However, the minute Heather walked into the room that night, she knew the man had lied. It wasn’t a suite, but a room like her own. She realized the delegate intended a seduction. Without a word, she whirled around and walked out.
Back in her room, she had to admit that the calla lilies lifted her spirits, reminding her Judson Philips admired her as a person.
I must remember to send him a note of thanks, she thought to herself. He went to a lot of trouble and great expense to send me these flowers. They’re still so beautiful. She threw her briefcase on the bed and heaved a long and heavy sigh. She lived a life that most people would not consider normal. At times, neither did she. In her mind she saw Judson Philips’s handsome face, remembered his gracious manner and wondered if he could fill the awful void in her life. But after what she’d seen of her parents’ bitter and loveless marriage, she doubted the wisdom of letting herself care for any man.
“Would you like me to request an apology from Mr. Taliah?” the chief of protocol asked her the next morning when she related the incident from the previous night as she was required to do.
“Of course not,” she said. “It goes with the job.”
She’d made light of it, but she would be glad to set foot in Baltimore that Tuesday afternoon. She liked Egypt, especially the Egyptians—who welcomed her as a sister—but she had little use for pompous diplomats who went to these conferences merely to exploit their status.
Her mission finished, she took one last whiff of the calla lilies in her room and—a smile on her face—made her way to the airport, home and dreams of Judson Philips.
She walked into her office Wednesday morning, locked her briefcase in her desk drawer and went to Scott’s office. “Hi,” he said when she walked in after one knock. “How’d it go?”
“Same old, same old. Great ideas, an excellent report that will be widely circulated and nothing substantial will change,” she complained.
“Good grief, Heather. You’re becoming so cynical.”
“Not really. But I see the same guys at every one of these meetings, and it seems they get less courteous every time. Now, you! How did Judson Philips know I was at the Hilton in Cairo?”
“I know both of you, and I wouldn’t introduce either of you to just anybody. What happened? Didn’t you like him? He needs some cheering up, and so do you.”
“He sent me two dozen of the most beautiful calla lilies I ever saw. How would he know that calla lilies are my favorite flower? You don’t even know that.”
Scott leaned back in his swivel desk chair and rocked. “I said, didn’t you like him?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions. Why wouldn’t I?”
“That is not the answer to my question,” he continued.
“I liked him, Scott,” Heather admitted. “But don’t try to start anything between us. My life isn’t an easy one. My dad isn’t getting any better, and I want to spend all the free time I can muster with him. And you know I’m being considered for an ambassador post. I have to focus on that as much as I can.”
“The two of you have so much in common, Heather. Why don’t you give it a chance? You owe it to yourself.”
“I’m sorry. It’s the wrong time, Scott. He’s…well, he’s nice. I’ll let it go at that. How can I get in touch with him? I want to thank him for those flowers.”
He wrote a number on a notepad and handed it to her. “You can phone him.”
“Thanks, but I want to write him a note.”
“Yeah. You want to be formal. After the trouble he went to, he deserves better.” Scott wrote the address of Judson’s law firm and handed it to Heather. “Too bad. He liked you a lot.”
Judson looked at the letter and wondered at the precise, forward-slanting handwriting. It had no return address. The sender had marked it personal, and he expected it was probably one more invitation to another stuffy affair. He opened it and sat up when he saw the handwritten note.
Dear Judson,
Thank you for the most beautiful calla lilies I ever saw. Two dozen in about five different colors. Calla lilies are my favorite flower, and you couldn’t have known that. They were still in bloom when I left, and I hated that. But as you know, I wouldn’t have been allowed to bring them into the country. Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness.
Yours truly,
Heather
“That’s something,” he said. He folded the note and put it in his pocket. She was an intriguing woman. Several different scenarios flitted through his mind. Did he really want a serious involvement with a roving ambassador? Maybe something casual was what he needed. He leaned back in the chair and made a pyramid of his fingers.
He phoned Scott. “Want to meet for lunch? I have to check on a few things not far from your office.”
“Sure you wouldn’t rather be lunching with Heather?”
“If that were the case, friend, I would have called her.”
“Meet you at The Crab Shack.”
They reached The Crab Shack at almost the same time, and sat at their favorite table. “Your usual, gentlemen?” the waiter asked.
“Right,” they said in unison.
“We have a president who’s pushing education,” Judson said to Scott. “I’m planning to start a boys’ study group. And instead of sports, the focus will be academics. Why don’t you start a girls’ group, and we can have competitions that will keep them focused and interested?”
“Me start a girls’ group? Why don’t you rope Heather into it?”
“I don’t want to involve her in this. You get a boys’ group, then. It won’t work unless they have competition.”
“Okay. You do South Baltimore, and I’ll form one in the Reisterstown area,” Scott decided. “Have you made any further progress on your mother’s estate?”
Judson shook his head. “I’ve had too many distractions. I’m going to look into it again tonight, see what I can find. You’d think my parents would have told me or at least left me some explanation. Suppose I need a bone-marrow transplant. Where would I turn?”
