The Court (27 page)

He could almost read their minds. The boy saw nothing but a middle-aged man. Nothing outstanding. He was an old friend of his mother's, a school friend, and he was from the White House and a lawyer. No big deal. He wasn't a former sports star. He didn't even know any sports stars. The lawyer didn't look like the type who was interested in fast cars, boats, or racing. There was nothing particularly outstanding about him to arouse interest in a twelve-year-old boy. The boy vaguely understood that there was the possibility that one of these visitors might end up marrying his mother. He did not understand the reason, but he accepted the fact. However, if the man from the White House was a candidate, he saw nothing in him that would give him any edge. The boy was polite but dismissed the lawyer from any further thought or interest.

The girl, on the other hand, being fifteen, viewed the male caller from an entirely different viewpoint. She was a romantic, and the man from Washington was a mysterious stranger. He wasn't bad looking, although the gray hair aged him. He wasn't handsome, but he had a nice smile and seemed gentle. The girl considered these qualities very important assets. She observed her mother's reaction carefully. Like her brother, she had heard the explanation about the old friend from high school, but with a woman's nature growing within her she sensed that the relationship at one time had been much more than that.

Her mother had been increasingly nervous since she came home from the college. She seemed irritable and easily upset as she made almost frantic preparations for the evening. A mere invitation to dinner had never produced such reactions before. The girl knew instinctively that this man was special. He did have nice eyes. Not as nice perhaps as Allen Johnson's in English Drama class, but nice nevertheless. Eyes were very important. And his voice was deep, not rumbling, but smooth and reassuring. As did her brother, she also realized that one day such a caller might be the one to marry their mother. She had daydreams about such a man, a dark and dashing man who would capture her mother the way women were captured in the paperbacks she read by the dozens. This one looked promising, but he certainly wasn't anything like a storybook cavalier.

Jerry Green made small talk as he too did some evaluating. The boy was small and looked ungainly. But perhaps he was a late bloomer and would shoot up in height and gain coordination. It all depended upon the genetic gifts of the parents. He knew Regina, of course, but he did not know her dead husband. The framed photograph on the mantle wasn't sufficient to make a judgment. The boy looked quite normal. He was bored although he did his best to conceal it. But it was obvious he was anxious to get on with his own pursuits.

The girl was unlike his memory of the young Regina. The daughter's hair was different, darker, and not as well kept. Even her complexion was different, chalky, possibly reflecting a problem with powder-concealed acne. But the eyes, the set of the chin, and her general attitude reflected the mother. Like Regina she was tall and slender, and now she was quickly blossoming into a woman's full body. But there was the suggestion of a defiant streak in her personality, which promised trouble when she became a bit older. Unlike her brother, she displayed a keen interest in the visitor. Probably assessing his suitability as a possible mate for Regina, Jerry Green thought.

He smiled at the girl and she smiled back.

Regina stood up, signaling the end of the ceremony of introduction. The boy merely nodded and then slouched off toward the rear of the house. Green could hear a television. The girl also stood up. She lacked her mother's easy grace, but perhaps that would come in time.

“Mr. Green and I will be back, probably about eleven. If there's any homework to be done, do it, I don't want any excuses.” Regina slid into the coat Green held for her. Her perfume was light but distinctive. He wondered if it was the same haunting brand he remembered from years ago. “And I want those dishes done when I come home.”

“Yes, Mother,” the girl said.

Regina turned to Jerry. “We have just one television. When I came in the other night the two of them were battling over it.”

“It was my turn, and.…”

“No fights,” her mother said firmly. “If there are any problems between you two, just let it be. I'll settle matters when I come home. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mother.” The girl gave Green one more appraising glance as they left. “Have a good time,” she called after them.

As a boy in Michigan, Green had accepted the snow as a fact of life. From late October until March or even April it was there, sometimes more, sometimes less, but there. But he had been away a long time, and now he was surprised to see the heavy flakes falling again as they came out. He helped Regina into the car, then brushed off the front and rear windows.

