by Amy Gallow
"It's about time you remembered who you came with,” she said, pushing him into her father's office and closing the door behind them. “I feel neglected."
He opened his arms, drew her close and kissed her. “We can't have that."
Lexie molded her body into his. “My family likes you,” she said. “They wouldn't be shocked to see you at breakfast."
"You're right. Things are different now."
It was enough. Lexie's world turned golden. “Another kiss and you can go to help Tommy,” she said. “He's probably looking for you by now."
They parted and Lexie continued into the kitchen. Julie had just arrived, leading three of her people laden with trays, pots and insulated containers.
"Right, you two.” She pointed at Lexie and Sandra. “Out! Enjoy yourselves. This is my area for the night.” She removed Sandra's apron and pushed her towards the door, ignoring her attempts to give last minute instructions. “I know, Mrs. Douglas. We went through everything yesterday."
"Come on, Mum.” Lexie capitulated. “We'll join the others."
Glenn was deep in conversation with her father's oldest friend, Harry Doherty's father, explaining something that drew thoughtful nods from the older man.
"Excuse me, Mum,” Lexie said. “I'd better rescue Glenn."
Sandra followed the direction of her eyes and nodded. “A good idea. Craig looks like he's on one of his hobby horses."
They were both wrong for the conversation ended as she reached the two men.
"You could be right,” Craig Doherty said. “I'll keep it in mind. Thank you.” He shook Glenn's hand vigorously. “I appreciate your thoughts.” He turned to Lexie and said, “You've got yourself a good man, lass. Look after him.” He walked away.
* * * *
Lexie watched him go and turned back to Glenn. “What was that about?"
"Harry. I watched him today. The poor sod's bored out of his mind."
Lexie wasn't interested in Harry Doherty. “He's had his chances.” She dismissed him.
"What sort of chances?” Glenn didn't. “Getting away helped you. It could do the same for Harry."
Lexie's response was unkind. Another of her father's cronies was headed this way and she could see no way of dodging him. Glenn was to be vetted by all of them in turn. Her father had said something to make his friends pass judgment. Lexie swore under her breath; she'd forgotten what a social gathering on the Island was like.
"Hi, Mr. Gray,” she greeted the man. “I haven't seen you since I got back.” Perhaps she could divert him.
"I saw you in the street.” Another thing she'd forgotten. George Gray always took things literally. He was no fool and very rich, but a partial stroke years ago had left its mark.
He turned to Glenn. “Can you do anything besides ride motorbikes?"
Lexie winced. George Gray wasn't being rude. The stroke had short-circuited something in his brain relating to conversation. He was like this all the time.
"I have a degree in economics.” Glenn responded as if the conversation were normal. “Haven't used it much. Riding motorcycles has taken up too much time."
"Good.” George Gray nodded vigorously. “Not completely unprepared for the future. Very sensible. I'll talk to you again.” He turned and strode away, apparently satisfied.
Glenn watched him go and then turned back to Lexie. “A stroke?"
She nodded, grateful for his understanding. “He's been like that for as long as I remember. Mixes mainly with people he knows well, but is very successful in spite of it."
"I could see the frustration in his eyes,” Glenn said. “It suggested his manner was reflexive rather than voluntary."
"I shouldn't have worried.” Lexie insinuated herself into his arms. “I like you."
"You're not good at keeping secrets. I think everyone is now aware of it.” He kissed her on the forehead. “It saves taking out a full page announcement in the local paper."
"I want them to know.” She rose on her toes and kissed his ear lobe.
"So do I.” His arm tightened around her waist.
"Glenn!” It was Tommy, crossing the floor to them. “We've got a job. Unhand my sister for ten minutes and you're free for the night."
Glenn laughed, kissed her quickly on the lips and followed Tommy towards the front door. “I'll be back,” he promised, and blew her another kiss.
Lexie saw her father crossing the room and guessed Tommy's interruption was ordered.
