Mr. Parks was not your typical martial arts teacher. He wore a polyester track suit with bright white sneakers. His black hair had a comb straight part on the right side and he had thick glasses. I could hear his voice yelling at me in his Chinese accent. “Whitney! It is not enough to know, you must do and not do.” Right, I thought. I had to set my boundaries with Reid.
“Alone?” I clarified.
“Aren’t things more fun together? Besides, the showerhead can be temperamental. You might need my help.” He was incorrigible. He started kissing my neck and I could feel his heart drumming in his ribcage. I swallowed hard but firmed my resolve. Mr. Parks liked to say the greatest defense of all time was not being there.
“Hmm. A tricky shower? I think I’ve had enough hassle today. I’ll just take some Advil when I get home.” I laughed inwardly as I felt him deflate in defeated disappointment. I mentally became a rock of resistance.
“I think you think too much,” Reid said, giving me a kiss that took my breath away. He was persistent. Perhaps because I had been thinking of Mr. Parks, I could hear his voice echoing in my head that my greatest challenger would be a Shaolin crane stylist. They were the water that slowly wore away the mental rock of a Shaolin panther stylist. I felt an intuitive chill of recognition crawling over my skin.
By this time, we had reached his Mediterranean-style kitchen. The smell caught my attention. The decadent aromas of cocoa, pecan, and coconut swirled through the air. I found the German chocolate cake towering on a silver cake stand. I inhaled deeply, tasting a slice in my mind.
The Wallace’s chef, Helga, still had the icing spatula in her hand. She stood proudly over her multi-tiered masterpiece. Her ruddy face was smiling broadly and she immediately started bombarding us with food choices.
“Mmm. I smell my dad’s favorite. Restrain yourself, Helga, nothing more for us than sweet tea. I’m taking Whitney out to dinner. I’ll be right back,” Reid said, kissing my cheek as he left me to Helga’s care. Helga stomped her foot in disappointment. Her black hair was swept into a neat bun and her navy dress was practical but well cut. I felt warm and happy despite the cool terracotta tiles that iced my bare feet.
I slipped onto the rushed seat of a wooden stool at the breakfast bar. It was the only place I could sit that I was confident wouldn’t be ruined. Helga reached across the counter and gently reached for my hand, holding it in hers as her dark brown eyes looked into mine. She smelled like vanilla extract and had the gentle touch of a grandmother. The Swiss army watch on her wide wrist seemed out of place.
I had never met Helga before but I felt like I already knew her. Reid was always talking about her. Helga had been with the Wallace family since Reid was a small boy. I remembered he had said she was from Russia and had taught Reid how to speak Russian and Romanian.
“You are so thin. Why not just a bite of my German chocolate cake and some milk, eh? Reid will never know. That boy will be in that shower for at least fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks, Helga, but really I am fine. I will eat a big dinner, I promise,” I said honestly. Helga and I liked each other right away. I could tell Reid was the apple of her eye. She gave him an affectionate pinch whenever he got close enough.
“Well, at least some tea then. You can’t be in MY kitchen with nothing.” Helga was in the refrigerator pulling out the cold pitcher of tea when I smelled the waft of Chanel No. 5. Bonnie Wallace came around the counter and extended her hand.
“You must be Whitney Forbes! I’m Bonnie Wallace, so nice to meet you, sugar,” she said with a thick southern drawl. Her gold bangles slid against her diamond-encrusted Rolex and clanked jovially as she shook my hand. “Looks like you’ve been out on the water. Are you starving? Is our Helga fixing you something to eat?”
“No,” I laughed, instantly charmed by the steel magnolia. She was wearing a white linen shift dress with a gold belt that accentuated her tiny waist. She had a large Gucci bag over her shoulder. “We are going out to dinner. Reid’s getting changed and then he’s taking me back to my house.” I could hear the water still running from his shower.
“Nonsense. You and my son are now coming to dinner at the club tonight. Lockerby is in town and we are both bursting to get to know you. Tell Reid I expect to see you at seven. Now, I’ve got to run but I will see you tonight.”
