As if she’d heard his private thoughts, she responded, “Trust me. My father wasn’t half the man Harmon Braddock was. He was a drunk and an abuser. The happiest day in my life was when he walked right out of it.”
Stunned, Malcolm remained silent. Finally, he slowly nodded in understanding, but he was more curious than ever. During their quiet spells, Malcolm couldn’t help but reflect over his childhood once again, zeroing in on the number of Little League and college games his father did make time for, and the number of father-and-son camping events he and Ty enjoyed despite their father’s busy schedule. Harmon Braddock had a way of making his sons feel ten feet tall, always bragging to anyone who’d stand still long enough to listen.
The truth of the matter was that Malcolm had had a wonderful childhood.
That annoying stinging in the back of Malcolm’s eyes returned as well as the mountainous lump clogging his windpipe, but thank God, Quon returned, rescuing him from his emotions with their dinner orders.
“Can I get you anything else?” the waiter asked, setting their plates before them.
After they assured him they had everything they needed, Quon, once again, slipped away from the table.
For a time they ate in silence before Malcolm blurted, “I keep thinking that at any moment I’m going to wake up and find out that the past week has just been a dream.” He stared into his plate. “A nightmare, really.”
Gloria said nothing.
“It’s true what they say,” he said. “Regret has a way of killing you softly. There were so many times I wanted to call.”
She reached across the table and covered his hand. The warmth of her touch traveled up the length of his arm.
“Don’t beat yourself up. I know the disagreement between you two spiraled out of control, but the love remained. That much was evident.”
“But did he know?” Malcolm questioned.
“Of course he did.” Gloria nodded. “And you know something else? He was extremely proud of you—your intelligence, convictions and even your passion.” She squeezed his hand tighter. “He was proud of all his children, and if you don’t mind me saying so, he had every right to be.”
Her encouraging words were just the balm Malcolm needed. He only prayed they were the truth. After all, every child wants their parents to be proud of them.
Gloria chuckled and drew Malcolm out of his melancholy.
“What’s so funny?” His lips curled, ready to join in on the joke.
“You probably don’t know this,” she said. “But once upon a time, your father tried to hook us up together.”
His laughter came easily at that revelation. “You’re joking.”
“Hilarious, isn’t it?” She shook her head and released his hand. “The first few months I started working for him, he wouldn’t stop telling me how much of a fine catch you were and how a woman would be crazy not to cast her net in your direction.” She chuckled. “He actually said ‘cast her net.’ He shoved so many dinner invitations my way, I ran out of excuses to why I couldn’t come.”
Malcolm choked on his food.
“Are you all right?” she asked when it started to sound like he was trying to hack up a lung.
He bobbed his head, reached for his iced water.
She watched him through growing concern until he finally held up a finger and said, “I’m okay.”
“What happened? Went down the wrong pipe?”
“Something like that.” He cleared his throat and favored her with a smile. “You mean all those times you showed up at my parents’ house for Sunday dinner and holiday meals were because my dad was trying to play Cupid?”
She returned his smile. “After we met at that one fund-raiser, I told him not to bother. We mixed as well as oil and water.”
“Now, who is the oil in this scenario?”
Gloria waved a finger, letting him know she wasn’t going to allow him to bait her into an argument. “The point is that we’re completely wrong for each other,” she stressed.
Malcolm hadn’t intended to, but he frowned. What was it about him that she found rejection-able? He straightened his chair and averted his gaze.
“Not that I don’t find you attractive,” she rushed to say as she sensed his bruised ego. “I do.”
He glanced up.
“I mean—any woman would. It’s just, um, personality-wise, we don’t mesh.”
“Because you don’t like men with intelligence, convictions and—what was it—passion?”
“Right.” She blinked. “Wait. I mean—”
Malcolm’s head rocked back while his chest rumbled with laughter. “Please. Please. Let’s quit before you really hurt my feelings.”
Gloria pressed her lips together, but her eyes seemed to dance with the candlelight. “I do have a way of putting my foot in my mouth, don’t I?”
Leaning over to the side, he squinted under the table and blinked. “You better be careful. Those jokers are big.”
“Ha. Ha.” She rolled her eyes. “You got me back. Can we eat now?”
“No, really. What size are those puppies—eleven, twelve?”
“Eight.” She kicked him.
“Ow.” He laughed.
“Serves you right, saying my feet are big. The real question is what size are your feet? You know what they say about the size of a man’s feet.” She leaned over and glanced under the table herself, but the laughter died on her lips.
“Satisfied?” he asked.
She sat up, her face as red as the candleholder. “We better finish eating.”
“Are you sure?” A devilish grin spread across his face before he commenced eating. This time, the silence was more comfortable while they snuck glances at each other and smiled whenever they were caught.
Maybe Gloria Kingsley wasn’t so bad after all.
Chapter 5
Malcolm arrived home at midnight.
