’s been doing a lot of international work lately.”

  “I love the buildings on Seventeenth. The Corcoran Gallery of Art is so interesting and I love the ornate carvings on the outside of the Old Executive Office Building. It has such cool texture,” I said, thinking aloud about the imposing stone buildings that cast large shadows on hot afternoons. I loved being around the beautiful buildings of D.C. and appreciated the attractive architecture. Blair looked at me as if I had just spoken to her in Latin and she didn’t understand a word of it. “Sorry…I got carried away.”

  “Nothing wrong with knowing what you like,” Reid said with a smile. He raised his eyebrows at me suggestively. “You have excellent taste. Next time I go drop something off at my dad’s office I want you to come with me.” His eyes twinkled in merriment. I was not sure what he was so amused about, but I had a feeling I wasn’t going to have to wait long to find out.

  I knew Reid well enough that he wasn’t taking me to bring a file to his father’s office simply so I could see the Wallace name on the white marble office building. Although, I had to admit, it was impressive. Reid hardly noticed it. He was trying to get his parking pass out to get into the garage under the building.

  Reid pulled into his father’s parking space right next to the elevator. He opened the thick, clear door of the small, glass waiting room and pressed the button. The doors silently opened and I saw the elevator reflected the style of the building. It had a black marble floor, a thick brass railing, and was paneled in antique mirror.

  The elevator carried us smoothly up to the third floor. I was surprised we didn’t go higher. I thought his father would have an office on the top floor.

  The door opened and the lavish furniture of the reception area stunned me. The room was done in French antiques and faded, thick tapestries. There were several beautiful paintings in gilded frames, and even the plants were potted in porcelain vases. There was no noise. The paneled wooden doors to most offices were closed. A thin woman with red hair sat busily working at the front desk wearing a headset.

  Reid walked up to her while I paused to look closer at one of the paintings on the wall. It was titled The Battle of Stirling Bridge. I saw the wire of its alarm system now that I was up close.

  “Whitney.” Reid called me over to the desk. The woman stood up and promptly extended her hand as Reid introduced us. Her hand was chilly from the air conditioning but her blue eyes smiled warmly as she pumped my hand up and down. I noticed the expensive summer wool of her black suit and her pearl earrings and necklace. She was very put together.

  She ushered us into Reid’s father’s office. It was all blue and white and complemented the Duke University diplomas on the wall. The blue leather chair behind his enormous mahogany desk had hammered brass studs and large, rolled arms. It looked comfortably aged but not worn.

  There were silver frames full of poised family pictures on the credenza as well as pictures of Reid’s father with Margaret Thatcher, Allan Greenspan, Warren Buffet, Helmut Kohl, and I finally was able to place South Carolina Senator Strom Thurmond. It was not intimidating or awe-inspiring. I often had to accompany my father to events with the upper echelon of Washington or have dinner with generals, ambassadors, or prime ministers. The only difference was that we would never flaunt it in photos for public view.

  I looked out the heavily draped window and now realized why we were on the third floor. It provided the perfect vantage point over Lafayette Park for The White House to appear in the background. There was no greater power symbol in the country and it was the backdrop to any meeting that took place in Lockerby Wallace’s office. It was quite a coup.

  I could hear the gentle hum of the air conditioner but that was the only sound. The traffic below crept by on mute. I stood by the window taking in the view. The prestige was palatable. I heard Reid pick up the phone on his dad’s desk. I turned around, wondering who “Louis” was and why Reid sounded so pleased speaking to him through the receiver.

  “OK, let’s go. I hope you are a little hungry,” he said, putting out his hand. I grabbed it, glad to have the warmth. The office was frigid. It was deserted when we left and this time we went to the top floor. Reid wore a handsome smirk as I looked at him from the corner of my eye.

  The doors opened to the executive dining room and Louis, obviously the head chef, was there to greet us. He reached up and rumpled Reid’s head like he was a small boy before embracing him. Then he heartily greeted me and escorted both of us into the dining room.

  It was simply amazing. The exterior walls were entirely glass so the entire Tidal Basin of Washington, D.C., was literally at our feet. I was awed. It was if I had walked inside a famous painting. I tingled with the surreal magic of it.

  I was so
mesmerized with the view I didn’t notice the table the chef had ready for us. It was set with polished, silver spoons and delicate, vanilla-colored china on the navy tablecloth. Chef held the back of my chair, waiting for me to sit while I pulled myself away from the Washington Monument, the Jefferson Memorial, and the paddleboats on the water. I sat down and my eyes caught Reid’s delighted face.

