Authors: Kathy Reinhart
“Estate? I’m even more intrigued. How big is it?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know in acres but I’ll tell you this, when I was a kid, I thought Willoughby Manor was bigger than the whole town and I thought that my grandfather must be the president because only the president or Elvis could live in a house like this.”
We continued to drive along the tree-lined road and although there was still no sign of buildings, the trees had become more evenly spaced and the grounds appeared to be groomed. Making our way up a slight incline, my eyes opened wide as we topped the knoll and drove through open cast iron gates.
“Oh my God.”
“Yes, its impressive and walking the grounds would make one feel like they’re in a fairy tale... until they get inside and meet the ogre.”
“That isn’t nice.”
“Keep in mind, I know him better and after meeting him, you may be saying a lot worse.”
I rolled my eyes, as he parked alongside a vintage Thunderbird.
I stepped out of the car in awe of the enormity of the house. It was an old, stately home with ribbons of color; tulips, hyacinths and rose bushes setting off a wrap around porch, French windows and almost a dozen steps leading to double wooden doors with etched glass centers. The grounds were immaculate with mature pin oaks and border shrubs and past the gazebo sat a beautiful hand-built pond complete with rocks, plants, running water and three dozen Hatari and Koi, according to Con.
The tranquility that surrounded the stately house was unlike anything in the city or even the rest of Willoughby. The sounds of running water, trees rustling and birds chirping were enough to put a person in a peaceful state of being.
“I grew up in Willoughby and I never knew this was here. I’d seen the road before but always thought it was just a road to nowhere that the kids used for parking.”
“This estate has been in my grandfather’s family for five generations, and given the chance, he’ll tell you all about it.”
Con took hold of the old brass knocker with hesitation. “Just remember, you asked to come here.”
His remark brought my first pang of apprehension. I nodded, “I did, didn’t I?”
He smiled and the knocker came down on the brass striking plate in three loud thuds.
I bit down on my lip as the door handle slowly turned. The door opened and a big-bosomed woman in a simple gray dress squealed with delight, “Connor, my boy. Come here and give me a hug. Why do you wait so long between visits?”
Con wrapped his arms around the woman, giving her what she requested. Turning to me, he said, “Meg, this is Ivory...” The affection in his eyes was apparent, as he continued, “She’s been like a second mother to me and the only person—other than my grandmother—who could put up with Joker for any length of time.”
Ivory let out a belly laugh. “The ornery one. Yes well, he’s an acquired taste.” She extended her hand. “Ivory Steck, I’m the housekeeper here, and you are?”
Taking her hand, I replied, “Meg, Meg Embry.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Embry?” Turning her attention to Con, she asked, “Is your grandfather expecting you... better yet, is your grandfather expecting
her
?”
Offering a mischievous smile, Con answered, “I thought we’d surprise him.”
Shaking her head, she motioned us in and said, “Oh, you will. The man’s over seventy-years-old, you may just be dishing up his last surprise.”
I found her remark disturbing and turned to Con for reassurance. He smiled and shook his head at Ivory.
“Mom used to say there wasn’t enough arsenic in the world to kill him off so I wouldn’t worry about this fazing him.”
Ivory let out another full-belly laugh, causing her large chest to vibrate and then led us from the foyer, down a long hall.
The house was enormous with pressed tin ceilings that had to be at least twelve feet high, an open staircase that was a solid six feet wide and plank flooring covered with enough lacquer to reflect the light that streamed through the floor to ceiling windows. Carved in intricate detail, the woodwork was commonplace in a house built over a century ago. Antique furniture filled every corner of every room and framed artwork hung on the walls.
The hallway ended at a set of French doors, the glass panes covered by white lace curtains. Ivory stopped in front of the doors, turned toward us, and said, “Good luck,” as she knocked twice.
From the other side of the door, I heard, “What is it?” barked out in an annoyed tone.
Ivory appeared unaffected by his rudeness. “Your grandson is here to visit. Shall I send him in?”
“Grandson? It’s been so damn long since I’ve seen the boy; I almost forgot I had one. Yeah, get him on in here.”
Ivory opened the door, offering a sympathetic smile.
Con patted her arm, and whispered, “Don’t worry Ivory; I’ll get her out before he hurts her.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat. What had I gotten myself in to? I looked up in time to catch the wink he gave Ivory and let out the breath I had been holding.
Twenty-Two
...I searched his eyes for a better answer, but couldn’t find one. As he closed the gap between us, I found myself lost, lost in a sea of desire with the only man who could save me...
Con walked into the room first, while I followed about three feet behind him. His grandfather was sitting in a high backed chair faced toward the open windows. Con motioned for me to sit in one of the tapestry chairs on the front side of the large antique desk, as he sat in the other one.
Without turning to face us, Joker bellowed, “It’s about good goddamn time you came to see me, boy.”
“It’s been less than two weeks.”
He retaliated, “At my age that’s a long goddamn time,” and spun his chair around to face us.
I don’t know who was more surprised, him to see a stranger sitting beside his grandson, or me, who was expecting him to look completely different.
Somehow, I had imagined a large, angry-looking man. I pictured a heavy man sitting alone in his smoke-filled study, barking orders at the world, but there was no resemblance to the man I imagined.
He was a be-speckled man with a smaller frame and a receded hairline, who looked like he could have been one of the friendly ushers at church. He had an intelligent look about him and his eyes were hard to read.
He looked at me briefly and turned his attention to Con. “Who in the hell is that? You know I don’t like uninvited guests.”
