As they approached he saw that a sturdy wall surrounded it, and hefty gates were closed against the drive. He stopped, and Louise climbed out to press her thumb against an entry pad. The gates opened and they drove inside.
The house was Art Deco – a favourite period of Bobby’s – and was large but understated. The white stucco walls were immaculate. There was a flat roof which appeared to have a lushly-planted terrace. Another thumb-pad gave them entry into the impressive hall. It was lined in maple and a staircase swept up to a gallery with geometric balustrade. On the walls were a few well-spaced paintings by identifiable masters from several periods.
Bobby didn’t know if he was surprised, disappointed or delighted. He loved the house. But it seemed incongruous that a woman like Louise Gardner would hang on to the family mansion and all the trappings of wealth it contained.
As if she read his mind, Louise smiled and said, “It’s my only indulgence. My great-grandfather built it, and though his grandchildren didn’t let me share in it, I still feel connected when I’m here.” She paused and looked at him, then felt the need to add, “It’s not as if keeping this means withholding funds from the various projects.” Damn, it sounded like weak justification. She had lost his respect. If she had to sell the house to get that back, she would. She just hoped it wasn’t too late.
Bobby turned her comments over in his mind, and they made sense. This house was all she really knew about her family. Of course she couldn’t sell it.
“It’s beautiful,” he said. “I don’t think I’d sell it if it were mine.”
Relieved, she offered him the tour of the house.
For the next half hour they went from room to room and indulged themselves in the beauty of the house and its contents. From the lounge, four sets of french windows led into a large garden with ponds, fountains and, surprisingly, a few modern additions, like a bank of solar panels, disguised by clever planting. There was a pool house, and behind a wall stood a smaller building.
“That was built by my great-grandfather to get his children out of the house. Apparently they just wouldn’t move out! There was a separate annexe for the servants, but I had it dismantled and moved to another site so that the small house would have a garden. It’s where my housekeeper and her husband, the groundsman, live with their two children.”
“Only you would dedicate such a house to your employees,” said Bobby, in a tone that he hoped she realised was approving.
“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just the right thing. The house I had dismantled and moved? It’s out near the rest of their family, and when they want to retire, it’s theirs.”
Finally Louise took Bobby upstairs. The master suite had another bank of french windows, this time opening on to the terrace he’s seen from the drive. It was a beautiful private haven. Louise pulled open a wardrobe and unhooked a red blouse and some black jeans. “Red makes me feel slutty,” she said. She undid the tie Bobby had strung round her waist and slid out of the shirt. Releasing her thong, she stood in the thigh-high black leather boots and nothing else.
How could a man stand it? Bobby moaned and covered the floor in two strides. He swept her up and in two more he stretched her on the bed and, pausing only to rip off his own encumbrances, he was beside her, and exploring her, pleasuring her, entering her and thrusting his way to another mind-blowing orgasm.
They lay companionably on the huge bed, caressing, kissing, moaning their pleasure, but unable to utter a word. It was a full ten minutes before either of them was compos mentis again.
I have to do this, thought Bobby. I can’t let this go on without saying this to her.
“Louise,” he whispered into her ear, his breath making her body vibrate with longing, “I have to say something to you, but I’m not sure how you’ll take it.”
Suddenly, her heart seemed to stop. He was going to tell her there was someone else. Or that he wasn’t the kind to commit. Or that he didn’t really find her attractive. Or that the house – damn the house!
Trembling, her voice shaking, she took a deep breath and said, “OK, I’m ready.” LIAR! She would never be ready for this brush-off.
Smooching her cheek, Bobby said, “I love you.”
She almost screamed with relief, with joy. Tears filled her eyes. “I love you too,” she said.
He kissed her all over her face, licked away her salty tears, and working his way down to her sensitive spots (Lord, did any woman ever have so many sensitive spots?) he brought her to a climax to end all climaxes. As their bodies joined again, they repeated their words of love. Neither one could believe they had finally found happiness. Each vowed to make sure this little corner of heaven would be theirs forever.
Much later, as the sun began to sink below the horizon, they showered again and dressed. They had missed a meal along the way, and with so much exertion, they were feeling very hungry. Bobby’s love for cooking suited Louise fine – she had no love of the culinary arts – and as they sat down to the finest omelette she had ever eaten, they began tentatively to discuss the future.
“Have you had any thoughts about the next project we might develop?” Bobby asked.
“I have a few ideas rattling round in my excuse for a brain,” she replied. “One possibility is to start a well-digging programme in some of the neediest parts of Africa.”
“Sounds great,” said Bobby. “But I have one that I think you might enjoy planning.”
She looked at him with a thoughtful frown, then a smile. “Can’t wait to hear it,” she said.
“It’s our wedding,” said Bobby. “Will you marry me?”
Bobby was sure that the shriek followed by her dropping her knife and fork and rushing round the table to throw her arms round his neck was a “Yes”.
On Bobby’s 80th birthday, his family gathered round to celebrate in fitting style. His daughter Alexandra, a human rights lawyer, had brought his eldest grandchild, a sweet little girl called Francesca, along with her husband, a civil engineer specialising in large-scale projects in developing countries. His son Danny, who worked as a doctor in a free clinic, and frequently flew to trouble spots around the world with Medecins Sans Frontieres, came with his pregnant fiancé and their little boy Jimmy.
Bobby’s former partner, Alex Eames, brought along her husband Tom, the retired manager of a community project downtown, and her two grown children. Julie was studying for a PhD at Columbia and Joe had taken over the reins from his dad.
Bobby and Alex spoke wistfully of their days in Major Case, but in the end agreed that their days of public service had taken the right turn when they left. Life had been more fulfilling After Major Case.
2 comments:
Well, well done Val. Enjoyed every word of it. Perhaps I'll give a shot a writing a chapter.
Great writing, Val! I guess I have egg on my face for not trusting Louise; she apparently was good for our Man after all. I'm glad. But hey! You can't blame a girl for being a *little* jealous!! (OK, a lot!)
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