by Janice Sims
Wilson, the family’s English butler, opened the door and said in his proper accent, “Welcome home, Master Decker. This must be Dr. Gaines. Please do come in.” And he stood aside for them to enter.
“Desi,” Decker said, “this is Wilson.”
Desiree smiled at Wilson. Wilson was five-ten in his socks, so Desiree in those heels was taller than he was. She bent over a little when she shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wilson.”
Looking flustered, which amused Decker, Wilson gently extracted his hand from Desiree’s and said, “It’s just Wilson, Dr. Gaines.”
Desiree smiled warmly as she stepped into the huge black-and-white-checkered tile foyer. “Wilson it is, then.” She looked around her, her eyes filled with awe. “This is some house!”
Decker had to admit, it was indeed some house. More like a museum than a house. You heard your footfalls echoing in the massive place when you walked on the hardwood and tile floors. Antiques worthy of display in the world’s finest museums furnished the rooms. Decker remembered being chastised by his father for running in the house when he was a boy. “Some of these items are irreplaceable, boy. Go outside if you must behave like an animal.”
Decker had spent a lot of time outdoors during his childhood.
“There you are!” cried his mother as she entered the foyer, looking lovely in an emerald-hued dress and wearing her favorite pearls. She ignored him and went straight for Desi, which he appreciated. At least one of his parents wasn’t going to embarrass him tonight.
He watched the two of them hugging—tall and athletic Desiree and his petite mother, who rarely broke a sweat, unless playing bid whist with her girlfriends counted.
His mother pulled back, gazing up at Desiree with humor-lit eyes. “You’re gorgeous! Welcome to our home, my dear Desi!”
Beaming, Desiree said, “Thank you. So are you. I’ve been looking forward to this ever since Decker told me you’d invited me. You have a beautiful home.”
His mother took Desiree by the arm and led her down the hall to the library, where Decker knew his father liked to have a before-dinner drink. “This old place?” his mother said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s been standing for generations. I’d rather be in a condo somewhere.”
Smiling, Decker followed them. “Hello, Mom, it’s so good to see you, too.”
His mother looked at him over her shoulder, “Oh, Decker, are you here, too? Sorry, I didn’t see you. Come on, dear, you know your father’s probably on his second cognac by now.”
In the library, a room with all four walls covered in shelves of books, his father stood at the bay window, a glass of spirits in one hand and the other folded behind his back in a contemplative pose. He turned around when he heard them enter and grimaced. Decker knew he looked like his father. They were both tall men with large frames. Decker’s features were similar to his father’s, too. Photographs of him as a younger man sometimes looked uncannily like Decker today. Genetics was all they had in common. In his father, Decker saw what he would look like when he aged. But their hearts were as different as day and night.
He wondered, sometimes, if his dad got any joy out of life at all. Or, perhaps, he was perfectly happy as he was, deriving joy from the surety that he was indeed a superman in his own right.
“Thaddeus Jr.,” he said, and stepped forward to shake Decker’s hand, but his eyes were on Desiree. Decker shook his hand and then presented Desiree to his father in a formal manner, as was expected. “Dad, you remember Dr. Desiree Gaines, don’t you?”
His father turned his head in Desiree’s direction. He smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, welcome to our home, Desiree.”
Desiree smiled with genuine warmth. “Thank you, Dr. Riley. I’m delighted to be here.”
His father gestured to a group of chairs near the fireplace, and they all sat down. Wilson, who had been standing in the back of the room, now stepped forward and asked if anyone would like a drink.
His mother asked for a sherry. Desiree said she would try a sherry, and he asked Wilson to bring him a beer in the bottle, domestic. To which his father frowned and said, “We don’t buy domestic.”
Decker knew that. He was just messing with his father. While they waited for their drinks, his mother said, “Desiree, I’m fascinated by your work. I’ve never been to a therapist before. What sort of problems do you help people with?”
Desiree turned toward his mother on the couch, visibly relaxing. Decker knew she was in her element now. “Oh, all kinds of problems,” she began. “I see people who’re having residual emotional problems from having been abused in some way. Married couples come to me for counseling because they’re trying to save their marriages. I see people with eating disorders. I see people with phobias.”
“Phobias,” his mother said, obviously intrigued. “Sometimes I freak out a little when I get into an elevator—that sort of thing?”
Desiree nodded. “Many people are claustrophobic in confined places like elevators, but if it becomes an obsession, or begins to adversely affect your life, that’s when you would come to see me. But a little bit of fear is to be expected. I don’t like elevators, either.”
His mother grinned at Desiree. Decker, having grown up around June Riley, and thoroughly knowing her mannerisms, knew his mother was about to ask Desiree something naughty. “Have you ever treated someone who was afraid of sex?”
“That’s called erotophobia,” Desiree told his mother. “Unless you’re referring to the act itself, which is called genophobia. Most of the people I’ve treated for that had physical problems related to sex before the mental problems started manifesting themselves.”