“This is a friend of mine.”
“Well, you brought her, didn’t you? So I would have assumed that,” he scoffed. “Who is she?”
I found myself amazed at the level of calmness that Con displayed in the presence of such an ill-tempered person.
“Her name is Meg, she’s my girlfriend.”
Joker displayed no emotion, as he mocked, “How sweet. What’s she doing here?”
“I brought her here to meet you, so could you be just a little more hospitable?”
Closing the open file on his desk, he replied, “I’m not in her home, she’s in mine. You hear what I’m saying? I don’t owe her hospitality and if she doesn’t like that—she can make her way to the goddam door!”
I felt the heat rush to my face in a fury. My first instinct was to cry, but his total lack of respect and class had ensured that he would not see tears. Instead, my anger took control of me.
“Grandpa, that’s enough.” Con spoke firmly and with resentment.
I interrupted. “You’re right, that is enough.” Turning my attention to Joker, I stared at him, my heart filled with disbelief. “What is your problem? I’m sitting right here, why are you talking about me in the third person?” I shook my head in disgust. “You’re a real piece of work. Here I thought everyone was exaggerating about you, I thought you couldn’t possibly be as bad as what they made you out to be. They understated! You are meaner and more hateful than anything they could have described and you make me sorry that I came out here and even sorrier that I was actually looking forward to it.”
The silence in the room had become deafening, when Joker looked at me and politely asked, “Are you through because heaven knows, I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”
Unable to speak, I nodded.
“Good.” Turning his attention to Con, he bellowed, “What the hell are you trying to do to me? If I wanted that much spit and vinegar, I’d pay a visit to your mother.”
Con shook his head. “You had it coming.”
Joker laid one hand on his desk and leaned his weight on the arm of his chair. He looked back and forth between me and Con. Eventually, his expression softened and he shook his head.
“So, you’ve got a name, Meg. Is there anymore to it or is it one of those one word names like... God or... Liberace?”
I froze. He was already angry, I knew the effect my last name would have on him and I found myself petrified to speak.
Con said, “Her name is Meg...”
Joker cut him off sharply. “She doesn’t like when I talk about her in third person, so why are you doing it? She could speak when she was ripping me a new ass, so she can speak now. You hear what I’m saying?” Turning his attention back to me, he forced a smile and calmly said, “Tell me a little bit about you, Meg.”
My mouth opened several times but nothing came out. My hands began to sweat and my heart raced. I looked to Con who nodded and whispered, “It’s sooner or later...”
Through Con, I found the strength to look Joker in the eyes and without faltering, say, “My name is Meg Embry.” I watched Joker’s mouth drop open, as I continued, “Stewart Embry is my grandfather.”
It took him a mere split second to compose himself as he slammed his hand to the desk and said to Con, “What in sam hell are you doing bringing a goddam Embry into my home? This is out and out treason. Have you no respect for me, boy?”
I watched as Con reacted to his grandfather’s verbal badgering without batting an eye. I wondered if all the years of being subjected to it had numbed him.
“It’s got nothing to do with respect, Grandpa. Whatever happened between you and Stewart has nothing to do with us.”
“And that’s a pile of shit. A million goddam girls to pick from and you have to pick this one. That old bastard probably sent her here to spy on me, and my own flesh and blood is aiding and abetting the enemy.”
Con stood and took hold of my hand. Looking Joker in the eyes, he said, “They’re your demons Grandpa, not ours. You deal with them,” as we turned and left the room.
We could hear Joker yelling, “A grandson who respects me, is that too much to ask? Next thing you know he’ll be looking to move the whole goddam Embry clan in here. Jesus Christ, Ivory, bring me my pills.”
When we reached the foyer, Ivory was waiting for us.
Pulling Con into her bosom, she hugged him tightly and said, “You lasted three minutes longer than I thought you would.” Releasing him, she turned to me, and said, “You did real well in there. You stand your ground with him—he’ll hate it, but he’ll respect you for it.”
I waited until after our goodbye, once we were safely in the car and on our way back to Upper Darby before I inhaled one, deep breath, exhaling slowly.
“Is this an appropriate time for ‘I told you so’?”
“My grandfather was kind in his description. He just said they were enemies.” I threw a hand and shook my head. “Why does he lash out like that?”
He shrugged. “Can’t say as though anyone really has an answer, although my mother said it has something to do with his father. I guess his father pushed him real hard... expected a lot from him and eventually, Joker did the same thing to my dad. All that pushing made Joker strong...” He turned his head away from me. “...but it broke my father.”
“I’m sorry.” I took hold of his hand and caressed it lightly.
Con shook off his memory, turned to me and said, “So when would you like to go back?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. You have to go back. You see, part of the reason he did that was to keep you from coming back. He doesn’t like anyone to get too close... it’s a trust thing. You have to show him that you don’t scare that easily.”
“But I do!”
He laughed. “He’s crass, obnoxious, sarcastic and just downright mean most of the time, but he’ll come around. As much as he’s capable.”
“Even if my last name is Embry?”
“According to my grandmother, our grandfather’s were once friends, until their father’s found out and put a stop to it.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “From what I hear, there’s quite a history between them.”
“It sounds that way.” I thought a moment and then asked, “Aren’t you just a little curious as to what happened between them?”
“To tell you the truth, I got a little tired of hearing the stories over the years.” Flashing me a smile, he added, “Until I met you.”
I ignored the tingle that inched its way up my back. “Well, give me a day or two to recover from this visit and we’ll see.”