1 3 7 – ZOË (6 page)

He looked at me like I was crazy.  “I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world!”

“Then why don’t you want to make love to me?”
I finally blurted out.

“It’s not that…I just don’t want to get caught
in the park by the police!”

“Please?”

“Zoë …”

I put on my sexiest pouty face. 
“
Please?
”

Michael looked at
me the way a father looks at a child whining for a toy.  “All right,” he finally agreed with a sigh.  “Just this once.”

He dr
ove until he found the same spot where we had made love over two decades ago.  Not much had changed.  

I unbuckled my
seat belt and kissed my husband.  “Thank you, this means a lot to me, Michael.”

He stroked
my hair and kissed my neck.  I pressed myself against him as I unbuckled his seat belt and moved to straddle him in the car.  He moaned in pleasure.  Without prompting, he untied the straps of my halter top dress, allowing the triangular flaps to fall and reveal my bare breasts.  I tilted my head back as he caressed and kissed them.

“Michael…”

One of his hands moved up my thigh as he lowered the seat back.  We heard laughter outside and Michael sat up with a jolt.  He practically pushed me off of him.  Two teenage boys were walking behind the foliage near the car.

“I told you this was a bad idea,”
Michael hissed angrily.

I tied the straps of my dress
quickly.  “Oh, Michael, it’s just a couple of kids.  They probably didn’t even notice us.”

He frowned and started the engine
.  “Still, I can’t take any chances.”

W
e drove home in silence and the mood had been broken.  Michael remained in his office while I went upstairs to bed.  I felt bad about the entire evening and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and forget about it.

“
Come on, just a taste,” Michael pleaded.

I
was standing between my husband and Juana, who was holding a large baking pan containing a succulent, golden turkey. 

“It’s not fully cooked yet, Mr. Adams,” Juana said.

“Please?” he persisted.

“You heard the woman, it’s not cooked.  You’ll get sick,” I warned.

He wasn’t convinced, however.  “It certainly looks cooked.”

“See?” Juana pointed at the thermometer stuck in the bird’s chest.  “It hasn’t popped out yet.”

A slight frown creased Michael’s brow as he looked at me.  “I remember someone pleading for something a couple of months ago and I gave in,” he said, referring to the park incident.

“That was then and this is now,” I retorted playfully.
  “Besides, I didn’t get what I wanted, did I?”

Michael pouted and let the matter drop
.  Nothing had come from the sexy park incident last September.  The teenage boys had seen nothing.  The matter was laid to rest and I never asked anything risky of my husband again.

“Dinner will be served shortly, Mr. Adams,” Juana said consolingly.

“Sure thing,” he said, finally giving up and leaving the kitchen. 

Mar
ia was at the sink peeling and chopping potatoes while Juana continued to baste the turkey.  A peppy tune was coming out of the surround sound system, and the autumn sunshine was pouring in from the many glass walls.  It was a good day.

I didn’t tell Michael th
at I had invited Lance for today’s feast, nor did I tell him about the date I enjoyed with his brother at the Smithsonian the week before.  Lance had initially refused my Thanksgiving invitation, but after much persuasion, he finally agreed.

“
I’m going out for a walk,” Michael said, poking his head through the kitchen’s entrance as he put on his jacket.

“D
on’t be too long. The guests should be here shortly,” I said.

He nodded and walked out the front door.

“Mrs. Adams?” Maria called from the sink.

“Yes
?”

“Which of the table linens shall I use to set the table?”

“Good question.  I wonder if Michael kept the set my grandmother gave me.”

Maria gave me a sly look. 
“Maybe it’s in the trunk upstairs.” 

There was something contrived about
the way Maria had mentioned the trunk.  Juana’s reprimanding look confirmed that she had indeed spoken out of turn.

“What
trunk?” I demanded.

“Maria doesn’t know what she’s talking about,
Mrs. Adams,” Juana replied, visibly flustered.  “It’s just an old trunk Mr. Adams keeps in the attic with some odds and ends.  I’m sure your grandmother’s linens would not be in there.”

“
Oh, I’ll go and have a look anyway.”