Decker’s father cleared his throat and set his glass on the table in front of him, after which he regarded Desiree with interest. “Oh, what sort of physical problems?”
Desiree turned to him and smiled. “For example, I had a male patient who’d had open heart surgery. The doctor told him that after he was fully recovered, he would be able to make love to his wife. But he had an unreasoned fear of dying in her arms. It wasn’t just the act of dying in her arms that terrified him. It was the lasting effect it would have on her after he was gone. We had to get his wife in on the therapy before we found a solution. But we did find a solution, and they’re still together, still happy, and from what I hear, still happy in the bedroom.”
His mother laughed. “That’s wonderful. What other sorts of phobias have you treated?”
Wilson returned with their drinks and handed them around. After this was done, Desiree answered his mother’s question. “There is a phobia for anything you can imagine. Let’s start with the A’s. You’ve probably heard of agoraphobia, the fear of open spaces, or the fear of leaving a safe place, such as your home. I’ve treated several patients who suffered from that.”
“I know a woman who hasn’t left her house in twenty years,” his mother said excitedly. She turned to his father. “You know Clare, sweetheart.”
“Clare Edmonds?” asked his father incredulously. “The woman is a social gadfly. She gives the best dinner parties in Raleigh.”
“Yes,” his mother agreed. “But have you ever noticed her at anyone else’s dinner parties?”
His father frowned, thinking. “No, as a matter of fact, I haven’t.”
Decker was pleased that his mother had so far been able to loosen his father up. Maybe tonight was going to be all right, after all.
“See?” said his mother. “We all lead secret lives.” She looked at Desiree once more. “Go on, you’re on the A’s.”
“There’s achluophobia, fear of the dark. Androphobia, fear of men. Anuptaphobia, fear of never getting married...”
“If you had androphobia, you wouldn’t care about having anuptaphobia,” his mother quipped, and laughed loudest at her joke.
/> His dad smiled his first smile of the night. “June, really, you slay me.”
Desiree looked at Decker and raised her eyebrows questioningly. He wanted to tell her that was as animated as his father ever got.
“Dinner is served!” Wilson said from the doorway.
The four of them rose and went to the formal dining room, where only part of the table that could seat sixteen had been set for them.
“I told your father we could eat in the kitchen,” his mother said. “But he said he wasn’t entertaining in the kitchen when there was a perfectly good dining room to be had.”
Decker pulled Desiree’s chair out for her while his father did the same for his mother on the opposite side of the table. “I like this dining room,” he said. “I can hear my echo in it.”
Desiree laughed, and it was the sweetest sound to him. He bent down and kissed her cheek before sitting beside her.
As soon as they were seated, two maids came through the swinging doors into the dining room carrying silver serving platters. For the next few minutes they filled their plates with the delectable cuisine his parents’ chef had prepared: Cornish game hens stuffed with savory dressing, fresh green beans sautéed with slivered almonds, spinach salad and homemade crescent rolls that melted on the tongue.
“No one’s dieting tonight,” his mother joked. “How do you stay so fit, Desiree? You always look so vibrant and healthy.”
“Desiree has a black belt in karate,” Decker said, waiting to see what his mother would do with that bit of information.
His mother put down the roll she’d been about to bite into and laughed. “Is he joking?” she asked Desiree.
Desiree smiled modestly. “No, ma’am, he’s not. But really, karate is no different from yoga or any other physical discipline. It’s just something to keep me focused and in tune with my body.”
“Can you beat Decker?” his mother asked with a mischievous gleam in her eye.
Desiree laughed. She met Decker’s eyes across the table. “I don’t know. What do you think, Decker?”
“As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already won,” he said.
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” cooed his mother.
Decker’s gaze moved from his mother to his father, who was cutting into his game hen and seemingly content to let his wife be the gracious hostess tonight. “Dad, how’s work?”
His father sighed and put down his knife and fork as if the question had irritated him. “Decker, you know nothing much changes in surgery except the patients. I do the same thing every day, consult and operate, consult and operate. I try to stay on top of new technology, but basically surgery is surgery.”
“You make it sound so fascinating,” Decker said, not even trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
His father refused to take the bait and began eating his dinner. His mother, who over the years had learned to ignore her husband’s aloofness, smiled at him and Desiree across the table. “So tell me, you two, how long has it been now since you started dating? Six months?”
“Mom, you kept up with when we started dating?” Decker asked with a grin.
“Of course, you’re my only child. It’s my duty to keep up with such things. I’m practicing for when I become a grandmother. Mustn’t forget the little darlings’ birthdays!”
“Mom, have you no shame?”
“Absolutely none,” she replied happily.
He checked to see if any of his mother’s nonsense was embarrassing Desiree, but she seemed unaffected by it. She was smiling and enjoying her meal, her appetite good in spite of the tension in the room. Or maybe he was imagining the tension between him and his father. Somehow he had never felt that he was good enough for his old man. Though God knew, he’d tried when he was growing up. The biggest rift came when he graduated from high school and announced he was not going to become a doctor like his father. He was interested in the law. His mother was ecstatic. Her father had been an attorney. But Thaddeus Riley Sr. railed at him and told him he had a responsibility to carry on the Riley name by becoming a physician.
