Love and War

by Peg Sutherland

  “I needed to talk to you,” he said, looking around the room as if he’d never seen moving boxes before.

  “Can’t this wait until Monday? I know you’re probably itching to tell me what a dumb idea—”

  He held up a hand to stop her. “I haven’t even read your report. Actually, I forgot all about it.”

  Sandy wasn’t sure whether she was relieved by that or not. It didn’t say much about how seriously he valued her professional opinions. “Then what’s the urgency?”

  “I wanted to talk about my grandfather.” His eyes narrowed, as if he blamed her for whatever unpleasantness had once occurred or might be about to occur. “And your grandmother. You knew about that?”

  “No, I didn’t.” Bone-tired, she longed to sit down, but the only place to sit was on the floor or on a box and she wasn’t eager to get that informal with Drew Stirling. She also wanted to ask how much he had known about his grandfather’s shabby treatment of Gran, but wasn’t willing to show her interest. He could get agitated about this if he wanted to, but Sandy planned to maintain her cool.

  He stared at her, as if waiting for more. Hands on her hips, she decided to wait him out, giving him as unyielding a gaze as he directed at her. Finally, he said, “I don’t think Grandpa is ready to accept any apologies.”

  Sandy’s mouth almost fell open. She caught it just in time. Calm and cool, she coached herself. “I’m afraid I’ve missed something.”

  Drew ran a hand through his dark curls and they became more unruly than usual. In his ski jacket and jeans, he looked windblown, rumpled and boyishly appealing. “It’s just, if they’re going to live under the same roof, I think they need some kind of closure. Don’t you?”

  Sandy thought about the things Gran had said and almost smiled. A good dose of reality, that’s what Drew Stirling needed. Maybe getting an idea of what it meant to deal with Mag Murphy would clue him in on what it could be like to deal with Sandy Murphy. Casually, she said, “Gran is thinking about circulating a petition.”

  “A what?”

  “To have him removed from the premises.”

  Drew’s face, which already looked windburned, grew redder yet. “You can tell your grandmother—”

  Sandy put a finger in his chest. “Don’t use that tone of voice. My grandmother has taken all she needs to from the Stirling men.”

  He looked startled. He backed up a foot, staggered over a box, caught himself in time. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Drawing a deep breath, Sandy reminded herself she still had to work with this man come Monday morning. “All I mean is, being left standing at the altar is—”

  “What?” Drew slapped his right ear with his palm, as if to rattle some faulty wiring. “What am I hearing here?”

  Sandy frowned. Was it just her, or was this conversation coming unglued? “I’m sorry. I thought you knew. The way you talked, I thought he must’ve told you.”

  “Oh, he told me all right. Told me she jilted him. Left him standing in the church in front of the whole town.”

  Anger blazed through Sandy. She fought to keep it under control. Remember who this is, she told herself. Remember Monday morning. This wasn’t about Drew and her, it was about an old man and his failing—perhaps intentionally failing—memory. Sandy also reminded herself of what Gran had said. That the Stirling men meant trouble.

  “Is your grandfather senile?”

  “Se—! Listen, fifty years ago your grandmother broke my grandfather’s heart. I think the least she could do, in the interest of neighborliness, is apologize. Is that too much to ask?”

  “No.”

  “At last. Progress.”

  “Except that she wasn’t the one who did the jilting.”

  Drew rolled his eyes and turned away, as if to pace. He was hemmed in by boxes and turned back. “You’re telling me her version of this story is that she was the wronged party?”

  Sandy used the side of her hiking boot to shove a new path through the crowded room, a path that wouldn’t take her quite so close to Drew Stirling. When she reached the door, she opened it and made a sweeping gesture with her hand. She heard the crunch of tires on the icy drive. Oh, good. Her sister and Glenna were back just in time. Explaining this little scene should be a lot of fun.

  “I suggest you have another conversation with your grandfather,” she said. “Because he’s obviously forgotten a few of the details.”

  He shook his head and didn’t move. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Car doors slammed and the chatter of voices drew closer.

  “So your grandmother has a little revisionist history going. Is that the deal?”

  Angela appeared in the doorway, a large, flat box in her hands. “Pizza, anybody? Oh! Company. How nice.”

  “Hi, Drew,” Glenna exclaimed. “Where were you when we needed you? I knocked on your door as I was heading out, but no luck.”

  “Mr. Stirling was just leaving,” Sandy interjected coolly.

  “That’s too bad. We’ve got plenty of pizza,” Angela insisted. “With extra cheese.”

  “Mr. Stirling has to have a conversation with his grandfather. Don’t you?”

  After distractedly greeting the new arrivals, Drew sidestepped through the maze of boxes and stood nose-to-nose with Sandy. “Did it ever occur to you that your grandmother might be the one who’s senile?”

  Angela and Glenna gasped. Angela muttered, “Now hold on, buddy!”

  Sandy smiled grimly. “You’re outnumbered, Drew. I’d cut my losses and withdraw from the field, if I were you.”

  He looked from one Murphy sister to the other, then elbowed his way between them, rolling his eyes at Glenna as he passed. Once on the sidewalk, he turned back, pointed a finger and said, “I’m getting to the bottom of this.”

