“Aunt Cissy, this is Judson.”
“Did you go to the hotel?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s why I’m calling you. The man’s name is Fentriss Sparkman, and the hotel’s manager gave me a brochure that proves it. Do you recognize that name?”
“I sure do. He’s the only person I ever heard of with a first name like that one. I hope you learn something good from all this. You let me know what happens, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am. You and I are linked from now on, Aunt Cissy.”
“You come to see me. I have a nice guest room, and you’re welcome to use it whenever you want to.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate that.”
Fentriss Sparkman. His mother had never mentioned the man to him. “I hope I don’t discover something I’d rather not know,” he said to himself and ran up the stairs to continue his search. Three hours later, tired and hungry, he looked at his watch and considered having some food delivered. He went to the phone, then suddenly remembered that he hadn’t called Heather to give her his news or started getting ready for dinner at her place.
He dashed to the bathroom, taking off his clothes as he went, got a quick shower, shaved and dressed. He had less than an hour, and he had to drive past DeLong’s Florist to get some calla lilies. He adjusted the gray-and-yellow paisley tie and checked his image in a flawless suit and light gray shirt. With no time to go to the liquor store, he chose two bottles of wine from his wine rack, locked his door and gave thanks that he’d remembered Heather had invited him to dinner at her home.
The florist had only yellow and white calla lilies, so he bought six of each and had them wrapped in clear cellophane paper tied with yellow and white ribbons. Fortunately, the building in which she lived had valet parking, and he didn’t have to waste time looking for a parking space. At three minutes of seven, he rang her doorbell. She opened the door and surprised him with a quick kiss on the mouth.
“I could get used to a greeting like that. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” She seemed to study him. “And I think you’ve got something to tell me. Is it good?”
He smiled at that evidence that she made an effort to understand him. “Yeah.” He ran his right hand over his hair. “A lot has happened.” He handed her the flowers.
“Judson, these are beautiful.” She hugged the flowers. “You’re spoiling me, and I like it. I really do.” She stepped closer to him, put her free arm around his shoulder, parted her lips and took him into her mouth.
He stopped kissing her and grinned. “Honey, you have to be careful about lighting these fires.”
“I’m not even going to pretend to know what you’re talking about. That was a sweet little kiss.”
“Yeah. If you say so. This wine isn’t cold.”
She took it from him. “I’ll chill it. Have a seat someplace.”
Heather arranged the flowers in a crystal vase and put it on the table between two silver candlesticks, gifts to herself when she moved into the apartment. She lit the twelve-inch beeswax candles, stepped back and admired the beautiful place settings.
With that setup, the food had better be good. She took the hors d’oeuvres out of the oven, placed cheese puffs, tiny quiches and grilled mini-franks on a serving dish and walked back to the living room where Judson sat on the sofa looking ill at ease. She put the platter on the coffee table. “You don’t seem comfortable. What’s the matter?”
“I’m comfortable,” he said brightly. “Too comfortable. Suppose you got an assignment to say, Luxembourg, and you were engaged to get married. What would you do?” Her lower lip dropped. He held up his hand to ward off a less than thoughtful answer. “And suppose your husband-to-be couldn’t get a job in his field in Luxembourg? What would you do?”
What a question! Heather thought. She controlled her hands before they locked to her hip bones, because she didn’t want to give the impression that his questions had surprised her.
“You have a right to know what you’d be in for if we get engaged. I’m way ahead of you, and I don’t think that scenario could sustain a marriage or even a live-in relationship. According to my dad, a man’s work, his woman and his children—in that order—define him, and he’s only happy if he finds pleasure and contentment in all three. Cheer up, and eat your hors d’oeuvres before they get cold. What would you like to drink?”
It pleased her that he smiled. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said. “But I’m also a lawyer, so I got enough out of that long reply to corner you if I ever have to. I’m driving, so I’d better stick to wine. Most any kind would be nice.”