Exhausted didn’t describe it—more like he was bone weary. His eyes were dry from looking at too much paperwork. His back ached from loading one too many tubs of law books. The last thing he wanted to do now was unload it all and carry it up to his apartment. That would have to be another project for another time. For the time being he kept everything locked in his SUV. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he’d carry everything out to the family estate.
If not, then maybe the day after.
He slipped his key into the apartment’s lock, pushed the door open and felt a sense of relief when he stepped into the apartment’s darkness. First pit stop: the kitchen. Malcolm grabbed the last beer in the fridge and made a mental note to pick up a case while he was out tomorrow. His next stop was the living room, where he tumbled onto the leather couch. He caught view of the blinking red light on his answer machine.
Twelve messages.
Even before he hit the play button, he knew who the callers were.
“Malcolm?” Shawnie’s voice filtered through the speakerphone. “Are you there? Pick up if you’re there.” After a long pause, she sighed and continued. “Well, I was just calling to check on you. No one in the family has heard from you and…well, it’s really not the time to be alone, Malcolm. We all need you. We love you.” Another long silence and then, “Call me.”
Malcolm groaned while he slid a hand over his face.
The machine beeped and played the next message.
“Malcolm?” Tyson’s steel baritone punched through the apartment’s stillness. “C’mon, man. I know you’re there. Pick up.” After a few beats of silence his brother went on, “Look, man. I know you’re going through a rough time. Things being the way they were with you and Dad and all, but give me a call. We need to talk. And if you don’t feel like talking to me the least you can do is call Mom. She’s worried about you. Hit me up on my cell when you get this message.”
The calls alternated between Shawnie and Ty. Both of their voices thickened with concern each time he didn’t answer the phone. Malcolm was instantly sorry for making everyone worry. That had not
been his intention.
On the last message, Malcolm’s heart tried to squeeze its way out of his chest when his mother’s wearied voice entered the room.
“Malcolm, baby. Are you there? Baby, please pick up the phone.”
Silence.
“All right, baby. You must not be there. I was just going through some old family photo albums. You keep drifting across my mind. Baby, I’m getting a little worried about you. I haven’t heard or seen you since the funeral. Give me a call.”
At first Malcolm had no intentions of calling any of them back this late, but there was something about his mother’s voice that tugged at his soul and made him pick up the phone and punch in her number. Even as he listened to the phone ring, he chastised himself for calling so late. She was probably asleep, he reasoned, and even hoped.
“I’ll call her tomorrow,” he said, and started to hang up.
“Hello?” His mother’s soft southern twang filtered over the line. “Malcolm?”
“Hey, Mom,” he answered with an aloofness he didn’t feel. “How are you?”
“Actually, that’s the question I wanted to ask you. Are you all right, baby?”
No was what he wanted to say, but he had some sense to at least pretend he was keeping it together. “Yeah. I’m all right. How are you holding up?”
“Well…I guess I’m doing about as well as can be expected.” Her voice grew heavier with each word. “I wish you were around more, though. Why haven’t you been by?”
Even though Malcolm had a list of reasons on standby, he couldn’t get himself to spit out any of them. Mainly because when it came right down to it, there was no good reason why he hadn’t been the man his mother needed him to be.
“Trust me, Mama. I wouldn’t have made good company.” Her chuckle surprised him.
“Well, none of us are good company right now,” she said, and then sobered a bit. “However, there’s strength in numbers. I’ve taught you that.”
He nodded against the phone as if she could see him. “I know. Tell you what. I promise to make it there by tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah. I promise.”
Evelyn’s voice immediately strengthened. “Then I guess I better call off your brother’s plan of kidnapping you and dragging you here against your will.”
Malcolm laughed. “Is that right?”
“Well, he was worried, baby. We all are.”
“There’s no need to worry, Mama. I’m all right. I spent the night at dad’s office with Gloria, packing up some of his things.”
“Oh?” She perked up. “And how is Gloria doing? You know, I always did like her.”
Malcolm couldn’t believe his ears. “Not you, too,” he groaned.
“What?” she asked. However, her tone belied her innocent act.
“Gloria told me over dinner how Dad used to try to set us up.”
“Dinner?”
“A quick meal…as friends.”
“A dinner—a date. Same thing.”
“Not the same thing.”
“Who paid?”
“Dutch.”
“Malcolm Braddock, I thought I raised you better. A man should never allow a woman to pay for a meal. It’s ungentlemanly.”
“Mom, leave Cupid’s bow alone. It’s never going to happen. At least Dad finally realized that.”
“Oh, please. You’re giving your father way too much credit. You think he noticed things like that? Why, I thought she was the sweetest thing the first time I laid eyes on her. I was the one always pushing for Harmon to extend her dinner invitations. Of course, getting you here was damn near impossible, too. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, dear, but you really do have a stubborn streak.”
“Stubborn?” he repeated, as if insulted.
“Oh, don’t start,” she said. “You come by it honestly. Your father knew how to dig in his heels, as well.” She chuckled, and then cleared her throat. “To tell you the truth, it was one of the good things I liked about him.”
“That’s the first time I heard that one.”