Bonnie Wallace’s deep blue eyes were lined in blue eyeliner and thick black mascara. Her eyes were commanding and they were not asking but telling me what to do. I heard her car keys clink in her hand and I thought how I rarely saw her big white Cadillac in the garage. She was always at the club or an event. I managed to smile and nod. Her tiny, toned figure waved a French manicured hand at me and then breezed from the room. The light tapping of her stylish gold sandals caught my eye and I thought about how she managed to coordinate with her car perfectly. Blair would be impressed.
Helga poured the iced tea and placed the glass in front of me. The ice clinked and cracked. “Have you ever met Mr. Wallace? ’Cause if you haven’t, brace yourself. I wish I could tell you he has a crusty exterior but is soft inside like one of my apple pies, but in all my years here I haven’t witnessed it. Not that I’m complaining. He couldn’t get rid of me as long as there is a Wallace boy in the house, but you watch your P’s and Q’s with him and don’t let him mow you down. He will try,” Helga warned. She wiped the counter with a rag, going over the same spot over and over.
I didn’t know what P’s and Q’s meant but I got the gist of what she was saying. This wasn’t going to be a relaxing evening for me at CCC. Good thing that at least I was going to be in a familiar environment. More familiar than Reid or his family probably knew.
“How long have you been with the Wallace family?” I asked Helga. Reid had implied she was always there and always would be. She looked up from her scrubbing.
“I came when Reid was about four. He was such a cute little boy but always getting into trouble. He needed discipline. The household was rambunctious—Reid has two older brothers. Mackenzie, the oldest, and Clancy.” I noticed how Helga’s protruding bosom puffed with pride as she referred to the boys as if they were her own.
“There was also the nanny, Susannah, who was the daughter of Mrs. Wallace’s own nanny. Susannah went home for a few weeks every summer to be with her own family. We had one bad experience with interim help, so the boys started to go away to summer camp in Maine. She left two years ago to go back to South Carolina to take care of her own sick mother. The Wallaces were lucky to have her. She worked hard and loved those boys as much as I do.”
Reid had never talked about Susannah. I wondered why as I sought to connect more of the dots. “Huh. And so now Mrs. Wallace spends her free time on the golf course. People seem to think she leads a perfect life,” I extrapolated. I could still hear the shower running but I knew it wouldn’t be for much longer.
“A wealthy life but not a perfect one. Everything costs something. Her price is loneliness. When you hire other people to do everything for your family, the love tends to go with it. It is whom you spend your time with that counts. Is that golf pro going to take care of you in your old age? I don’t think so.”
“Well, the Wallaces certainly lucked out with you,” I said with a smile. “Reid adores you.”
“Yes, Reid adores me and I adore him. I don’t think Mrs. Wallace realized we would have such a long relationship when I started all those years ago. With me, it worked out. That isn’t always the case. There is always a risk when you bring someone you don’t know into your home. You must be careful with strangers,” Helga said, wringing the rag out in the sink. She gave me a long look.
The water from the shower was turned off. I thought about my own patchwork of nannies and babysitters through my childhood. Sometimes both my parents were out of the country at the same time on different continents. It was not a life I would want for my own children. I agreed with Helga’s portrait of Bonnie Wallace—her activity tried to fill an empty life.
“Thank
s, Helga. Food for thought,” I said with a wry smile. I took a sip of my sweet tea. Reid came into the kitchen with his hair wet and slicked back but far too casually dressed. I shook my head and told him to try again. We had a date with his parents at the country club.
Reid groaned in futile protest. He would have to change. Moments later he returned in the unspoken country club uniform of tan chinos, a light blue button down oxford, a navy blazer, and cordovan penny loafers. His tie had jaunty nautical wheels on it but the expensive silk they were embroidered on conveyed it was no joke.
In the car, I was mentally going through my closet to figure out what I would wear this late in the summer. I settled on my DVF wrap dress and hoped it wasn’t at the cleaners. A pair of classy high heels and my black clutch would finish it off.
We walked into my quiet house. I parked Reid on a cracked leather sofa in our study with the television remote and raced upstairs to get showered and changed.
It was getting late, so after my shower I swept my hair up and focused my attention on my make-up. I slipped into the dress and picked up my shoes to put on downstairs. At the landing, I heard Reid and my dad laughing below in the study.
