“Mijo!” a voice cried out. It was Rosa, welcoming Luke into her outstretched arms. She was everything I expected, but not quite what I had pictured in my mind. Short, but not as round as I had imagined, she was petite and soft and a little flashy. Dark curly hair, with perhaps a few too many jangly bracelets, she was dressed with style in mind, but a greater nod to comfort than one would imagine Posy would have favored. She had been employed by the Walcotts since Luke’s birth, and you could instantly see the bond those two shared, her bright red lipstick lingering on his cheek. I immediately wished I had met her earlier.
“Come in! Come in!” she said, closing the door behind us as we entered the grand foyer. There was an imposing, winding staircase just behind her to the right. On our left, a set of ancient wooden pocket doors were rolled back to reveal an opulent sitting room. The pocket doors to our right were closed to what I assumed was the dining room, the setting of this evening’s dinner.
“Let me a take a look at you, mijo!” She held his arm out, almost as if she expected him to pirouette in her hands. She looked him up and down, beaming. “Staying in shape, I see. Such a handsome man you are. Are you eating enough? I’m sending you home with tamales. Don’t give me that carb nonsense, okay? I don’t want to hear it from you.” There was no doubt who was in charge here.
“And you,” she said slowly, giving me a serious look with one raised eyebrow and a distinct lack of enthusiasm. “You must be Derek.” Pause. Oh, shit. I’m on deck. Man up, Walter.
“Yes,” I said, forcing a nervous smile and finding my voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Luke has told me so much about you.”
“Oh, really?” she said, letting a smile slowly form on her face. “Well, we don’t know enough about you, yet. I hope you’re ready for the Mexican Inquisition?”
I smiled, gamely, and glanced at Luke. Help?
“I’m just playing with you!” she said, and she and Luke started laughing. “Welcome to our home.” She pulled me into her arms and her hug was warm and soft and I detected a whiff of cinnamon. It was a comforting gesture, and she made me feel a little more at ease. But not too much.
“Your father is in the library,” she said, pointing a finger down the hallway. “He’s expecting you. I have some things to finish in the kitchen. Go ahead, I’ll be in later.”
The library. The dining room. The parlor. The veranda. The rooms in the Walcott residence had names. I was in a real life game of Clue. Situated high on a hill at the west edge of town, it overlooked acres of undeveloped land that was once used for farming and horse pastures. It had been modernized since it was built after the era of Reconstruction, but it still maintained its distinctive Southern character. This was dirt Red would never sell.
Luke led the way as we walked down the long hallway, passing more rooms with names and purposes I could only imagine. I felt like an intruder, albeit an invited one.
The library was situated at the back of the house. Double tall in ceiling height, there were three walls filled voluminously with books, with a fourth wall of beveled glass windows looking out to the seemingly endless pastures. This was one view that progress hadn’t disturbed. Red was seated in a brown leather club chair by the fireplace, a few small logs ceremoniously lit for mood. His hand held a cut glass highball, with two fingers of a caramel brown spirit. Bourbon, I assumed.
Luke peeked his head into the room. “Father?”
“Luke, come on in,” said Red, standing. “How are you, son?” He extended his hand. Not a hugger, I see. Good to know.
“I’m well, thank you,” he said, taking his dad’s hand. “Father, I’d like you to meet Derek Walter.” So formal. This was old school, and I knew better than to diverge from the script.
“Mr. Walcott, it’s a pleasure, sir,” I said, putting on my best smile and firmly shaking his hand.
“Please, call me Red, son,” he said. “Luke knows I am fond of formalities, but I am learning to give a little, as I get older. Please, have a seat, won’t you?”
Luke took the chair next to his dad and I sat opposite, a small carved mahogany table between us.
“Can I offer you gentleman a drink? Luke, I am sure you remember where the bar is. You snuck into it enough as a teenager.” Stately, but with a sense of humor, Red was slowly starting to grow on me.
Luke went over to the liquor cabinet and poured two bourbons, neat.