She didn’t rush him but allowed him to take his time with telling his “good news,” because she sensed in him a new kind of peacefulness. “Let’s eat now,” she said after he finished a glass of wine and several of the hors d’oeuvres. “I hope you like what I prepared.”
He tasted the cold, sour cherry soup. “This is delicious. I have a feeling I’m going to be sorry I ate so many hors d’oeuvres with the wine.”
The meal continued with filet mignon, sautéed cremini mushrooms, asparagus and dauphin potatoes, a green salad and assorted cheeses, and ended with raspberry sauce over vanilla ice cream.
“I didn’t have time to make a complicated dessert today,” she told him.
“Please, don’t apologize, Heather. I love ice cream, and raspberries are one of my favorite fruits. This combination is delightful.”
After sipping his second cup of espresso, he said, “You told me you were a fair cook. That was an understatement. This was a wonderful meal. Let’s clean the kitchen. Then we can talk.”
After they cleaned the kitchen, he took her hand and walked with her to the living room. “Heather, I have an awful suspicion. After today, I not only have to find out who my birth father is, but I have to find proof that my adoptive mother is really my birth mother.”
“What? Are you serious? What do you mean?”
“The woman with whom I spent this morning in Hagerstown was Mom’s aunt. Cissy is her father’s youngest sister. She stated Mom had a baby boy when she was twenty-two or twenty-three years old, left the child with her mother and then moved away from Hagerstown. When the boy was three, she had married and came back for the child. Her aunt didn’t know her exact age when the child was born, but I believe she guessed right. I’m thirty-four and when Mom died, she was fifty-seven. You can add as well as I can.
“Aunt Cissy—Cissy Henry is the woman’s name—gave me enough information to identify the father of that child. He was an architect, and I have a brochure printed two weeks before I was born that’s proof he designed and built a hotel that still stands in Hagerstown.”
“Which one? Not the Americana?”
He lurched forward. “That’s the one.”
“We can ask my father if he knew him.”
“I have his name. Now I have to find out what the relationship was between him and my mom. Aunt Cissy says they were lovers. My question is, am I the product of that union?”
“Too bad you don’t have your birth certificate.”
“No, but I’ll get it.”
“Mind if I ask… You seem, well, not merely pleased, but in some kind of peaceful mood. That’s unusual for you, at least the times I’ve been with you. When you came in here tonight, I actually thought you had found the answer. Explain this to me.”
He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his thighs. “This dilemma has troubled me since I was seven years old, and the older I got the more it haunted me. Today, for the first time, I took steps to get the answer. It isn’t in my nature to do nothing about a situation. When I have a problem, I get to work on it.”
“What’s your next move?”
“When I get home tonight, I’ll continue my search, but I’ll be looking in unlikely places. Mom had something to hide, and I suspect that Dad didn’t know her secret. Where would you hide things from someone who had the run of the house, including your bedroom?” He took a small p
ad from his inside coat pocket.
“Probably with my lingerie, jewelry, toiletries, the most personal things. If she had shoe bags, search them, even her shoes. Check the house for books with hidden storage. Look in the jackets of records and under mattresses.”
He glanced toward the ceiling. “I’d decided to check the lingerie drawers, but I hadn’t considered those other places. Thanks, and keep thinking. If I don’t find what I want in any of those places, I’ll ask you again for suggestions. I’d better go, because I know I won’t go to sleep until I’ve searched every one of those places.”
“Tomorrow is another day, Judson. If I’d known this could keep you up all night, I wouldn’t have mentioned them.”
He stood to leave. “Do you mind if I leave now?”
It was only ten o’clock. “Please don’t ask me questions like that if you want a truthful answer.”
He stared at her as if she’d surprised him. “You don’t want me to leave?”
That was a loaded question, and they both knew it. She shot from the hip. “Of course not. It’s early. That doesn’t mean I want you to spend the night, but I am enjoying your company. I know you want to find the answer to this…this mystery as soon as you can. So it’s okay,” she said with a laugh.