“You won’t, and don’t worry. You’ll find what you’re looking for. They didn’t destroy papers that they could some day need.”
“I sure hope you’re right.”
“This isn’t good,” Heather said to herself when she awakened that morning. It isn’t cold, so why do I feel chilly? She got out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Maybe if she drank some coffee, she could pull herself together. She managed to make the coffee, but took a cupful back to her bedroom, put the cup on her nightstand and crawled back into bed. She didn’t get sick. Never. So what was wrong with her?
She couldn’t afford to get sick. She had to take care of her father and be ready for a permanent diplomatic post. If she wasn’t up to it, someone else might get the assignment.
She fell asleep lying across the bed and awakened at a quarter of ten with a full-blown cold. After admitting to herself that she really was sick she phoned Scott. “Hi, this is Heather. I’m home, and I’m feeling rotten.”
“You’ve got a cold. I can hear it in your voice.”
“Looks like it. Could you please ask my secretary to print out that report I was working on and leave it with my doorman when you leave work this afternoon?”
“Sure. But why would you try to work? You’re sick.”
“I know, but it’s due the day after tomorrow, and this is not a good time to start coming up short.”
“All right. I’ll deliver it. Do you have any food—juice, soup or something—for your cold in the house?”
“Scott, you’re such a darling. Why didn’t you and I fall in love? I need some milk, grapefruit juice and eggs. I have coffee and tea.”
“You got it. You and I would never fall in love because both of us need the same thing—someone who’s laid-back. Two type-A personalities would kill each other. Now, take Judson—”
“All right. I got the message,” she said sleepily.
“Go to sleep. See you later.” He
hung up, and she managed to do the same. She knew she should eat, but she didn’t have the strength to cook.
The intercom buzzed, awakening her. “Hello.”
“Ms. Tatum. A man is here with some things for you. Shall I send him up?’
“Thanks,” she said and dosed off again.
“Philips speaking.”
“This is Curtis Heywood.”
“Yes. I’ve been expecting your call.”
“I believe I have a good lawsuit against a medical diagnostic group, and I’d like you to take the case.”
Judson listened while Curtis described the complaint. “Have you omitted anything that you might have done that could weaken your case? I need to know that up front.”
“I’m certain that I’m not at fault in any way.”
It sounded like a good case, but he wouldn’t be certain until he dug into it himself. “Can you be here tomorrow morning at nine and bring your papers and any evidence?”
“I’ll be there. Thanks for your time.”
“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.”
Judson hung up, saw the caller ID on his private line and lifted the receiver, smiling at the sound of his friend’s voice. “What’s up, Scott?”
“I need you to do me a favor—and hear me out before you get your back up. I promised Heather that I’d bring a report and some groceries to her today after work because she’s sick at home. The thing is I can’t, because I have to stay in D.C. and deal with an issue that just came in. Working in D.C. and living in Baltimore has advantages, but right now, friend, it’s a disadvantage. As a favor would you please take the report and the care package to her on your way home? You can leave it with her doorman, if you don’t want to see her.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Maybe a cold. She sounded really sick.”
Judson wondered if it was one of Scott’s tricks to try to get him to see Heather. “If she’s sick, and you can’t go, of course I’ll do it. But if I find out that you’re up to your old shenanigans—”
“Judson, if you’d rather not, I’ll see if I can get somebody else to do it.”
“I’ll be at your office for that report around four o’clock. Did she say what she needs?”
“She said bread, milk, grapefruit juice and maybe some eggs. I guess she hasn’t had time to do any shopping since she got back.”
“Maybe. See you at four.” There was something special about Heather Tatum, and he wanted to know what it was.
Later, he stopped by Scott’s office at the State Department in D.C., collected the report and headed up I-95. Once in Baltimore, he went to a supermarket, where he bought bread, milk, eggs, grapefruit juice and butter. On an whim, he parked at a specialty restaurant on Calvert Street and bought a large container of chicken soup. If she’s got a cold, maybe I ought to get something for that, he thought to himself. He stopped at a drugstore and bought some over-the-counter cold medicine.
“I have some things to deliver to Ms. Tatum,” Judson announced to the doorman, careful not to identify himself. The doorman rang Heather’s apartment.
“There’s a man here to deliver some things to you. Shall I send him up?” He looked at Judson. “She said you can go up. Apartment 34–F.”
Relief spread over his face when she hadn’t asked who it was. He got off the elevator at the thirty-fourth floor, turned in the direction of apartment F, rang the doorbell and waited.
The door opened, and she stared up at him, blinking so that she could be certain to trust her eyes. “Judson? What—”
From her appearance, she’d just crawled out of bed, wrapped herself in a robe and made it to the door.
“Hi. Scott couldn’t make it, so I brought your report and some groceries,” Judson said, in a chirpy voice.
She stood facing him and staring at him. He grinned, hoping to put her off balance, and it must have worked since she smiled. “Why don’t I put this stuff in the refrigerator for you?” he said, suddenly feeling less vulnerable. “And maybe you ought to go back to bed.”