Juana took a step forward as if to bar my way.  “No!”  At the sight of my surprised expression, she quickly added, “It won’t be in there.  I’ll check the top shelf in the pantry, instead.”

“No, I’ll check the trunk.  Maria, please take me to it,” I said.

Out of the corner of my
eye I saw Maria’s satisfied expression.

Juana pursed her lips.  “
You have so many lovely linens and your guests will be here soon,” she persisted.

Now I had to see what was inside that trunk. 
I grabbed Maria’s hand.  “Come on, let’s go.”

Juana moved as though she would accompany
us and I held up my hand in protest.  “No, Juana, you stay.”

Juana gave Maria a warning look before
we left the kitchen.  I walked beside Maria in silence until we reached the attic.  There were several boxes and old furniture strewn about the large space.

“Where is it
?” I asked.

Maria pointed towards a large
window.  I walked over and found a brown leather trunk hidden behind a partial wall.  It reminded me of a set of classic Louis Vuitton ocean voyage trunks that I had once spotted in a vintage shop several years ago.  Only this one was custom-made to look old when in fact it was new.  Even the brass trim and corners were still shiny.  Upon closer examination, I noticed the leather was patterned with tiny swirls and looked costly.  I knelt down and attempted to push open the lid, but it was locked.

“Maria?  Would you come here, please?”

There was a moment of hesitation before she reluctantly obeyed.  “Yes, Mrs. Adams?”

“This is locked.  Do you have a key?”

“Mr. Adams has the only key.”

Again I detected something contrived in her tone.  “How do you know so much about this trunk, anyway?”

She shrugged.  An odd smile played about her lips.  “I pay attention to things.”

What the hell did
that
mean?  I wasn’t in the mood to play games in order to find out.  “I see.  Very well, then,” I said, standing up.  “I guess I’ll have to use other linens.”

We walked downstairs in silence. 
Juana looked to Maria in askance as we reentered the kitchen.

“It’
s locked,” I said.  I didn’t want to make an issue of it, at least not today.

“
I’m sorry, I should have told you that,” Juana said apologetically.  “Mr. Adams has the only key.”

“No problem,” I said brightly.
“We’ll just use the linens stored in the pantry.  I don’t want to bother Mr. Adams about an old trunk, anyway.”

Juana
and Maria began busily spooning stuffing and cooked vegetables into serving bowls.  Neither one of them said another word, but I could feel the tension in the air.  My mind raced as I tried to come up with reasons why Juana was so upset.  What could possibly be inside of that trunk?  Had she been admonished by Michael not to speak of its existence? 

I was in the process of
placing the last piece of silverware on the table when Michael came into the room.  “How was your walk?” I asked.

“Great.  It’s a perfect
day outside.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” he replied, placing his arm around my shoulders.

“Wel
l, you’ll be happy to know I had Juana prepare your favorite dessert in addition to the traditional pumpkin pie,” I said, turning to look up at him.

“Homemade custard pudding?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes.”

“You’re the best, p
rincess.”

“Tell Juana that- she made it, not me.”

“I’ll be sure to thank her.”  Michael looked down at the table and frowned.  “You have an extra setting.”

“No, I don’t,” I
contradicted gently.

He recounted the plates
and named the guests before saying, “Yes, you do.”

I
shook my head.  Michael suddenly realized that I’d invited someone without his knowledge, and he had a pretty good idea who the mystery guest was, too.

“Zoë, tell me you didn’t invite him,” Michael said.

“I did,” I confessed.

He
sighed in annoyance.

“
Michael, he is your brother.  Thanksgiving is the time for families to get together…isn’t it time you two patched things up?”

He said nothing.

“This isn’t like you,” I said.  “The Michael I know loved his younger brother to death.  There is nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“I do love Lance, but-”

“No buts.  Family is important.  I can’t even begin to tell you how difficult today is for me without my dad here.”

He sighed again
.  “You’re right, princess.”

“Thank you, Michael.”

“I’m going upstairs to wash up and change,” he said.

