Della

by Julie Michele Gettys

  On this bright, chilly Bay area Saturday morning, Della, with a rush of anticipation, dashed up the front steps of Lillian’s house. Her second knock was answered with a muffled “Come in,” from her mother’s raspy voice.

  Della cracked open the door to a dark, cold, narrow living room with all the same furniture she’d grown up with. Lillian sat by the window, wine in one hand, a smoldering cigarette in the other. She looked old and weary, at death’s door. She had always been rail-thin, but now she was emaciated and gaunt. Her eyes were sunken, her skin like parchment.

  Lillian remained seated, wrapped in her blanket, when Della rushed to her side and cried, “Oh, Ma!” She kissed her mother on the cheek. “Why is it so cold in here?” She glanced around for a thermostat. The place smacked of stale cigarette smoke.

  “The heater doesn’t work,” Lillian grumbled. “Been on the fritz for months. I could hang meat in this place and it’d last for years.”

  Della choked. “Do you mind, Ma? I’m allergic to the smoke.”

  “Piffle. It’s just your way to get me to stop smoking. You grew up with me blowing smoke in your face. Didn’t hurt you then. It ain’t gonna hurt you now.” Lillian sucked in a big drag and blew it sideways from her mouth, away from Della. “Turn the ceiling fan on, and stop treating me like a pariah. “

  Same old blustery Ma. “What brought you out of hiding?” Della yanked the chain on the ceiling fan. The blades sprang to life, thinning the swirl of smoke clouding the small room.

  “I’m so damned proud of you, I had to see you. Now, don’t you go get no ideas that we’re going to become bosom buddies, cause we ain’t. Right now, the world believes you come from a respectable family. I want it to stay that way. I like fantasizing I’m living in France or England, leading the life of leisure. That’s what you told everyone, ain’t it?”

  Della nodded.

  “I don’t represent anything respectable.”

  She dragged a chair next to Lillian’s.

  Lillian snuggled down, wrapping herself tighter in her blanket. “Tell me everything about your new job.” She squinted her beady eyes. “Are you married?”

  “Hardly. If I play my cards right, I might just turn out like you,” she said with a grin. She meant it and feared it with every atom in her body. She thought of Steven. He constantly tried to break down her resistance. Having an affair with the boss’s son, a man five years her junior, wasn’t exactly something someone bragged about to their mom.

  For a week now, he shadowed her every movement during working hours. Her resolve had been weakened by his constant flirting, his silly grin, that all-knowing wink of his, and the flowers. Oh, my God, they arrived on her doorstep daily. She must remember to buy stock in 1-800-FLOWERS.

  She hated herself for these feelings. Lillian might hate her more. “The new job is great,” she said with a lilt in her voice, “except life up there where the air is thin is dangerous.”

  Lillian jerked. “Dangerous, how?”

  “You remember Jack Davis, the guy who fired me at Globe?”

  Lillian nodded. “What about him?”

  Della filled her in on the New York trip, how she helped save his business, and the rest right up until Monday’s lunch when he threatened to expose her past if she didn’t sell him his business back.

  “You’ve no choice. Find a way to get him off your back. You can’t risk everything on that fruitcake.”

  “I don’t know if Wes will support me on this. He’s proud of Globe and how it’s performed for us.”

  “I was never big in the business world. That is, unless you consider hustling big business.” She chuckled. “But I think you’d better work Mr. Gates around your little finger, girly. Those folks up there won’t look kindly on me and my kind. They won’t like your arrest record much, either.”

  “I should have told everyone the truth when Wes hired me, but I wanted so much to just be a normal girl from a normal background.”

  Lillian leaned over and put her arms around her shoulders. “It’s my doing, darlin’. I’m sorry.” Her eyes filled. “You have no choice. Give the son of a bitch what he wants, protect your turf. If you ever want to meet a decent man and have those kids you’ve always wanted, you’d better kick ass now, while you’ve got the chance. This Jack guy sounds like a turd.”