"What's going on?” she asked, undecided if she should be angry.
"He handled George Gray well,” Kieran Douglas said. “He was worried about your reputation. I'm giving him a hand to make sure no one misunderstands."
Lexie laughed her relief. Her father's cronies were the opinion makers on the Island and few would dare to contradict them. He'd enlisted their aid to ensure her relationship with Glenn was well regarded. “You'd be at home in a feudal system,” she said, smiling fondly at him. “I can imagine the serfs tugging their forelocks as you rode past."
"My secret's out.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. “You've done me proud. Apart from your mother, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
She reached up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks. You're an old smoothie."
Sandra joined them. “Stick with your own man. This one's mine.” Kieran's arm went round his wife's waist and drew her close.
A commotion at the front door announced her four brothers, William, Michael, Frank and Tommy, assisted by Glenn holding doors ajar, as they carried two gift-wrapped packages, large enough that it took two of them to lift each one. They placed them ceremoniously in the centre of the cleared floor and beckoned her parents to join them.
"You too, Lexie,” Tommy insisted.
William, the oldest, cleared his throat as the brothers’ wives joined the group. “I know it's not much of an excuse for a party, but the old bloke turned seventy today.” Everybody laughed. “He's getting on a bit, these days. Ought to have enough sense to slow down, but we all know he's a bit dense. We thought we'd help him with a visual reminder.” He gestured towards one of the two packages. “Since Mum's had to put up with him for the last half century or so, we got her one as well. She, at least, has earned it.” He gestured to the other package.
Kieran Douglas had beamed through the speech, his pride written plainly on his face. He stepped forward, shook his sons’ hands, not neglecting Glenn, who hung back, and then kissed Lexie and the four wives. “Thank you ... I think. I haven't heard William string together so many words in years. Tell the truth, I like him more as the silent type, but we can't have everything ... not even respect ... when you're seventy.” He allowed the laughter to die away. “These look a bit small to be coffins, so I might be game and open mine.” A sotto voiced comment from the crowd made him turn. “Don't laugh too loud, your turn's coming, Craig."
The packages proved to be leather upholstered recliner chairs, marvelously plush and comfortable, in a shade to match perfectly the existing furniture.
"They're built specifically to your sizes,” William explained. “We were going to have your initials embossed on the cushioning, but Lexie was optimistic enough to think you might be able to work it out for yourselves. She's been away for a while and doesn't realize how far you've slipped. Mum will have to point you at the right one."
Kieran proved him wrong by sitting down in the larger of the two chairs, while Sandra took the smaller. The four brothers shifted the chairs to a commanding position in the room and demonstrated the power reclining, the foldout tables and other features specifically chosen to honor their parents.
Lexie stood back with Glenn, smiling broadly, his arm around her waist. “I wondered what mischief he had in mind. The other three are reasonably sensible, but Tommy's a devil."
"Too true,” Glenn said aloud and then bent to bring his mouth close to her ear. “He also ran me round to the hotel to pick up some clothes for tomorrow and my toiletries. They're in your room."
> Lexie couldn't control her automatic glance in the direction of her bedroom, and Tommy, who'd been watching them, winked broadly. “Gotta look after my little sister."
Julie appeared at the doorway. “We're serving in the kitchen. The men can bring the extra chairs in from the patio."
"Talk about woman power...” Tommy's complaint went unheard by most.
"I know what he means.” Glenn took advantage of the confusion to kiss the side of her neck and Lexie had to bite her lower lip to stifle her reaction; Tommy was watching.
"Go haunt someone else,” she told him, but Tommy only grinned.
"Not as much fun,” he said, glancing at Glenn as if daring him to do something.
"Enough is enough. You've succeeded.” Glenn spoke mildly. An observation, not a threat, yet Tommy's smile straightened under its impact and he looked at them thoughtfully.
"You're right,” he said. “It's a habit past its use-by date.” His smile brightened again. “I'm hungry,” he said, and left.