“If he hadn’t been so hardheaded, then he would have accepted my no the first time he proposed to me.” She laughed. “And I would have missed out on forty years of a wonderful marriage and three beautiful children. Your father gave me a wonderful life. I’ll always love him for that. But it’s more than time for grandbabies.”
“Oh, boy. Don’t start that again.” He chuckled, leaning back into the sofa. He was actually enjoying their conversation.
“It’s true,” Evelyn insisted.
“Uh-huh.”
“What? It’s not like I’m asking for much. I want to see all my children happily married and producing beautiful babies. Now that Gloria—I bet she could make some adorable children.”
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” He sat up; his laughter rumbled into the phone. “You’ve gone from trying to call an innocent dinner a date to now having us with kids.”
“C’mon,” she needled. “You can’t tell me you don’t find Gloria attractive.”
“Attraction is not the issue. Compatibility is. Gloria and I—”
“You and Gloria have a lot in common.”
“Are you sure Dad was the hardheaded one?” Malcolm asked.
“Ha. Ha. I know what I know—and I know Gloria Kingsley is the perfect woman for you.”
Malcolm laughed, though clearly he was the only one who found the statement funny. “It’s never going to happen,” he stated firmly.
“Why not?” his mother challenged; her voice carried a smile.
Because I’m not like my father.
“Well?” Evelyn pressed.
Malcolm cleared his throat. “Let’s just say that I’m not what she’s looking for.”
Determined not to spend another day moping around the apartment, Malcolm rose early Tuesday morning and decided that it was time to return to the land of the living. He thought about driving out to the family estate to deliver the items packed from his father’s office. He knew he’d promised his mother, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Not just yet.
Instead, he climbed out of bed, showered and made his way over to his office at the Arc Foundation.
“Mr. Braddock!” Paula Heizman blinked up at him when he breezed into his office suite. “What are you doing here?”
“Last time I checked I still worked here,” he said, managing to ease a smile onto his face without breaking his stride.
Paula followed. “But you said you’d be out this week.”
“I changed my mind,” he said. “I need to stay busy.”
His assistant stared wide-eyed at him.
“What’s the matter, Ms. Heizman? Did I ruin some big party you guys had planned in my absence? You hadn’t hired a bunch of male strippers to come and perform while everyone should be working, did you?”
Paula’s creamy white skin turned into a bright shade of pink. “For the last time, my sister hired that stripper for my fortieth birthday.”
“Uh-huh,” he deliberately said in a dubious tone just to deepen her embarrassment.
“Honestly, I don’t know why I bother,” she mumbled with a roll of her eyes, and then made a quick exit from his office.
Malcolm chuckled in her wake and finally dropped into the cheap office chair behind his desk. There was a rush of excitement at seeing the stack of papers overflowing his in-box. Finally there was something that could get his mind off his troubles. The first hour breezed by, but the second crawled at a snail’s pace, and by the third hour, he was more than ready to call it a day.
“Knock. Knock.” Paula floated into the office.
“Yes, Paula?”
“I have Orville Roark on the phone. He wants to know whether you’re still coming to the Texas Children’s Cancer Center fund-raiser.”
Malcolm blinked up at her. “When is that again?”
“Tomorrow night.”
He hesitated, wondering if he was truly up to schmoo
zing with a crowd of inquiring minds.
“No pressure,” Paula assured him. “I’m sure he’ll understand if you’re not up to it.”
Malcolm smiled, appreciating Paula for her understanding—but he was more than aware of the importance of this particular fund-raiser. The Texas Children’s Cancer Center was one of the largest health-care charities for pediatric treatment and research. All patients were accepted regardless of the families’ ability to pay; but in order for the center to operate, it relied heavily on city and state leaders to organize fund-raisers, dinners, tournaments and even door-to-door begging.
Still, he wasn’t sure he was ready for a night of endless handshakes, plastic smiles and needling questions. “Give my apologies, but tell him the Arc Foundation will still be making that financial contribution from the concert we had last month.”
“Will do,” Paula said solemnly, and then popped her head back out of the office.
Malcolm slumped back into his chair, hoping Orville really would understand. “Just a few more days,” he promised himself, “and I should be back to my old self.” His heart squeezed in response to the lie. He would never be his old self again.
Before that troubling thought had time to settle, there was another knock on his door. “Come in,” he said, simultaneously reaching for another stack of paperwork.
“Hey. You’re here.”
Malcolm looked up—stunned to see Gloria in his door frame and smiling.
“I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time?” She stepped inside and glanced around his sparse office space.
Malcolm climbed onto his feet. “What are you doing here?”
Her smile widened. “Have you noticed you ask me that question a lot?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I have noticed you make it a habit of showing up at unexpected places.”
To that charge, she simply shrugged and then cast her attention to the photographs of children the Arc Foundation had been able to help since its inception. As Gloria moved around the room, Malcolm’s chest puffed out with pride. “This is your first time here, isn’t it?”
Gloria nodded, now perusing the awards and plaques gracing one side of the office. “Very impressive,” she said.
Her Lover's Legacy Page 4
