One Night With You (15 page)

“We didn't make the money those guys make nowadays, but we designed far better cars. Philip wanted no part of it. He had a desire to make things grow, so he's a professor of agricultural science, and he loves what he does. I think that's how he and Reid became so close. They're both dedicated to doing their very best. Reid designed the men's quarters as if he had a commission from the White House and acted as the engineer for the project. You see how it withstood that storm. Didn't lose a thing but some roofing. Those two men love their work, and they're both good at it.”

“I'm enjoying talking with you, Arnold, but I'm sleepy. Getting up at four-thirty is a new experience for me. What time do we rise tomorrow?”

“Early,” Reid said. “We'll leave around three, but I'd like to get some work done on the stable roofs before we go.” He looked at Kendra. “Will that suit you?”

“Yes, of course.” She told them good-night, picked up the robe and skirt and went to her room. When she heard Reid open his door, she peeped out of hers.

He walked over to her. “Thanks for all you did today. We'll talk about this another time. Right now I'm bushed. I haven't done this kind of work since I left here, and I didn't have to work that hard when I was here. Open up for me a little bit.” He slipped his tongue into her mouth, and immediately her tiredness vanished, but she didn't advertise it.

“I'll make up for it,” he said, letting her know that he understood her emotions.

She enjoyed a sound and peaceful sleep, rose early and went out to pick strawberries. To her chagrin, the part of the row that she had finished the previous day now glistened with red berries. “Well,” she said, refusing to start the row over, “I'm not retracing my steps.”

After lunch, as they prepared to leave, Reid had a sense of accomplishment, but he knew that Philip still needed his help. “I'll try to get back next weekend, Philip, but I'm not sure I can bring Kendra. She bought a new house, and a couple of hours before we left to come here, I discovered that it has serious flaws. I haven't told her yet, but she may have to indict the builder. And that's a sticky wicket, because he's the same builder who cost me my reputation.”

“If you need me, just call. I have to ask you something personal, but first I want to remind you that you are my brother, that I love you as if we had the same parents. Whatever you tell me will be gospel to me. I've observed that Kendra is attached to you, but a man can want a woman and not be serious about her. Are you serious about Kendra?”

Reid was accustomed to Philip's straight-shooting, so he was hardly surprised. “I'm in love with her. If you're interested, I'm sorry, because I'm in deep.”

“Your answer doesn't surprise me. She's beautiful and a credit to herself and to any man. Please don't mention this to her, because I wouldn't want her to be self-conscious around me. There's nothing lost, because I haven't spent time thinking about it, so not to worry.”

Reid threw up his hand for a high five. “It won't bother you if I bring her back with me?”

“Not for a second.”

“I
didn't expect you to break your back working like a laborer,” Reid told Kendra during their drive back to Queenstown. “I brought you with me so I'd know you were safe, that you wouldn't be fooling around in that basement.”

“I was glad I could help.”

“And I appreciate it. I learned a lot about you these past two days. Believe me, I hope I never see you pulling shingles off the top of another barn again, or that one, either. Woman, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I thought it was my bathing suit that rang your bell.”

He wished she hadn't brought that up. “Why can't you wear a one-piece bathing suit? That thing is skimpier than your underwear.”

He glanced at her to see her reaction, but she seemed unconcerned, a signal that she didn't plan to change her style. “One-piece bathing suits for women my age are almost as hard to find as those modest swim trunks that men wore back in the 1950s,” she replied. “Trust me, your bathing trunks are definitely an advertisement for your equipment, so why can't I show off
my
assets? Did I make a stink about Doris seeing you like that?”

He pressed his lips together, because he didn't want to laugh. “Doris wasn't out there, and you didn't even notice. You're making it up.”

“Who says I didn't notice? You bet I did. I could hardly take my gaze off…I could hardly stop looking.”

“You didn't act like it.”

“I was too tired. Are we having an argument?”

“If so, I hope it's an example of the amount of heat we can expect in all of our disagreements. By the way,” he said, choosing his words carefully so as not to alarm her, “you've got a real problem with your house. I think you should charge Brown and Worley with criminal negligence. It will cost you between thirty and fifty thousand to correct the defects in your house.”

She jerked forward. “You're not serious.”

He slowed down for the exit onto Route 17. “Oh, yes, I am. If I were you, I'd get a registered, certified examiner to check the house from roof to basement and provide a notarized report. If you like, I'll ask my boss which one he uses. It will stand up in court.”

“My goodness! You
are
serious! I'll check with the bank and see what I can do about this.”