Throughout her answer, she’d had his rapt attention. “Kiss me good-night, and let me get out of here.”
As she walked toward him, she knew he was trying to read the expression on her face. With her hands on his shoulders, she asked him, “What degree of heat do you want?”
His gaze didn’t betray his feelings. But she got his message when he said, “Play with me, will you? I’ll give you heat.” His arms tightened around her, and his fingers dented the curve of her breasts. He enveloped her, and with one hand on her buttocks and the other at the back of her head, he shoved his tongue into her mouth. Though she fought for it, he dipped in and out telling her what he wanted to do to her. Then he lifted her until they were chest to breast and belly to belly. She couldn’t get enough of him. Heat plowed through her, and she could feel drops of moisture in the valley between her aching breasts. He let the wall take his weight and, still holding her buttocks, he stroked her left breast with the other hand until she began to undulate against him. His tongue darted around in her mouth, and his hand stroked her breast. Warm moisture dampened her, and she moaned in frustration and pressed his hand against her breast. He put his hand inside the bodice of her dress, released her breast and bent to it.
She held her breath, until his warm tongue touched her nipple. “Stop playing with me. I want to feel your mouth on me.”
He sucked the nipple into his mouth, and she let out a cry and pressed his head to increase the pressure. When she bucked against him, simulating the dance of love, he stopped her and looked in her eyes.
“You didn’t intend for it to go this far, and I’m not sure I did, but if I don’t leave here now, I’ll take you to bed.”
“I started it, but I’m not sorry about this, Judson, and don’t you be. There’ll be another time. Get home safely.”
“I’ll call you later. Good night, sweetheart.”
She closed the door and locked it. Deep in thought, she walked to the living room and dropped herself into a chair. She was falling for Judson Philips. I’ve known him less than two months. I’m too well-educated, too old and too experienced. This is crazy!
Judson wanted Heather to believe that he cared for her, but he did not want her to realize the power she had over him. Not yet. He’d jerked away from her seconds before his powerful erection would have given her evidence of it. He didn’t believe in playing games with a woman. But he didn’t think it wise at present to show his hand.
He walked into his house and didn’t pause until he got to his mother’s bedroom. She loved to read, so he started with her bookcase and opened each book hoping to find a note, a letter or the directions to something else. Lost in his search, he hardly heard the wind shaking the window. When it became louder, he went to the window, looked out and saw that the sky was still clear, and the full moon shone brightly. Deciding that a storm was not imminent, he resumed his search, but immediately the rattling commenced again. He went to the window to secure the latch, braced his left hand against the heavy valance that hung across the top of the window and jerked it back.
He felt something. He turned up the hem of the valance and saw a small, letter-size envelope secured to the valance with a safety pin. He opened it and stared at a two-and-a-half-inch metal key in his hand that he knew without a doubt fit a safe deposit box. He looked inside the envelope and found the box number and the address of the bank. He put the key back into the envelope and placed the envelope in the pocket of his jacket. He reached for the light to turn it off and realized that the window had stopped rattling.
With a broad smile, he looked upward. “Thanks.”
The next morning, he put the notarized copy of his mother’s will into his briefcase and headed for the bank. As executor of the will, he was entitled to open her safe deposit box. But the closer he got to the bank, the more uneasy he became. What if he didn’t like what he found and wished he’d let sleeping dogs lie? He parked around the corner from the bank and forced himself to get on with it.
He asked for the manager and presented the will. Minutes later, he had in his hands what he knew would be the secrets of his mother’s life. He put the bundle of letters into his brief case, ran his hand back to the part of the safe deposit box that he couldn’t see and retrieved a bundle of Series E bonds, a gold-and-diamond bracelet, a gold OMEGA watch and a gray cameo set in gold. He phoned his secretary and told her to refer important calls to his cell phone. He locked the box and went home.