I
nodded and he left the room.  I looked down at the perfectly set table.  The white porcelain china and silver utensils gleamed, and the crystal wine and water goblets sparkled.  In the center of the table was an autumnal floral arrangement surrounded by small sugar pumpkins and several glass votive holders with little candles inside.  It was warm, cozy and casually elegant. 

I went upstairs to change into a short, clingy emerald knit dress.  Black tights and
black suede boots completed the outfit.  I brushed my hair and let it fall loose down my back.  A quick application of mascara, concealer and lip gloss along with a spritz of perfume and I was done.  The doorbell rang as I was heading back downstairs.  Within a few minutes my mother and Maddy entered the dining room.

“Nice job, sis,” Madd
y said in admiration of the table.

“
Thanks, Maddy.  Hi mom.  Happy Thanksgiving!”

My mother
handed a covered dish to Juana, while Maria took their coats.

“Mom, you didn’t have to bring anything.  Juana and Maria have made m
ore than enough food.”

“Oh, I know, honey.  I just thought I’d make some of that green bean casse
role you love so much.”

“Thanks, mom, I can’t wait to taste it.  How about a drink?”

“Wine for me,” she said.  “Anything white, please.”

“Red
for me,” said Maddy.  “Cabernet if you have it.”

“
That sounds good, I’ll have the same,” I said.

Maria nodded and went into the kitchen to get the drinks.

“Where’s Michael?”  Maddy asked.

“Upstairs,
” I replied.

My sister lowered her voice and asked,
“Did you tell him you invited Lance?”

“I did.  Just now.”
             

“Well?”

“He wasn’t too thrilled at first, but then I reminded him how important family is and now he’s fine…I think.”

My mother shook her head and gave me a look of disapproval. 
“I think it’s a bad idea,” she said.

Maddy
and I turned to look at her in surprise. 

“Why do you say that
?” Maddy asked.

“Because today is not the day to r
esolve family differences.  It’s a day meant to be enjoyed.  If Michael is tense about his brother being here, then he won’t enjoy this wonderful holiday.”

“Don’t listen to her
, Zoë,” Maddy said.  “I think it should be a day of family- and Lance is family.”

Maria came in with three glasses of wine on a tray.  We helped ourselves and waited until she was out of earshot to continue our conversation.

My mother cocked her head to the side.  “I was only expressing my opinion.  Anyway, this table looks lovely.  I like the centerpiece.”

“Thanks.  Micha
el picked it out,” I said.

“
He’s got great taste.  Who else is coming?” Maddy asked.

I named
the few guests Michael had invited.  A moment later he walked into the dining room wearing a red silk sweater and tan slacks.  We stood around and chatted until the guests arrived.  The cocktails flowed freely as everyone socialized. 

Maria came into the living room where
we were congregated and whispered in my ear, “Mrs. Adams, Mr. Adams is at the door and wishes to see you before joining the other guests.”

I
was in the middle of speaking with one of Michael’s colleagues.  I politely excused myself and walked to the front door.  I found Lance standing in the entryway looking extremely handsome in casual grey wool pants and a black cashmere sweater.  His hair hung loose about his shoulders. 

Sexy
. 

I blushed furiously at the thought and
reprimanded myself.  He was my husband’s brother!

“Lance,” I sai
d, giving him a hug.

Was it wrong that I enjoyed the feel of his strong, hard body?

He bent down to kiss my cheek in greeting.  “Hey Zoë.  You look great.  Here, this is for you,” he said, handing me a bottle of wine.

“
Chateauneuf du Pape
.  How lovely,
thank you.  I’m so glad you came.”

“I
almost didn’t,” he confessed.

“D
on’t be silly.  I already told Michael you were coming and he’s fine.  Besides, mom and Maddy are here and they’re eager to see you.”

Lance sighed, unsure of what to do. 
Michael approached and we both turned to look at him in surprise.  The two men locked eyes for a long moment until Michael finally stepped forward and extended his hand.  Lance accepted it.

“Good to see you, Lance,” Michael said.

“You too, Michael.  I hope you don’t mind…Zoë invited me,” he explained awkwardly.

Michae
l smiled politely.  “Of course I don’t mind.”