“The bank doesn't care, baby. It gets its money no matter what. But Brown and Worley do care, because they're already in trouble with the community.”

She leaned back and clapped her hands. “True. What am I thinking? Get the name and phone number of that examiner for me, please.”

He supposed that humming a gay tone meant he'd pleased her.

“Reid!” She said his name as if she had just discovered a treasure, and maybe she had.

“What is it?”

“It's just occurred to me that whatever that examiner documents will support your case, as well.”

“You're right.” He parked in front of her house. “It's only seven o'clock. Let's go to a decent restaurant, but first I have to go home and change.”

“Good idea. I was going to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and call it a day. I'm not up to cooking.”

He went inside to look around for problems that might have cropped up during her absence. He did not rejoice in her discomfort; far from it. But what he saw gave him a peculiar kind of pleasure, for it validated his claim that the partial collapse of Worley Towers in Baltimore was the fault of the builders and not of Reid Maguire, the architect.

“You've got a flood in your guest bathroom,” he told her, “but since it's stopped raining, I don't think it will get worse. It would be a good thing to leave it so that the examiner can document it. Do you want him here tomorrow?”

“If possible, yes. Reid, what would I do without you?”

He guarded his facial expression, because he didn't want her to know what he felt right then. “I'm trying to make myself indispensable, so please don't raise that question. I'll be back shortly.”

Kendra did not intend to allow Brown and Worley to cheat her and get away with it. Two days after returning from Dickerson Estates, she looked at Helligman's notarized report on the condition of her brand-new house and decided that it represented her opportunity to get out of the controversial property. A lawyer would counsel repair and damages, and she didn't want that.

Deciding to be her own lawyer, she telephoned the builders' office and spoke with Aaron Brown. “Mr. Brown, I'm Judge Kendra Rutherford, presiding judge at Queenstown Court. This is about the condition of the house I purchased from you at Albemarle Gates.” She told him about the examiner's report. “We can go to court, but you'll lose in a jury trial, and you know it.”

“What are you asking for?” Brown wanted to know.

Best to be bold, she knew, so she said, “Buy back the house. If you don't, I'm going to court and sue you for the price of the house plus what it cost me to move in and out of it and the pain and suffering this mess caused me. Think of the fun the local media will have at your expense. In fact, I'd prefer that.” Taking advantage of her status, she added, “I want your answer by noon Friday. You may reach me at my chambers in the courthouse.”

“I'll…uh…have to speak with my partner.”

“What happened?” Reid asked her when she phoned him a few minutes later. She repeated her conversation with Brown. “They wouldn't dare go to court here in Queenstown.”

“Anyway, Reid, I'd rather your case was the first opportunity the people in this town have to take a crack at Brown and Worley. There's a house around the corner from you that I'd like to have if I get what I want from Brown and Worley. Will you check it out for me?”

“Of course. You don't have to ask. By the way, next time I see you I'll have my own car. I'm picking it up this afternoon.”

And what you bought will tell me a lot about you,
she said to herself. To him, she said, “What kind is it?” She'd never cared for a man whose pride was not in himself but in his automobile and snakeskin or alligator shoes and who, consequently, wore the most costly handmade shoes and drove the flashiest and most expensive car for which he could obtain credit.

“It's a Buick Century.”

Hmmm. Modest.
“What kind did you drive before?”

“You mean kinds. The day I lost that court case, my three-car garage held a Town Car, a Caddy and a Jaguar. It's hard for me to believe that I was ever that frivolous.”

She relaxed and let out a long breath. “I definitely prefer the Buick, Reid.”

His laughter reached her through the wire, warming her heart. “I like this one better, too, and I'm sure glad you do.”

She received Aaron Brown's phone call minutes before court convened Friday morning. “I think we can settle this out of court, Judge Rutherford. Can you meet me at the bank this afternoon at two-thirty?”

She could and did. Three weeks and two days later, she moved into her new home at 103A Pepper Pot Lane, around the corner from the apartment building in which Reid lived.

Tired and dusty from cleaning and dragging furniture around, she sat down for a brief respite and phoned her sister, Claudine, to tell her that she had moved and why. She hadn't told Claudine about the problems with her house, because her sister wouldn't have bought a house without having had it inspected several times by different experts. Claudine wasn't poor, but she treated what she had with respect.

“I wish you'd come see me,” Kendra said. “I can look out of my bedroom window at the Sound. Last night, we had a clear, full moon and the sight of that over the water was spectacular.”

