Gwynne Forster - One Night With You

He seemed pensive for a moment. “Ordinarily, I’d say, why not? But all things considered…Look. I’ll walk down there with you Saturday morning. It’s very lonely, and you hardly ever meet anyone, so…”

“Okay. Will we go before or after I do my marketing?”

“After. It’s cold out there early mornings. Let’s say…about eleven.”

She looked at him while he savored the dessert with obvious relish, and her gaze focused on his long and tapered fingers, smooth hands that seemed so strong when they held her. “Do you play the piano or any other string instrument, Reid?”

“Piano and guitar. How’d you happen to ask?”

“Your hands are perfect for both. Nice hands.”

“Thanks.”

He stopped eating and gazed at her until she said, “Would you like some more?”

“I don’t have any more space, or I’d love more. It was delightful.” He still looked at her as if he wanted to find something in her, something that he hoped was hidden there.

“You make it very comfortable for a man, and you do it without trying. Thanks for the dinner.” He leaned back in his chair and focused upon her so intently that she squirmed. And he realized it because he said, “I’m sorry. I’d better go. See you Saturday morning at eleven.” He wrote something on the label of the wine bottle and said, “Call if I can be of help.”

He stood, patted his pockets for his keys and, as if he suddenly remembered, took the dessert dishes to the kitchen, and was soon heard moving around there and whistling as if he were at home. He didn’t ask for help or information, and she didn’t offer any. It appeared that an architect followed some logic in the kitchen and the arrangement of its contents, and well that was, because she didn’t dare go in there. Both of them were sitting on kegs of sexual dynamite, starved for affection.

He came back in about twenty minutes. “It’s good as new. See you Saturday.” As usual, he left without saying goodbye, and one day she would ask him why.

Talking about quicksand, Reid said to himself as he raced across Albemarle Heights. He knew himself and he knew that if he touched her, he’d want it all. She thought she was dressing down when she put on those jeans, but in them, she was sex personified. She hadn’t wanted to give him the wrong impression, but he couldn’t change what happened to him when he first saw her.

She’s between me and what Brown and Worley owe me. If their attorney learns that she and I are friends or even close acquaintances, I’ll lose that case before it starts. I think I’d better make myself useful around here and get the people of Queenstown on my side. Kendra’s right, because this is the jury pool.

Who would call him at nine o’clock at night? Certainly it couldn’t be Kendra. He didn’t know what he would do if she even hinted that she wanted him to go back there. He shrugged and rushed to the phone. She wouldn’t do it. The woman had strength as well as guts.

“Maguire speaking. Good evening.”

“Hey, Reid. This is Philip. How’s it going?”

“Philip!” He sat down in the nearest chair. “It’s great to hear from you. How’s your dad?”

“Dad’s fine. We’re anxious to know how it’s going with Marks and Connerly.”

“So far, so good.” He gave Philip the same information that he had given Kendra a little earlier. “It’s a chance. I’ll see the location for the airport terminal tomorrow and adjust my sketches accordingly. I like what I’ve seen of Jack, and I think we’ll get along.”

“You don’t know how much it pleases me to hear that. Do you think you can come down to the barbecue Easter Sunday? If so, we’ll be glad to see you. I’ll let them all know I’ve spoken with you.”

Reid hung up, gathered his laundry and put it in his laundry bag. He would drop it off at Royal Laundry—half the establishments in Queenstown had either royal or crown as a part of their name. He’d wash his socks, but he would gladly pay someone else to do the rest of it.

He got up early the next morning, made a cup of instant coffee, showered, shaved and dressed in an Oxford-gray business suit. How good it felt to be going to work as an architect again. If he wasn’t careful, he’d feel tears sliding down his face. He got into the station wagon, adjusted the seat to fit his height and headed for Caution Point. He’d driven twenty miles before the pangs in his belly reminded him that he hadn’t ingested anything that morning but instant coffee.

He pulled into a roadside restaurant, had a breakfast of melon, waffles, country sausage and perked coffee, and continued his journey. Remembering that he’d promised Marcus Hickson to get in touch with him when he went to Caution Point, he took out the cellular phone that he had bought the previous weekend and telephoned his old friend.

“Hello, Marcus, this is Reid. I’ll be in town today. Could we meet for lunch?”

“Yes, indeed. You don’t know Caution Point, so why don’t I pick you up at twelve-thirty? Where will you be?”

“At the corner of Bowder and Checkers.”

“Great. I’m driving a silver-gray Mercedes.”

“And I’ll be in a brown Cadillac station wagon. See you then.”

A gray Mercedes, eh? He hoped his friend hadn’t turned into a “rich man,” because he’d sworn to keep his feet on the ground and to associate only with people like himself. He remembered that women loved Marcus, but that Marcus had his eye on a tall lanky one who, in his opinion, was the epitome of frivolity. Well,we both had lousy taste in women. I sure hope he got over that one.