  “Do you like it?” he teased in a low voice as the chef disappeared. The sound of his voice in my ear tilted the scale from enjoyment to pleasure. My head was spinning. I had never experienced anything like it. The view and the cachet were dizzying.

  “I love it,” I said, coming out of my daze to speak. I was truly impressed. “I totally love it.”

  “I’m glad. But it is about to get even better,” Reid boasted with confidence. I noticed all the American flags flying proudly on top of the surrounding office buildings. I never knew they were there. Helicopters hovered over the 14th Street Bridge while planes circled overhead waiting to land at National Airport. It was incredible to see how busy the city was from this view.

  Chef’s presence returned my focus to the table.

  “For Monsieur Reid, your usual Arnold Palmer?” Chef asked in his thick French accent. Reid nodded. “And you, Mademoiselle Whitney?”

  Reid looked at me and started to explain, “An Arnold Palmer is half lemonade…”

  “And half iced tea,” I finished, and nodded. I often had one after my golf lessons at CCC with my grandfather, while he drank his whiskey. “That sounds terrific.”

  Chef made a brief nod and disappeared again. The impeccable silence made the grandeur of the city so much better. There was nothing to distract from the view and I gazed out the window, finding my favorite landmarks.

  Reid sat back in the plush chair across from me looking entertained. Chef quietly returned with two ceramic ramekins of crème brûlée. Each was balanced on a plate with fresh berries and bright green slices of kiwi along the side. He torched the sugar with a small blue flame and placed a platter of madeleine cookies between us.

  I took a bite of the crème brûlée. The creamy custard was simultaneously light and sinfully rich. The crunch of the caramelized sugar gave it sweetness and texture. I had to close my eyes so I would savor the bite. It was that delectable.

  “Reid,” I breathed. “This is so fantastic.” He had waited to see if I liked it before taking a bite. His warm, brown eyes glowed with satisfaction. I had never been so knocked off my feet.

  “It’s my favorite. Louis is known for his crème brûlée so he always has a sheet pan of ramekins on hand. I’ve known him since I was a little boy. I like to come up and visit him whenever I can. Usually I eat in the kitchen with him though.”

  “You mean you don’t take all the girls here?” I asked, spooning in another decadent bite. The glorious combination melted in my mouth. I had never brought up the long line of Reid’s old girlfriends. It unsettled his composure.

  “You are the ONLY girl I have ever brought here,” Reid revealed to me, looking me in the eye. I watched him meticulously adjust his plate after he took a bite.

  “Really? How come?” I prodded, curious. His guard was down and his face flushed.

  “Because I knew you would enjoy it and I wanted to share it with you,” Reid confessed with a sincerity that rang true in my ears. His eyes shimmered with transparent honesty. “And because it is something private and special to me…and so are you.” The moment was elevated even more by his words and felt incredibly intimate. I was no longer distracted by the busy city outside but focused on his heartfelt emotion. My head was whirling and I savored the tenderness of the moment.

  We took our time eating and talking. Reid’s loud laugh would sometimes ricochet through the room but otherwise it was quiet and sequestered. It was late afternoon when we got up to leave.

  Chef came out as if on cue and I graciously thanked him. As we got into the elevator, I felt the spell wearing off but my enchantment with Reid was stronger than ever. I wondered what else he had in store. As if he read my mind, he pulled me to him and kissed me on the way down. He tasted like caramelized sugar. The sweetness was the last thing I recalled before I almost blacked out again. This had to stop.

  Chapter Eight: Fireworks

  I never imagined the first time Reid would tell me he loved me was because he was furious or that I would not know what to say back to him.

  I had arrived at the Delaneys’ earlier that afternoon. The kitchen smelled sweet from the brown sugar and butter streusel topping that covered the peach and blueberry crisp. I watched Mrs. Delaney pull the bubbling fruit from the oven and I was already trying to decide if I would have it plain or a la mode.

  Blair and I had finished cutting up vegetables for a salad and were dismissed by Mrs. Delaney, who was now forming hamburger patties at the kitchen counter. Mrs. Delaney was a master of casual conversation and subtly gathering information while we were slicing cucumbers. She usually had an inquisitive look in her blue-green eyes that encouraged you to tell her more than you may have otherwise.

  The wooden salad bowl was filled to the brim. I didn’t know if there was even enough room to toss it. Blair slipped a denim Williams-Sonoma apron over her mother’s light brown curls that looped softly around her face. We escaped to the back deck, where Mr. Delaney was lighting the charcoal at the grill.