He climbed in and started the motor. “Do they still have Tassies?” he asked, remembering that it was the favorite restaurant after proms and for other special occasions.

“It was torn down to make way for a shopping center,” she said. “There's a nice place in Okemos called Monahan's. If you like steak, that's the place to go. They opened up only a few months ago. Their main brag is their meat; they make quite a thing out of it not being frozen but always fresh cut. I keep getting a mental picture of their kitchen, all blood and sawdust. But despite that, I do like their food.”

“Then that's the place for us.” He turned carefully to avoid skidding on the slick snow, then drove slowly toward the entrance to the condo complex. “You know the territory, so I'll drive this thing and you navigate, okay?”

The restaurant had been designed to suggest a Bavarian ski lodge. Even the waitresses wore little alpine dresses. They were escorted to a table in the rear, near a giant stone fireplace. A waitress ceremoniously lit a candle in a hurricane glass lamp, the table's centerpiece, then took their orders for drinks.

Green looked up at the ceiling, its heavy wooden beams decorated with Teutonic shields. “You would think they'd call this place Old Vienna or The Heidelberg. Monahan's sure doesn't seem to fit.”

“I understand the owner, Timothy Monahan, worked for a while as an exchange student in Switzerland.” Regina gestured toward the ceiling. “He was impressed, obviously. And I understand he's doing quite well. In a short time this has become the in place to go when you want to impress someone.” She smiled, the contours of her face accentuated by the flickering candle-light. “Of course, considering the places you're accustomed to this isn't very ritzy.”

He laughed. “Regina, ritzy will only take you so far.”

The waitress brought the drinks and menus. Regina studied her brandy, rolling the liquor in the snifter to catch the hues of the candle flame. “And you, Jerry? Do you do a lot of traveling?”

He sipped his Scotch. “Regina, are you asking me whether or not my wife is a good cook?”

Her eyes seemed to dance with silent amusement. “No. But now that you raise the question, is she?”

“My wife is much too busy for any domestic chores. We eat out a great deal. If there's any cooking, it's scrambled eggs and toast, that sort of thing.” He took another sip of Scotch. “Don't frown. It's only because of the pace of our lives. I work at least sixty or seventy hours a week. I do quite a bit of trial work, most of it before regulatory commissions. There's usually quite a bit of money at stake and that means plenty of pressure. The other side stays up late preparing, so I have to do likewise.”

“But you left all that to go back into government.”

He shook his head. “It's just a temporary thing. I'll be back at the old stand soon enough. I'm more comfortable there anyway.” He smiled. “And it pays a hell of a lot better.”

“And your wife, does she work as hard?”

“Worse. She's the world's worst workaholic. Compared to her, I'm employed part time. She's busy building her accounting firm into a national company. She's doing well at it, but it takes long hours.”

“You must not see very much of each other?”

Green thought of the nights when his wife would silently come home after three or four o'clock. He pretended to be asleep. He could always smell the odor of soap and the just-showered freshness about her. At first he had felt anger, but then he just put it out of his mind. He said nothing because he felt comfortable with their relationship. If she was being unfaithful, that was her business. As long as she didn't cause him embarrassment and no challenges were laid down, he just didn't care. She was discreet and the episodes weren't too frequent. He considered it a trade-off for the emotional steadiness she displayed. If there was no love in the household, at least it was relaxed.

“We seldom see each other,” he said. “Sometimes she works late, sometimes I do. I suppose it's the model of a yuppie marriage.” He again sipped his drink. “As I told you last night, there isn't any great joy in the arrangement.”

“Was there in your first marriage?”

“My, aren't we nosy tonight?”

She laughed without embarrassment. “I believe you are the man who was inquiring into my present love life. You started it, remember. Besides, after all these years, Jerry, it's just normal to want to know about you. But if it's painful or something, well…”

He shook his head. “It's not painful, it's just hardly worth the telling.” He looked at her. Her eyes seemed almost magical in the candlelight. They were the eyes that had always haunted him.

