Seven
“I
feel like I missed curfew,” Mollie said morosely as Gray drove the last mile to home. “I did that once. Only once. My mother was waiting at the door for us, arms crossed, foot tapping. I was grounded for two weeks.”
“How late were you?”
“Well... an hour, but we had a good reason.”
Gray smiled. She had probably used the same tone of righteous indignation with her mother on that fateful night. He couldn’t remember being grounded for anything. Probably because he spent his free time working instead of going out with friends. He hadn’t played sports or held an office or joined an on-campus club “What was your ‘good reason’?”
“We fell asleep.”
“Where?”
“In his car.”
“Where?”
“Well...parked by the lake, but we hadn’t done anything.” She flipped her hair behind her shoulder with her hand. “Not much, anyway. Didn’t you ever get caught?”
“I never parked with a girl.”
“Never?”
He shook his head at her incredulous tone.
“You missed out, Gray. Necking in a car is fun. It’s exciting It’s dangerous,” she added with a dramatic whisper. “The cop know the places the kids use, so every once in a while they sneak up alongside the car and flash their light in your eyes then send you home.”
“You, meaning
you?
Or
you
in the general sense?”
“The reason we were only an hour late that night was because a cop rousted us.”
Rousted. Gray laughed at the scene he imagined. “I wish I’d been the one in the car with you.”
“You
would’ve set your watch alarm so we wouldn’t be late.’
He laughed again, feeling as free and easy as one of the sea gulls they’d watched at the beach. He turned into the driveway and eased the car down the path, then he heard Mollie sigh, loud and deep.
“Will your parents have waited on lunch because of us being fifteen minutes late?”
“Probably.”
“Great. Another reason for your mother not to like me. No to mention the sand we’re tracking in with us, which means we need to clean up first. Which will make lunch even later.”
“We would have to change, regardless. Shorts are not allowed at the dining room table. Anyway, I’m the one to blame. I didn’ want to leave.”
He’d obeyed all the rules that Mollie had set down as they’d driven to Half Moon Bay. Serious topics were prohibited, es pecially anything to do with business. Computer was a forbidden word. Fun was the only order of the day. And watching her fact when she stepped onto the beach for the first time, then wade into the ocean was worth any comment his mother might make
“Is there an outside shower?” she asked. “Or a back entrance where we can sneak in?”
There were both, but he wanted his parents to see them like this—sandy, windblown, a little sunburned. Relaxed. He wanted them to hear him laugh, to enjoy the sound as much as he had the past few days. He wanted to hear his parents laugh.
If anyone could manage that feat it would be Miss Mollie Sunshine, whose hands were clenched and whose gaze was focused unwaveringly on the house.
“Don’t get so worked up about this,” he said as he parked the car.
“I want your mother to like me.”
“I know.” He came around to her side of the car and helped her brush off the sand that had dried on her legs, wishing suddenly that he’d taken her to his hotel instead. They shouldn’t have had to cut short their day at the beach. He could’ve watched her for hours as she sifted sand between her fingers, her eyes full of wonder, her hair a fiery red under the sun, her skin flushed. She’d laughed with pure pleasure as crabs scampered across the sand and up the rocks. She’d exclaimed over seeing tiny fish swim around her ankles. If they hadn’t been so rushed she might have seen a seal or two.
He would bring her back sometime.
“Good day, Endicott,” Mollie said as they strolled through the open door.
“Miss.”
“Don’t you get Sunday off?”
“Generally so.”
“So, how come you’re here?”
“I didn’t want to miss Mr. McGuire’s visit.”
Disappointed that his parents weren’t on hand to see them arrive, Gray had been urging Mollie along, then stopped at the surprising declaration. “Thank you, Endicott,” he said. “Thank you very much.”
“I’ll tell your mother you’ll be along presently.”
“Better give us fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mollie had been watching Gray’s face throughout the exchange. He was pleased at Endicott’s words. How very little it took to make him happy, she thought He was starved for personal attention, a personal touch. She could understand why, of course. If you didn’t grow up with open affection, you didn’t know how to show it. She’d touched him every chance she’d gotten at the beach, but he’d never instigated touching, always keeping his hands clenched or stuffed in his pockets, as if afraid she might reject him.
She blamed his mother for that.
“Race you to the rooms,” she said under her breath as the) reached the bottom step of the staircase.
He took off.
“Hey!” She followed as fast as she could, but he took the stairs three at a time, then disappeared down the hall before she made it to the top. He was holding her bedroom door open for her when she got there, panting.
“You—” she gasped “—cheated.”
“You’re a poor loser,” he said amiably. “Break your earlier record for changing clothes, will you? But try to look composed.”
Shaking her head, she laughed, appreciating the friendlier more open Gray. She was good for him. She wondered if he recognized that.
“You must spend a lot of time out here,” Mollie said to Gretchen as they strolled through the garden later.
“Almost every morning. I do love my flowers.” She carried her clippers and a flat basket, snipping blossoms as they walked setting the blooms atop the wicker. “You must, as well, being a florist.”
“Oh, yes. I have to use a wholesaler, but flowers from a backyard garden smell so good. I’d like to have one of my own someday.”
“How did you come to own a flower shop at so young an age?”
“My mother bought the shop when I was a baby, and I grew up there. It’s all I know how to do.”
“My son told me your mother passed away recently. Please accept my condolences.”
“Thank you.” Mollie was positive she was going to say something wrong—something to embarrass Gray—so she said as little as possible.