“Now, Derek, you are Barry Henry’s nephew, isn’t that right?” I nodded, consciously keeping my words to a minimum. “Barry is a good man. We have been close friends for years. He thinks quite highly of you.”
“He has very kind words for you, as well, sir.” Careful, Derek. Two sips of liquor and I was already testing my boundaries. Red showed no reaction. The perfect negotiating face. I had not broken my promise to Barry and I had never disclosed Red’s youthful dalliances with my uncle to Luke. That was their secret, not mine. But I knew to hold that card close to my chest, for safekeeping.
Red moved the conversation forward, wisely. He and Luke covered the weather and sports and a few local land deals that he was negotiating, but so far we avoided the giant elephant in the room. Perhaps we should say elephants, at this point. We were approaching circus proportions, after all. The feud with Lana, the CCCP, the attention placed on the family, his son’s sexuality, even the simple fact that I was sitting by Luke’s side as his boyfriend, and not just another dinner guest.
The doorbell rang again and jarred me from my reverie. I took another calming sip of bourbon. Careful, Derek.
“That must be your sister,” said Red. “Shall we move on to the parlor?” So the library was for the men, but the parlor was for entertaining the ladies, I assumed? He rose, leaving his empty glass behind, and left the room
“So far, so good,” whispered Luke as we followed.
“Really? We haven’t said much of anything.”
“Business and family decisions are preceded by lots of small talk and pre-dinner drinks,” he said. “This is what my father would refer to as foreplay, if he’d ever say the word. Nothing is abrupt. ‘Small steps lead the way to victory,’ he’d tell us as kids.”
We entered the foyer just in time to see Rosa and Lana talking. Rosa was less animated with Luke’s sister, not nearly as open as I had seen her with Luke. Lana was standing with her arms folded across her chest, smiling. I wouldn’t say there was a chill between them. There was definitely a connection, but it was more servant/child than mother/daughter. That changed the moment Red came into view.
“Daddy!” she cried, and threw open her arms. I bet when she was a kid she’d climb right up and demand to be carried to the next room. It was obvious, she was a daddy’s girl, and he babied her every step of the way.
“How is my Lana Banana?” he said, his wide grin showing off every tooth in his mouth. Why Red, you old softy. You do have a heart. Formal and scholarly with Luke, Red was more at ease with Lana. I was beginning to understand these family dynamics.
Small talk and greetings were made all around. Of course, Lana and I had already met. She wasn’t cold, but she wasn’t warm and fuzzy, either. She was keeping up appearances, and I was happy to play along. I’d take what I could get. Small steps lead the way to victory, right Red?
Rosa led us into the parlor, where a majestic oil painting of Posy Walcott hung over the fireplace, surveying the entire room, her straight blond hair smoothed back into a bun, diamonds in her ears and a tiered diamond necklace around her throat, her thin hands placed firmly on either side of her Queen Anne chair. She commanded attention in her pale blue gown. Another liquor cabinet stood ready for us to pillage. I remembered Luke’s words of caution and made a mental note to sip the next one slowly. I’m sure the foreplay was about to give way to an intense discussion, and I had a feeling I would need my mind to remain clear.
Two cocktails in and sure enough, Red took charge and addressed his progeny.
“Lana, sweetheart. Luke. I want this nonsense to stop, you hear me?” Bo
om, right to the heart of the matter. It was less of a question and more of an order.
“Daddy,” Lana smiled, sweetly, “perhaps we should discuss this, just the three of us? It is, after all, a family matter.” As if she was saving Rosa and me the trouble and we should be grateful. I was about two seconds from taking her up on that offer, when I felt Luke’s hand land itself firmly on my knee. I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Lana, darling, everyone in this room is family, as far as I am concerned.” Red spoke with such gravitas and firmness. I was enthralled, hanging on every word. Were these the fireworks I was waiting for all evening? This was about to get good!
Lana settled demurely into her seat, sizing up the room. She knew that Red had the floor, and she respected that.
“Lana, you have made your point. Publicly,” Red began, the last word dripping slowly from his mouth. “You have made it clear that you do not approve of your brother’s choices.”
