Regret Not a Moment

by Nicole McGehee

  Grace heaved a sigh of resignation. “I hope you enjoy your other pursuits very, very much. Be certain that they’re worth what you pay for them. If they are, then you’ve made the right choice. But realize, my dear, that you are making a choice, and that you must be prepared to live with the consequences.”

  It was that conversation that came back to Devon now as she regarded the scarlet velvet dress on the bed. John had specifically had it designed in her racing colors to please her. Now it was her turn to try to please him. “You’re right, John. And anyway, with such a beautiful new dress to wear, I know I’ll enjoy going out,” Devon said as enthusiastically as she could. She rang the bell to summon Alice.

  “Would you please prepare my bath. We’ll be going out tonight,” Devon told her maid. The look of approval in Alice’s eyes made her feel no better. It seemed the whole world disagreed with her.

  CHAPTER 29

  THE first time Devon placed her daughter, Morgan, in the saddle in front of her, the child cried so much that her parents were afraid she would make herself ill.

  “For heavens sake, Devon, give it up!” John said, reaching up to take the child.

  “I don’t understand why she’s so afraid. I’m holding her, after all.” Devon was not mounted on one of her racehorses but rather on a mild pinto gelding used for pleasure riding.

  “She’s only two years old! It doesn’t matter why she’s afraid. Either she’ll get over it or she won’t, but there’s no use in forcing her to stay up there.”

  “I know that,” Devon said, insulted by the implication that she would allow her child to suffer in order to satisfy a desire of her own. Sometimes it seemed that she was always defending her actions to John. She handed the squalling baby down to her father and then dismounted herself.

  “Riding is just not for everyone,” John declared.

  “Oh, she’ll get over whatever’s bothering her,” Devon said confidently, “it’s just a matter of time.”

  “Maybe,” John said, a note of skepticism in his voice.

  “Don’t you want her to ride?” Devon asked, handing the reins to a groom and walking toward the main house.

  “I don’t really care,” John said mildly.

  Devon took Morgan back from John and crooned to her until she quieted. After the child was calm, Devon said to John, “You like to ride. I like to ride. Why wouldn’t you want Morgan to enjoy it?”

  “Devon,” said John, stopping and turning his wife toward him, the baby cradled in her arms, “it just isn’t important. That’s why.”

  Devon pulled away from her husband and shrugged as best she could with her burden.

  John and Devon had frequent disagreements about Morgan’s upbringing. John, though he loved the child, wanted her raised at Willowbrook so that he and Devon could spend weeks at a time alone at their New York home. He did not want the burden of full-time parenthood. He wanted to live freely and as a couple at least a few months of every year. Devon, on the other hand, believed that the child should travel with them. It was a constant source of arguments.

  Then again, there were times when they seemed to realize that they were endangering their relationship, and they would make an effort to be especially kind to each other, for there was real love between them.

  Now, feeling guilty, John asked, “Would you like me to look after Morgan awhile so you can work in your greenhouse?”

  Devon, appreciating John’s effort to make peace, said, “Thank you. I’d like that. It’s time for her nap, so you can just give her to Penny.”

  Devon watched them go, the tiny child cradled against her husband’s broad chest. She had an overwhelming feeling of love for them both—a feeling that was laced with sadness, though she could not say why.

  CHAPTER 30

  DEVON and Morgan scanned the vegetable garden for the most select pumpkins. “Can I make faces on them?” Four-year-old Morgan was breathless with excitement.

  Devon smiled down at her daughter’s eager face. “You can draw the faces, but Daddy has to cut them.”

  Morgan’s face fell. “But Daddy’s not here!”

  “He’s coming home this afternoon,” Devon soothed.

