Hearts Unfold

by Karen Welch

“Bernard Silverman? Yes. I made my debut with Bernie; I've known him since I was just a kid. Of course I told him about you. Now get in the car, love. You're positively gawking.”

  Chapter Fifty-four

  By Thursday morning, Emily had almost forgotten how intensely she’d resisted the idea of coming to New York. To her amazement, she liked the city, the crowds, the lights and even the noise. There was so much to see and do; so many different shops and restaurants to sample. The food alone was an adventure. Stani had made a point of taking her to every possible kind of restaurant, and she’d found something to like about every one of them. She’d wondered at times if he hadn’t planned to keep her so busy in order to ease her anxiety—and probably his as well—over the dinner on Thursday night.

  All day, as they visited the Public Library and the Empire State Building, she had to force herself to focus. No matter how foolish she told herself it was to worry, her thoughts insisted on drifting to the dreaded moment when she would finally have to look Milo Scheider in the eye. Was it possible, she wondered, that she had, over the years, blown the letter out of proportion? But even now the tone and the intent of his carefully phrased message seemed disdainful and intimidating. He had made the assumption that she would try to cash in on Stani’s celebrity, and implied there would be consequences if she went against his advice. It was hard to imagine that he wouldn’t be suspicious of her relationship with Stani now, after going to such lengths to ensure her silence then.

  Now, as she dressed, she reminded her reflection in the mirror that Jack had called her a girl who could take on anything with a smile. James McConnell had called her “brave” and said that no matter what, she’d never been one to back down. But her eyes, staring back at her, resembled most closely a frightened deer, and her hands insisted on shaking as she tried to pin up her hair. Her stomach had for hours been twisting itself into a quivering knot. She wondered if this might be one time in her life when her appetite would be quelled by sheer terror.

  Stani must have sensed her rising anxiety when they returned to the hotel. He had delivered a very sweet pep talk, much of which she felt was also directed toward his own concerns. Milo, he told her, would never be openly rude. The worst she could expect was that he might ignore her. But she would still be painfully conscious of their history, she insisted. No matter what happened, she felt certain sitting across a dinner table from Milo Scheider would at best be awkward and unpleasant.

  She’d saved for the occasion the black pantsuit that Martha Jean had insisted she bring with her. It was too sophisticated she’d argued, but maybe that was the impression she needed to give tonight, if she could pull it off. If Milo noticed her at all, she wanted to at least appear confident. Of course, if Stani thought it wouldn't do, she'd change into something simpler. The severe lines of the tunic, with its long straight sleeves and high cowl neck, were deceptively conservative, but the back of the neckline draped almost to her waist, exposing the curve of her bare back. As she gave herself one last glance in the mirror, she hovered between feeling uncommonly elegant and ridiculously out of character.

  But the look on Stani’s face when she opened the door assured her of his unequivocal approval.

  “Stunning, absolutely stunning.” He studied her with a tilt of his head and a gleam in his eyes.

  “Do you really like it? Martha Jean said it was the most 'New York' thing she'd ever had in the shop. You're sure it's not too. . .open?” She turned slowly for his appraisal, feeling herself blush beneath his admiring scrutiny.

  “Oh, it's far too open. You have no idea how wonderful you look. No danger of anyone recognizing me tonight. They'll all be looking at you.” Pulling her into his arms, he examined her more closely. “You're wearing eye shadow, Emily. Have you been totally corrupted so quickly?”

  “I'm not a complete hick, at least not all of the time.” She held up a manicured hand in defense, hoping he wouldn’t see that it trembled slightly.

  “Nail varnish too? My word, what's become of my simple little farm girl?” Grasping the hand, he kissed the tips of her fingers.

  “You don’t approve?”

  He grinned, holding her tighter. “I approve whole-heartedly. I love my farm girl in blue jeans, and my beautiful angel of mercy in white, but this version of you, darling girl, takes my breath away. I wasn’t prepared for this level of sophistication.”