“My mother passed away when I was young, too. I lacked guidance after that.” She looked into the horizon. “I made mistakes.”
“Like what?” Horrified, Mollie immediately apologized. “I don’t have the right to ask you.”
“It’s quite all right, my dear. Let’s sit, shall we?”
They sat on a stone bench, surrounded by fragrant roses and warmed by the sun. Mollie glanced toward Gretchen, waiting, noting the differences between Gray’s mother and hers. Karen would have linked arms with Mollie, buried her face in the blossoms along the way, stopping to enjoy each rose bush, whereas Gretchen merely admired and snipped. Both were slender, but Gretchen seemed...brittle. Karen’s hair had once been the burnished copper of Mollie’s, then had grayed attractively. Gretchen’s champagne-colored hair didn’t reveal one softening strand of gray. Mollie didn’t have anything against hair coloring, just that the well-lacquered style only added to the woman’s brittleness.
“I was lonely,” Gretchen said at last. “I mamed a man I shouldn’t have because of that loneliness.”
“Gray’s father?”
Her expression didn’t change. “Yes.”
“Gray doesn’t speak of him. I know that he died, but that’s all.”
“I doubt Gray remembers much of him, and what he remembers is probably distorted, as children’s memories often are. James has been much more of a father to him.”
“He speaks respectfully of your husband.”
“James is largely responsible for Gray’s drive, as well as his success. He set a good example. I wish I hadn’t been in such a hurry to marry. James and I are much more suited.”
“But then you wouldn’t have Gray.”
Gretchen’s face softened. “Naturally, you’re right. And Gray is everything to me. Everything. There is much yet for him to accomplish.”
And you aren’t part of his plans.
Mollie heard the words as if they’d been spoken aloud. “Mrs. McGuire, are you worried that he’s about to marry me?”
She seemed genuinely startled by the question. “Oh, no. He assures me that marriage isn’t on his agenda. I gather he feels sorry for you, because you lost your mother.”
Pity? Perhaps that was part of his feelings for her. But not all, Mollie thought. Not all. His mother hadn’t seen him playing at the beach that afternoon. Mollie had. If anyone was to be pitied, it was Gray.
“You’re young. You have so much ahead of you. The anguish of your mother’s death will fade in time. And I’m sure you’ll meet a nice man who can buy you a house where you can grow your garden.”
“And my children. At least four,” Mollie added cheerfully. If Mrs. McGuire had intended to break Mollie’s self-confidence, she’d failed miserably. Gray was the one who mattered. No one and nothing else did.
“Four? My. That would be a major undertaking.”
“I didn’t like being an only child. I want my children to have each other when something wonderful or terrible happens.” Mollie gave the woman credit. She didn’t defend her decision to have only one child. Instead she stood, tucked her arm through the basket and looked toward the house.
“The men will be ensconced in the office for hours yet. Is there something you’d like to do?”
“You will be attending the board of directors meeting next week?”
Gray heard his stepfather’s questioning tone, but understood the command that it really was. “I’ll be there.” He wandered to the window, which overlooked the backyard, and saw Mollie strolling from the house to the pool. Over her shoulder lay a towel from her bathroom—which would give his mother fits in itself. She wore a deep purple swimsuit with high-cut legs and a modest neckline. Her breasts were molded by the shimmery, almost-form-fitting fabric.
She didn’t test the water, but dropped her towel, sat on the side of the pool and slipped in. She’d told him earlier that she wasn’t a strong swimmer, so he guessed she would stay in the shallow end and splash around. Entertaining herself seemed easy for her, while he’d always needed a computer in front of him for that.
“People have begun to express concern about how much you’re away from the office these days,” James said.
“Since I haven’t taken a vacation in fifteen years, I think ‘people’ should cut me some slack.” He watched Mollie jump up and down, joy in her face.
“I’m not concerned with what other people think, son. My concern is where you’re spending your time.”
“Minneapolis is my place of birth. I was curious.”
“It was my birthplace, as well. If you have questions...”
“Thanks, but I’m finding the answers myself.” He felt James come up beside him, so he moved away from the window, not wanting to share the view of Mollie playing in the pool. He recalled her race to be able to buy hot-fudge sundaes, then her remark that she made a good living.
He wished he could live as she did—day to day, simply, doing what he loved to do. Instead, he fit too much into each day, trying to stay abreast of every facet of McGuire Enterprises and the business world at large. There were social obligations, charity obligations, family obligations. He was tired of what his life had become.
What do you want?
The question echoed and bounced.
Something of my own,
came the answer in a loud, clear, distinct voice.
He could hear James talking, but the words were garbled in the maelstrom in his head. He was too young to be having a midlife crisis, but he seemed to be having one of major proportions. And he didn’t believe the crisis would end until he’d avenged his father—his real father—and Mollie, too.
Gray spoke over his shoulder to his stepfather as he left the room, impolitely abrupt. “If you’ll excuse me, I see that Mollie is without company. She’s my guest, after all.” He hurried upstairs, pulled on some swim trunks, then took the servants’ staircase down to the backyard.
He found her sitting on the edge of the pool, leaning back on her hands and moving her feet leisurely through the water. She knew how to relax. Her head was tipped toward the sky, the position arching her back and thrusting her breasts upward.
She saw him coming and smiled. “All done working?”
“For now.” He sat beside her, feeling someone’s eyes on him as he did so. James’s or his mother’s? Both? He could almost hear them discussing him. “I brought you a pool towel. It’s over there with mine on the lounge chair.”