When You Dance With The Devil

by Gwynne Forster

  For ninety minutes, they munched on popcorn and held hands. She didn’t see much of the movie, and that didn’t much matter, because she’d already seen The Philadelphia Story twice. As she watched it, she wondered why he hadn’t asked her if she wanted to see it. After the movie, he drove them through Ocean Pines, stopped at a roadside restaurant and parked in back of it.

  At least it will be warm inside, she thought, wondering why he said so little, and why she seemed so dissatisfied, when she had waited months to be with him again. “It’s beautiful,” she told him as they entered. His sharp glance signaled his awareness of the sound of relief in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. Not even her one date with Bob Tucker had been so strange.

  “Surely, you don’t think I’d take you to any other kind of restaurant,” he said, and though the contours of his face changed and his teeth gleamed, the result couldn’t be called a smile. She ordered a pork chop dinner, not because she wanted it, but because it was the cheapest entrée on the menu.

  “How’s your business coming along?” she asked him.

  “Real good. I don’t remember telling . . . I hadn’t started my business when we used to see each other. How’d you know about it?”

  “Judd was bragging about you.”

  “That’s nice of him. How’s your job going? You still at the beauty parlor?”

  “Yes, and I’ve had three raises. Whenever the boss is away, I’m the manager.” Both of his eyebrows shot up. “I’m going to learn as much as I can about that business, and I might open one myself if I decide to stay in this part of Maryland.”

  His interest heightened. “Why wouldn’t you stay? You can make a good living here, especially in the beauty business. Tourists crowd in here from April to October, and you know the sisters and their hair.”

  What was it about that topic that made him warm up and talk? Well, the pork chop wasn’t as good as the ones Marilyn cooked, but it wasn’t bad, so he could talk or not. She put a smile on her face and let herself enjoy the meal.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  She gaped at him. “I don’t drink, and I didn’t think you did.”

  He seemed disappointed, though she couldn’t imagine why. “It rounds out a good meal.” When he glanced at his watch, she did the same and saw that it was only a quarter of six.

  “Would you like to see my shop?” he asked her.

  “I would, indeed. I’d love to see how you make sails. I always thought they were so beautiful billowing in the wind. Is it far from here?”

  “No. It’s right in town, down at the water’s edge. I bought the place a few months back. It suited me perfectly.”

  It wasn’t the shack she thought it would be, but a sturdy structure that gleamed with a fresh coat of pale blue paint, the windows and door trimmed in white. She imagined that he painted it himself, and he agreed that he did.

  “I save however I can,” he said. “Come on in.”

  The room she entered could have been any store with the merchant’s wares and talents neatly and attractively displayed. He walked through the store. “I work back here.” He pushed open an adjoining door, took her hand and walked into what was clearly his private quarters. “I cook in my work room, but I sleep and entertain in here.” She gazed around, taking it all in, the long and roomy sofa that she figured became his bed at night, the big leather chairs, the oriental carpet, wide-screen flat television, the furnishings of an elegant living room.

  She whirled around and looked at him. “You live here. This is your home.”

  “Why, yes. I didn’t see the point in owning this and paying the high rent that apartments in this town demand.”

  “It’s great. Congratulations. I didn’t know you were taking me to your home. I’d like to go now, if you don’t mind.”

  “Why? We . . . uh . . . haven’t had a chance to renew our friendship. Sit down over here, and I’ll make us some coffee.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not offering me wine.”

  He walked up to her, big, strong and handsome, and wrapped her in his arms. “Kiss me, baby.”

  She moved her face from the path of his oncoming mouth. “I’m surprised at you, Gregory. I looked at you as a man among men, a perfect gentleman. But you aren’t. I want to go home right now.”

  “Look, you’ve been around,” he sneered. “So why not me? At least I won’t mistreat you.”