  She felt herself relax, a little of the earlier tension evaporating beneath his gaze. “Martha Jean was right. If I'm going to hang around you, I'm going to have to step up my style. You look nice, too. What's the meaning of this? A white shirt? And that little figure in your tie is definitely gold.”

  “My concession to the uniqueness of the event. Not exactly flamboyant, I know; but I wanted to make the statement that this is the new Stani Moss, the one who intends to be his own man.” With a sigh of his own, he released her, and picked up her wrap, a deep red cape trimmed in black curly lamb. “Another of Martha Jean's suggestions? Remind me to write her a nice, long thank you note.”

  At the door, she hesitated, drawing him around to look into his eyes. “You’re sure about this? What if he disapproves of me? Oh, Stani, the last thing I want is to create more tension for you.” Her eyes stung with tears and he instantly gathered her close again.

  “Emily, tonight is not about winning Milo’s approval. All I want is for you to meet my family, such as they are. I’ve met the people closest to you and I’ve learned more about you by doing so. You should have the same opportunity. Right or wrong, they are responsible in large part for who I am. Can’t you please try to forget what happened in the past and start fresh tonight?”

  The sweet sincerity of his plea effectively swept aside her fears. With a smile and a toss of her head, she said with only slightly more conviction than she felt, “Of course I can. For you, Stani, I can be brave.”

  With a grateful smile, he kissed her carefully on the cheek. “That’s my girl. Now let’s go! John’s waiting downstairs. Aren’t you starving?”

  Milo had seemed only mildly surprised when Stani told him the identity of the friend he’d invited to New York. He hadn’t even questioned how the friendship came about. Perhaps, if the truth were known, Milo was finding everything Stani did these days a bit surprising. This was just one more in a series of unaccountable choices, and in the interest of maintaining the tenuous balance between them he considered it wise not to press the issue. Stani had been relieved that the conversation had gone no farther than a cordial invitation to dine and Milo’s lukewarm acceptance.

  He had included John for moral support and to round out the number at dinner, Peg Shannon. Peg was part of his very small inner circle, he explained to Emily; and with Peg at the table, Milo was sure to be on his best behavior. When he had told Peg about his trips to Virginia, she had seemed genuinely pleased for him, and he’d marveled at what an extraordinary woman Peg was. He was grateful that their relationship had returned to an easy friendship, almost as if nothing more involved had ever existed. Peg was an ally he couldn’t afford to lose. And he felt confident he could rely on her discretion with regard to their past.

  The location had been chosen with care, an elegant restaurant he knew to be a favorite of Milo's, a place he regularly entertained important visitors. He was well known by the management and would be recognized by other frequent diners. Stani had been there with Milo many times himself and spent a number of late nights at the bar as well. The manager had been pleased to accommodate him, as he asked specifically for a certain seating order, and discussed the speed of service he would prefer for this special evening. If he could control these elements, perhaps they could get through this dinner without Emily's experiencing too much discomfort.

  When they arrived at the restaurant, Milo and Jana were already seated at the round table by the window. Stani was sure Milo had checked his wristwatch as they walked in. Milo stood, as Stani made the introductions, took the hand Emily extended and bowed over it slightly, giving her t
he swiftest of appraisals. His only response was a cool, clipped, “A pleasure, Miss Haynes.”

  Emily’s eyes were wide, as she breathed, “Mr. Scheider.” Time stood still. No one moved. And then simultaneously Stani cleared his throat, John coughed, and Jana gently voiced her greeting, which went largely ignored. There was an awkward moment as both John and Stani reached to pull out Emily’s chair, while Emily stood frozen and unblinking, her hand still lightly resting in Milo’s. Jana seemed to be signaling to Milo to sit down, John wrestled the chair away from the table, and Stani’s gaze was drawn to a commotion across the room as Peg made her usual sweeping entrance.

  Without so much as a hello to the others, before she had even reached the table, Peg gasped loudly enough for most of the room to hear, “Oh, my God, Stani, this is your Emily?” Pushing past John, she threw her arms around Emily, who seemed to come back to life with a startled gasp of her own, tearing her eyes from Milo to blink in astonishment at Peg. “But Stani, I know this girl! Don't you remember, dear, we met at Mae Hanbury's funeral?”