“My show went so well that I was asked for copies of some of my sculptures. That wouldn't be ethical, so I'm making some similar models. I should finish them in four or five weeks. Maybe I can visit you then.”

“I'll probably be in Cape May a month from now, so that—”

Claudine interrupted her. “Wonderful, I've always wanted to see Cape May.”

“That won't work, Claudine. You don't think I'd go up there by myself, do you?”

“Well,
excuse
me. Now I know I'm going to find time to visit Queenstown.”

“Really? If I thought man-hunting was on your list of things to do…Say, next time I go down to the eastern shore of Maryland, maybe you can go, too. There's a genuine hunk down there, hardworking, accomplished and unattached.”

“Does he like women?”

“I didn't ask him, but from my observations I'd say he definitely does.”

She hung up and thought about it. Claudine might be just Philip's type. He liked black women, and Claudine's gentle ways had always been more attractive to men than her own disposition.

“Now, who could be banging on my back door?” She raced down the stairs, through the hallway and into the kitchen and…“Reid!” She opened the door. “How'd you get around here?”

He kissed her lips and handed her a pot that contained a four-foot ficus plant. “Where do you want me to put it? I decided I'd better not show up at your front door with this, because I've already seen some of your neighbors looking out their windows at this house. So I came through the alley, but I don't suppose I should do that too often, because I met two people as I walked through it. Give me Baltimore. Nobody cares what you do.”

“No,” she told him, “and that, too, can be a problem.”

He ran his finger down her nose, and she liked it when he took little liberties with her, playing with her nose or her ears, stroking her back. “You look cute with that dirt on your face,” he said. “While I'm here, let me help you. Anything to be moved?”

They had waffles with syrup and sausages along with coffee and strawberries for dinner, as neither had the energy to cook anything more elaborate, and by the time eleven o'clock arrived and they had all the furniture in place, she was ready to fall from fatigue. She turned out the lights in the front part of the house and walked with him to the front door.

With her sandwiched between his body and the wall, he imprisoned her. “Kiss me. Put your arms around me and let me know that I'm your man.”

She parted her lips and took him in, and she could feel the exhaustion flowing out of her body as he claimed her. She sucked his tongue deeper into her mouth and felt the solid print of his penis as it jumped against her belly. He stepped back then. “I've got a lot to make up for, and I don't want to start on it this time of night when you're ready to drop. Just remember that when I start collecting, you'd better be prepared.” He kissed her eyes and the side of her mouth. “Tell me you love me. I need to hear it, baby.”

“I love you,” she whispered, “and I need to hear it, too.”

“I love you, woman,” he said and stared down into her face. “You're my life.” He turned and left before she could respond, and maybe that was a good thing. She didn't switch on the hall light until she was sure he'd turned the corner.

“I wish I'd seen my current house before I saw the other one in Albemarle Gates,” she told Carl Running Moon Howard on her first day at work after moving. “If I had, I'd have a lot more friends.”

“They'll come now, ma'am. People here are neighborly.”

That afternoon around five o'clock while she stored items in her pantry—a convenience that she hadn't had at Albemarle Heights—her doorbell rang. She put the chain on the door, cracked it open sufficiently to see who rang, and looked into the faces of three women. Strangers.

“We just thought we'd welcome you to our neighborhood, Judge Rutherford,” one said.

Kendra blinked rapidly, as if to confirm with her eyes what her ears heard. After recovering her aplomb, she opened the door. “This is a wonderful surprise. I've been on the town's black list, and I haven't had any visitors.”

“We know, Your Honor,” one woman said, presenting Kendra with an apple pie, “and we're glad you moved. We appreciate the support.”

“I'm still settling in,” she told them, “and the place isn't quite presentable, but I hope you don't mind. Come on in. I make great coffee.”

They introduced themselves, and to her surprise they talked without further reference to Albemarle Gates. She didn't think she had ever discussed with a group of women topics that she considered frivolous, such as where to shop, the best hairdressers, weight gain and the kind of cosmetics to wear. And she discovered that she not only enjoyed the camaraderie, but learned some important things.

“I'm going to join your civics class in the fall,” the woman called Reba said. “I don't know a friggin' thing about my rights as a woman. Judge Judy told a man that half of what he earns belongs to his wife. The man didn't believe it, and his wife didn't know it. My husband wouldn't believe it, either.”

“Neither would mine,” Bell, a younger woman, said, “but he thinks what I earn is community property. Which is why he doesn't know how much I make.”