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Authors: Gwynne Forster

When You Dance With The Devil (Dafina Contemporary Romance) (30 page)

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It wasn’t the shack she thought it would be, but a sturdy structure that gleamed with a fresh coat of pale blue paint, the windows and door trimmed in white. She imagined that he painted it himself, and he agreed that he did.
“I save however I can,” he said. “Come on in.”
The room she entered could have been any store with the merchant’s wares and talents neatly and attractively displayed. He walked through the store. “I work back here.” He pushed open an adjoining door, took her hand and walked into what was clearly his private quarters. “I cook in my work room, but I sleep and entertain in here.” She gazed around, taking it all in, the long and roomy sofa that she figured became his bed at night, the big leather chairs, the oriental carpet, wide-screen flat television, the furnishings of an elegant living room.
She whirled around and looked at him. “You live here. This is your home.”
“Why, yes. I didn’t see the point in owning this and paying the high rent that apartments in this town demand.”
“It’s great. Congratulations. I didn’t know you were taking me to your home. I’d like to go now, if you don’t mind.”
“Why? We . . . uh . . . haven’t had a chance to renew our friendship. Sit down over here, and I’ll make us some coffee.”
“I’m surprised you’re not offering me wine.”
He walked up to her, big, strong and handsome, and wrapped her in his arms. “Kiss me, baby.”
She moved her face from the path of his oncoming mouth. “I’m surprised at you, Gregory. I looked at you as a man among men, a perfect gentleman. But you aren’t. I want to go home right now.”
“Look, you’ve been around,” he sneered. “So why not me? At least I won’t mistreat you.”
“You’re mistreating me now. I don’t feel anything for you, Gregory. Not a single thing. You could be one of those poles in your office back there. I haven’t felt right about this since you called me yesterday, and now, I know what it was that I sensed. You were too calculating. I know, because that’s how I was until I caused Harper to have that accident, and until Francine, Judd and Richard taught me some sense. Everybody thinks you’re so great, and I did too, but honey, you ain’t worth pig droppings.”
He grabbed her shoulders. “How dare you say something like that to me!”
“It didn’t cost me any more nerve than it cost you to do what you did. And don’t think this will make me fold up. No, sir. I’ll be at class tomorrow evening on time.”
She rushed through the store, out of the shop and onto the street, walked a block, saw the car rental store and went inside. “I need a taxi to Pike Hill,” she told the man, whose gaze suggested that he would gladly take the job. “I can call Dan for you. He’ll go anywhere so long as you pay him,” the clerk said.
She thanked the man and prayed that Gregory wouldn’t walk into that store until she was in Dan’s taxi. Dan arrived almost at once, and as she walked out of the store with him, Gregory drove up, got out, and rushed to her.
“I don’t need you, Gregory, and I’m not going anywhere with you. If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll call the police on this cell phone you gave me.” She got into Dan’s taxi and left him standing there. As soon as she was inside her room, she wrote a check for seventeen dollars and eighty cents, the cost of the dinner and movie, and put it in an envelope. At eight-thirty, when she knew Judd would be in the lounge, she went downstairs and gave him the envelope on which she had written Gregory’s name.
“Would you give him this tomorrow evening, please?”
Judd looked at the envelope in his hand. “Any reason why you can’t give it to him?”
“I won’t be speaking to him,” she said. “Thanks.”
“I see. You mad with him, or with yourself?”
She started to sit down, but changed her mind. From now on, she planned to keep her sins to herself. Nobody was perfect, including Gregory Hicks. “Let’s say I’ve finally grown up.”
Judd rubbed the little hairs that had begun to surface on his chin. “I’m glad to hear it, and I’ll be more than glad to deliver this letter.”
She told Judd and the others gathered there good night and went to her room. To her amazement, she neither cried nor wanted to, but busied herself laying out the clothes she would wear to work the next day. Later, as she prepared for bed, she remembered Richard’s words that she was pining for the wrong man, and wondered whether he was aware that Gregory didn’t respect her. He had, once, she knew, but in her desire to be honest with him thereafter, she’d made the mistake of telling him how she had behaved with men, and he probably wondered why he shouldn’t have her too.
It would never happen. Not as long as she breathed.
When her cell phone rang, she knew that Gregory was the caller, and she was tempted not to answer.
But I’ve invested a lot in that man, and I owe it to myself to have the last word.