  Stani held his breath as Emily visibly regained her equilibrium. With a slow, radiant smile, she answered clearly, “Of course I remember. Isn’t it a wonderfully small world?”

  Peg took her place beside Milo, all the while explaining the circumstances of their meeting. Emily quietly accepted the chair John held for her, and Stani unlocked his trembling knees and sank gratefully into his own seat. As he listened to Peg go on at length, he realized he could not have asked for more. Milo was forced to listen attentively to Peg's description of this marvelous girl who had nursed her old friend. She went on to talk about Mae and her family, the fact that Mae had contributed early on to Stani's career. She drew Emily into the conversation; and by the time the appetizer was served, everyone at the table had learned just what Stani wanted them to know, that Emily was a talented, intelligent woman with a reputation for her skill and compassion. That she was beautiful as well had not escaped notice, he felt sure.

  The evening had, after those first awful seconds, gotten off to a perfect start. They were all conversing easily. He could sense Emily relaxing at his side, as she chatted with John. Turning to Jana on his right, he was about to ask a question, when a large glass of whisky appeared, as if by some evil magic, on the table before him. “Compliments of the management, Mr. Moss,” the waiter murmured discreetly in his ear. At the bar, Stani could see the manager smiling his way. There was nothing to do but raise the glass in a salute of thanks.

  Five pairs of eyes, filled with everything from fear to suspicion, turned to watch as he lowered the glass to his lips. He took the merest sip, then set the glass on the table and carefully pushed it toward the center. There followed a moment of unbearably weighty silence, as he contemplated his next step, staring into the amber depths he had once so admired. Looking from one face to the next around the table, he flashed what he hoped was a suitably self-effacing smile. “I seem to be a bit too well known here.” Nodding toward the bar, he went on, “Old drinking buddy. Must not have heard I've given it up.” Blessedly, the waiter returned with the salad cart and there seemed to a collective sigh of relief. Stani felt the toe of Emily's slipper brush his shin, and turned to meet her eyes, now shining with approval. Under cover of the reviving conversation, he murmured, “Sorry.”

  “No need. You were wonderful.” She reached for his hand under the tablecloth, pressing her fingers between his. “Are we doing okay?”

  He smiled his gratitude, squeezing her hand. “Brilliantly!” When her lips curved into one of those serene little upturns, he had the sudden, almost undeniable urge to kiss her. “Brave girl.”

  The moment passed, the talk around the table turned to the upcoming tour. Milo was in his element discussing the various orchestras and conductors he'd lined up for the concerts across Europe and Britain. As he dominated the conversation, Stani watched Emily out of the corner of his eye. She was listening attentively but saying little, all the while paying close attention to her dinner. She had looked up from her chateaubriand just long enough to inform Milo that while she had never been to Europe, she had studied extensively in hopes of traveling in the future. Stani had to smile. No matter how stressful the occasion, it had not affected her appetite.

  Things had gone so well thus far, he considered his next move carefully. It had been on his mind for some time, given the opportunity this evening presented. An hour earlier, he would have abandoned the idea completely, but now, with Milo in such a mellow mood, with Peg smiling across the table as she talked with Emily, and with Emily herself seeming to be at ease in the company of these people who were the only family he’d ever known, he might just be bold enough to go through with it. When the plates had been taken away and dessert and coffee ordered, he pushed back his chair and got to his feet, drawing everyone’s expectant attention.

  He straightened his tie, cleared his throat and plunged ahead. “As all of you know, I'm hardly the speech making sort. In fact this may be the first one I've ever made willingly.” Involuntarily, he grinned, his color deepening. “But while I have all the important people in my life gathered at the same table, there is something I need to say.” Pausing again, he ran a hand through his hair and drew a deep breath past the sudden lump in his throat. “In the past three years, all of you have given me so much. Each of you, in your own way, has brought me back to life, supported me and encouraged me. Thanks to you and the grace of a loving God, I have a second chance to make something of my life. I just want you to know, I intend to make you proud.” He raised his water glass in a toast round the table, his gaze finally coming to rest on Emily's upturned face. She was smiling, tears brimming. Ignoring the surprise in her eyes, he bent down and kissed her soundly.