He loved the location for the terminal. With a minor adjustment, the terminal he’d sketched with a round dome above a square building would best fit the space and the environment. He sat in the office that Jack Marks had rented for him, and altered the sketch. Then, in case Jack preferred the structure that resembled a large private house or mansion, he made notes as to the necessary alterations, locked the office and went to meet Marcus.

When the big gray sedan drove up, Reid got out of his station wagon and walked across the street to meet the man he hadn’t seen since he left graduate school. He’d been in the School of Architecture and Engineering, and Marcus had been in the School of Music. They’d roomed two doors from each other in the men’s dormitory. He smiled when Marcus started toward him, and the years quickly vanished as they laid up high fives and then embraced each other, their old routine.

“You haven’t gained a pound, man,” Marcus said, “but I’ve put on sixteen.”

“Sixteen pounds is nothing on a six-foot-four-inch frame. If you’d lived my life—at least my life the last seven years—you wouldn’t weigh more, either. Where’ll we eat?”

“I assume you’re going to explain that, but if I remember properly, I’ll find out what it means only after I pry and insist.”

“Oh, I’m not that bad. Did you marry that tall, slim beauty?”

“Yes, but she split when the going got tough. I’ve got a real gem of a woman now, and she is definitely not the willowy type.”

They ate at a new Italian restaurant not far from the school where Marcus’s wife, Amanda, was the principal. “You learned a lesson,” Reid said when the conversation turned again to their pasts, “and I sure hope the hell I did.” He told Marcus about the loss of his company, his wealth and his reputation, how he’d made it back to where he was.

“I feel you, man,” Marcus said. “I came within a hair of losing my business, and if it hadn’t been for my wife, I would have. Next time you’re here, I want you to meet her and my three children. The oldest one is from my first wife, but if you see her with my wife, you’d never know it. I’m a lucky man.”

“I’m on my way back, man,” Reid said, “and it’s a great feeling.”

“Take it slow,” Marcus advised. “Be patient. If you find a good woman, latch on. She’ll make all the difference. Say, what’s wrong with me? I’m sitting here talking with a first-rate architect. Reid, I told you that I repair fine musical instruments, string instruments, and that my factory is in Portsmouth. I’m planning to open a factory here in Caution Point, and eventually—maybe two or three years hence—I’ll close the one in Portsmouth. I repair anything from a Steinway concert grand to a Stradivarius. Would you design a building for me? The place has to be humidity proof.”

“I work for Marks and Connerly, and I’m not sure you’d want to pay their fare. I’m also not sure they’d let me do it on the side. I’m straight, Marcus, so I’d have to ask. I can tell the boss of our relationship and see if that will make a difference.”

“Not being able to make your own decisions must go against your grain,” Marcus said.

“Not right now, because I know I’m lucky to be working for a company of this caliber. If I’m fortunate, I’ll be back on top and running my own company in a couple of years.” He showed Marcus his sketches for the airport terminal.

“Either one of these would work there, but I especially like this one,” Marcus said, pointing to the one with the round dome. “It’s unique and fits the area.”

“Thanks. That’s the one I prefer, but it’s a long road from this point to the laying of the corner stone.”

“I’m sure. When will you let me know whether you can design that building for me?”

“Next Monday, I hope. See you then.”

When they separated, Reid had the feeling that he was on his way. He didn’t go back to the airport, but took the shortest route to Queenstown. He parked the station wagon in the company’s parking lot, locked it and went to his office.

“You’re back?” Jack Marks asked him when he answered the intercom. “Are you satisfied? I’m not asking for a report, but I’m anxious to know whether you’re comfortable with what you’ve done so far.”

“I am, indeed,” Reid said. “I need to make a couple of very minor changes. We can meet tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“You bet I’d like. How about lunch? Is twelve-thirty good?”

“Fine,” Reid said. “That’s my preferred lunchtime.”

“I’ll stop by for you,” Jack told him.

It would be a memorable lunch. “I love this one,” Jack said referring to the one with the round dome. “It’s perfect. Maybe we can use this other one for something else. It’s very imaginative.” He snapped his fingers. “It would make a great golf clubhouse. Put it under lock and key. If I can close a deal I’m working on, you’ve got another job.”

Reid told Jack about Marcus’s request. “I told him that I wouldn’t do it on the side without your permission and that if you didn’t like that idea, I’d ask if we could lower the price for him.”

Jack’s thick fingers brushed back and forth across his chin. “It doesn’t seem to be a huge job, does it?”

“The biggest problem will be to control the humidity. It’s close to the Sound.”

“Right. There’re some materials you can install in addition to air conditioning. Tomorrow, I’ll write you a letter giving permission. I don’t have time today.”

“Are you sure it’s all right, Jack?”

“It isn’t something we would normally do, and I want to encourage you to tackle unusual jobs. It’s good experience. By the way, Connerly and I have decided to change your title from assistant architect to architect. It makes more sense.”

“Does it carry more pay?”

“Sure. A lot more. I’ll ask the accountant to send you a note, and you’ll get a personnel action sheet in a day or so.”