She watched him go and then turned to Glenn. “I don't know how you did that."
He smiled at her. “I reminded him why he was doing it."
His meaning was elusive, particularly when his fingers brushed aside an errant wisp of hair at her temple and his lips came close to hers. The movement of people towards the kitchen had left them isolated, a small pocket of privacy in a crowded house, so it seemed natural to complete the moment and kiss.
It was different. The urgency was gone. Replaced by the unspoken promise of how this night would end. Lexie moved closer and felt his arms enfold her. A word she'd never completely understood before, but now realized was an exact description of what it was like to be in this man's embrace, held safe from the world.
She'd come home!
The returning diners destroyed their privacy and Lexie reluctantly stepped out of his embrace to follow the others into the kitchen. Julie's organization was working well, the guests flowing in through one door empty handed and out through the other with laden plates, serviettes and cutlery. A smile for Lexie and a joke with Glenn saw them through the kitchen and standing with their plates on the broad capping of the patio enclosure. Facing north and sheltered from the cooler southerlies by glass windbreaks, the patio was proving popular with the guests.
She exchanged nods with former school friends and their parents, chatted for a while with Pam Doherty, and queried Glenn about his degree in Economics. “I wouldn't have thought you interested. It's a pretty dry subject."
"I liked its logic.” Glenn was smiling, making Lexie guess it wasn't the first time he'd defended his choice. “I dallied with Engineering and Applied Science, but Economics gave me the tools to look at the big picture and understand it.” He chuckled. “My Dad saw it as a means of joining the Federal Police to fight white collar crime, his pet hate, but I disappointed him. He's over it now."
"What made you become involved in racing?” She needed to know more.
"The sergeant at the motorcycle training school was a friend of Dad's. He used to race in the days when most riders were amateurs. Still had a couple of his old bikes and introduced me to Motocross. It allowed me to compete cheaply through uni and move up through the ranks to attract the attention of a manufacturer's team. Dad persuaded me to complete the degree first and this meant I came in older than most. I played catch-up for a few years before I realized I'd missed the bus as a rider and took a job with the Bagnelli team as manager."
Lexie sensed the heartache concealed by the broad brushstrokes. Glenn wouldn't have given up his dream as easily as he made it sound. “Do you miss the riding?"
"I didn't make it to the top so I can't miss something I never had."
The bitterness silenced Lexie. She'd touched a nerve.
Sandra saved her. “Lexie, I've been looking for you.” Her mother was at the kitchen door. “I need your help."
"Excuse me,” she said and followed her mother into the house.
* * * *
Glenn watched her go. The evening was going well. Lexie looked stunning in tailored slacks and blouse, the casual chic where Paris excelled without appearing exaggerated. Her parents seemed comfortable with the relationship being consummated under their roof, having demonstrated their support publicly. Kieran Douglas’ RSL friends were more of a mystery. So far, four of them had approached him, their questions more probing than polite. They were discussing his answers between approaches, leap-frogging further each time. It had the feel of an informal job interview...
He shook his head.
There was no point leaping to conclusions. He had enough on his plate with tomorrow's ride. The rider's rep had raised no problems, but the two Japanese had caught him off-guard with their informed interest in the Widow-Maker. They'd be watching in the morning and this raised possibilities he hadn't considered, especially when they'd asked to see the approval paperwork so they could study the design. Apart from the latest modifications, the patents Salvatore held were solid.
"Glenn!” It was Tommy, flanked by his three brothers. “You're not drinking."
"I'm doing a test run in the morning.” He raised his glass of iced mineral water. “Anything other than this gets in the way."
"Pity. Dad's cracking a seventy-year-old bottle of scotch he got today. Sent us out to get you."
"I'll come and watch.” Glenn sensed a deeper purpose and hoped it wouldn't be embarrassing. “If there's any left Sunday night, I'll try it then."