  Sandy’s insides began to quake as she watched him stalk away. As if things hadn’t already been bad enough between them, this had to come up. Gran was upset and Drew had been sucked in by his grandfather’s twisted version of the truth. And Sandy was stuck right in the middle.

  “What on earth was that all about?” Glenna asked. “I’ve never seen Drew Stirling so riled up. In fact in the six months he’s been living at the house, I’ve never seen him riled up at all.”

  “How dare he say Gran is senile? Who does he think he is?” Angela demanded.

  Sandy sighed and once again closed the door. The pizza grew cold while she explained the surprising tale of Gran’s engagement, along with the two versions of its ending.

  “I’m calling Mom,” Angela said. “She’ll know the truth.”

  “The phone’s not in yet.” For which Sandy was grateful. She wasn’t yet ready to drag the whole family into her dilemma. After all, this was her problem. No reason for her parents to know.

  “You mean you don’t believe your own grandmother?” Glenna said. “Maybe Grandma Bauer would know. Want me to call her?”

  “No!” Sandy said. The fewer people who got involved in this the better, as far as she was concerned.

  Angela opened the pizza box and put a slice on a paper plate. “It’s not that I don’t believe Gran. It’s just that, well, she’s old. And she is prone to embellish her stories a little.”

  “That wouldn’t be an embellishment. That would be a lie.” Glenna, too, dug into the pizza.

  “Not if she’s forgotten some of the details.”

  “Some detail. Let’s see, did I walk out on the wedding or did he?”

  “Let’s go see Gran,” Angela said. “I’ve got to hear more about this.”

  Sandy’s head began to throb. “Can’t we just let it rest? If this gets all stirred up, it’s really going to make a mess of things at work.”

  “Your pal Drew already looked pre
tty stirred up,” Angela said.

  Indeed, he had. His last comment, in fact, had had all the earmarks of a threat. But Sandy felt certain that reason could prevail. After all, fifty years was a long time. The passion of the moment was long since dead. Any broken hearts were long since mended.

  * * *

  BY MONDAY MORNING, Drew had calmed down. He had himself in just the right frame of mind to handle whatever difficulties Sandy Murphy presented this week.

  But when he and Sandy hit the conference room door at the same moment, the jitters started.

  He had to do something about this.

  “Clean slate?” he said, trying out a smile.

  Her expression remained implacably distant. “Is that an apology?”

  “Not exactly.” He kept smiling, on the surface at least. This was ridiculous. Wasn’t this ridiculous? You’d think he had left her at the altar. She was steaming over something that had happened half a century ago. To two other people. “More of a peace pipe.”

  “But not a white flag?”

  Drew’s smile faded. He wasn’t the one at fault here. Where was it written that he was the one who had to grovel? Hell, why did anybody have to? Of course, Clarence had made it clear when they talked again on Sunday that he expected somebody to beg for forgiveness. Apparently, Sandy agreed. Too bad they didn’t agree on who the groveler should be. “No. Not a white flag.”

  Sandy entered the conference room and took her usual seat, placing her papers neatly in front of her. Drew followed her in and took the seat across from her, hoping Britt and Jake wouldn’t be late. He didn’t want this unpleasantness to stretch out too long.

  “Listen, Sandy—”

  “I hope you’ve had a chance to read my report on the outlet store.”

  He had. But that wasn’t the first thing on his personal agenda this morning. “I talked to my grandfather again yesterday. He’s very clear on what happened in 1944. And he’s never had a moment of memory problems. But regardless of who might have been at fault, I think we should encourage them to put this behind them. Don’t you?”

  There. That had sounded so reasonable, who could argue with it? Clarence had, of course. But Drew felt certain he could eventually work his grandfather around to a reasonable way of viewing things, too.

  Sandy made a note in the margin of the report she had placed on the top of her stack, as if what he had said was of so little consequence she had let her thoughts stray to business instead. When she looked up, her face was still expressionless. He missed her smile. When she smiled, good things seemed possible. When she didn’t, Drew wasn’t certain what he was up against.

  “My grandmother is a sweet woman who was terribly hurt and humiliated,” Sandy said, sounding for all the world like a high-priced attorney arguing her case in front of a sympathetic jury. Drew would have voted her way, if he hadn’t known the facts. “Some of the people who witnessed that humiliation live right there in Worthington House.”

  Clearly, Drew thought, he was the only one in this little foursome who understood the principle of compromise.

  “Sandy, I don’t think we need to get into any kind of ‘he said, she said’ disagreement over this. If you and I encourage our grandparents to—”

  “Drew, I don’t think this is the time or place to discuss our personal difficulties. Do you?”

  So they didn’t.

  They sat in tense silence until Britt and Jake breezed in, chatting and laughing about the weekend, as cheerful as ever. Sandy managed to keep up with them, Drew noticed, which made him wonder just how phony his young co-worker could be. He himself tried, but he made a poor showing. He knew that from the puzzled look Jake gave him.