  “You’re mistreating me now. I don’t feel anything for you, Gregory. Not a single thing. You could be one of those poles in your office back there. I haven’t felt right about this since you called me yesterday, and now, I know what it was that I sensed. You were too calculating. I know, because that’s how I was until I caused Harper to have that accident, and until Francine, Judd and Richard taught me some sense. Everybody thinks you’re so great, and I did too, but honey, you ain’t worth pig droppings.”

  He grabbed her shoulders. “How dare you say something like that to me!”

  “It didn’t cost me any more nerve than it cost you to do what you did. And don’t think this will make me fold up. No, sir. I’ll be at class tomorrow evening on time.”

  She rushed through the store, out of the shop and onto the street, walked a block, saw the car rental store and went inside. “I need a taxi to Pike Hill,” she told the man, whose gaze suggested that he would gladly take the job. “I can call Dan for you. He’ll go anywhere so long as you pay him,” the clerk said.

  She thanked the man and prayed that Gregory wouldn’t walk into that store until she was in Dan’s taxi. Dan arrived almost at once, and as she walked out of the store with him, Gregory drove up, got out, and rushed to her.

  “I don’t need you, Gregory, and I’m not going anywhere with you. If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll call the police on this cell phone you gave me.” She got into Dan’s taxi and left him standing there. As soon as she was inside her room, she wrote a check for seventeen dollars and eighty cents, the cost of the dinner and movie, and put it in an envelope. At eight-thirty, when she knew Judd would be in the lounge, she went downstairs and gave him the envelope on which she had written Gregory’s name.

  “Would you give him this tomorrow evening, please?”

  Judd looked at the envelope in his hand. “Any reason why you can’t give it to him?”

  “I won’t be speaking to him,” she said. “Thanks.”

  “I see. You mad with him, or with yourself?”

  She started to sit down, but changed her mind. From now on, she planned to keep her sins to herself. Nobody was perfect, including Gregory Hicks. “Let’s say I’ve finally grown up.”

  Judd rubbed the little hairs that had begun to surface on his chin. “I’m glad to hear it, and I’ll be more than glad to deliver this letter.”

  She told Judd and the others gathered there good night and went to her room. To her amazement, she neither cried nor wanted to, but busied herself laying out the clothes she would wear to work the next day. Later, as she prepared for bed, she remembered Richard’s words that she was pining for the wrong man, and wondered whether he was aware that Gregory didn’t respect her. He had, once, she knew, but in her desire to be honest with him thereafter, she’d made the mistake of telling him how she had behaved with men, and he probably wondered why he shouldn’t have her too. It would never happen. Not as long as she breathed.

  When her cell phone rang, she knew that Gregory was the caller, and she was tempted not to answer. But I’ve invested a lot in that man, and I owe it to myself to have the last word. “Hello, Gregory.”

  “How did you know I was the person calling you?”

  “I knew.”

  “I wanted to know whether you got there safely and to tell you that I’m sorry the evening ended as it did.”

  “No hard feelings, Gregory. I made the mistake of being honest with you and giving you a choice. You made one. You did your thing, and I did mine. That’s all there is to it. Good night.” She didn’t wait for his reply, because no mat
ter what it was, it would not have made a difference.

  She got to the bus stop the next morning minutes before the bus arrived. “I see you’re early,” the driver said. “Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?”

  Her immediate reaction was one of annoyance, but when she looked at the man, he held up both hands, palms out. “You can’t blame me for trying. You said ‘no,’ and I understand that word. Okay? I hear Harper Masterson’s scheduled to leave the hospital one day this week. Man, that’s a miracle. Doctors gave him a thirty percent chance to survive, and they say he’s walking around.”

  Gregory and memories of her date with him had pushed most other thoughts from her mind, and she realized she hadn’t thought about Harper. “I’m glad he’s going to be all right,” she told the driver. “He’s a very nice man.”