  “Yay!” Morgan did a little dance of excitement. She wished her daddy were always here, but Mommy said he had lots of work in New York. That made his visits very special. But sometimes it seemed like they had to get to know each other all over again every time he came to Willowbrook. At least Mommy was always here. And they did so many fun things! Morgan loved her father, too, but he wasn’t as casual and cozy as her mother. He never seemed to get dirty and go in the woods with her like her mother did. Her father, though, could throw her up in the air and catch her by her waist without even hurting her. So that made up for a lot.

  “Will Daddy…” Morgan hesitated.

  “What is it, sweetheart?” Devon kneeled next to her daughter so that their eyes were on the same level.

  “Read me a story tonight?”

  Devon ruffled her daughter’s hair. “I’ll bet he’d like that,” she assured her.

  But when it came time to tuck her in that night, only Penny came. When Morgan asked for her parents, Penny told her they were talking. Morgan could hear them. It was loud. They talked loud a lot, but not when Morgan was in the same room, she noticed.

  A few minutes later, though, Morgan received a pleasant surprise. Her mother came to say good night to her looking like a beautiful fairy in a fluffy pink dress. Instead of smelling like hay, as she usually did, she smelled like flowers. She had white sparkles hanging from her ears and neck, just like raindrops.

  “Is that ice?” Morgan asked, touching the hard, bright surface.

  Devon laughed. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose.” Seeing the look of puzzlement on Morgan’s face, she clarified her statement. “No, it’s not ice. Those are diamonds.”

  “They look like magic!” Morgan breathed.

  “A lot of people think they are,” Devon said with a smile, “but they’re not.”

  “When’s Daddy coming to read me my story?”

  Devon looked at her child, almost a replica of herself at that age. She looked so peaceful, her shiny black hair neatly plaited for sleep, her crisp white cotton nightdress blending with the lavender-scented bed linens.

  “Soon. He’s getting ready to go to a party,” Devon explained softly.

  “Are you going to a party too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Together?”

  Devon studied her child, surprised at the question. Could a child so young see the discord between herself and John? They tried to hide it from their daughter. “Of course we’re going together, sillybilly, why would you ask that?”

  The child did not answer directly. Instead she asked, “Are you mad at Daddy?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Why do you talk loud with him?”

  Devon thought a moment. “You know how sometimes you make Mommy angry, like when you hit Leslie or when you won’t eat your vegetables?”

  “But Daddy likes veg’bles,” Morgan declared, sure of herself on this topic, even if she couldn’t quite pronounce the word. He had told her so on the many occasions when she had tried to avoid eating the hateful things.

  Devon laughed at this. “Yes, he likes vegetables, but sometimes big people disagree on other things.”

  “Dis-a-gree?” The child grappled with the new word.

  “To disagree is like when I say I love peas and you say you don’t. It’s not the same as a fight. It’s not as mean as a fight. It’s called a disagreement. It means we don’t think the same thing.”

  “You and Daddy… do you… dis-a-gree a lot?”

  “No, not at all,” Devon said. When she thought about it, they didn’t disagree on many things. It’s just that what they disagreed on so fundamentally affected their lives.

  “Then why do you talk loud so much?”

  Devon was truly disturbed now. She and John had assiduously avoided arguing in
front of their child, but Morgan had obviously still heard them. And the little girl was worried.

  “It bothers you when we talk loud?” Devon asked, caressing her daughter’s forehead.

  Her daughter answered timidly, “Sometimes.”

  Devon bent down and hugged her daughter. “I don’t want you ever to worry about anything like that, sweetpea. I love your father very much and he loves me, but most of all, we both love you more than anything on earth.” She tucked in the sheets around Morgan and caressed her cheek. “Daddy will be in to read you a story in just a minute.”

  But by the time John came in, Morgan had fallen asleep.

  CHAPTER 31

  JOHN kissed Grace on the cheek as her Pan American Airways flight to Chicago was announced. It was the first leg in her journey from New York to the Hearst ranch to celebrate Devon’s birthday. A journey that John was supposed to have made with her, had business matters in New York not delayed him.