“After your father made it quite clear that I was unwelcome, I contemplated joining the Foreign Legion, or at the very least becoming a deckhand on a Pacific-bound freighter.”

“He wasn't all that bad, and you know it.”

Green grinned. “From your point of view, no. But from mine, I was rather pointedly unwanted.”

“It was the religious thing. All you had to do was stop by any Catholic church and get baptized, then my father would have welcomed you with open arms.”

“I'm not so sure about that.”

She nodded, a wistful sadness played across her features.

“Maybe you're right, Jerry.” She paused. “For what it's worth, I was heartbroken when you went off to college and said we should start dating other people.”

“I was hoping you were.”

She laughed. “Men can be such bastards. I suppose you felt nothing at all?”

He studied her, the soft curve of her cheek, the full lips, the eyes. “I felt like hell. It bothered me for a long time. But after the talk with your father I decided he was right and that we shouldn't see each other any more. Remember, Regina, at that age everything is deadly serious. You do a lot of role playing. I was playing Humphrey Bogart, noble, compassionate, letting you go.”

“Life is funny, isn't it? Everything turns out so differently from what you plan. My poor father finally got his fine Catholic boy, my husband Frank. Dad put on the big wedding, the High Mass, the Papal blessing, the works. And he became the typical proud grandfather, attending the christenings, and hosting the baptism parties afterward. His Irish Catholic dream. Then poor Frank's tumor took hold and my father started visiting the emergency room after the times I had been beaten up. He lived to see me divorced. God, how he fought against that, even though I was being killed. He had a heart attack several years ago and died. It had all turned sour on him.”

“I'm sorry about your father.”

“In a way, it would have been much better if he had died right after that damn wedding. It was what he wanted. He could have gone as happy as an angel.” She sipped her brandy. “But then we very seldom get what we want in life, do we, Jerry?”

“Depends on what you want.”

“Everyone wants the same thing.”

Green frowned. “And what's that?”

“Happiness,” she answered.

He snorted. “Regina, you really are a romantic. Hell, I know some politicians who lust only for power, that's all they want, not family, friends, money, love, or anything like that, only power. What about them?

“Power is their happiness, it's what they want.”

He signaled the waitress for another round of drinks. “In Washington they love to play little parlor games. Let's try one now. Regina, in all honesty, what do you want out of life? What will bring you happiness? It has to be honest.”

“You named the game, you should go first.” Her eyes narrowed with interest. “Let's hear it, Jerry. Remember, it's your game, your rules, and it has to be honest, right?”

He was about to answer, then stopped. His amusement began to turn into a feeling of panic. What did he want? He was a partner in a prestigious law firm, and he wanted to remain with the firm. It was the only ambition he could think of, the only thing he really wanted. He certainly didn't want to retire, the thought of being in close contact with his wife was repugnant. There was nothing else. Suddenly he was painfully confronted with the realization of just how empty his life really was.

“It's your game, Jerry,” she said softly.

“If I answer, I'll sound like such a shit that you'll be ashamed of me.”

“I doubt that.”

“I just want to hang on in the law firm where I am.”

“That's all?”

He felt himself coloring. “It's a stupid game. But that's about it. Not much of an ambition is it? I don't want to be rich or famous, I just want to hold on to my job.”

“Why does it mean so much to you? Remember, be honest now.”

He nodded solemnly. “When I started out in the law, I started in Washington. I was no more than a super clerk in a federal agency. But I dreamed of being one of the real big shots, one of the partners in the super law firms that seemed to me to control the country.” He shrugged. “Well, things happened and I moved along. For a short time I even had a sub-cabinet position under Reagan. I received an offer to go with one of those firms, Harley Dingell—used to be a real WASP outfit. They wanted me for what I could do. They wanted me because I was a good lawyer and I had good connections among the bureaucrats.” He looked up at her, hoping she would understand. “It was the most important thing that ever happened to me. I don't know why. I've tried to figure it out several times. But that's all I want out of life, just to continue as a partner in Harley Dingell. As I say, not much of an ambition.”