  With a catch in her voice, she said, “I already called his bluff.” She stiffened. “What’s this about meeting a decent man and having kids? I’ve never heard you talk like that before.”

  “Nothing’s in cement. I’ve changed my mind. I think of you all the time. If it weren’t for you constantly in my thoughts, I’d have died long ago. I want you to have kids to love and share your life with. You have a chance to meet a nice man in your world. We’re different. That’s all.”

  Lillian slumped back in her chair, yanked the footrest up. “Now, back to this sleezebucket, Davis. Doesn’t any kind of authority come with that fancy title of yours?” She downed the rest of her wine. “Want some?”

  “No, thanks. It’s too early for me.”

  “We’re celebrating.”

  “No thanks, Ma.” She took Lillian’s hand. “You don’t need any more right now, either. Look, I want you to move back to L.A. I’ll pay for it, get you a nice little place near me. You can be my aunt. I’m sure we can find a way to cover our past. We can see each other regularly.”

  Lillian started to speak. Della placed a finger over her lips. “Just listen to me, Ma. If you want to keep our relationship a secret, that’s okay. I’d just like to see more of you. I want to take care of you.” She laughed. “Or maybe I need you to take care of me?”

  “You come here and see me. I’m not taking any chances with your future.”

  “Are you seeing a doctor?”

  “Yes, yes, yes. It’s just that I won’t give up the weed and the wine. Without them, I don’t want to live, anyway. I know you don’t understand, but that’s the way it is.”

  “Then, let me get the heat fixed in this house, hire someone to come in and help you out–clean up, do some cooking. You’re skin and bones.”

  “You just take care of yourself. I’m doin' fine for now.”

  She checked her watch. Her flight left in an hour. She kissed Lillian and told her she’d be back soon.

  Outside on the porch, Della leaned against the closed door, oblivious to the chilly wind kicking up. Except for the smoking and drinking and their results, she saw herself in her mother. And if she didn’t find the right man, she wouldn’t even have a child. She’d end up alone in some high-rise, drinking and smoking to fill her lonely nights.

  The thought of living out her life under a cloud of secrecy and in fear of the Jack Davises in the world made her shudder. She had to do something about it.

  And soon.

  * * *

  Steven, after carousing with the boys all evening, tiptoed into the house at three in the morning. He decided to stop off in the kitchen for a glass of ice water to wet a bad case of cotton mouth.

  Steven rounded the corner and there in the kitchen, his mother stood next to the counter with only the small bulb from the stove dimly lighting the room. Carrie was stuffing her mouth with bread. Crumbs fell onto the counter and floor. He had never seen anything like it. This was his mother, the elegant Carrie Gates? No wonder she had gained weight! Not wanting to embarrass her, he backed out of the kitchen. He’d nearly made it to safety when his rubber heel squeaked on the tile.

  Carrie, paralyzed, locked eyes with his. “Steven!” came a muffled scream through her bread-filled mouth. Tears burst from her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. She turned, spit the bread in the sink, and churned it down the garbage disposal; then, without another word, she brushed past him, muttering “Jesus, make a noise when you come in, for chrissake.”

  “Mom,” he yelled as she vanished into the darkness, up the stairs to her room. He stood stock-still in total disbelief. His mother had always been a dainty eater, ate very little, as he remembered. Wh
at had happened?

  He spent the rest of the night tossing in his bed, seriously worried about his mother for the first time in his life. She needed him, and he was falling in love with the woman she hated most.

  When sunlight burst through the blinds, he slipped on his swimsuit and headed for the pool to wash away his fatigue.

  Carrie lay on a chaise lounge, her eyes covered with dark glasses. “Good morning, Mom.” Before she answered, he jumped in the pool and started his laps. His mind scrambled from lack of sleep and seeing his mother stuffing her face with bread drove him onward, lap after lap after lap. Finally, exhausted, he pulled himself out, dried off and stretched out on a chaise next to her.