“Daddy, it’s not…”
“Lana!” Red cut her off, immediately. Here it comes, I thought. “Lifestyle.” “Choices.” Would we ever reach a point in our civilization where this was no longer a discussion? Had I spent too many years in the liberal stronghold of New York City? Honestly, the only choice I made was to come back and deal with these outdated arguments in the South. I took a healthy sip of bourbon and kept my mouth shut, wisely.
“Your brother is a homosexual.” Oh, shit. He went there! “You may not approve, but you must love him, and I know you do. The world has changed, Lana. Not always for the best, but a smart businessman either has to adapt, or die. Now in my day, we did not discuss these things in open rooms. Of course we knew homosexuals. I had friends who were homosexuals. I still do. But anything discussed in the bedroom or the bathroom was not a proper topic for the parlor. It just was not gentlemanly, or ladylike. You may recall a Cole Porter song called “Anything Goes,” but I imagine even he would be shocked by the carefree discussions in which we now find ourselves. Regardless, we stand here tonight having that very discussion. I have met your brother’s companion, and I can tell you all that I approve. He comes from a good family, he is well mannered, and your brother has chosen him. That is good enough for me.”
Luke’s hand was a vice grip on my knee. This is the moment, I said to myself. This is the moment I must remember to tell our kids. Wait. Did I need to reconsider my views on a family of our own, after all? Hold that thought for another time, Derek. Right now, my heart was no longer beating. It felt like it had stopped, and I was hanging on every word that Red said.
“As for you, Lana, I hope that you one day find the right companion with whom to share your life.” Whoa! Did he just jump over the gender there, in deference to Luke? This was indeed a monumental night. Who needs to get sloshed to have fun? This was amazing!
He paused. Here it comes. “As you all know, I have found such a companion in Rosa.”
Rosa beamed, a woman in love. Had he ever acknowledged her in such a way, before? I had to ask Luke later, because there was no way I was getting off this roller coaster right now.
“Daddy,” Lana was defiant. “Rosa is not my mother, and she never will be.”
This evening was about so much more than Luke and me, and I was just beginning to realize it. How selfish of me. How self-centered I had been. All families have moments of realignment. The power dynamics shift and adjust. New teams are formed. Pacts are broken and rewritten, more favorably for all, rather than for a single individual. Tonight wasn’t about the argument between Lana and Luke; it was about the future of the Walcotts. I was just a witness, an attendee who had been magnanimously invited into the fold, and I was grateful.
“Lana, dear,” Red said, “you are correct. Rosa is not your biological mother; however, she raised you and your brother and spent far more time with you than your mother ever deigned, before her untimely and unfortunate passing. I will not speak ill of the dead. I have never said a single disparaging word about your mother. But you must know, Lana, your mother was not a kind woman. Your memories of her are derived from fading photographs and press clippings. She was severe in her words and actions, more so than you probably remember. I loved her dearly. I did. But the marriage I had with your mother was decidedly transactional, and the love I feel for Rosa is more grounded in warmth and respect. If I am today to tell you to respect the love that Rosa and I share, than I would be circumspect to allow you to continue to disregard the love your brother so obviously feels for Derek.”
The room fell silent. What could we possibly say after that eloquent speech? The only choice was to accept Red’s demands. He was clearly in charge.
Lana spoke up, quietly. “I’m not sure I can stop it all, Daddy. It got out of hand. Amber, the CCCP, the protesters. Maybe it’s bigger than me, now?”
“That is not the attitude of a Walcott,” said Red, firmly. Discussion over. “You will do your best. I will not have the family name paraded through the news reports for the wrong reasons, anymore.”
Lana deflated. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll do my best.” And that was that. She agreed to try and calm down the CCCP and get them to back off. Of course I was thrilled, but we weren’t out of the water yet. No telling if she could calm the dogs of war that she had spent so many weeks whipping into a frenzy.
The doorbell rang, and Rosa practically jumped out of her seat. Red sat unmoving, and Lana looked over to Luke and me as if to say who’s that?