“Hello, Gregory.”
“How did you know I was the person calling you?”
“I knew.”
“I wanted to know whether you got there safely and to tell you that I’m sorry the evening ended as it did.”
“No hard feelings, Gregory. I made the mistake of being honest with you and giving you a choice. You made one. You did your thing, and I did mine. That’s all there is to it. Good night.” She didn’t wait for his reply, because no matter what it was, it would not have made a difference.
She got to the bus stop the next morning minutes before the bus arrived. “I see you’re early,” the driver said. “Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?”
Her immediate reaction was one of annoyance, but when she looked at the man, he held up both hands, palms out. “You can’t blame me for trying. You said ‘no,’ and I understand that word. Okay? I hear Harper Masterson’s scheduled to leave the hospital one day this week. Man, that’s a miracle. Doctors gave him a thirty percent chance to survive, and they say he’s walking around.”
Gregory and memories of her date with him had pushed most other thoughts from her mind, and she realized she hadn’t thought about Harper. “I’m glad he’s going to be all right,” she told the driver. “He’s a very nice man.”
“So I hear, and you said that before.” She dropped her money in the box, and he pulled away from the curb. “You have to go after what you want in this life, girl. That’s the only way you’ll get it.” She looked around but didn’t see another passenger to whom he might be talking, walked on to the rear of the bus and sat down. If Harper would be as good as new, and if she could manage to speak with Percy, maybe she could get rid of her guilt, or at least some of it, and stop worrying about all the wrong she’d done.
Chapter Eleven
 
Richard entered the revolving door of the United Nations Secretariat Building and looked around. He had remembered to bring along his diplomat’s badge and flashed it to the guard who stood at the door.
“May I help you, sir?”
“Thanks,” Richard said as casually as he could, “but I need to step over there and look at a phone directory.”
“Certainly, sir.”
He found her phone number and office location at once and, as he had expected, Estelle Mitchell had moved a step higher. After copying the information, he headed for the second floor where he knew he would find telephones and comfortable seating.
“Ms. Mitchell’s office. How may I help you?”
“Good morning,” he said to the familiar voice. “This is Richard Peterson, and I’d like to see Ms. Mitchell for about fifteen minutes. I’m only in New York for the day.”
“Uh . . . How are you, Mr. Peterson. This is Ms. Mitchell’s secretary. I’ll speak with her. Hold on.”
He thanked her and held his breath, as it occurred to him for the first time that Estelle might refuse to see him. This had been his world, where being seen at all the right places and in the right company meant everything to a man’s career. He smiled inwardly as he watched a woman grasp at another’s coat sleeve, begging, “You will call, won’t you Dr. Ammil?” Dr. Ammil nodded and rushed on without having verbally committed herself. Self-importance was another commodity in abundance there, and he had certainly possessed his share of it.
“Hello Mr. Peterson. Sorry to keep you waiting. Ms. Mitchell said she can see you at eleven-thirty this morning. Should I put you down?”
“Absolutely, and thanks. I’m in your debt.”
He had about two hours to throw away, but he didn’t mind. If he hadn’t gotten his request in early, the trip would probably have been a waste of time, not to speak of emotion. In earlier days, he would have passed the time in the North Delegates Lounge, seeing, being seen, and consuming a Scotch mist, something he no longer drank. He walked through the Security Council Chamber, now empty, its staid presence proclaiming its importance in world affairs. Eleven-twenty-six. He headed for the high-rise elevator.
“Well, if it isn’t Richard Peterson. Where’ve you been hiding, man?” He recognized the Jamaican ambassador and shook his hand. “When I heard you’d quit one of the biggest posts in the international community, I didn’t believe it. You look ten years younger.”
Small talk. Something else that he didn’t miss. “I haven’t regretted it for a second.”
“What are you doing these days?”
“I live in a tiny town a stone’s throw from the Atlantic Ocean, and . . . Sorry, I get off here. Good to see you.” Thank God. Just in time to avoid the kind of banalities that he hadn’t engaged in since he left Geneva. He wondered at his lack of anxiety or of any feeling of excitement as he approached Estelle Mitchell’s office.
“Mr. Peterson! How are you? It’s been a long time.” The lovely secretary’s smile registered with him as sincere, and he remembered that he had regarded her as honest and straightforward. He extended his hand, and she rose to shake hands with him.
“I’ll tell Ms. Mitchell you’re here.”
