Olivia did some quick calculations and figured there could be thousands of dollars in value in the bags. Scarves? Handbags? Jewels? Bob didn’t exactly frequent John’s Bargain Basement or Klein’s on the Square.
“Well, you know what I’d call it?” Olivia said.
“No, what?”
“A good start.” She smiled.
One of the pilots appeared.
“Is everyone ready?” he said.
“Let’s load ’em up!” Bob said.
“We’re going to get my mommy and bring her home!” Gladdie said, all smiles.
“Then let’s go get her!” the pilot said.
When they were airborne and Gladdie was busy coloring, Bob said, “What if she doesn’t come home with me?”
“She will, Bob. She will.”
“What should I say to her?”
“Tell her you are deeply sorry for whatever you did—which I don’t want the details of—and tell her it will never happen again. Tell her that you love her and you’re begging her forgiveness. Tell her you want to spend the rest of your life making her happy.”
“When did you get so smart about relationships?”
“It’s how I feel about Nick.”
“Nick is a good man. He’s great company and he makes me laugh like hell. He makes me feel like I’m talking to Shakespeare.”
Olivia laughed. “Nick loves language. You should see his old map collection.”
“Old maps? What an odd thing to collect.”
“Well, map making was a very big deal when countries were being settled. A lot of the time they had huge errors in them. Those are the ones that Nick likes best.”
“Well, one of these days I’ll come to Charleston and we’ll get together. I’d love to see what blows wind up his kilt! Ha-ha! I’m just always so damn busy. I don’t know why I keep working. It’s not like we need the money. I guess I just like building businesses.”
“It’s good for your mind and it puts people to work, which is a very good thing.” She was thumbing through an Architectural Digest.
Bob, who was a quick as a fox, got a sense that Olivia was giving him a subliminal message.
“Okay, Olivia, time to come clean.”
“About what?” She looked at him in all innocence, having no idea what he meant.
“How many jobs have you got on your books? Just tell me.”
“One.”
“How many did you have six months ago?”
“Maximum capacity.”
“What happened?”
Olivia hated telling the details of her decline, but she couldn’t lie to Bob. They knew each other for so long. And he really didn’t want the details, just the gist.
“It was a cluster you-know-what.”
“Like Bear Sterns and Lehman Brothers?”
“Yep. When the markets take a beating, so do I. When Wall Street executives file for divorce, plans are changed.”
“And you get shorted,” he said.
“Big-time.”
“Want to do some commercial stuff for a while? I’m opening up new restaurants all over the place.”
“Bob, you are an angel. Let’s get you straight with Maritza and then we can talk about that.”
“I’m no angel,” he said and Gladdie crawled up on his lap.
“I’m hungry, Daddy.”
“Princess? Daddy forgot to order catering. Why don’t you go see what’s in the snack drawers?”
“Okay!”
“I’ll help you,” Olivia said.
“Thanks! Want to see the picture I colored for Mommy?”
She held up the coloring book and showed them a picture of a mother hen and her baby chicks. Of course the coloring wasn’t all in the lines, but the colors she chose were in the spectrum of nature’s own. Yellow chicks with orange beaks were standing on green grass. The sky—well, parts of it—was blue.
“You may have a budding artist on your hands, Bob!” Olivia said. “Gladdie, this is very, very good for a young lady your age!” And she meant it.
“Thanks!” Gladdie said and beamed with pride. “Should I do another one?”
“Definitely! Do one for your daddy’s office!” Olivia whispered.
“I’m gonna do it right now!” Gladdie whispered back as though she and Olivia were conspiring together to repaint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
“I’ll get you a snack,” Olivia said and smiled.
Olivia fished out a pack of Oreos, a bag of Doritos, and a tiny box of apple juice with a straw attached to its side. She placed it on Gladdie’s table, opening everything for her.
“Thanks, Olivia,” Gladdie said.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Olivia said. “Bob? Do you want anything since I’m up?”