  Mr. Delaney had an apron on that looked too small for his six-foot three-inch frame and a martini glass full of ice and olives nearby. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back and his glasses blended into his square, angular face. His moustache hid the smile as he boomed in his New York accent, “Rough life, eh, girls? Your pop is slaving over a hot grill, your mother is making dinner, and you two are like beauty queens lounging in the sun and reading magazines.”

  The grill made a small blast as the lighter fluid caught. Mr. Delaney walked over to light the citronella tiki torches with the metal lighter. White roses climbed over the railing and spilled onto the deck. A few white petals fell onto the wood planks as he brushed against the blooms.

  “Oh, and what important stuff are we reading about? Boys? Hair? Make-up?” he joked as he walked by. We were reclined on the teak recliners with green and white striped pillows.

  “Yeah, that’s about right. Except you forgot horoscopes.” Blair grinned. “Besides, Whitney and I made the salad. Where is Eileen? You should be proud of us for helping out!”

  “Good question. I don’t know where your sister is,” Mr. Delaney said, taking a sip of his martini. “Hopefully, your mother does.”

  “Blair! Someone’s at the door!” Mrs. Delaney shouted through the screen. She was still forming hamburger patties and her hands were messy.

  Blair got up to answer the door and I kept reading Elle. I heard the muffled rumble of a guy’s voice talking with Mrs. Delaney in the kitchen. Then I heard Mrs. Delaney’s easy laughter. The screen door popped open and my magazine flopped onto my lap. Blair and Reid sauntered onto the deck.

  His eyes sparkled when they connected to mine. He was wearing hunter green shorts and a long-sleeve, patchwork madras plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Mr. Delaney came over to meet him and they exchanged a hearty handshake. Reid sat down on the end of my recliner as I pulled up my legs to make room for him.

  “I called you earlier and you weren’t home so I took a lucky guess you’d be here,” Reid said. “Hope I’m not crashing the party.”

  “No, the more the merrier,” Blair said. “I hope you know my mom was serious when she said she would make two more extra-thick burgers for you. You’re staying for dinner.”

  “Yeah, there is probably no escape now,” I smiled as Mr. Delaney carried a platter of patties to the grill. A few remaining white dogwood blossoms were on the tree behind him. “It’s always a party over here.”

  “Speaking of parties—are we going out on your boat for fireworks on Fourth of July or should Whitney and I make plans to go the airport?” Blair questioned, not really giving Reid
much of a choice.

  “Hmmm…go out with Whitney and her best friend or let them go to the disaster at the airport?” Reid stroked his chin as if it was a tough decision.

  “What do you mean disaster at the airport?” Blair challenged, sitting up a bit in her recliner. “We go there every year!”

  “Right, and doesn’t someone usually end up arrested or going to the hospital?” Reid correctly pointed out. The “airport” Blair referred to was a large field on the river just north of National Airport. People arrived early in the morning and tailgated until the fireworks started. The battered and dusty field was ideal since the pyrotechnic displays from D.C., Virginia, and Maryland were visible.

  “Par for the course.” Blair shrugged. “We always have a good time. And Eileen looks out for us. I have no problem doing that this year.”

  I tapped Reid in the ribs with my foot. “Stop teasing, Reid.”

  Reid grabbed my bare foot and held on to it. He then pulled both my legs onto his lap. I was thinking to myself I didn’t want Reid to test Blair. She could be stubborn.

  “OK, Blair. I didn’t mean to insult you. I am sure you and Whitney could survive the airport. Thanks to your wilderness camp training and all,” Reid said good-naturedly.

  “Survival camp! Now there’s a memory I’m always trying to forget! Did Whitney tell you she called it a ‘fitness’ camp and said it would be great ‘conditioning’ for field hockey?” She laughed as she put air quotes around fitness and conditioning. “She left out some of the more relevant words such as wilderness, no showers, not enough food, and exhaustion.”

  “Come on, it wasn’t that bad!” I laughed. Well, the wet sleeping bag and four days of rain was pretty bad, I conceded to myself.

  “She wouldn’t even let me see the brochure! That’s when I should have known something was up,” Blair laughed. “It wasn’t until her dad dropped us off in the middle of nowhere and I thought I heard the banjo from Deliverance in the woods did I have a clue I wouldn’t need my cleats. It was AWFUL, and three weeks of AWFUL! The only silver lining was that I insisted I be on Whitney’s team and she somehow got us through it. Lucky for her, she had me around to read the maps. I can’t believe she told you about that!” Blair continued to groan. I thought to myself how I had not told Reid that Blair went along with me to survival camp. I wondered if Blair confirmed what was just a lucky guess.