by Harper Steen
Hastily, he opened the door for his “victim,” set her forcefully on her feet and gave her a gentle push on the shoulder so that she staggered backwards. After she’d regained her balance, Liz set down her beer, shook the hair out of her face, gave him a furious glare and stormed back toward the door.
Her balled up fists hurtled toward his face, but Gray fended off her attack and shoved Liz’s shoulder again, this time with a little more force. Liz stumbled backwards over a rake and landed, cursing loudly, on her bottom. Gray quickly closed the door and bolted it from the outside. Laughing softly, he told her through the closed door, “I’ll apologize to Harold and John for your absence during dinner, but I doubt they’ll miss you making them look ridiculous in front of their guests. I’ll let you out again after dinner. And if you behave yourself, tomboy, I’ll even bring something to eat with me.”
“Let me out right now! You’ve got to be kidding! Are you crazy? Open this door right now!” Liz’s voice was almost cracking. She pounded and kicked the door so hard, even the frame bent under her force.
Gray sincerely hoped the boards of the shed would stand up to the girl’s fury. Carefully he checked to make sure that the door really was locked. He circled the hut once while speaking quietly to Liz, but there was no chance of being heard over her rant. Gray straightened his suit, wiped the dust from his normally shiny shoes and, although worried about the situation, walked straight to the house. He hoped, despite everything, that the evening would be a success.
Why did Liz appear so standoffish to her family? he wondered. It was obvious that they mattered to her; otherwise she wouldn’t have fallen into his trap.
He had known Harold and John for about a year now, and it would not be an exaggeration to describe what had developed between them as a very deep friendship. As a potential investor, Gray had been invited to participate in the thirty-fifth anniversary celebration of Gibson & Son, a construction company that had had grown enormously over the past fifteen years and which had a number of branch offices. Gray hadn’t wanted to blow his chances, since he had been looking for quite a while for an opportunity to prudently—and, above all, profitably—invest the money he had inherited from his parents.
From the beginning, Harold had been friendly, candid and honest with him. He was known and valued in business circles for being an exceedingly serious business partner. No matter who Gray talked to, he heard only positive comments about Harold. That was the first reason Gray had decided to invest a significant amount of money in his company. The second and more personal reason for the investment was the immediate liking the two had for one another. They met together regularly and worked on promising ideas for how to keep the company on track.
When it came to business, Harold Gibson could be as hard as nails. But he showed a soft heart when dealing with the disadvantaged and the needy. In his private life, he had previously bought numerous run down properties, renovated them and then rented out the living spaces to lower-income families at highly favorable rates. This was just one more reason why Gray respected this man who was also actively supported by his son. He took care of not only his own, but of those who weren’t as well off. Harold never forgot what it was like to own almost nothing.
Before he’d invested in the company, Gray’s investigation of his potential business partner had been exceedingly thorough. At the time, he’d been only marginally interested in the fact that Harold was a widower with one son and one daughter. Gray’s investigation had focused mainly on Gibson’s competence as a businessman and whether his enterprises were viable investments.
Gibson & Son had been created from practically nothing. Over 35 years ago, Harold had inherited one of the mortgaged estates and the ailing construction company from his uncle. He put all of his energy and time in to saving both from ruin, and before long the company was once again operating in the black. Year after year, Gibson & Son’s profits increased.
Then 15 years ago, the company suddenly began to open branch offices and to expand more rapidly, and the annual profits had increased steadily ever since. Gray guessed what the trigger had been for that explosion of growth: the sudden death of Harold’s wife. As he came to know his business partner better, Gray realized that Harold had only expanded the company so he would be able to offer his beloved children a secure and worry-free future. They might have lost their mom, but at the least they wouldn’t need to break their backs, as he had had to do, in order to put food in the refrigerator and a roof over their heads.