Oh well, they had to meet sometime, I thought as I padded down the faded Oriental rug runner of the wooden staircase. I peeked my head into the study and said a quick hello to my dad and told Reid it was time to go.
“Nice dress, honey,” my dad said with a knowing smile. He stood up and shook hands with Reid. “OK, have fun. Not too late.”
“I can’t believe your dad has a Breitling Emergency watch,” Reid said as we got into his car. “That was pretty awesome.”
“I guess. It’s for his work,” I muttered as I played with his radio. I definitely didn’t want to talk about my dad to Reid. It was bad enough he recognized the Breitling Emergency watch. He must have known it had a distress signal transmitter inside it.
I could only imagine how much information my dad was able to extract from Reid without him knowing it. It couldn’t have been that bad or he wouldn’t have let me go out with him, I surmised.
“I don’t think he really told me what he does. Where does he work?” Reid asked, mulling their conversation over.
“In Virginia,” I answered, not volunteering to expand further.
“And who does he work for?” Reid continued.
“The government,” I said evasively. CCC’s elaborate entrance rolled into view. The marble columns flanked the double glass doors. I was relieved not to know the doorman out front so I could go in without notice. Reid decided not to use the valet and parked the car nearby.
“You look great,” he said. His eyes lingered where the wrap of my dress crossed at my chest, and then he trailed his gaze down to my bare legs. I knew the dress made me look older and sophisticated. I had worn it to an embassy dinner with my dad last fall. Having the right clothes at hand made the impromptu invitation easier. At least I wasn’t stressed about what I was wearing.
“By the way, my dad can be a real piece of work. Just ignore him,” Reid said before getting out of the car and coming around to open my door. I plopped my shoes onto the asphalt of the parking lot and took his hand to slide into them. I liked having a few more inches on him.
“Wow,” he said as I stood up. I felt like I was in a costume but it made it easier to propel myself toward the door. I took Reid’s arm to make sure I kept my balance.
We entered into the amber glow of the club. The crystal chandeliers and plush rugs struck the right note of old money opulence while the fresh flower arrangement of hydrangea and roses on the circular table added a vibrant crispness to the air. The polished wood gleamed and the conversation hummed from inside the dining room.
I was not surprised the Wallaces were already there. They had commandeered one of the best tables in a windowed octagon alcove that overlooked the entire golf course. Mrs. Wallace had a martini with a twist and Mr. Wallace was pounding down a whiskey. I noticed he took it neat. At least my grandfather would approve that he drank it correctly and didn’t ruin a good whiskey with ice.
Mrs. Wallace saw us as we approached the table. Her eyes twinkled as she took in her son in his coat and tie. Mr. Wallace stood up to meet me. This can’t be that bad, I thought. At least his manners were impeccable.
Lockerby Wallace was a big man of imposing physique. He was at least as tall as Reid but bulkier. He loomed in front of me. His brown eyes were cold and calculating and his smile was forced. He extended his hand to greet me and crushed it in his grip. I refused to wince but had to keep tears from springing to the back of my eyes. My opinion of him formed instantly and I summarized I would be dining with a domineering jerk. Helga wasn’t kidding.
His navy blazer had four gold buttons on the sleeve and the starched, white collar of his shirt looked like it had been pressed to a razor’s edge. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back like Gordon Gekko and his air was just as ruthless.
Mrs. Wallace was his contrast in a pink Chanel suit with strands of soft pearls around her neck. She was the picture of ladylike femininity. Reid kissed her cheek hello, careful not to smudge her blush, and nodded to his father. He pulled out my chair for me to sit down.
“Darlin’, I love the Diane von Furstenberg dress,” Mrs. Wallace enthused. She lightly put her hand on top of mine. I had a feeling she would appreciate it. Her eyes sparkled and I had the sensation she was a lot like Reid.
Lockerby Wallace’s Rolex snuck out from under his starched monogrammed cuff as he picked up the menu. How predictable, I thought. He looked past me as he started discussing football with Reid, deliberately shutting Mrs. Wallace and me out of the conversation. His cold arrogance and formidable presence didn’t make me want to dabble in how well I thought the Redskins would do this season.