“No, thanks. Okay, maybe a bottle of water.”
Olivia took two tiny bottles of Pellegrino from the refrigerator.
“Water’s always a good idea. So, Bob?” Olivia went back to her seat, handed him a bottle and fastened her seat belt. “Have you noticed how well behaved your little one is this morning?”
“Yes, but I’m afraid to say anything and jinx it.”
“Well, I’m going to give you my amateur psychologist opinion.”
“Lay it on me, sister.”
“Somehow, don’t ask me how, but somehow your child knew the other one was a problem between you and her mom. So if she was acting up, maybe she thought she would make the other one look bad and she’d have to go. I’m phrasing it this way on account of because . . .”
Olivia cocked her head in the direction of Gladdie, who was happily coloring and eating her cookies with all the poise of a grand duchess.
Bob turned around and took a look at Gladdie and shook his head. He looked at Olivia and said, “Why are women so much smarter than men? Even at her age, she’s got it all figured out.”
“I think it’s called feminine intuition, Bob, and there’s no point in trying to fight it.”
“You’d think I would’ve learned this lesson by now.”
“Well, now you’ve got a daughter and you can witness her female intuition as it grows. It becomes either a useful asset or a treacherous tool.”
“I think it would be so much easier if women could just raise their own children,” Bob said. “All these nannies are nothing but trouble.”
Try exercising some personal restraint, she thought but did not say.
“Well, of course it is better—well, maybe it’s not always better—but more and more being a stay-at-home mom doesn’t fit in with the economics of a normal average family. In fact, most women have to work.”
“And Nick retired.”
“Yup.”
“Okay, I’ve got the whole thing now.”
“Bob, I’m going to be okay. Don’t worry about me. Especially today.”
The plane began its descent and landed quietly in Jackson, Mississippi.
“I’ve got a car to take us there and he’s going to wait. Hopefully, we’ll all be on a plane by tonight.”
“That would be so great!” Olivia said. “So, she’s expecting us?”
“Not exactly,” Bob said. “Maybe we should stop at a florist shop on the way in.”
Oh, God, Olivia thought, this is going to be dreadful. Bob is going to use Gladdie and me as human shields.
They got off the plane, loaded all their luggage and gifts into the trunk of the waiting sedan, and left the airport. Their driver was a tall handsome African-American man who looked like he could’ve played pro football.
“Sir? How far is the drive to Cartaret?”
“Just slightly over an hour, Mr. Vasile,” the driver said. “Please call me Jim.”
“Okay, Jim. Thank you. And you know I need you to wait?”
“Yes, sir, but do you have an idea how long that might be?”
“Could be five minutes, could be a long time. I’m coming down here from New York to get my wife. We had a little spat. She’s at her mother’s house.”
>
Olivia thought, Bob must be getting nervous because he’s talking too much.
“Oh my goodness! Mr. Vasile! I’ve been in your shoes, brother! I’ve been in your shoes.”
Jim started to laugh and Bob did too.
“I guess I’m not the first guy to ever make his wife lose her mind,” Bob said.
“No, sir. You sure aren’t. But you’ll get it worked out. Just ask the Good Lord to help you.”
“That and a florist. Do you know of a good flower shop in Cartaret?”
“If they got one, we’ll find it.”
“Thanks, Jim.”
They rode in silence until they finally pulled up in front of a flower shop. Bob got out and bought everything they had; he filled the front seat of the car with bouquet upon bouquet.
“That ought to smooth the path,” Bob said.
“It sure should!” Olivia said.
Minutes later they arrived at Martha Ann’s house, which was a gorgeous southern antebellum mansion behind a gate, down a long drive lined on both sides with live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. The front of the house had enormous columns that crossed the portico and four sets of French doors with tall black shutters on either side of a massive front door.
“This is Maritza’s mother’s house?” Olivia said. She was completely stunned. “I thought she was a fry cook in the local diner?”