Minutes later, Estelle’s office door opened, and she walked through it, more elegant and more beautiful than ever, her face wreathed in smiles. “Richard, how nice to see you!” He took the hand she offered, shook it and, to his surprise, the earth didn’t move. Indeed, considering the complete lack of emotional undertow the handshake caused him, he could have been shaking hands with a stranger. “My, but you look wonderful,” she said. “Leah told me you’d dropped ten years, and she’s right. Come on in.”
“You look well, too,” he said. “Very well, indeed. Congratulations on your new status.”
“Thanks. What brings you to New York? I was stunned when I learned that you’d turned down the offer of a five-year contract and walked away from one of the most coveted posts in international civil service. Are you content with your decision?”
“Absolutely. I’ve learned how to be a real person. That’s one of the reasons why I’m here.” He decided to be honest. “I needed to slay some ghosts, and that’s what I’m doing.”
Her smile vanished. “Are you making any progress?”
He didn’t hesitate, simply went with his gut feelings. “I’m doing nicely, far better than I would have thought. When I read of your marriage, it was as if the air had been sucked out of me with a vacuum, and I became something of an emotional cripple.” Her face crumpled into a worried frown, and he held up his hand to signal a halt to the direction of her thoughts. “I’m in great shape now, and your agreeing to talk with me for a few minutes has done wonders.”
She leaned back in her chair. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear this. Are you planning to live here in New York, or will you return to Geneva?”
“My home is in Pike Hill, Maryland, right on the Atlantic Ocean, and I’m very happy there. I left the service and Geneva because I thought I saw the person I’d become, and I didn’t like it. That was only the beginning.”
He stood, satisfied that he’d done the right thing in facing her and his demon. “Thank you for these few minutes. I’m happy that life is treating you well, and I hope it continues that way.”
She got up, walked toward the door, turned and smiled. “I’m glad you came, Richard. When we last saw each other, we didn’t part on the happiest of terms, and we can both remember this parting with satisfaction. I see a difference in you. Not many men or women have the courage to do what you did.”
He stood there looking down at her, letting his gaze sweep over her. Then he smiled a smile that came from his heart. “You’ve done exceedingly well. This is a man’s world, and you’ve made it and still retained your femininity. It’s admirable,” he told her, and he smiled because that was all he felt for her, admiration.
She held out her hand for a cordial good-bye. “Thanks. I wish you good luck.”
He shook her hand, unmoved by the physical contact. “Thanks. I certainly wish you the same.”
“I appreciate the appointment, Leah,” he said to Estelle Mitchell’s secretary. “You’re as gracious as ever.”
“Thanks. All the best to you, Ambassador Peterson.”
Minutes later, he was in a taxi on the way to his hotel. With any luck, he could be back in Pike Hill in time for supper. As the taxi sped up Third Avenue, he dialed the airline on his cell phone and booked a two o’clock flight. At the hotel, he paid the driver. “Wait for me. I’m going to LaGuardia Airport. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
He got off the plane in Ocean Pines at five-forty and phoned Dan for a ride to Pike Hill.
Gosh, I’d better tell Fannie to expect me for supper.
“That certainly didn’t take long,” Judd said when Richard dropped his overnight bag by the door and walked into the lounge.
“No point in staying longer. I did what I had to do and came home.”
Judd turned off the television. “You satisfied with the way things went? Or you planning to let me worry every minute you were gone and then come back and not tell me a blasted thing.”
“Of course not. She’s as beautiful, elegant, and intelligent as ever, and I didn’t feel a thing. Not a single spark.”
“Well I’ll be danged if I didn’t tell you so.”
“We had a gracious, civilized meeting in her office and wished each other well. Period. I never felt so good in my life.”
“Yes siree,” Judd said. “This is a fine day.”
He looked at Judd and couldn’t help grinning. “Think you can substitute a glass of wine or sherry for that ginger ale you love so much? I feel like celebrating.”
“I don’t mind if I do. Haven’t had a glass of sherry in years.”
“We can go down to the Inn after supper. No chance Fannie would have any spirits here.”
Richard’s gaze settled on the fire that crackled in the fireplace, warm and welcoming. “Tell you what. Let’s have a glass of wine. It’s too cold and too windy for a stroll down Ocean Road.” He looked at his watch. “I’d better get up to my room and change before supper.”