What was incomprehensible to Gray was how stand-offish Liz acted toward her family; she avoided them like the plague and, gauging from how she’d acted toward Annie, seemed determined to do everything she could to be seen as the black sheep of the family. She showed no respect for anything or anyone and she communicated this as bluntly as possible. Liz was actually pretty in her rumpled, wild way—more than pretty, in fact—but her behavior left a lot to be desired. Gray didn’t believe that her parents had made a mistake in her upbringing; something else must have triggered her off-putting manner.
Gray pushed back any further thoughts of Liz for now, since she was tucked safely away in the shed. He straightened his jacket, which was a little askew after his skirmish with the ball of fury. He cut across the grass, passed a bubbling fountain, and walked up the broad flight of stairs that led to a spacious patio and into the hall at the back of the mansion.
Gray chatted animatedly with the other guests until it was time to sit down to dinner at the long, elegantly-set table. His seat was close to the host’s. The chair to his left, however, remained empty. It was obvious that one of the guests was running late. And he knew exactly which one.
The recently hired waiters were just serving the second course of the exquisite meal when the double doors flew open and Liz, who should actually have been sitting in the toolshed, strutted into the room.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Please excuse my tardiness; I was unfortunately delayed.” The guests looked stunned and confused. With an innocent smile, she strode to the head of the table and sat in the empty chair next to Gray. She smiled politely to the party; her brother threw her a glance that could only be interpreted as one of disapproval. One of the waiters brought her a plate and Liz began to eat without ceremony. She simply ignored the curious glances that were being thrown her way from all directions.
After a brief, critical scrutiny of Liz’s appearance, Harold Gibson inclined his head toward his daughter and said in a hushed tone, “Do you always have to make a scene when you surface—as rare as that is, Elizabeth? And in completely inappropriate attire. Don’t tell me that you didn’t know that this wasn’t going to be a family dinner.”
“Actually, I didn’t, Dad. Do you really think I would have shown up if I’d had the slightest idea this was going to be a business dinner?” John had left out that little detail when he called and talked her into coming for the evening. Actually, he’d more than talked her into it. He had downright coerced her.
He’d cut right to the chase over the phone. “We haven’t seen you in almost four months. My God, Liz, Savannah isn’t at the other end of the world; it’s barely an hour and a half from Brunswick,” he’d said. “Either you come to dinner on Wednesday or I’ll come over there. And I’ll tell you one thing: if I have to come to you, I’ll make sure I stay a while and annoy the heck out of you.”
Liz had given a groan of frustration, which her brother took as a promise. “We’ll see you on Wednesday night then,” he said. Then he hung up before she had any chance to correct his assumption.
She had wanted to leave as soon as she’d arrived, once she saw all of the luxury cars in the driveway. But in the end, she decided not to. She believed that John really would follow through on his threat and move in with for two or three weeks if she didn’t make an appearance.
She would rather have endured a meal in the family circle than be exposed to a stupid business dinner. But at the end of the day, it was completely irrelevant whether there we
re guests present or not. Just like she did whenever she saw her father, John and Annie, Liz would act like she didn’t give a damn what they thought about her or her behavior. It had long been her practice to be her most defiant self when she was with them. Being a target of criticism by her father helped her to keep her distance from him. After all, distance was the opposite of closeness.
“What’s the matter, Dad? Don’t you like my clothes? I made such an effort too.” Liz provoked her father while keeping her eyes on her plate.
***
Gray listened in on the exchange occurring next to him. Was he going to learn why Liz was the way she was so soon? He doubted it. This seemed just to be the usual way Harold and Liz spoke to one another. He threw a quick glance at John, who sat diagonally across from him. John’s grimaces and disapproving shakes of the head confirmed Gray’s suspicion that this was a kind of ritual between father and daughter. Feeling curious, he continued to eavesdrop on their argument.
***
“You know exactly what I expect of you. No, not expect, what I wish for you.”
