Della

by Julie Michele Gettys

  “Why don’t you leave early and meet me in Reno? We can get married there.”

  Bingo! The magic word. She nearly fell off the edge of the bed. “Married?” She counted on her fingers how long they’d known each other–beat Kent’s courtship by two months. She could live with that.

  “Honey,” she cooed, “you’ve made me the happiest girl in the world. The minute I’m ticketed, I’ll call you. Wes won’t expect me in until Monday.”

  “Get some time off. We’ll take a trip to Hawaii.”

  “My favorite place in the world!” Thoughts of running on the beach naked at night, making love in the sand, and drinking tropical drinks with little umbrellas and pineapple slices teetering on the edge of their glasses floated through her mind.

  “Let’s keep this to ourselves for now. Tell Gates you need a few days off to rest up from your grueling audit.”

  After hanging up, Rick’s proposal rang in her ears. Dazed, then jubilant, she danced around the room singing, “I’ve Got the Whole World in My Hands.”

  The next morning, she completed her report. She called around to find a seat on the earlier flight out of New York.

  No one had anything until Sunday morning, the day she’d already scheduled. The frustration was agonizing. She wanted to be on the way to her man. Jack’s constant moaning and groaning, acting like his world had caved in on him, grew tiresome. The man was several hundred thousand dollars in debt, without enough income to bail him out in time to meet the next payroll. He was two inches from obscurity, a fate that didn’t upset her much after what he’d done to her. The other companies who had been auditing already bailed out. If Wes didn’t help, Jack was bound to lose Globe to his creditors.

  Della slumped in her seat. A creak in the floor jarred her. She spun around to see Jack standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest and an all-knowing grin on his face.

  “So, our little Della is getting married to the big bad Rick Courtney.”

  “Still snooping, I see.”

  “Not snooping. If you recall, I own these offices.”

  “Not for long, from what I see.” She rose. “My marriage plans are a secret. Do you mind keeping them to yourself? I’d consider us even.”

  “Want to make a deal?”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “What kind of deal?”

  “You put a good word in with Wes for the loan, and I’ll not only keep your plans to myself, you can have my seat on United, which leaves for L.A. in about four hours. I’m sure you can catch a flight to Reno from there without too much trouble.”

  So desperate to get to Reno, she agreed without a moment’s thought. “You always were one for the deal, Jack. I’m glad I can safely make the recommendation. Of course, you know if you renege on the loan, you belong to Gates International.”

  “I understand. Don’t worry, there’s no way I’m turning my company over to Wes Gates.”

  He sat on the leather couch and motioned her to join him. “Look, I’m not the bad guy you think I am. Remember, I discovered you in the first place. Took a chance on you. We both made some mistakes, but we have a chance to put our friendship back together. I stood by you through that farce of a marriage to Kent Bradley. You forget all the time you missed work, the down days you had, how we all rallied around you until you got your life back together. Hell, I even found you the lawyer who got you the great settlement.”

  She smiled sheepishly. “I was that bad, huh?”

  He nodded. “Now, don’t go off the deep end here, but I’m concerned about this Rick guy. I see a lot of Kent’s qualities in him.”

  “Like what?” She bit her tongue, her anger rising.

  “He’s too smooth, too controlling. Look at you, you’re a wreck. I’ve watched you the past several days. You’re not yourself. You’re preoccupied. That’s not the career girl I know.”

  “That’s enough. I’ve looked at this very carefully. Rick is nothing like Kent.” With her hands on her hips, she said, “And what the hell do you know about relationships? You’ve never had one.”

  He rose, placed both hands on her shoulders. “Enough.” He pulled her to him. “Go, get ready. Have a good life. Give me a break with your boss. Who knows, maybe someday we’ll be working together again.” He turned away. “I’d like that.” His voice cracked.

  Whenever something bad happened between her and Jack, he surprised her by doing something good. “Me too, Jack.”

  She snatched up her reports and left for the hotel, her heart pounding in her ears. Finally, she and Rick would marry.