  After all the pleasantries were over, they talked about Sandy’s report. Drew had to admit he’d barely read it the afternoon before. And he had a hard time focusing on the discussion this morning. Frankly, he didn’t give a damn about the outlet store or expanding their share of the local market, or even creating more local jobs. Right this minute, all he cared about was smoothing the rough waters between Sandy and him.

  Well, no, he reminded himself, that wasn’t really the issue. He wanted Clarence to be happy; that was it. After all, the move to Tyler had been Drew’s idea, and he hated knowing he’d made the old fellow so miserable.

  That was what had Drew troubled. The disturbance with Sandy was a side issue. Relatively unimportant in the scheme of things.

  Then why did he keep glancing up, hoping she would relent and smile at him one more time?

  Because he was behaving like a royal fool, that was why. What had Clarence said? Mag had been a dangerous woman. A manipulator.

  Probably runs in the family, son. You watch your back.

  Ridiculous.

  “What’s your reaction, Drew?”

  Britt’s voice broke through his preoccupation. Oh, yeah, he was handling things, all right. He didn’t have a clue what had been said for the past five minutes. He did know, however, that he wasn’t ready to let Sandy Murphy manipulate this company into deep water.

  “I don’t think Yes! Yogurt is financially ready to expand manufacturing, Britt.”

  He kept his focus on Britt, but from the corner of his eye he noted that Sandy didn’t even move. Not a squirm. Not a twitch.

  So they debated her proposal. And no matter what he had to say, she maintained her composure. She always had a good counterargument. Eventually, some of what she said began to make sense, even given Drew’s conservative approach to spending company dollars. But he didn’t give an inch.

  At the end of the hour, they were at an impasse. The discussion was tabled. They were no closer to a decision than they had been when Sandy Murphy walked in two weeks ago.

  Two weeks ago? In only two weeks, she had managed to create this much upheaval in his life?

  He followed her into her office after the staff meeting, surprised to find himself hot under the collar at the idea that he was no longer master of the pleasant little domain he had carved out for himself.

  “We have to settle this,” he said.

  “I don’t think it’s up to us. Britt and Jake have to be convinced, one way or another.”

  “Not that. This business with our grandparents. We have to get it settled.”

  “You’re obsessing, Drew. Besides, it’s not me you have to settle it with,” she said, picking up the telephone and punching out a number. “It’s your grandfather. He’s the problem.”

  * * *

  DREW WALKED THROUGH the shell of his house. Every day, it seemed, the place took on new shape. A wall went up here, a floor went down there. He stood in what would be his living room and peered through the framework that would be his picture window. The lake glittered in the distance, between the trees, a frozen, steely surface dotted by silvery patches of windblown snow. He reminded himself why he had chosen this particular spot for the house. Because the view of the lake would relax him on those rare days when eight hours at Yes! Yogurt jangled his nerves.

  Today had been one of them. So had a lot of others since Sandy Murphy arrived. He didn’t like the pattern that was emerging.

  Restless, he turned away from the window.

  He couldn’t remember what it was that had seemed important enough to drive out here and check on at the end of a workday. Joe Santori and his crew had things well under control, and Joe said Drew would be in the house by Easter at the latest, even taking into account a Wisconsin winter. Drew believed him. All the walls were up now, and the insulation was going in this week, wiring the next. He felt impatience stir in him, an urgency to settle things.

  He hadn’t heard a car in the drive, so Jake’s voice startled him. “It’s coming along.”

  “Yeah. Thank goodness. I’m getting tired of living in a fishbowl and sharing a bathroom.” He’d never thought those
things before, but they seemed as good an explanation as any for what he was feeling. “Anna Kelsey runs a super boardinghouse, but...”

  Jake stuck his head through a door that led to the kitchen. “Yeah, I know. It’s not home.”

  They took the nickel tour. Jake made all the properly enthusiastic comments about the open, two-story living area, the eat-in kitchen, the guest bedrooms and the master bedroom suite upstairs, the decks off both the bedroom and the kitchen. It never occurred to Drew to question Jake’s unexpected visit until they finished the tour and were standing beside their cars. Then Jake began to frown and fidget with his car keys.

  “Drew, we’ve been talking, Britt and I. We feel pretty good about Sandy’s proposal.”

  Drew tensed his jaw, his fists in his pockets. He began to wind up tightly again.

  “We...well, we understand your reservations. But we think they’re things that can be overcome. Sandy has some pretty good solutions, it seems to us.”

  Nodding, Drew studied his cousin. Jake had always had confidence in him. It miffed him, thinking he’d been robbed of that confidence by a girl barely out of college.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he forced himself to say.

  Jake looked relieved. “Take a closer look, will you? Let me know what you think sometime tomorrow.”

  “Sure.”

  Jake opened his car door, then turned back. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Drew. But I couldn’t help but wonder, is something else going on here? Something I don’t know about?”

  Uncertain what to make of the question, Drew first wanted to deny it. But as his cousin’s words rolled around in his head, he began to understand the implications. He hadn’t been fair. He walked into every confrontation with Sandy as if it must be exactly that, a confrontation. She did have some pretty good solutions, when you came right down to it.

  His bias was showing. And the situation with their grandparents hadn’t helped. Damn!

  “I don’t know, Jake.”