Her Secret Life. Gwynne Forster

at the thought of not seeing him that she sat in her dressing room taking deep breaths to calm her emotions for ten minutes before heading for the bar.

      Chapter 3

      Warren left the soup kitchen at twenty minutes past one, hailed a taxi and made it to LaGuardia airport at five after two. He breathed a sigh of relief when the plane took off at three o’clock as scheduled. He wasn’t in a habit of disappointing his mother, and certainly not on Thanksgiving Day. He put his key into the lock of her front door at five o’clock and walked into the waiting arms of his nieces and nephew. He hugged them and went to find his mother, a stately woman of considerable accomplishment and of whom he was extremely proud. He walked into the kitchen, opened his arms to her and enjoyed her embrace, the love that he knew he could always count on, for no matter where he was or what he did, he was her son, and she loved him.

      “Where’s Dot?” He loved his only sister and hated not seeing her when he went home.

      “She went to buy some charcoal. The children want to toast marshmallows after dinner tonight. How long can you stay?”

      “I just came for dinner. I need to be back in New York by midnight.”

      She raised an eyebrow. “I won’t ask what you’ll do at midnight that you can’t do tomorrow morning, but you know your business.”

      “I have an early appointment, and I want to be sure that I make it on time.”

      She smiled and patted his shoulder. “That makes sense. Hold the pan while I turn this bird.”

      He did as she asked, but his thoughts were elsewhere. What would she think of Jackie? If he didn’t tell her that Jackie was a cocktail waitress, she wouldn’t guess it. I can’t have a woman whose occupation I dislike. Oh hell! I’m not making sense. He sat on the high stool beside the kitchen window and watched his mother make biscuits as he’d done since childhood.

      “Have you found a nice girl yet, son?” He expected that question at least once during his visit, because she never failed to ask it. What could he say? He’d found one that he wanted desperately, but he wouldn’t say she would be his life’s choice.

      “You always ask me that, Mom,” he said, hoping to put her on the defensive. “I don’t meet many women like you and Dot, but I’m open to being swept off my feet.”

      She rubbed the flour off her hands and wiped them on a paper towel. “In other words, you’ve met someone, and you’re keeping her close to your chest.”

      He nearly fell off the stool. If she was clairvoyant, she’d never mentioned it to him. “You’re right. I’m in the process of figuring out what to do about her, and when I know, I’ll be glad to tell you. But for now, there’s nothing to tell. Is Rob coming in today?”

      “No. Your brother-in-law flew out last night, and he’ll fly to Russia before he comes home. Then he’ll have two days off. People think a pilot leads a glamorous life, but every time I see Rob, he’s just tired.”

      Warren looked out of the window, saw his sister building a fire with the charcoal bricks she’d just bought, and got up. “I see Dot’s back and building a fire in the barbecue pit. I’m going out to help her.

      He greeted his sister with a hug, helped her build the fire and strolled around the property that he’d given to their parents. As he gazed at the beautiful house, terrace, gardens and swimming pool, he was more proud of that gift to his parents than of anything he’d ever attained. But his father was gone now, and his mother was there alone, except when Dot and Rob brought her grandchildren to see her.

      He went back into the house. “Mom, did you ever consider marrying again?”

      She seemed startled. “Good Lord, no. Whatever made you think such a thing?”

      “It’s not so far-fetched. You need someone to share this with. It isn’t good to be alone so much.”

      She pulled a chair from the table and sat near him. “Are you in love with this woman you’ve met?”

      There it was, a mother’s uncanny intuition. “I don’t think so, but it could develop into that. I’d rather not talk about her, because I don’t want to influence myself one way or the other.”

      She sat there silently looking at him for a few minutes. He was used to that. Finally, she said, “I’ll pray that it works out in the way that’s best for you.”

      “Thanks.” He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “She’s…she’s so sweet. She’s so unbelievably sweet.” When he opened his eyes, a smile glowed on his mother’s face.

      “I’m happy for you, son. When you think it’s appropriate, bring her to see me.”

      “If I get to that stage, I certainly will.”

      He helped his mother and his sister put the dinner on the table, and at six-thirty, they all sat down to a traditional Thanksgiving dinner of the type he’d known all of his life: corn chowder, roast turkey with cornbread dressing, cranberry relish, mustard greens, candied sweet potatoes and apple pie à la mode. His father hadn’t liked pumpkin pie, so his mother never served it.

      At the end of the meal, he helped take the dishes to the dishwasher, clean the kitchen and straighten the dining room. “I’ll bet you don’t know another executive who’s willing to scrape dishes and clean up after a meal like this one,” Dot said to him. “As long as you stay this close to earth, brother, you’ll be a happy man, and the woman who gets you will be blessed.”

      “Thanks,” he said to his older sibling, “but don’t tell me that. I’m acting the way I was raised. Well, I gotta split if I’m going to make that plane.” He hugged his sister and her children and went to find his mother.

      “Thanks for a great dinner, Mom. I’ll call you when I get home.”

      She walked with him to the door and wrapped him in her arms. “Get home safely, and don’t forget to pray.”

      “I won’t,” he said.

      An hour and a half later, he fastened his seat belt, said a word of prayer, leaned back and trusted God and the pilot of the Delta Airlines flight to bring the plane to New York City.

      He walked into his apartment at five minutes after eleven, phoned his mother and began checking his calls. Three calls from the manager of his Honolulu hotel. She had fired the head of housekeeping and wanted to know if it was appropriate to hire a man for the job. He dialed her number. “Ms. Frazier, this is Warren Holcomb. As you know, we run an equal-opportunity business. If the man is your best-qualified candidate, and if he has a suitable personality and temperament, hire him.”

      “The maids want a woman.”

      “I’m sure you know how to tell them that you do your job as you see fit. You have my support. Good luck with it.” He hung up and waited for half past twelve when he could call Jackie.

      Jackie kicked off her sandals, stepped out of the mini-skirt and low-cut blouse, jumped into her dress, zipped it up, slipped into her shoes and coat, grabbed her handbag and raced out of Allegory. If he called, she didn’t want to miss it, because he might not call back. She hailed a taxi, got in and breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t encountered Hornsby on her way out. He’d have used any pretense to delay her departure. She’d been home less than ten minutes when the phone rang. She ran to answer it and stood beside it with her left hand holding her chest as she tried to calm herself.

      “Hello.”

      “Hello. This is Warren.” The air seeped out of her. “Are you there?”

      “Uh…yes. Did you go see your folks?”

      “I did indeed, and I got home a little after eleven. Do you realize how long an hour can be?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I