The Older Man (2 page)

“How do I know I’m not getting myself into something else?” she demanded. “Going home with a strange man?”

He said scathingly, “Do you really think you’re in any danger?”

She didn’t, of course. Apart from the fact that she vaguely supposed him to belong to her father’s generation, and that Celeste Ryland had trusted him to escort her, she knew from the conversation at the table that he was a partner in a law firm. And he’d hardly have reached that level of his profession if he was in the habit of attacking young women.

“Come on,” he said, reaching for her arm again. “My car’s parked on the other side of the building. We can go this way.”

As they drove he hardly spoke, and Rennie, smarting from the disparaging opinions he had expressed, didn’t want to talk either. But when he let her out he said, “Do you have a key?”

She shook her head. “My brother will be home.”

He stood on the pavement beside her. “Sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yes. Thank you,” she added with some difficulty. She didn’t want to feel beholden to this man, but he had, according to his lights, been kind. “I’ll get your handkerchief washed and return it — oh, I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Grant Morrison,” he said. “And I can afford to lose the handkerchief. You needn’t bother. Just try not to invite such situations in future.”

That did it. She knew she was being ungrateful, but she couldn’t stop herself. She snapped, “You know, that attitude wouldn’t get you anywhere in court these days! It’s not done any more to blame the victim.”

He was silent for a moment. “Point taken. Every woman should be able to go anywhere day or night, and wear what she likes, and say whatever she wants, and still say no to an offer of sex. But we don’t live in an ideal world, men aren’t all angels, in fact some of them are downright animals, and any woman with a grain of sense knows that she has to use a bit of discretion to protect herself. Whatever your rights, and however hurt your feelings were tonight, you weren’t acting with an ounce of discretion, Rennie, and you know it.”

Ignoring her angry gasp, he went on ruthlessly, “Ethan is old enough to handle a teenager with a crush and not lose his head. But when you turned your considerable battery of charm on that stupid, drunken kid, you ran the risk of getting more than you bargained for.”

She thought with great longing of the time she had kicked Kevin in the shins. Seething, she fought for some adult self-control, and managed to say coldly, “You’re quite wrong, but it’s obviously no use arguing, even if I felt any need to justify myself to you. People in middle-age tend to get fixed opinions that are very difficult to shift. And they’re often pompous with it.” She noticed a slight quiver in his expression and felt a shaft of satisfaction. “Thank you for bringing me home,” she said graciously. “Goodnight.”

Pompous! Grant thought, irritably watching her march up the path on her incredibly long legs. She was almost as tall as he was, in her high heels. Middle-aged? The cheeky little … Not too middle-aged to appreciate those legs, or the swing of her hips, which he could swear she was exaggerating for his benefit. Serve her right if he followed her up the path and…

Oh, come on, he said to himself, regaining a sense of perspective. From the viewpoint of her eighteen or nineteen years, he must seem middle-aged. Face it, you’ll soon be pushing forty. You’ve got kids closer to her age than yours. You’re old enough to be her father! Just. Although he hadn’t actually, at that age…

Old enough all the same. He slammed the door as he got into the car, and drove off feeling if not pompous, decidedly middle-aged.

Rennie put on a long-sleeved knit top and a pair of jeans before joining her family and Ethan for breakfast. Seventeen-year-old Shane was pouring cornflakes into his plate while her mother cut bread for toast, and her father, who always cooked breakfast on Sundays, was transferring sausages and bacon from a pan to a dish on the table.

Ethan looked up from a cup of coffee as she sat down. “Sorry about deserting you last night, Rennie.”

“That’s okay,” she assured him again, adding innocently, “How’s Celeste?” He looked much more like himself this morning. She thought the query was safe.

He grinned. “Fine, and so am I. As a matter of fact, now that you’re all here, I’d like to make an announcement. Celeste and I are going to be married — just as soon as we can arrange it.”

Noticing the sharp look her father had cast at her, Rennie hoped that in the excitement of Ethan’s news, he’d forget to ask how she had come home. But as she helped to stack the dishes, he said, “I thought you had left early with Ethan last night. Who brought you home?”

“A friend of Ethan’s.” She clattered a pile of plates together and picked them up.

Ethan, who was taking some dishes to the sink, turned to look at her. “Who?” he asked blankly.