“If you’ll excuse me,” said Rosa, and she walked out of the room, partially closing the doors to the parlor behind her. Red walked over to the liquor cabinet and topped off his bourbon, then stood waiting at the fireplace, the gentleman of the manor, one hand on the mantle. What was going on?
The front door opened and we heard Rosa say warmly, “Welcome to our home,” just as she had said to Luke and me.
“Daddy? Are we expecting visitors?” asked Lana.
Red ignored her, choosing instead to take a sip of bourbon. If it was good enough for Red, it was good enough for me. I took a fortifying gulp.
We heard a voice in the hall. A woman. “I’m confused. What are we doing here?” she said.
Wait. What?! I know that voice…
15
THE FIRST SUPPER
Was I hearing things? I had to be.
I turned to Luke to see if he shared my reaction, but he remained stoic, staring straight forward. This had been quite an evening, so far. My internal dialogue was practically screaming to be set free, but I knew better than to release it here. That had to wait.
The doors to the parlor were pulled back, and there was Rosa, with a couple standing by her side.
“Bammy?” I practically sputtered. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t be silent any longer. No one even looked at me, though. All eyes in the room, including Posy’s, were focused on Bammy and her boyfriend.
“Michael, what is going on here? Will someone please tell me what is going on?” asked Bammy, quietly.
Red walked over to them from his position by the fireplace and extended his hand. “Miss Talbot, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Red Walcott. Please, call me Red. May I call you Bammy?”
“Um, yes,” she stammered, “certainly. But still, I have no idea why we are here.”
“I will be happy to explain everything,” said Red. “Please, take a seat.” He directed them to the love seat across from the couch where Luke and I were sitting. Lana was seated in a chair to their left. Bammy and I exchanged puzzled glances, but Red had made it clear that he was in charge tonight. We were just participants.
“Would either of you care for a drink?” he asked, the perfect host.
“No, sir,” replied Michael. “I think we should proceed without, if you don’t mind. Perhaps we’ll need one after?”
Perhaps? Hell, I needed a refill already. So much for me trying to take it easy. Lana’s back was ramrod straight, her hands gripping the arms of her chair. She was ready to pounce. Lana wasn’t the type who responded well to changes of pla
n, and this evening was certainly throwing her off her game. Luke shifted to the edge of the couch. He had barely touched his drink. I couldn’t read his mind, but I imagine he was just as confused as the rest of us.
Bammy, ever the problem solver, spoke up first. “Sir, may I ask, am I invited here tonight in my capacity as principal? Because I can assure you, I am doing everything in my power to diffuse this difficult situation. The school doesn’t like the extra attention, and I can imagine you and your family don’t, either. Luke and Derek are fantastic educators, and I’m working to…”
“Bammy, please,” Red held up his hand to stop her. “I have no doubts you are doing exactly as you describe, and I thank you for that. I am appreciative of your efforts. However, that is not the main reason for our gathering tonight, though it may have been the impetus.” He paused and scanned the faces in the room, all paying rapt attention to the gentleman standing at the fireplace. “I have asked you all here,” he began, “to correct a disservice. And to do so, I must start at the beginning. Lana dear, I apologize in advance, as you may find some of this deeply upsetting. If we have learned anything from the past few weeks, though, it is just how important family is, and how even more important it is that we remain united when confronted with a challenge. As I expressed earlier this evening, my late wife Posy was a very special woman. I do not fault her, though. Quite the contrary. We knew what we were getting into when our marriage was agreed upon. I hesitate to say ‘arranged,’ although it did have the perception of a business arrangement between the Walcotts and the Lindberghs. A unity that would truly bless me with two beautiful children, Luke and Lana. Posy and I loved each other; indeed, there is no question about that. However, after you were born, Lana, Posy felt that her motherly duties had been fulfilled. I accepted that, yet I did not realize that she also assumed an immediate cessation to our intimacy in the bedroom.”
The Fire Went Wild (Home is a Fire Book 2) Page 13