He followed the four into Kieran's office and found the room filled with special friends of Lexie's father. The RSL group was there, as well as his sons, three men he hadn't met, and the CEO of PI Operations, the group running the Grand Prix meeting. All of them had whisky glasses in their hands, ready to sample this rare brew.
Kieran listened to his explanation and poured the contents of one glass back into the crystal decanter. “We'll keep yours for Sunday night,” he said. “It won't spoil waiting another forty-eight hours."
William tipped Glenn's mineral water into the empty glass and handed it to him before stepping into the centre of the room. “I ask you to raise your glasses to my father. Seventy years young!"
A murmur of voices accompanied the drinking of the toast, each man repeating the words as they raised their glasses. Only Kieran's drink remained untouched.
He raised his hand for silence. “With one exception, I've known all of you for more years than we care to remember and I thank you for your good wishes. I'd like you to welcome the exception.” He raised his glass. “Glenn Smallwood, a man ready to make his mark."
Glenn waited until the toast was drunk and thanked them for their welcome, adding the expected things about their company. Something was definitely going on...
A portrait of Lexie caught his eye. Placed where Kieran could see it as he worked, she looked in her late teens or very early twenties. Professionally done as part of a modeling portfolio, it captured a moment of bright inquiry. As if she'd just asked a question and was awaiting the reply. It was very good, particularly the eyes. He lost himself in them and they had to say his name twice before he returned.
* * * *
Lexie had to wait until the men emerged from her father's office, worrying all the time and her father's hand on Glenn's shoulder didn't help. Her mother's confession she'd been sent to take Lexie away from Glenn raised specters of his heavy-handed interference. Both men were laughing at something and the grins on her brothers’ faces were broader than she liked.
"I'll have it ready for you Sunday night,” her father said.
"I'll look forward to it.” Glenn was smiling, but there was the shadow of a question in his eyes until he saw her and the shadow lifted.
Lexie's love blossomed, the last niggling doubts banished. No man had ever looked at her like this. She wanted to run to him and be swept into his arms and her bed. Only the presence of so many people allowed her to continue calmly down the passage and content herself with taking his hand.
"Hi.”
He spoke softly, looking into her eyes with a gentle wonder, as if she were more vision than real. “You look good."
"I haven't changed."
"Then it must be me.” He was calm, smiling at her.
"You're not making sense."
"Do I have to?"
She shook her head.
The time that followed stretched forever, the guests reluctant to depart and Lexie wishing them gone so she could slip away with Glenn. Something had happened in her father's office, for Glenn kept looking at her so strangely, studying her face as if fearful she'd vanish before he'd committed every detail to memory.
Mr. East saw the change in her when he approached. “I see you've taken my advice,” he said. “Moving on is a good thing."
Glenn, who'd been facing her, turned and she was proud of his lack of reaction to the scarred face confronting him. “Terrence East?” he asked. “My father speaks highly of you."
Lexie had never heard Mr. East's Christian name used before and found it unsettling. A fact she considered without pride. There were many ways of reacting to difference and imposing formality was a way of distancing yourself. “May I call you Terence?” she asked, determined to make amends.
"Margaret always called me Terry. I'd be honored if you did the same.” He smiled proudly, as if aware his former pupil had taken another step.
He stayed with them for some time, smiling often, exchanging views on literature with Glenn and embracing Lexie before he left. “You deserve happiness,” he said. “The best pupil I had."
Lexie watched him go, unashamed of the moisture making her eyes gleam.
George Gray led the final exodus and Lexie found herself standing on the patio with her family waving goodbye to the last guest a few minutes after one a.m. Her mother's sigh of relief spoke volumes.
"It's bed for me,” Sandra said. “I may not be seventy yet, but I feel it."
"You don't look a day over sixty-eight years, seven months and three days.” Tommy was being helpful again.
"Shut up, Tommy,” William said. “We can all go now. Thank God, it's Saturday. The yard can run without us until noon."
Then there were only Lexie's parents and Glenn keeping her company.