“Well, since Dad doesn’t want to talk about work, tell me, Mom, what have you been up to lately?” Decker asked.
His mother smiled mischievously. “Oh, managing this house is a full-time job. I keep telling your father it’s much too big for the two of us. Now, if you were to get married and move in here with your bride, maybe I wouldn’t feel as if this place is swallowing me up.”
Decker smiled at her. “You really do have a one-track mind, don’t you?”
“We’re not selling the house, June,” his father said between bites of game hen. “This house has been in my family for generations.”
His mother ignored his father and kept her attention focused on Decker. “I always thought a cottage by the sea would be nice. That fresh salt air, walks on the beach, digging for clams,” she said dreamily.
“We already own a beach house,” his father put in with a narrowed look at his mother.
“Yes, but we only go there once a year,” said June. “Every July. What if I wanted to go to the beach in October once in a while?”
“You know I take a month off in July,” her husband said reasonably.
“That’s another thing,” June complained. “Maybe I’d like to vacation some other time. Have you ever thought of that?”
Decker thought his father’s jaw had tightened quite a bit since his mother had started her litany about vacation time. He wondered what was really going on between his parents.
His father set his fork down and looked at his mother irritably. “June, we are not going to air our dirty laundry in public.”
“We’re just talking about your taking time off from work,” his mother countered cheekily. “Or maybe you’d prefer a safe subject, like the weather.” She smiled at Desiree. “Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?”
Desiree returned her smile. “Just beautiful.”
They continued eating their meal after that, but Decker meant to get to the bottom of this before he left tonight.
Chapter 13
After dinner, June pulled Desiree aside and whispered, “Come on, Desi, let me show you the house while the men have a little father-son time.”
Desiree sent an encouraging smile Decker’s way before leaving the dining room with June. She had felt the tension between Decker and his father, but as only a guest in this house, she had thought it best to ignore it and finish her meal. Whatever was brewing had probably been doing so under the surface for years.
June—for Mrs. Riley had long ago told her to call her June—led her upstairs, talking while they climbed. “Decker and his father have some issues to work through, but Tad is stoic and Decker is stubborn, so they haven’t made any inroads in solving them. I suppose you sensed it.” And she turned her sad brown eyes on Desiree.
“I did,” Desiree confirmed, but was reluctant to say more. She spent her time listening to people and observing them. She didn’t have enough information about Decker and his father’s relationship to form any opinions.
When they reached the landing, June turned to the right and led her down a long hallway. They ended up in an extremely large master suite. The room was as big as Desiree’s living room. There was a sitting area in the bedroom, a huge bay window overlooking the gardens, French doors leading to a balcony that was roomy enough for a table and two chairs and a chaise longue. The en suite had a Jacuzzi and separate shower and bath. Desiree looked around. “You must love soaking in that tub.” It was big enough for four people.
“Some of my best thinking is done in that tub,” June said as she turned away and began leading Desiree from the room. In the hallway, she turned to face Desiree, her expression grave. “Desiree, may I speak with you about something personal, and rely on you not to speak to anyone else about it
?”
“Of course you can,” Desiree said immediately, concerned.
“Look at me,” June said.
Desiree observed her closely as she spoke. What she saw was an intelligent, attractive woman in her late fifties with an indomitable spirit. “I was twenty-four when Decker was born. I’d graduated from Spelman with a degree in English three years earlier with the intention of teaching like my mother before me. Then I met a young physician who swept me off my feet. He might not seem like it now, but Tad could turn on the charm when he wanted to. The first few years together were blissful. Then he started working sixty-hour weeks, became head of his department and began collecting countless accolades for his work.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of him. But I feel like, somewhere along the way, he left me behind. What’s more, I feel as though he discounts my contribution to his success. I was the woman who kept his personal life running smoothly so he could focus on being brilliant. I could overlook being invisible to him because, on occasion, he did notice me and wine me and dine me, and take me to bed and behave as if we were on our honeymoon again, but not anymore. We haven’t connected as a couple in over a year.”
Desiree had to make sure she understood June correctly. “When you say connected, you mean?”
“Sex, Desiree,” June said in a whisper. “Do you think he has a mistress?”
Desiree almost laughed. The thought of Thaddeus Riley having a mistress was ludicrous. He had a lovely wife who put up with his taciturn behavior. No, wait, she thought, even men with understanding wives could have a chick on the side. “Are there any other indications that he might be unfaithful?”
“Like what?” asked June, whose brown eyes held an inquisitive expression.
“Like has he started paying more attention to his wardrobe, his personal hygiene? Is he taking extra showers? Has he suddenly had an interest in getting into shape? Basically, men who cheat do the same things they did to attract their wives. Having an affair also takes time and money. Does he have the extra time to spare? Have you noticed unusual charges on your cards?”