  “I hope Devon understands,” he said, looking into Grace’s eyes for absolution. “It’s one of the most important packages I’ve ever put together.”

  “It’s not your fault Henley’s been ill.”

  “Yes, but now that he’s better I suppose I could have put him off… I’m sure he would have understood.”

  “You’ve invested a great deal of time and money in this deal, as I understand it,” Grace said reassuringly, “and the other investors have all come to New York especially for these negotiations. Anyway, you’ll only be one day late.”

  “Yes, but I’ll miss her party.”

  “Oh, pooh! Marion has a party every night. Maybe I can persuade her to put Devon’s off a day.”

  John knew that Marion had specifically scheduled Devon’s birthday for a Saturday so that their Hollywood friends who were making movies would be able to attend. If she delayed it until Sunday, the actual day of Devon’s birthday, it would be a much smaller celebration.

  As though reading her brother-in-law’s thoughts, Grace said, “Devon’s birthday is not really even until Sunday. You’ll be there by Sunday afternoon. That’s the most important.”

  “Well, I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it now anyhow, so there’s no point in worrying about it.”

  “Right you are,” Grace said with a smile. It touched her that John was so worried about missing Devon’s birthday.

  Grace, however, did not understand the real reason for John’s concern. He was afraid that Devon would be offended not because their relationship was so loving, but precisely because it stood on such unsteady ground.

  John waved good-bye to his sister-in-law, then exited the airport to where his car and driver awaited him.

  “Where to, sir?” asked the driver.

  “‘21.’“ John would grab a steak, perhaps have a drink or two, then head back to his office to prepare for his meeting the next day.

  John was greeted warmly by the maitre d’ of the renowned watering hole and shown to his regular table. Without his asking for it, a whiskey and soda was placed before him. The restaurant treated its regulars well.

  “I’ll have the usual,” he told the waiter, knowing his steak would be prepared perfectly medium rare and his potato would contain both butter and sour cream. John liked gourmet food, but sometimes he just wanted a thick steak and a baked potato.

  When the food came, John eagerly sliced into the grilled meat and took a bite. The juicy goodness of it acted as a balm to John’s mood. He relaxed, enjoying the meal.

  “Well, good evening!” A lively feminine voice interrupted John’s solitude.

  Bebe Henley, splendid in a strapless gold sequined gown, looked down at John.

  John quickly stood up. “How nice to see you again!” he said, dazzled by the play of light on Bebe’s gown.

  Bebe took one step closer to him before saying, “May I join you for a moment?”

  “By all means,” John said with a broad smile. He looked around to see who was accompanying her, but she was apparently alone.

  Reading his look, Bebe said, “I’m afraid I’ve been left on my own. You just missed Daddy. He’s still not feeling quite up to par. He said he was going to turn in early so he’d be on his toes for his meeting with you tomorrow. Anyhow, it’s much too early for me,” she said conspiratorially as she slid gracefully into the tufted chair.

  John had a moment of disquiet. It was one thing to be seen with Bebe and a third person, it was quite another to be seen en tete a tete. He knew she had married since their meeting in San Simeon. But she made no mention of a husband. John wondered about that. His unease grew as Bebe crossed one long, tanned leg over the other and the fashionable slit in the front of her gown dropped open to present a clear—and extremely enticing—view.

  Bebe, as though unaware of the effect she was creating, casually searched in her gold mesh evening bag for a cigarette.

  “Allow me,” said John, politely taking her black enameled Cartier lighter from her and holding the flame to the tip of her cigarette.

  “Thank you,” Bebe said, relaxing into her chair.

  John knew he had no option but to invite her to have a drink with him.

  “I’d love a Courvoisier,” Bebe said, blowing a stream of smoke through perfectly shaped red lips.

  She had her Courvoisier as John ate his meal, then one with John after he had finished. John found himself relaxing, laughing as Bebe told him anecdotes about herself and her father. He urged Bebe to join him in a bottle of champagne, a suggestion she agreed to with alacrity.