  Once again, life was good.

  * * *

  Wes sat behind his great mahogany desk, reading the Wall Street Journal and drinking his single allotted cup of watered-down coffee, when Iris knocked twice from her adjoining office.

  “Come,” he said, laying down the paper.

  Iris entered, and in her gentle officious manner, said, “McKinley is in my office. He has your report.”

  “Bring him in.” Wes had been waiting for this. Maybe McKinley would have something concrete on Rick Courtney at last. Wes’s suspicions might finally be confirmed–or was he just being an overprotective father?

  Iris returned with Gordon McKinley, a short, thin man with a hooked nose, pasty skin, and a heavy dose of freckles. Dressed in a slightly crumpled suit didn’t put Wes off. His only interest lay in the brown eight by eleven envelope stashed under Gordon’s arm.

  He proffered a hand; they shook. “Have a seat.” Wes nodded to the couch and chair in the corner of his office.

  Once settled, Wes reached out for the envelope, removed the contents and read. His hand trembled slightly. Anger raged within him. His suspicions were confirmed. Drugs! Rick was a delivery boy, a middle man who could, if he were forced, take the police to the head honcho. Had Della known, or was she naive and caught in the middle? He suspected the latter; he prayed for the latter.

  “Any proof?”

  “Plenty,” McKinley said. “Your Mr. Henshaw is in as deep as Rick. Buys drugs for his clients. He and this Courtney fella have had a long, prosperous relationship.” He retracted his ballpoint pen and shoved the gold cylinder into his pocket. “And not without suspicion from the Feds. Seems Courtney is being closely watched. They’ll get him. It’s only a matter of time.”

  Wes stood, dismissing McKinley. They shook hands and Wes returned to his desk with the evidence. “Will you stay, Iris?”

  She nodded, showed McKinley to the door, then took a seat in front of Wes. “I’m sorry,” she said in a near whisper. “I’m sure Della doesn’t know. I can’t believe she’d knowingly be involved with someone as unsavory as Rick Courtney, and still be so crazy about him.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right. Is she due back tomorrow?”

  Iris cleared her throat. “I gave her next week off. She said she was tired and needed a few days away. Her report is in my office. She faxed it yesterday.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounded more agitated than he wanted to.

  “You were in meetings all day.” Iris had fielded his calls as she usually did when he was unavailable. She stood up, leaned on his desk. “Wes, this isn’t like you. Della’s a great employee, but you’re overreacting.”

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No, she didn’t. But she sounded very excited, said she’d call when she knew more of her plans.”

  Wes leaned back in his chair.

  “Wes, what’s the matter? I don’t understand. You’ve never gotten so involved with any of the other employees. Is there anything you’d like to tell me? You know anything you say is confidential.”

  “Della’s my daughter.” His voice cracked as the words slid out. Now someone knew, someone he trusted with his life.

  Iris blanched and collapsed into her chair. “My God, I should have known.”

  “No one else knows. This is between us.” Iris was his true confidante; the one person, in his opinion, who didn’t have a stake in
his heart.

  “What about Carrie?”

  “I haven’t told her. If she knew the whole story, she’d probably divorce me. I’m not giving up half of everything I built because of an indiscretion years ago.”

  “Carry is understanding when it comes to kids. Look how she dotes over Steven. She’d love having a daughter.”

  “You don’t know her like I do.” He’d almost built up his courage to tell Della when she first came to work for him, but she had chosen a new history, assuring him Lillian was out of the picture, and Wes didn’t want to spoil her secret. He also feared how Della might react to him as her father. Lillian was the vindictive type, who surely must have told Della her father had paid to have her aborted.

  “Does Della–” Iris stopped, cleared her throat. “Of course, she doesn’t.”

  “Someday, I’ll tell you the whole story. But for now, get Davis on the line. Maybe he knows where she is, or can at least give us a lead.”