“If I’m taking orders, I must be sick for sure,” she mumbled. Judson overheard her but decided to ignore the retort. “To your left,” she said, and went back to bed.
“Are you in bed?” he called to her after putting away the groceries.
“I am, and I’m sorry, Judson. It’s really nice of you to do this, but I’m feeling too sick to be civil, much less good company.”
At least she didn’t apologize for the way she looked, and she needn’t have. The woman looked great even with a runny nose, watery eyes. He walked into her room where she was clutching the covers tight around her neck. Why didn’t that surprise him? He didn’t laugh, but it took a lot to keep a straight face. “Have you had lunch?”
“I don’t think I ate today, but if you brought me eggs, I’ll scramble them and eat a bit later.”
He removed his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. “I can do that, Heather. Don’t get up. I’ll find what I need.”
He awakened her sometime later to the aroma of chicken. He had placed a tray on a chair beside her bed. “Think you could eat a little something?” he asked her in a tender voice.
When she tried to sit up, Judson reached over, and propped some pillows behind her back. “If you’ll give me a second, I’ll get you a damp towel and you can wash you face.” He came back with the towel and handed it to her. “You’ll feel better.”
She did as he suggested. “You’re right. I do.” She looked at the tray beside the bed. “You fixed all that?”
“It isn’t much. If you eat a little of everything, you’ll feel better. And take this Ester-C vitamin.” He put the tray in her lap and sat on the chair.
“Chicken soup.” She tasted it. “Judson, this is delicious. Why’d you go to all this trouble?”
“I wanted to make you feel badly for blowing me off,” he said with a smile.
With the spoon halfway between the soup bowl and her mouth, she paused and looked at him with a curious expression. Suddenly she laughed. “You’re sarcastic, and I wouldn’t have thought so.” She tasted the soup. “This is so good.”
“Eat some of the eggs. You need the protein.”
She ate the two scrambled eggs. “Hmm. You weren’t kidding.” She frowned slightly and seemed to be making up her mind about something. She finished chewing the toast and put her fork on the tray.
“I want to ask you about something you said the night we met, and if you think I’m out of line, just say so. I can handle it.”
“Fine. As long as you don’t ask me why I’m here.”
“I wasn’t going to ask that. The night we met, you said ‘I was lucky I was anybody’s child.’ Scott didn’t say anything, but it got me thinking. May I ask what you meant?”
He never had liked answering personal questions. He had nothing to hide, but he liked his privacy and guarded it tenaciously. Considering where the conversation seemed headed, it was better that she know now rather than later. “I was adopted, Heather, and now that both of my parents have died, I’m at a loss about my birth parents. I never asked my mother and father, because they loved me so much, and I was a happy child. But I always wanted to know about my background, especially who I looked like. I didn’t ask them because I was afraid they’d think I was unhappy or that I was lacking something that I thought my birth parents could have given me.”
“I’m sorry, Judson. Your parents seem to have done exceedingly well by you.”
“Absolutely. They couldn’t have done a better job, and especially since I was at times very wayward.”
“You!” she exclaimed, in a teasing voice.
“I had a mind of my own, and if I didn’t see the logic in something, I wouldn’t do it. That caused friction between me and my parents until they understood and took the time to explain things to me. By the time I was twelve, we didn’t have those problems.”
“I can’t imagine how important it is to you to know who your biological parent
s are, but will you be terribly unhappy if you don’t find them?”
“I don’t have to meet them, Heather. I just want to know who they are or were. Then I’ll have a better sense of who I am. My adoption probably improved my chances for a good life, so I don’t think I missed out on anything material.”
She resumed eating her soup. “This is so good.” She put down her spoon. “Judson, if your adoptive parents loved each other and treated you well, you are fortunate. My parents constantly fought. Dad claims that they were madly in love when they first got married, though I never believed it—they acted as if they hated each other. When I was nine, my mother had had it. She left, and I have no idea where she is. When I asked my father about her, he said marriage was very difficult for her, that the day-to-day discipline of marriage didn’t suit everyone. I believe that.”
He could see that it still pained her. “I’m sorry that your childhood was unpleasant. What does your father do?”
Her pride was obvious when she smiled and said, “He taught history at the university until he retired six years ago. They’ve named a distinguished chair for him in the department. Now, unfortunately, he’s confined to the house and sometimes to bed. He hasn’t been well for a couple of years.”
“At least you still have him with you,” Judson said. “Do everything you can for him, so when he’s gone, you won’t have any regrets.”
She closed her eyes briefly, and he imagined that the thought of losing her father hurt her. He covered her hand with his because he couldn’t help it. “Is there anyone close to you?” She let her hand remain covered by his.
“Thanks. There’s Annie. She keeps house for my father and takes care of him. She’s like a mother to me. Father hired her after my mother left, and…I used to wish he’d marry her.”
“So you’d have a mother?”
She looked at him almost as if seeing him for the first time. “I don’t know. I hadn’t figured that out. Maybe. You are very perceptive.”
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