“She was. Her parents thought she ought to work for her spending money when she was a teenager.”
“I didn’t know she came from money,” Olivia said.
“Her folks own the chicken-processing plant in town. It’s the largest one in the United States or the second largest.”
“So she’s rich?”
“Rich is a relative term,” Bob said. “In my world, I’m rich. I’d say her folks get along fine.”
“I’d say so too,” Olivia said and shook her head.
They pulled around the circular drive. Bob and Gladdie got out, carrying armloads of flowers, and rang the doorbell. A few minutes passed and Belle, Martha Ann’s head honcho/confidante/majordomo, answered the door.
“Hello, Belle!” Bob said.
“Well, hello, Mr. Bob. Miss Maritza said to tell you she ain’t home. Hey, Miss Gladdie! You want some cake?”
“Grandmomma!” Gladdie screamed and ran inside to Martha Ann, who was stationed in the foyer.
“Baby doll!” Martha Ann said loudly.
Gladdie flew into her arms and as instructed, Bam! Belle slammed the door right in Bob’s face, so hard he thought it might fall off the hinges.
Chapter 16
Sorry
Bob was stunned. Olivia was horrified. Even Jim their driver was surprised.
They were all standing in the yard at the bottom of the front steps.
“This is worse than I thought,” Bob said. “I thought Belle liked me.”
“Man, what did you do?” Jim said.
The afternoon was very warm and there was a gentle breeze that carried the scent of jasmine that Olivia proclaimed to dislike—at least in candles. She could not remember if she had ever smelled it as it occurs naturally in a garden.
“He was a bad dog,” Olivia said. “Gosh, it smells heavenly here. What is that smell?”
Jim said, “Confederate jasmine and pine mixed up with the roses from the garden over yonder.”
Jim pointed to an area of small boxwoods laid out in an argyle pattern. In the center of the diamonds were stands of old roses and hybrid tea roses. The ancient brick wall that surrounded the property was blanketed with Confederate jasmine vines.
“Jasmine! But I hate jasmine!”
“Maybe you don’t,” Jim said. “See that bush that’s pale, pale pink? That’s a rose from the time of Abraham Lincoln! That’s how long these folks been here.”
“My God. That’s incredible. I’ve never had a garden.”
“For God’s sake! Please! Cut the garden commentary and tell me what to do!” Bob said. What the hell? he thought. I’m practically hysterical, and they’re talking horticulture! And why are they so relaxed? “Olivia? Do you know something I don’t? Have you spoken to her?”
“No, if I had, I would’ve told you. You know that! I’m just very taken by this beautiful house and this yard.”
“You’re sorry what you did, right?” Jim said.
“Very. Look, I can’t live without her. I feel like I’m dying!”
“You want to try the back door first?” Jim said.
“That’s a good idea,” Olivia said.
Bob Vasile hadn’t knocked on a back door since he was a delivery boy for his neighborhood grocery store when he was a teenager.
“Yes! Excellent idea,” Bob said and started for the back door with another armful of flowers and the shopping bags filled with gifts.
Olivia and Jim followed.
“How long they been married?” Jim said.
“Five years,” Olivia said.
“He’s got it bad.”
“Yes, he does. I’ve never seen him like this.”
“So, y’all go back?”
“Like thirty years.”
Olivia thought it was very peculiar that Jim was imposing himself into the situation and being so inquisitive, but she was also amused by it. Maybe it was a southern thing—men sticking together, people asking personal questions or something like that. In any case, Jim could turn out to be more help than she might be because she had a sense that he knew how things worked in that neck of the woods. He knew the history of that rose, didn’t he?
Bob went through the screened-in porch and knocked on the kitchen door. Belle opened it.
“What’s wrong with you?” she said very emphatically, her hand on her hip.
“I’ve come to tell my wife that I’m sorry and that I love her and that I want to spend the rest of my life proving it.”
“I’m not impressed. Don’t you know Miss Maritza don’t want to truck no more fool wid you?”