  Iris reached out and pulled the phone across the desk. As she thumbed through her note pad for Jack’s number, Wes watched her, admiring her efficiency and professional demeanor. He was glad she knew. She would now understand why he was trying so desperately to help Della.

  “Jack,” Iris said into the receiver. “Mr. Gates would like to speak with you.” She handed Wes the phone.

  “Hi, Jack. Sorry to hear about your financial troubles. I haven’t seen Della’s report yet. As soon as I’ve had a chance to review it, I’ll give you a call.”

  “So, what’s up?” Jack said in a jocular tone.

  “Did Della tell you where she was going?”

  “No, she didn’t.” His words sputtered out. Jack knew something, but wasn’t saying. Wes read him like a book.

  “I must find her. It’s urgent.”

  “Can’t help you, Wes. Sorry.”

  “Maybe you’ll be sorry when I can’t help you, either.”

  Wes dropped the phone in its cradle without saying another word. He leaned back, crossed his arms over his expansive chest and waited.

  The only sound in the stately office was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Wes and Iris remained still, waiting.

  The phone rang.

  Wes smiled.

  Iris smiled.

  He picked up.

  “Answering your own phone these days?” Jack said.

  “Only when I know who’s calling. So, where is she?”

  “Do I get your help?”

  “Depends on how cooperative you are. Where’s Della?”

  “I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “She’s in a bad spot, Jack. If I don’t find her, she may be in physical danger.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Rick Courtney.”

  “I see,” Jack muttered.

  “He’s trouble. I must find Della.”

  “If she finds out I told you, she won’t help me. I know her.”

  “Like hell you do. If she feels you’re a good investment, she’ll help. Now, spit it out, Jack.”

  “She’s in Reno, getting married. Harrah’s, I believe.”

  “Jesus H. Christ! I’ll call you later.” He hung up, leaned toward Iris. “We’ve got to find her. She’s in Reno, at Harrah’s, getting married.”

  “Oh, no!” Iris cried.

  Wes stood, knocking his chair over.

  “We’ve got to stop her!”

  8

  Della arrived in Reno to Rick’s open arms. At last, she had achieved what Lillian hadn’t; she’d landed a good man and a career. For the first time in her life, she had it all. She would be the best damn mom in the world. Della had seen women repeat their mother’s words and deeds like an inescapable curse. No “I am my mother” stuff for her. Her babies would be loved, have the finest clothes, lots of presents on birthdays and Christmas, and most importantly, a hands-on mommy and daddy. And her kids would never have to prove anything to get her love and attention.

  Her stumbling onto Rick had been pure luck. Fate had placed her on that horrible golf course that momentous Saturday, several months earlier. His life had been as difficult as hers. They understood each other. They shared the same dreams.

  Wes would wait for her. He understood family. She’d cherish and nurture his friendship. Even Carrie was coming around. Della saw them as bosom girlfriends, working out at the gym together, laughing through a mud pack. The whole picture, like a movie, unreeled before her eyes.

  Now here she was, all dressed up in a white linen suit, a large diamond on her finger, and Adonis at her side. In moments, she would be Mrs. Rick Courtney…Della Courtney. If only Lillian were here to see this little piece of history in the making.

  The minister, with two staff witnesses at his side, marched into the little white chapel, to the front of a small altar bedecked with white chrysanthemums, daisies, and baby’s breath. The air hung heavy with floral scent, almost like a funeral home.

  The minister, a lanky man in his fifties, with a beard and beady eyes, stood by two witnesses who looked like mother and daughter, both overweight and jolly. Rick and Della answered a few pertinent questions, and handed over the license they had obtained earlier at the courthouse. Scratchy organ music flowed out through tinny speakers.

  This wasn’t Della’s idea of a dream wedding, but what did it matter? She’d be at Rick’s side for the rest of her life. Waiting for a big wedding was just another delay in her quest for happiness. And Rick did make her happy. Like Lillian, she needed a man at her side. Unlike Lillian, she was going to marry hers. For a big wedding, she needed a father to give her away, a best friend for maid of honor, and a mother to cry for her–none of which she had.