  She sat up, took her dark glasses off, exposing red and puffy eyes. “I’m sorry you saw me like that.”

  “Can we just forget it? I’m sorry I didn’t stomp all over the place, coming in at three in the morning.”

  “What the hell were you doing out at three in the morning?”

  He lay back, closed his eyes. “A little time with the boys. I’m not exactly a kid any longer.”

  “I’m so damn humiliated. Can you imagine how you’d feel if I caught you like that?”

  “Yes,” he mumbled. “Why, Mom? You always took care of yourself. Not that I see anything wrong with gaining a little weight,” he added quickly, “but getting up in the middle of the night to raid the cupboards isn’t like you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She leaned back and put her glasses on.

  “Never thought I’d see the day when I’d find you soaking up the rays.” He turned his head toward her, cracked an eye. “You can get skin cancer,” he joked.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said. “I should be so lucky. I wouldn’t have to worry about what my dear husband is up to, or that bitch taking over the company.”

  He bolted to a sitting position, remembering why she had sent for him. He had been so swept away by Della, he’d nearly forgotten his mission.

  Carrie sat up, took her glasses off again. “Don’t you think it’s about time you tell me what’s going on? You’ve been in there for more than a week, and so far you’ve told me nothing.”

  “I wanted there to be something to tell first.” He understood why she was jealous of Della. She was beautiful, sexy, talented. She was his old man’s protégé. And, if she played her cards right, she’d one day be in charge of the whole damn kit and caboodle. All he had to do was tell his mother her greatest fear was coming true, and convince her it was all right.

  “Your father didn’t have the balls to tell me Phillip would be reporting to Della.” Her voice was filled with rage. “He faxed Phillip instead of calling him into a meeting, like he’s some kind of errand boy.”

  “He faxed everyone. He told Della to keep a low profile with Phillip. Nothing’s going to change much.” Though Phillip reported to Wes, Carrie thought of Henshaw and Associates as her baby, and because she was so jealous of Della, it astounded Steven that his dad had made such a change. To keep peace in the family, he should have turned it over to Mike or Joe. But then, Steven was well aware of his dad’s flare for the dramatic. He liked to sit back with a big shit-eating grin on his face and watch everyone squirm.

  “Ever since Della came into the picture, our lives haven’t been the same.” She wiped the perspiration from her brow with a towel. “I’ll never figure out why your father changed so much when he hired her. At first, I thought he was in love with her; then I realized he wasn’t. He was obsessed with her.” She looked over at Steven. “You know how he hates jealous women. The more jealous I became, the further away I drove him.”

  He let her ramble, get her feelings out in the open. This reminded him of the old days when he and his mother confided in each other like friends, not like a typical mother and son. A part of him missed these chats. In college, he broke the tie and the influence she had over the women in his life. Her ideal woman for him was a docile, self-deprecating little rich girl with a pedigree attached to her name. If she suspected he had the slightest interest in Della, there’d be hell to pay.

  “There’s no reason for you to be jealous of Della,” he said, placating his mother. “Dad sees the writing on the wall. He wants someone to run the company who understands it and loves it like he does.”

  “What about Joe or Mike? They’re damn good.”

  “There’s something about the way Della handles things that Dad hooks into. I can’t put my finger on it yet, but she’s good.”

  “Great. Just what I wanted to hear.”

  “Dad loves you, Mom. If you’d accept his decisions and stop fighting him, he’d come around.”

  “I think it’s too late. That old feeling has been whittled away at too long. We tolerate each other. He knows how much I want him to sell his shares, maybe travel or buy a nice house in Hawaii, a romantic place to live out our time together. He wants to work till he drops.”

  “He’d die without his company. You knew that about him when you married him. I never figured you would feel like this. You’ve always had your own life. I’ve admired that quality in you. I hope the woman I marry is independent.” Steven remembered his mother in front of a band at all the parties, singing her heart out, like that was her place. She gave him goose bumps when she hit those high notes. “Have you ever thought of singing again?”