Hours later, he still hadn’t finished the letters between Beverly Moten and Fentriss Sparkman. He learned that, six months after they had met, they began a torrid love affair that Beverly’s family vigorously opposed. But their letters expressed a profound love for each other. He gave her elegant and expensive gifts, which she hid from her family. Her mother discovered her pregnancy, considered her a disgrace to the family and confined her to the house. Beverly sneaked out at night and mailed letters to Fentriss, but they were returned unanswered.
Fentriss’s last letter to Beverly stated that he would be working in Atlanta for a few months but would return for the dedication of the hotel. After the child was born, her mother sent her to Baltimore and kept the child. He found no more letters from Fentriss and suspected that Beverly’s mother confiscated them. No one had to tell him that the expensive watch, bracelet and cameo were gifts to Beverly from Fentriss Sparkman. He counted the Series E bonds which she had registered jointly in her name and Judson’s, and found that they added up to forty-five thousand dollars plus accrued interest. He decided that the money would be a gift to his firstborn child.
He still hadn’t satisfied himself that he had the answer until he opened the last set of papers. In the small packet, he found his adoption papers and realized that Beverly and Louis Philips adopted him when he was three years old, six months after the death of their younger child. He had a lot of useful information, but competent lawyer that he was, he realized that he didn’t have a shred of proof.
“I have to find Fentriss Sparkman.”
Chapter 4
“Can you tolerate my company for lunch?” Judson asked Scott minutes after deciding to find Fentriss Sparkman.
“Sure thing. Where do you want to meet?”
“I don’t want to make it a long one, so how about Frank’s for some pulled-pork barbecue?” They agreed on a time.
Judson put his mother’s jewelry and government bonds in his safe, locked it and left to meet Scott. He hadn’t shared with Heather what he’d learned, but he would, later that day. When they could be alone.
Besides the barbecue, to Judson’s way of thinking, the garden in back of the restaurant was the only reason to eat at Frank’s. But on that day, the heat forced him to eat inside in the air-conditioned r
estaurant. Scott, who was sitting at a back-corner table when he arrived, stood and they exchanged a fist bump.
“What’s up?” Scott asked him.
He didn’t have time for preliminaries. “I found the key to Mom’s safe deposit box. I didn’t even know she had one.” Scott lurched toward him. “It contained a huge bundle of love letters exchanged with a man I suspect was my father.”
“What? Wait a minute.”
Judson explained the basis for his suspicion. “I have to find that man, and if I can’t find that child Mom had when she was twenty-three, or incontrovertible evidence of what happened to him, then I’m that child. She and Dad adopted me when I was three. Aunt Cissy said Mom came back for the child when he was about three. So there you have it.”
“Whoa, man. What does that prove?”
Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “Judson, do you actually think Aunt Bev let you believe she was your adoptive mother when she was actually your real mother? Man, that sounds cruel as hell to me. I don’t want to think that about her.”
“Well, if it’s true, you have to credit her with finding a way to take me to live with her and not letting relatives or strangers raise me. If there’s a culprit in this, it’s probably her mother. It won’t be the first time that face-saving got in the way of parental love.”
“Yeah. I guess not.”
They finished the barbecued pork sandwiches and promised to meet the following weekend for a game of tennis to help rid them of the calories they’d just gained. “I’ll be in touch,” he said to Scott and got into his car.
At four-thirty, he telephoned Heather. “Hi, sweetheart. I’ve got plenty to tell you, but first, I want to know how things are going with you.”
“I have to attend a White House black-tie reception Thursday after next, and since the invitation is for me and a guest, will you be my guest?”
“I’ll be delighted to accompany you,” he answered.
“I need to talk to you in person, if possible. I don’t think I can cook a meal this evening, so I’d like us to eat at a restaurant, if you don’t have any plans.”
Love Me Tonight Page 6