  “So I hear, and you said that before.” She dropped her money in the box, and he pulled away from the curb. “You have to go after what you want in this life, girl. That’s the only way you’ll get it.” She looked around but didn’t see another passenger to whom he might be talking, walked on to the rear of the bus and sat down. If Harper would be as good as new, and if she could manage to speak with Percy, maybe she could get rid of her guilt, or at least some of it, and stop worrying about all the wrong she’d done.

  Chapter Eleven

  Richard entered the revolving door of the United Nations Secretariat Building and looked around. He had remembered to bring along his diplomat’s badge and flashed it to the guard who stood at the door.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  “Thanks,” Richard said as casually as he could, “but I need to step over there and look at a phone directory.”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  He found her phone number and office location at once and, as he had expected, Estelle Mitchell had moved a step higher. After copying the information, he headed for the second floor where he knew he would find telephones and comfortable seating.

  “Ms. Mitchell’s office. How may I help you?”

  “Good morning,” he said to the familiar voice. “This is Richard Peterson, and I’d like to see Ms. Mitchell for about fifteen minutes. I’m only in New York for the day.”

  “Uh . . . How are you, Mr. Peterson. This is Ms. Mitchell’s secretary. I’ll speak with her. Hold on.”

  He thanked her and held his breath, as it occurred to him for the first time that Estelle might refuse to see him. This had been his world, where being seen at all the right places and in the right company meant everything to a man’s career. He smiled inwardly as he watched a woman grasp at another’s coat sleeve, begging, “You will call, won’t you Dr. Ammil?” Dr. Ammil nodded and rushed on without having verbally committed herself. Self-importance was another commodity in abundance there, and he had certainly possessed his share of it.

  “Hello Mr. Peterson. Sorry to keep you waiting. Ms. Mitchell said she can see you at eleven-thirty this morning. Should I put you down?”

  “Absolutely, and thanks. I’m in your debt.”

  He had about two hours to throw away, but he didn’t mind. If he hadn’t gotten his request in early, the trip would probably have been a waste of time, not to speak of emotion. In earlier days, he would have passed the time in the North Delegates Lounge, seeing, being seen, and consuming a Scotch mist, something he no longer drank. He walked through the Security Council Chamber, now empty, its staid presence proclaiming its importance in world affairs. Eleven-twenty-six. He headed for the high-rise elevator.

  “Well, if it isn’t Richard Peterson. Where’ve you been hiding, man?” He recognized the Jamaican ambassador and shook his hand. “When I heard you’d quit one of the biggest posts in the international community, I didn’t believe it. You look ten years younger.”

  Small talk. Something else that he didn’t miss. “I haven’t regretted it for a second.”

  “What are you doing these days?”

  “I live in a tiny town a stone’s throw from the Atlantic Ocean, and . . . Sorry, I get off here. Good to see you.” Thank God. Just in time to avoid the kind of banalities that he hadn’t engaged in since he left Geneva. He wondered at his lack of anxiety or of any feeling of excitement as he approached Estelle Mitchell’s office.

  “Mr. Peterson! How are you? It’s been a long time.” The lovely secretary’s smile registered with him as sincere, and he remembered that he had regarded her as honest and straightforward. He extended his hand, and she rose to shake hands with him.

  “I’ll tell Ms. Mitchell you’re here.”

  Minutes later, Estelle’s office door opened, and she walked through it, more elegant and more beautiful than ever, her face wreathed in smiles. “Richard, how nice to see you!” He took the hand she offered, shook it and, to his surprise, the earth didn’t move. Indeed, considering the complete lack of emotional undertow the handshake caused him, he could have been shaking hands with a stranger. “My, but you look wonderful,” she said. “Leah told me you’d dropped ten years, and she’s right. Come on in.”

  “You look well, too,” he said. “Very well, indeed. Congratulations on your new status.”

  “Thanks. What brings you to New York? I was stunned when I learned that you’d turned down the offer of a five-year contract and walked away from one of the most coveted posts in international civil service. Are you content with your decision?”

  “Absolutely. I’ve learned how to be a real person. That’s one of the reasons why I’m here.” He decided to be honest. “I needed to slay some ghosts, and that’s what I’m doing.”