  He did not know what they spoke of for three hours. He only knew that at the end of that time—and after two bottles of champagne—he had no desire to go home. For a moment, he tuned out what Bebe was saying and allowed his eyes to roam over her lovely body. Her champagne hair tumbled over her shoulders and rested lightly on the burnished skin of her full breasts—tightly hugged by the bodice of her dress. Her arms and shoulders, sleek and smooth, glowed in the dim light of the restaurant. John had the irresistible desire to peel the shimmering dress off Bebe’s lush body to see if the reality was as good as his memory of that long-ago day beside the pool at San Simeon.

  Thinking of San Simeon, though, suddenly brought him back to the present. He closed his eyes for a second and tried to envision his wife. Instead of seeing her in all her beauty, however, the image that came to his mind was of their last argument.

  “What are you thinking of?” Bebe’s husky voice insinuated itself into his thoughts.

  John’s eyes held Bebe’s for a moment. The air between them was electric. And the message in her eyes was clear. Embarrassed by the intensity of his attraction, John looked away. “I think I’d better be getting home.”

  Bebe surprised him when she said, “Yes, it’s late.” For some reason, John had expected her to try to detain him at the restaurant. Bebe had behaved seductively toward John for several years, but he had never been around her alone for a sustained period of time, nor had he ever sought her company. But now, as he followed the mesmerizing sway of her hips out of the restaurant, he found her incredibly inviting. Life with Devon was so complicated, so fraught with tension. How marvelous it would be to simply enjoy this young woman’s feline sexuality.

  “Drop me?” Bebe asked casually as John’s driver held the door of the Rolls open for him.

  Now he understood her willingness to go home. He had not known that she did not have her own car with her. “Of course,” he murmured, knowing that he was making a crucial decision, but too drunk with champagne and sexual heat to care.

  Once in the car, however, the full gravity of his current course of action came to him. He had been married eight years. He had never been unfaithful, nor did he condone such behavior in others. How, then, could he contemplate acting out an old, recurring fantasy that he had swiped from his mind on many occasions for the sake of his marriage?

  As the car pulled in front of Bebe’s town house, just a few blocks from his own, he heard her say softly, “Would you care
to come up for a nightcap? My husband is out of town.” She turned toward him, her white fur stole beautifully setting off her honey-tinted skin. In the low glow of streetlights filtering into the car she looked like the embodiment of temptation.

  With difficulty John answered, “I… I think not, thank you.” Bebe pursed her lips in a playful pout. Then she turned away from him and leaned back against the seat of the car. “Did I misunderstand you?” she whispered.

  John, faced with her directness, was at a loss for words. He was glad it was dark so she could not see his color rise. “I… I’m not sure what you mean,” he finally said.

  Without moving her body, Bebe turned her head to the side and gazed into John’s eyes. She gave him a sharp, knowing look. “I may have made the mistake of thinking you were ready for this, John, but don’t you make the mistake of thinking I’m a fool.”

  “Of course I don’t—”

  Bebe cut him off. “Call me when you’re ready. I may still be available.”

  She did not wait for the driver to open her door. She slid away from John and disappeared in a swirl of sparkling gold light.

  CHAPTER 32

  MORGAN, immeasurably excited, leaned forward and blew out the five pink candles as the assembled group sang, “Happy birthday to you!” Under the watchful eye of Laurel and Devon, she grasped the beribboned knife and, with her plump little hands, awkwardly cut into the chocolate cake.

  “Grandmother, look! It’s my favorite!” The chocolate butter cream frosting covered a sinfully rich chocolate torte separated by layers of crumbly chocolate praline filling.

  “Chocolate, chocolate, and more chocolate. You’re just like your mother.” Laurel laughed.

  Morgan looked happily around her. Willowbrook’s sunny dining room was filled with all the people she loved. The shiny mahogany sideboard was covered with gaily wrapped presents. She couldn’t wait to unwrap them.