  Without fanfare, the ceremony began. By the end of ten words, Della was snickering at the minister’s Lawrence Welk accent. “We-a are gathered here-a to join these-a two young-a people in holy matrimony-a.”

  She broke into a raucous laugh. Rick pinched her arm, glaring daggers, but she couldn’t control herself. By the time he pronounced them man and wife, she was in near hysterics. Rick was furious. The witnesses smiled knowingly. This obviously wasn’t the first time this had happened.

  Back in their room, she took him by the hand and led him to the couch. Rick turned cold. She snuggled up to him. “What’s the matter, honey?” she purred, running her hands through his thick dark hair. “I’m sorry, but I thought the guy was a camp, with that Lawrence Welk act of his.”

  Rick brushed her hand away. “It wasn’t an act, and you damn well know it. I can’t believe you’d laugh during our wedding.”

  She stiffened. “Rick, where’s your sense of humor? You didn’t see how funny he was?” She looked away. “Shit, maybe I was nervous. I laugh when I’m nervous.” Facing him, she said self-consciously, “Are you going to hold this against me the rest of our lives?” Why was he being so stuffy all of a sudden?

  He stood up. She followed, wrapped her arms around his waist, looked up into his serious, dark eyes and purred, “Don’t you love Mrs. Courtney now that she’s yours?”

  Rick paused, stared down at her, sending chills through her; then he melted, hugged her, nuzzled his face in her neck. “I love you, Mrs. Courtney. All is forgiven. Do you like the sound of your new name?”

  “Has a nice ring to it.” She grinned, placed her hands on her hips and paraded around the room saying, “Mrs. Courtney would-a love-a some champagne to celebrate-a the most hysterical-a wedding of the year.” She clapped her hands. “What the hey, we’re married, aren’t we? Marriage is all that really matters. I’m your wife. We’ll look back on this and get a hoot every time we tell anyone the story. Look at all the people who marry riding roller coasters, underwater, bungee jumping. Do you think they love each other any less?”

  Rick called room service, ordered champagne and dinner, then picked her up and twirled her around like a child. “We’ll have a good life, honey.”

  As she slid from his arms, she said, “I love it when you call me honey
.”

  “You do? Then Honey is your new name.”

  “Sounds very married.”

  Rick walked over and pulled back the bedspread. “It’s generic. Can’t slip and call you by someone else’s name.”

  “That many, hmm?” She knew he was joking.

  “Come here, you little minx. Let’s see if sex feels any different now that we’re married.”

  He pulled her down on top of him and unbuttoned the back of her blouse. His touch was light and painfully pleasing. “Wanna start making a family, daddy?”

  Rick’s fingers stopped cold. They lay still. He lifted her up and gazed into her eyes. “Not yet. We’re gonna have fun before we have rugrats.”

  “But I thought you wanted kids.” She sat on his stomach, pinning his shoulders down. “You said you wanted a family.”

  “Not right away.” He got up, straightened his clothes. “Your career is getting hot. You can’t quit on Gates. The guy has plans for you. No, no, baby. We’ll wait a while before you stay home and we start a family.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed, her head down. “You sound a helluva lot different today than you did yesterday. You seem more interested in my career than you do in our life.” She went to the bathroom, and put on the thick terry robe she grabbed from a hook. A knock came at the door.

  “Must be dinner and champagne,” Rick said, a look of relief on his face.

  For an instant he looked like a stranger, peeling bills from a fancy gold money clip to pay room service. He sounded different to her, detached, uptight. Could marriage change someone instantly? Did he have something different in mind now that they were knotted by vows? Was she being irrational, frightened, wanting everything too soon? Panic set in.

  They ate quietly. Her tender, juicy steak and the lobster with drawn butter, her favorite, tasted flat. She chewed slowly, her appetite gone. She worried she had made another mistake. She laid down her fork and said softly, almost tearfully, “Why are you acting like this?”