She gave him a reproachful look. “Grant Morrison.”

He looked slightly puzzled. “Morrison? A bit — mature for you, isn’t he, Rennie? I thought you’d be coming home with your parents.”

Her father said, “I told your mother that dress was too old for you.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Rennie protested. “He just offered me a lift. And there’s nothing wrong with that dress, Dad. You just don’t realise I’ve grown up.”

“Mm. Maybe. But do be careful who you accept a ride with, won’t you?”

“Yes, Dad.” She resisted rolling her eyes as she walked past him with the pile of plates.

“It’s okay, Frank,” Ethan said. “He’s Celeste’s solicitor. My brother knew him quite well.”

Marian Langwell said, “Your brother was much older than you, wasn’t he, Ethan?”

“Yes. But Morrison wouldn’t be his age.”

“He’s about forty,” Rennie offered, busily scraping plates. “And anyway, he’s not interested in me. He was being kind, that’s all.”

Ethan said absently, “Mid-thirties, more likely. Alec was friendly with his older brother. When Grant was at university he joined one of Alec’s expeditions to New Guinea during the long holidays.”

Rennie looked up. “But he’s a lawyer, not an anthropologist!”

Ethan shrugged. “Not all the students Alec took along were planning anthropology majors. He liked to take people he could rely on.”

“Oh, I’m sure Grant Morrison’s very reliable.”

Ethan’s brows rose. “Rub you up the wrong way?” Then with a quick frown he said quietly, “Did something happen between you, Rennie?”

“He brought me home, that’s all,” she said, and turned away from him to stack the dishwasher.

She didn’t see Grant Morrison again until Ethan’s wedding. There were not many people in the small church, a dozen or so all told, and afterwards they were invited to Ethan’s aunt’s house for a meal. The aunt was a large, booming woman with only partial hearing, and since she hated to miss any of the conversation, most of it was conducted with raised voices.

Except for Shane and two small girls who had been Celeste’s bridal attendants, Rennie and Grant were the only guests not part of a couple. Rennie supposed that was why Aunt Ellie had decided to seat them next to each other. She gave him a stiff nod as he held her chair for her, and noticed the amusement in his smile as he took his place beside her.

“Still haven’t forgiven me, Rennie?” he murmured, under cover of Aunt Ellie’s instructions to the rest of the company.

“I’ve no idea what you mean,” she lied.

He picked up an open wine bottle and poured some into the glass in front of her before helping himself. “You do.” He carefully put the bottle down again. “I know your pride’s hurt, but how would you have felt if I’d just turned around and left you to it?”

Rennie gazed at the bubbles rising in the glass. He couldn’t have done that, of course. And if he had, she’d have had reason to be angry. She said, “You needn’t have read me a lecture afterwards. I already knew I’d misjudged the situation.”

“And got a bad fright. All right, I apologise for the lecture. Having carried out my rescue act, I suppose I felt entitled. I just wanted to be sure it wouldn’t happen to you again.”

“You needn’t worry. I still think he wouldn’t have deliberately hurt me. He phoned and apologised pretty abjectly the next day. He really was sorry.”

Grant’s mouth tightened. “I should think so. How’s the arm?”

“Fine. It was just a graze.” She lifted her elbow to show him, and he touched the slightly pink mark with a finger, smiling at her.

It was a nice smile, she thought with surprise, softening his features and making him look younger. It was the greying hair that make him seem at first glance more than his years, she supposed. “You should smile more often,” she told him.

“What?” His brows rose.

“It makes you look … nicer,” she said. “Less — “

She hesitated, and he said encouragingly, with a thread of laughter, “Less — ?”

“Forbidding.”

“Forbidding? Is that how you see me?”

She was saved from having to reply by Aunt Ellie’s penetrating voice announcing that now they were all seated the Reverend would say grace. Afterward Rennie busied herself passing dishes to her neighbours and filling her own plate, and noted with relief that the woman at Grant’s other side was occupying his attention.

When they had finished eating, Aunt Ellie proposed a toast to the bride and groom, and Ethan stood and thanked them all. The plates were cleared and the table folded down and pushed aside, while the bride and groom circulated and chatted to their friends. Rennie gave Ethan a hug, kissed Celeste on her cheek and said, “Congratulations to both of you. Sorry about calling up the green-eyed monster. And don’t bother to thank me, Ethan,” she added, batting her eyelashes outrageously to remind him what he owed her. “Just be happy together!”