“Belle, have mercy on me. Will you just give her these flowers and gifts and tell her I’m on my knees begging for forgiveness?”
“I can’t see nobody on they knees. Y’all ’spect me to lie for you?”
Bob immediately dropped to his knees and Belle looked over to Jim and did a double take.
“Well, look who the cat dragged in! Hey there, Jim, dahlin’! How you been getting along?”
That’s how he knew about the rose, Oliva thought.
“Hey, Miss Belle! You sure do look good.”
“Thank you, baby. You want a piece of my cake?” she said so sweetly the birds almost fell from the trees.
“You know I do!” Jim said, smiling wide.
“Well, get on in here! Cake is perishable, you know.”
Belle snatched the flowers and shopping bags from Bob, scowled at him, and opened the door to allow Jim to enter.
Jim looked back at Bob and said, “We used to go ’round together.”
“Help me, Jim! This is my life!”
“I’ll do what I can,” he said.
Belle frowned at Bob and she slammed the door again.
“There are other forces at work here,” Olivia said to Bob. “Things we don’t understand.”
“They’re playing with me. What do we do?”
“I don’t know. Wait a few minutes and call the house. Maybe she’ll have caller ID and know it’s you. Or maybe we just let them play their game. This has all the earmarks of something that was orchestrated for your benefit. Let’s wait a few minutes and see what happens.”
“Olivia, listen to me. Look at this situation, will you? My wife is inside. My daughter is inside. My driver is inside. And I’m standing in the effing backyard with you! What’s wrong with this picture?”
The back door opened again. Jim stuck his head out.
“Miss Olivia? Miss Maritza wants to talk to you. But just you.”
“Jim!” Bob said, his hands in the air as if to say, Come on, man! What’s happening?
Jim put up h
is hand and waved back at Bob. Then he gave him an okay sign to let Bob know that negotiations were under way. Olivia disappeared inside the house.
Bob wasn’t so sure. He moved back around to the front of the house, deciding to look through the windows. Moving like a cat, he got down close to the ground and very carefully peered into the living room window. Nothing—not a sign of life. He moved across the portico in a ninja crouch, stopped under the wood panels of the front door to peep into the glass panels that ran its length on both sides. Nothing but the nasty-tempered miniature shih tzus that followed Martha Ann wherever she went. Bob hated those dogs. They started to bark. All they did was bark and try to nip his ankles. Of all the breeds in the world? What was the matter with a golden retriever? Or a Cavalier? He moved on to the dining room windows. No one was in there either. No, because they were probably all in Martha Ann’s gourmet kitchen eating homemade pound cake, sipping sweet tea, and having a grand old time, snorting with laughter and getting caught up on all the issues of the day while he was outside crawling around like a snake trying to get just a glimpse of his family he so desperately wanted back! It was outrageous to him. Outrageous! But his mother always said something about hell’s fury and scorned women. Apparently she was right, he thought.
When Bob left his other wives, he never tried to win them back. This was a first for him and now he knew the bitter taste of regret. Regret was coursing his veins. He was hangdog and completely miserable. In his mind, he could hear Maritza’s laughter and he could feel her arms around him, and the same was true about Gladdie.
He finally sat down on the front steps and put his head in his hands. He thought, This is hopeless. Maritza’s had it. I blew it. He sat there for a very long time, perhaps an hour or more. As time passed, he got more and more depressed.
I’m a shallow man, he thought. All I’ve ever cared about was making money, having a beautiful woman on my arm, and living large on my terms. Somewhere along the line I forgot about things that were supposed to matter because, because, because . . . why?
Because he refused to be vulnerable.
Love made you vulnerable. It was too late for Bob because now he was in love and she was going to break his heart. Maritza was going to break his heart. He just knew it. He stood up, thinking he’d just go wait in the car. It had to be more comfortable that the hard bricks he was sitting on. As he stood, the front door opened behind him.
All Summer Long Page 30