  John said, “Hear, hear.” Peg clapped her hands softly, tears in her own eyes, and Jana, with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, declared, “How beautiful, Stani!” But it was Milo who got to his feet, and raising his glass, announced in a voice clearly filled with pride, “To Stani!”

  They sat curled together in front of the little gas fire, rehashing the evening. Emily had changed into jeans and a sweater, insisting she’d had enough sophistication for one night. Now with her hair tumbling around her shoulders and her bare feet tucked beneath her, she felt much more herself. It had been a wonderful night, she assured him. She had been so proud of him, so amazed at what he had said and done. But even more wonderful, it was over and she had survived relatively unscathed.

  “I told you Milo wouldn’t try to eat you. He’s really quite harmless.” He couldn’t resist stroking the tousled lengths of her hair.

  “I was surprised in some ways by Milo. He’s older than I expected, and handsomer than the one picture I’d seen of him. Is he always so. . .rigid? Every move seems sort of calculated, as if he practiced it in advance. Although he did get pretty animated when he was talking about the tour. Obviously, his work is his passion.”

  “Oh, yes. Everything else comes second, even Jana, I’m afraid. But they’ve always worked together in his pursuit of promoting classical music. And Jana loves him. He comes first for her.”

  Emily laughed softly. “He really is very full of himself, isn’t he? He tends to take control even at the dinner table. But Peg seemed to know how to gently push him aside. She’s quite a force, I’ll bet.”

  “Peg Shannon can move mountains with her perfectly manicured little finger. She cut her teeth on the likes of Milo Scheider, I imagine. She’s tougher than most men, but they never seem to see past those blue eyes of hers.” He took a moment to press his lips against her forehead, as she nestled her head on his chest. “Handsomer, huh? I guess I’ve never thought of Milo as handsome. Should I be jealous?”

  “Oh, no. He’s not my type. And he pretty much ignored me the entire evening, which was fine with me. No, I don’t think there’s much potential for a relationship there.”

  “But he took note of you. He knows a beautiful woman when he sees one. And everything Peg said is sure to h
ave impressed him. All in all, I'd say the evening was a success. I felt rather as though I was being tested, but I think I did okay.” He tried to turn her face up for a punctuating kiss, but she pulled away.

  “Okay? You were magnificent, Stani! What you said to everyone was so beautiful. It could not have been more perfect.” She reached up to stroke his face, letting her fingers skim over his lips. “The only thing that you might have done differently, not that it isn't too late now, was to try to stick to that friendship thing a little longer. No man kisses his friends the way you kissed me, right there in front of the whole restaurant.”

  “You mean like this?” He succeeded in capturing her mouth, and by the time he released her she was wide-eyed and breathless. “You're right, no more friendship. No one would believe us, anyway. What man in his right mind would want to be just friends with a woman like you?” He settled her more comfortably across his lap and went on, “Now, I want to know your impressions. You've met all the most important people in my world, what do you think?”

  She considered for a moment, then ruffled his hair playfully. “I think you judge them too harshly. They're not so different from any family, I expect. John is your big brother, or your favorite uncle. He has your back, no matter what. He loves you very much, much more than a lot of real brothers. Jana may not be exactly maternal, but she cares deeply about you. And Milo is as proud of you as any father could be. He just doesn't quite understand you, but that's often the case with fathers and sons. You're everything to them, Stani. Most sons don't merit the kind of attention they pay you. By now, an ordinary son would have been pushed from the nest to make his own way, but they are devoting their lives to you.”

  He laughed softly. “And therein lies the rub.”

  “But you deserve that kind of devotion. Maybe Milo still tries to control you, but it's not just about your career. They almost lost you, Stani. They feel they need to protect you even more now. You're more precious to them.”