“Oh, yeah, I do. I should conform…,” Liz recited her list in a mocking tone, “…have a boring-as-shit job—preferably in your company, of course, so that you can control me. I should play the dutiful daughter at dinner parties, like this one, and marry one of your empty-headed brown nosers who you’d prefer to pick out yourself, so that I can eventually bless you with the requisite two point three grandchildren. No thanks!”
“What’s wrong with that? The men I’ve introduced you to were all very nice. John and Annie are going to get married too.”
“Oh yeah, the two are so prim and proper, especially Annie! They simply have to get married.” Liz crammed some lettuce in her mouth and while she chewed, turned to Annie. “Oh, you simply must go to Lloyd’s; they have such enchanting china. They have these beautiful patterns with flowers. And divine table linens. Quite recently I bought gorgeous napkins there: a couple silk, twelve with ruffles and some embroidered with delicate little flowers, just like my underwear—as you already know. I always have to have enough on hand. Napkins, I mean. You just never know.”
Annie responded coolly. “Interesting. You know we should swing by there together.” She addressed these last words to Liz’s brother. John gave Annie a tender kiss on the tip of her nose and she snuggled up to him.
“Acting like that really isn’t my thing,” said Liz. “Even the thought of it makes me sick. Besides, not everyone is as romantic as you and thinks of marriage as a necessary ingredient for happiness. I like my life just the way it is. I don’t need change, and I don’t want it.” As if for emphasis, she stabbed the fish fillet on her plate with her fork, cutting it into tiny pieces.
If that fish weren’t already dead, it certainly would be now, thought Gray in amusement. He managed to suppress a grin over this low-key, but publicly-aired conflict between two bull-headed people.
“Now is not the proper time for this discussion.” Harold ended the conversation with his daughter with a quiet sigh, apparently recognizing that she was resistant to his point of view in that moment. As always. He pasted an unconvincingly cheerful expression on his face and said in a louder voice, to her neighbor, “I hope you like everything, Grayson?”
“Thanks! Everything tastes excellent, as usual.” Gray smiled and threw his annoyed tablemate a questioning look. Stubbornly she stared at her plate, pushing her food listlessly in a circle from one rim to the other. Someone here doesn’t want to grow up, Gray thought as he watched.
***
As usual, at the end of the dinner, the guests moved from the large hall into the adjacent lounge and finished the evening with a drink. People spontaneously formed smaller groups and made themselves comfortable on the chairs and sofas, or stood around discussing recent developments in the economy and politics. Liz shuddered as she observed the people around her. So she was supposed to do this regularly? Where was the fun? These evenings were about nothing but business, stuffy and proper. And it was supposed to be an honor to be included in this illustrious circle, with its sad small talk made by sympathetic whiners!
Well, did you hear…? Oh no, how terrible! Oh really? You don’t say! No, unbelievable! Good Lord!
Liz had had enough of this phony, smug posturing. This was her father’s and John’s world, but it sure wasn’t hers! She had entirely different talents and interests about which her family, thankfully, knew nothing. And that was just as well.
I should just show up here less frequently, Liz was thinking when a young man asked her if she needed anything. She absently ordered another alcohol-free beer and took the glass with a grateful smile from the waiter when he brought it to her. Suddenly Gray appeared next to her. He too held a foamy glass of beer, with which he toasted her. A winning smile was on his lips.
“I had you pegged for a Scotch or Bourbon drinker,” she said.
“That goes to show, you just never know, Liz. Judging from your earlier behavior, I had to assume that you were here to ruin the party.” He smiled at his mistake. His move involving the shed hadn’t been necessary after all. But Liz didn’t hold a grudge against him for putting her—at least temporarily—out of commission.
Liz decided to go ahead and engage in a tentative conversation with Gray. What was wrong with a little banter? It could distract her from her gloomy thoughts for at least a little while. “I can still ruin the party,” she warned him. “Are you going to lock me in the toolshed again to make sure I don’t?”