  Her smile vanished. “Are you making any progress?”

  He didn’t hesitate, simply went with his gut feelings. “I’m doing nicely, far better than I would have thought. When I read of your marriage, it was as if the air had been sucked out of me with a vacuum, and I became something of an emotional cripple.” Her face crumpled into a worried frown, and he held up his hand to signal a halt to the direction of her thoughts. “I’m in great shape now, and your agreeing to talk with me for a few minutes has done wonders.”

  She leaned back in her chair. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear this. Are you planning to live here in New York, or will you return to Geneva?”

  “My home is in Pike Hill, Maryland, right on the Atlantic Ocean, and I’m very happy there. I left the service and Geneva because I thought I saw the person I’d become, and I didn’t like it. That was only the beginning.”

  He stood, satisfied that he’d done the right thing in facing her and his demon. “Thank you for these few minutes. I’m happy that life is treating you well, and I hope it continues that way.”

  She got up, walked toward the door, turned and smiled. “I’m glad you came, Richard. When we last saw each other, we didn’t part on the happiest of terms, and we can both remember this parting with satisfaction. I see a difference in you. Not many men or women have the courage to do what you did.”

  He stood there looking down at her, letting his gaze sweep over her. Then he smiled a smile that came from his heart. “You’ve done exceedingly well. This is a man’s world, and you’ve made it and still retained your femininity. It’s admirable,” he told her, and he smiled because that was all he felt for her, admiration.

  She held out her hand for a cordial good-bye. “Thanks. I wish you good luck.”

  He shook her hand, unmoved by the physical contact. “Thanks. I certainly wish you the same.”

  “I appreciate the appointment, Leah,” he said to Estelle Mitchell’s secretary. “You’re as gracious as ever.”

  “Thanks. All the best to you, Ambassador Peterson.”

  Minutes later, he was in a taxi on the way to his hotel. With any luck, he could be back in Pike Hill in time for supper. As the taxi sped up Third Avenue, he dialed the airline on his cell phone and booked a two o’clock flight. At the hotel, he paid the driver. “Wait for me. I’m going to LaGuardia Airport. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  He got off the plane in Ocean Pines at five-forty and
phoned Dan for a ride to Pike Hill. Gosh, I’d better tell Fannie to expect me for supper.

  “That certainly didn’t take long,” Judd said when Richard dropped his overnight bag by the door and walked into the lounge.

  “No point in staying longer. I did what I had to do and came home.”

  Judd turned off the television. “You satisfied with the way things went? Or you planning to let me worry every minute you were gone and then come back and not tell me a blasted thing.”

  “Of course not. She’s as beautiful, elegant, and intelligent as ever, and I didn’t feel a thing. Not a single spark.”

  “Well I’ll be danged if I didn’t tell you so.”

  “We had a gracious, civilized meeting in her office and wished each other well. Period. I never felt so good in my life.”

  “Yes siree,” Judd said. “This is a fine day.”

  He looked at Judd and couldn’t help grinning. “Think you can substitute a glass of wine or sherry for that ginger ale you love so much? I feel like celebrating.”

  “I don’t mind if I do. Haven’t had a glass of sherry in years.”

  “We can go down to the Inn after supper. No chance Fannie would have any spirits here.”

  Richard’s gaze settled on the fire that crackled in the fireplace, warm and welcoming. “Tell you what. Let’s have a glass of wine. It’s too cold and too windy for a stroll down Ocean Road.” He looked at his watch. “I’d better get up to my room and change before supper.”

  “Yeah,” Judd said. “You don’t want everybody to think you’re being uppity, and you sure don’t want Francine to walk in here and see you chatting with me when you haven’t even told her you were back.”

  He patted Judd’s shoulder. “Right. I’d trust you to mind my business any day. You’re good at it. See you shortly.”

  “You haven’t been doing such a good job of it, though I admit you’re improving all of a sudden.”