  She nearly choked on her own laughter.

  “I mean it, Mom. You’re great. Not everyone in the business is a kid. You’re a great talent. Give it some thought. If you got into yourself a little more, it’d take your mind off Dad.”

  She leaned over and pinched his cheek. “You’re a good kid. Nice try. Now, tell me what’s going on with your father.”

  He let out an exasperated breath. “Mom, I want all the facts before I start spouting off. Right now, I don’t see anything wrong with what Dad’s doing.” He chose his words carefully, not volunteering anything, but not lying to her, either. “Della’s sharp, a take-charge person, like you.”

  The last thing she wanted to hear from him was the wonders of Della Garland. No, she wanted juice, ammunition to make her feel better. “Christ, Steven, she’s got enemies up the ying yang. It’s not just Phillip who can live without her. Jack Davis can’t stand her, either. And there are others.”

  “Davis wants his company back, and he wants Della to make sure he gets it.”

  “Is she going to help him?” She showed special interest now.

  “Not if she sticks to her guns. She cut him off at lunch last week. I thought the guy was going to explode right there in the restaurant. I don’t know what went down between those two, but it must have been bad.”

  “Della backed him up against the wall, and he sacked her from Globe. She was your father’s travel agent. When Jack dumped her, your dad hired her. I told you all about that a long time ago.”

  Now things were making a little more sense.

  “I assume this’ll be a board decision?” she said.

  “We’re meeting with Dad this week to discuss it.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t have a day or time.”

  “Let me know as soon as you hear. I want to know everything.”

  He disliked the anger in his mother’s voice. “Dad trusts her judgment. If she doesn’t want to sell, he won’t. He wants a successor. If you or I don’t jump in there and take over, Della just may be the little lady to do it.”

  She leaped from her seat. “That’s exactly my point. Don’t you see, Steven, that she could take everything?”

  He rose and wrapped an arm around his mother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mom. Dad owns the majority stock in the company. You and I are his beneficiaries.”

  “If anything happens to your father, I don’t want Gates International getting into the wrong hands.”

  “I’m going to be around for a while. I may even extend my time and get a little more involved.” He still had no interest in the company per se; his interest was purely in Della
Garland. Whenever they were together, he wanted to drown in her sea-green eyes. When he was away from her, her face floated like an talisman in his mind. His attraction was more than physical. The chemistry between them sizzled. He knew she felt the same way about him.

  Out of the blue, he was changing his life. That meant giving up his job and his New York digs, planting his roots here in L.A., and he knew his strong attraction to Della was turning his organized life upside down.

  She threw her arms around him and hugged him. “Thank you, honey. I knew you’d come through.” She led him into the house. “Call your father and tell him what you’ve just told me. He’ll be thrilled you’re staying.”

  “I don’t want to get Dad’s hopes up.” From this moment on, his mother would drive him crazy until she knew he was firmly ensconced in the company, taking care of family business.

  Later that day, Carrie paced her bedroom. In front of each mirror, she checked herself and groaned. God, what a mess. Steven was right, she had certainly let herself go. She no longer had a waistline, and she noticed a new chin forming below the original. The thought of Steven walking in on her in the kitchen last night with her face in a loaf of bread humiliated her. She stomped her foot. She intended to regain her self-respect, lose the weight, get her life back. She had no intention of waiting for Wes to come around. If he remained detached and hell-bent on giving Della a piece of the pie, it was up to Carrie to take charge and make sure Gates International stayed in the family.

  She must build her own defense team. She snatched up the phone and punched Phillip’s private number. He answered on the first ring.

  “Phillip, Carrie here. Are you better?”

  “Hell, no. I’ll never be better with Della Garland breathing down my neck.”

  “Has she contacted you?”

  “No. But I expect her to any moment. I wouldn’t put it past her to flounce in here and do one of those nasty little audits of hers.”

  She smiled to herself, ran her fingers through her cropped hair. “I have a plan.”