Then he turned the conversation to mention the daughter of a friend of his. I noticed Reid shift uncomfortably in his seat. I popped my eyebrows up at Reid and had the slightest smirk on my face.
“They can’t help falling for you, son,” Mr. Wallace guffawed, and punched Reid like he was the favorite stud of the Old Boy’s Club.
“Lockerby, really,” chided Mrs. Wallace, trying to get his attention. In a loud aside, she held her hand in front of her mouth and said, “Whitney, Brooke Carnegie is not nearly as pretty as you. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not worried,” I said affably. I unexpectedly locked eyes with Mr. Wallace, who seemed unable to determine if I was merely an idiot or if I was going to take him on. I could tell his blood pressure must have been rising as his color started to redden.
“Whitney, do you play golf at all?” Mrs. Wallace floundered to cut the tension. A waiter appeared with another, unbidden whiskey for Mr. Wallace and Mrs. Wallace relaxed.
“Hi Whitney!” The waiter was the head bartender’s son, Sam. He smiled warmly at me, unaware he was walking into the buzzing hornet’s nest at table number eight. I had known Sam since childhood.
“Sam, good to see you,” I said with smile. He disappeared and I caught the knowing look between Mr. and Mrs. Wallace. They immediately recognized I was more familiar with CCC than they had anticipated.
“Yes, Mrs. Wallace, I do play golf. I haven’t played in quite awhile but I grew up taking lessons here. My grandparents insisted on it. I would rather play field hockey or soccer though,” I said, regaining my usual ease.
“Really, I didn’t know that,” Reid said, surprised. “I didn’t know you ever came to the club.”
“I don’t come much anymore.” I shrugged. “Too busy with practices. My dad comes fairly frequently. In fact, he thinks of it as his home away from home. Especially since my mother’s family once owned the land this club is built on. Unfortunately, their plantation was burned and destroyed for housing General Lee and his officers. So this is very familiar ground for me.” I smiled amiably at my small jest. I tried to phrase my family history lightly enough that I didn’t sound smug. I didn’t want Lockerby Wallace to know he
was irritating me.
Reid’s eyes lit up like he had just won the lottery. Mr. Wallace took another swig of whiskey while Mrs. Wallace clapped her hands together in slow motion and said, “That is so wonderful, Whitney. I am so pleased to hear your family was able to help General Lee, bless his soul.”
My back was to the dining room and I hoped I wouldn’t be singled out again. I hadn’t been down to the club much at all in the past couple of months and didn’t want to catch up with anyone while trying to deal with Mr. Wallace.
Thankfully, the rest of the evening was quiet and without incident. No one wanted dessert. All I wanted was to escape into the fresh air of the night. The four of us walked out together. Mrs. Wallace fell into step next to me and squeezed my arm. “So good to have met you. I can’t wait to see you again soon.”
The bellman opened the door. “Nice to see you tonight, Ms. Whitney. Please tell your grandfather hello.”
“Nice to see you as well, Edmund.” I laughed at his appropriate formality. He gave me a wink. “I will be happy to pass along your message.”
Reid and I walked on to his car while his parents waited for the valet to bring Mr. Wallace’s sand gold Mercedes to the door. I had my hand in the crook of Reid’s arm and held onto it as I steadied myself to descend out of the heels that were now hurting my feet.
“You amazed me tonight,” he said, pressing me back against the car. The metal of the door felt cool against my body in the warm summer night. The moon was rising over the river and a smattering of stars blinked from the sky.
“Don’t I always amaze you?” I answered coyly. I felt like I was reading a line from a movie script. That thought faded away when he responded with a firm kiss to my lips. I took that as a yes. While I gladly lost myself in his kiss, I hadn’t forgotten all the other revelations of the day, and I went to bed wondering if Reid was a kung fu Shaolin trained crane stylist. Mr. Parks’ story of the crane tumbled through my thoughts.
There was once a young monk who was dedicated to Shaolin. In all things he excelled except his kung fu. It seems that our young monk did not have an aggressive bone in his body and not the mind to really hurt anyone. This was perplexing to his teachers, who were trying to teach him the fullness of balance and life through kung fu. Much was tried; nothing worked. The young monk’s teacher suggested that he meditate on the problem for a while and see if he came to a solution.
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