Ethan gave her a small slap on the bottom. “Behave yourself, young Rennie,” he said.

Celeste smiled at her with a hint of bewilderment. Then someone else arrived to give their good wishes, and Rennie stepped back and moved away.

“What’s your name?” One of the bridal attendants was standing at Rennie’s side, gazing up at her with curiosity. Her blonde flyaway hair was tied in a ponytail and her eyes in a round baby face with a determined little chin were a clear, direct blue.

“Rennie. Renalda, really, but Rennie for short.” She smiled down at the child. “What’s yours?”

“Ellen. You can read me a story if you like.”

“Sure. If we can find something to read from.”

“I found some.” Ellen took her hand and led her to a bookcase in a corner of the room. “Find one with pictures,” she ordered.

Most of the books were novels but Rennie found an illustrated book of New Zealand birds and Ellen led her to a chair. As she sat down, Rennie saw Grant leaning against the far wall with an empty glass in his hand and a faintly bitter regret on his face. Following his gaze, she realised that he was watching Celeste and Ethan. They stood with hands entwined, talking to Rennie’s parents but unable to resist casting frequent glances at each other, giving the impression that for a moment or two they had lost the thread of the conversation altogether.

Ellen ensconced herself on Rennie’s lap, and commanded, “Story!”

Guessing that a list of habitats and colourations hardly constituted a story, Rennie began to weave a tale about a blue-plumaged pukeko stalking on long red legs through the swamp, bush and mountain in search of adventure, meeting with various other birds on the way who either helped or hindered her quest.

Rennie noted that Grant had moved closer, and was openly listening. Making up nonsense for Ellen was one thing. Having an adult audience of one highly critical lawyer was quite another. She floundered to a hasty finish and closed the book, saying firmly, “And they lived happily ever after. And I’m afraid that’s all for now, Ellen.”

As the child scrambled off her knee, the book fell to the floor. Before either of them could retrieve it, Grant stepped forward and picked it up.

“I didn’t bother Celeste, Daddy,” Ellen announced virtuously.

Rennie glanced up in surprise.

“I never thought to tell her not to bother anyone else,” he said dryly. “I didn’t think she’d try it with someone she didn’t know.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Rennie assured him.

He studied the cover of the book in his hands. “I had no idea Birds of New Zealand was so exciting,” he said as he handed it to Rennie. “I was riveted.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I’m thirsty,” Ellen announced.

“Well, if you ask nicely, I might get you a drink,” Grant offered.

“Please can I have a drink?” Ellen said obediently.

“What would you like?” he asked. “Orange or lemonade? And yours, Rennie?”

By the time they had returned the book to the shelf he had found a glass of orange juice and one of white wine.

Finishing her drink in ten seconds flat, Ellen went off hand in hand with the other young attendant, and Rennie was left standing by the bookcase with Grant.

“Did you ever think of being a teacher?” he asked her.

“Law runs in the family. I never thought of doing anything else, really. Why are you looking like that?”

“Going into the family business? I’d have thought a strong-minded young woman like you might want to strike out on her own.”

“I’m not going to work for my Dad. I’ll be looking for another firm, when I’m qualified. Strong-minded?” she queried. “I was quite sure you thought I was a dimwit. In fact, I seem to remember you calling me a fool.”

“One doesn’t necessarily preclude the other.”

Rennie flashed him a look, and he said, laughing suddenly, “Okay. Everyone’s entitled to do something foolish once in a while.”

“Even you?”

“Want your pound of flesh, do you? Even I. But if you don’t mind I won’t go into details.” He looked across the room at Celeste and Ethan again.

“She’s beautiful,” Rennie said.

“Yes, she is. I hope she’ll be happy.” He didn’t sound too confident. That odd expression compounded of bitterness and regret crossed his face again.

Rennie looked at him, then at Ethan. Ethan was right for Celeste, anyone could see it. “He’ll look after her,” she assured Grant. “He’s a good man.”

“He made her very unhappy for a long time,” Grant said, with a hint of censure.