“Oh, no. I have in mind an entirely different way to discourage your stupidity.” He looked meaningfully at her mouth and let his penetrating gray eyes wander slowly over her body. Then he gave her a sensual smile and a confident look that told her the smile never failed to have its desired effect.
Liz’s eyes opened wide in surprise and she looked at him in disbelief. Who did this smart aleck think he was? She was going to have to take the wind out of his sails. She was the one who picked out the men she wanted, not the other way around!
“Be careful,” she warned him. “I am amazingly good at behaving badly and putting someone in his place. And I haven’t come close to putting on my best performance today.”
“I believe it. But tell me: don’t you find this behavior of yours rather stupid? You should make a complete change. If you can’t manage it on your own, I’m sure you could find someone who could help you.”
He sounded so sure of himself. Liz couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her eyes blazed. “I’m not a child that you can scold.” She swept her hair out of her face and behind her ear with an impatient, jerky gesture—a clear sign of her annoyance. Was everyone out to get her today?
“Even children have better manners than you do, Liz. What’s your problem anyway?” Gray grinned as she pressed her lips together in anger and gave an unladylike snort.
As one of the employees headed in their direction, Liz slipped wordlessly out of her jacket and handed it to him. She gave Gray a defiant smile and turned her back to him. When he saw what was printed on her T-shirt, he gave a strained laugh. In bright yellow letters across the black material was the message: FUCK OFF! Gray turned partially away, took a sip of beer and gave his curt reply.
“Grow up!”
Chapter 2
Harold kept an eye on the interaction between his daughter and Gray, whom he regarded as a son and with whom he had developed a friendship that was deeper than its duration would seem to merit. Gray was a remarkable, honest young man. And he would really be a great candidate to woo Liz. That wasn’t the reason he’d been invited, however, and he certainly wasn’t interested in Liz, who was behaving as rudely as ever. When Harold noticed the words printed on Liz’s shirt, his eyes grew large and he gave a horrified groan. Not again!
He remembered all too well the last time she’d worn that shirt. It had taken Harold forever to soothe the young man she had attacked with insults in order to escape his attention. In hindsight, Harold had to admit that Jerome a
nd Liz would not have been a good match. He was too rigid, too old school, and his daughter, much too wild.
Gray, however, merely laughed in the face of her obvious rejection of him, and this gave Harold hope. If she hadn’t yet driven him away with her impossible behavior, maybe something could yet develop between the two. Gray would simply have to hang on and not give up.
Harold gave a soft sigh, as he often did when thinking about his daughter. He remembered the day when he’d held her in his arms for the first time, his sweet little Liz. Those small fists, tiny fingers, petite mouth… He thought wistfully of his wife who had died far too early and had left him with two teenagers, each one wilder than the other.
Liz was the image of her mother, with her light blonde hair and baby blue eyes and her slender, yet extremely feminine figure. But she wasn’t exactly like her mother. Temperamentally, they were as different as night and day. Whereas Isabelle had been sweet-tempered, level-headed and gentle, her daughter was stubborn, reckless and wild. Harold couldn’t imagine from whom she’d inherited these traits.
It was his daughter who’d caused his hair to go gray early in life. She was always in trouble, most of the time with her brother. John was the older sibling, but when he and Liz were young he had repeatedly let her put him up to crazy pranks.
Harold clearly remembered the day when he’d found one of his neighbor’s Persian cats on the desk in his office, its fur having been dyed pink. Immediately he went looking for his children. He didn’t run in to either John or Liz, but he did stumble across three more cats—one completely green, one with blue stripes and one covered in orange-colored flecks. He and Isabelle had collected the four animals, muscled them into the bathroom and with water and a lot of soap managed to return them to their original cream color. Luckily, the children had not used permanent dye. And, also luckily, the cats appeared to be used to rigorous baths, otherwise he and his wife might have been badly injured by the noble creatures. As punishment for their crime, he had imposed on Liz and John a four-week “voluntary” service at an animal shelter.