“Yeah,” Judd said. “You don’t want everybody to think you’re being uppity, and you sure don’t want Francine to walk in here and see you chatting with me when you haven’t even told her you were back.”
He patted Judd’s shoulder. “Right. I’d trust you to mind my business any day. You’re good at it. See you shortly.”
“
You
haven’t been doing such a good job of it, though I admit you’re improving all of a sudden.”
“Better late than never,” he replied, enjoying the intimacy that comes with friendship.
He bounded up the stairs, and as he reached the hallway, Jolene closed her room door. “Hi, Richard, I thought you were coming back Wednesday. Is everything all right?”
“Couldn’t be better. I finished my business, so I came home. How are things with you?”
She seemed thoughtful, nodding her head. “Good for you. I turned a corner, and I think it’s for the best.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said. “We can talk after supper. See you then.” Whistling the toreador’s song from the opera
Carmen
, he dropped his bag beside the door, inserted his key, and walked into the place he called home. He went at once to the window, pushed aside the curtain and looked out as if to reacquaint himself with the view of the sound and the ocean that he’d come to love. Not the clear green water of the Caribbean Sea, the Lido beach outside Venice, Italy, the banks of the Seine in Paris or the majestic Mount Blanc that he often saw from his office windows in Geneva ever gave him the peace he found in the Atlantic’s frolicking waves.
Good heavens, he thought, I haven’t whistled in years, a lot of years, but it felt good to let go. He had twenty minutes, time for a shower. If he was lucky, he’d see Francine before the watching eyes of their supper companions inhibited his greeting. “My Lord, I’m bursting at the seams,” he said to himself. “Down boy!”
He was on his way down the stairs when the front door opened, and a gust of wind chilled his body, still warm from the shower. His instincts told him to wait, and he stopped midway on the stairs. He heard her pointed heels tapping quickly in the hall floor, and then he saw her. She stopped and stared at him, speechless.
She had never looked so vibrant or so beautiful. Surely the sun was shining on her. He opened his arms, and she raced up the stairs and launched herself into them. “Is it all right, now?” she whispered. “You’re back so early. Tell me it’s all right.”
He locked her to his body. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Things couldn’t be better.” It wasn’t the time for what he wanted and needed. He kissed her hair and the side of her face. “Hurry, or you’ll be late for supper.”
When Richard entered the dining room feeling as if he walked on air, Judd’s face shone with delight, and he wondered how and when he had become transparent, at least to his friend.
“You’re back early,” Fannie exclaimed. “I sure hope that means things went well with you up there.”
“Exceedingly well. Thanks.” He looked around and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Where’s Percy?”
“He’s on a run down to Florida. Ought to be back tomorrow. Poor Percy; he’s gotten to be the saddest person I ever saw.”
Francine entered the dining room followed by Barbara, and Fannie stood. “We’re all here. Let us bow our heads and thank the Lord.” She said the grace, Rodger placed generous portions of spiced shrimp before them, and a hush fell over the room. “When they don’t talk,” Fannie said, “they’re enjoying the food.”
He glanced toward Francine, saw that her gaze was upon him, and smiled. At least he hoped he smiled, for he felt like splitting his face with a grin. He didn’t think he’d ever been so happy, not even when he was elected executive-director of the IBNDA.
“You’re in a great mood tonight,” Fannie said. “Anybody would think you just won a divorce.”
For a woman who never went near the water, Fannie could beat anybody he knew fishing. “Right church; wrong pew. I’ve never been married,” he said, and hoped that took care of her curiosity.
Just as he was beginning to think the evening couldn’t be more perfect, Marilyn emerged from the kitchen, walked over to him and put a dish of crème Courvoisier in front of him. “I made it ’specially for you,” she said, rubbing his back, “and you’ll get your espresso later.”
“Thanks,” he said, “but I make it a habit not to mislead women, Marilyn, so I’m letting you know right now that I’m spoken for. I appreciate the dessert, though.”
“Well, I’m not spoken for,” Fannie fumed, “and the next time you bring something to this table, be sure you bring it for
both
of us.”
“I keep forgetting,” Marilyn said.
“I’ll bet you do,” Fannie retaliated. “If I had male equipment, you’d remember.”
“Wouldn’t be able to forget it,” Marilyn said, with her head high as she flounced toward the kitchen in a huff.
BOOK: When You Dance With The Devil (Dafina Contemporary Romance)
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