The Davonshire Series 2: Loving Words (4 page)

The day seemed to drag on as Wilfred tried to figure out what to do with himself while he waited for Rod to return from Atlanta.  He sat in his office drawing circles on a piece of paper, waiting for something to happen, what – he was uncertain.  He jumped when the fax machine began to spit out sheet after sheet of paper on Catherine Marie de La Croix, the ghostwriter that David had hired.

He eyed the different photos of the copy editor and she was in fact very easy on the eyes.  There were about 25 sheets that had come through and on paper she was impressive.  Catherine held a master’s degree in literature and a bachelor’s degree in strategic communications with a minor in rhetorical design. 

She sounds like a Chatty Cathy.

He spent a few more minutes reviewing her photos and something about her eyes and mouth made him uncomfortable.  He pulled up her blog and her Facebook page.  She had two cats and a very large dog.  She had not officially published any major works, but often referred to her novel as a work in progress.

“She looks like a work in progress herself,” he said, scowling at the eyes on the sheet that stared back at him.  There was something comforting in her face and he could easily see why David had chosen this woman, but he knew she was not the right choice.  A rumbling stomach stopped his survey of Cathy the Chatty Queen.  He needed food.

A quick trip to the hen-house to collect a few fresh eggs had to be done anyway, since this morning he had met Rod at the guesthouse and shuttled him down the road to meet Chuck at the plane.  True to form, his cousin, Chuck, was a timely fellow.  As requested, he was up in the air and headed to Atlanta by nine.  He anticipated they should be arriving back here at least by suppertime, so he would ask Conchetta to set another place for dinner.

After leaving the hen-house, he stopped in the greenhouse to pick up a head of lettuce, a few ripe tomatoes, some peppers, and a cucumber–
a nice frittata would be great for lunch with a fresh green salad
.  In truth, he had become a creature of habit and was ensconced in his ranch and his writing life.  He could not honestly say that he was lonely because his days were full and the nights were meant for sleeping. 
The sheer idea of being forced into someone’s company doesn’t work for me, David!

After lunch, the afternoon moved quickly and before he knew it, Gianni was coming in the back door, full of animated conversation.  He heard laughter and what sounded like another voice.  “Gianni, take the phone off speaker, it sounds like you have a kitchen full of people.”

As he walked to the kitchen, he phrased the question again to Gianni, “Why are you talking so loudly and who are you talking to?”

Gianni yelled back from the kitchen, “I’m talking to Big Daddy and Gigi!”

“Can you please take them off speaker phone?” Wilfred lowered his voice as he entered the kitchen, and was shocked to find that his parents were actually standing there.
They must have come through the gate with Gianni.

He quickly gave his mother an embrace and sloppy wet kiss on her cheek.  “Hello, beautiful lady.”

He removed himself from her grip to be swallowed in a bear hug by his father.  “Dad, good to see you.” 

His mother, the epitome of grace and breeding, was dressed in a pair of khakis and riding boots, and his father was in jeans and an oversized sweater.  “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

His mother patted his cheek.  “We were just in the neighborhood and thought we’d drop in to spend some time with our son.”

Wilfred eyed the bags by the door.  It was evident they planned to stay for a few days.

“Nice try, Mamí,” he replied, “especially considering I live four hours away from you, and the only thing I’m in the ‘neighborhood’ of is Mexico.”

David Sr. was standing behind his wife and only smiled when he responded for the both of them.  “Your mother was feeling a little melancholy so I thought it would do her good to spend some time with our middle child.  You know, give her something to pet and paw at besides me.  You are our only child who actually lives in the same state.”

It was at that moment that Wilfred noticed his father’s briefcase, but before he could say anything, he heard the plane land.   Quickly, he asked Conchetta to start a simple supper and set the table for six.  He took his parents’ bags to their room and asked Gianni to go to the landing strip to pick up Rod and Chuck.

He poured tea and escorted his parents to the living room while he waited for Gianni to return. Whatever was happening, he knew it was not going to be good, but he would be ready.  If his parents arrived right before the plane, and David had called six times, leaving six messages, what was coming was going to be bad. 

There was no way to brace himself– this was actually happening and his life was about to make some severe changes that he did not think that he was prepared to handle. Evidently, neither did his parents, who had driven for four hours to come and help him shoulder the bad news that was landing in his backyard.  To add insult to impending injury of David’s betrayal, some random woman was about to come and live in his house.

Wilfred was in a full-blown sweat.

Rod entered the kitchen with a somber look on his face.  He was followed by Chuck and then Jaelon, who ran to his mother’s side and began to chat her ear off about something random that none of the men in the room even cared to understand.  Conchetta set an extra plate.  Chuck looked good and he and Rod had evidently bonded on the trip back and forth to Atlanta.  Chuck immediately went to the fridge.

In between bites of apple, Chuck was finishing some story about the last fishing trip.  “Uncle David, do you remember that last fish I caught?” 

Rod briefly made eye contact with Wilfred and said, “After dinner would be a great time to talk.”  David Sr. filled Rod in on the annual fishing trips and invited the new team member to join them Labor Day at the lake.

Gianni, whom had returned from his room and began to talk to Jaelon about another trip to New York, suggesting she come along this time.  Wilfred eyed all the people in the room who had arrived as a support system for the bad news he was about to receive.  His father’s briefcase was an indication that legal had sent a response, but it was dinnertime and he was getting hungry.

The conversations continued through dinner as each person added something funnier to the story than the last, and Rod’s mouth was tense and there was not much more time before the hammer dropped.

Am I as pathetic and delicate as all of these people surrounding me believe
? 

No one seemed to understand that he was happy as he was and really did not want much to change.
Maybe I’m a sad shell of a man who needs to be shocked into living again in the real world so that I can move forward with my life
.  He could use a regular woman in his life, but in all honesty, you can never miss what you have never had and he had never really had a girlfriend. Wilfred had never experienced the companionship of a regular woman in his life on a daily basis.

The closest thing he had were the women that hung around his sister’s place, and when she informed them that he was coming to town, the same ones seemed to show up.  It made it easier for him because he, as well as she, already knew what he liked and there was no guessing when they hit the bed, couch, or floor.  He could satisfy the model of the day, a friend if they wanted to join in, and himself in a couple of hours and he was ready to get back to work.

He was starting to get a sick feeling.  The fish that Conchetta cooked was good and the baked potatoes were spot on, but he still felt a tad bit queasy as the family helped clear the table and everyone moved to the living room.  Chuck shook his hand, thanked him for dinner, and said he would see him soon.  “I need to get home to the little lady and my kids before bedtime.”  David Sr. shook Chuck’s hand and thanked his nephew for his good work.

In the living room after dinner, Wilfred, Rod, Jaelon, and Elena all sat on the plush couches.  David Sr. looked at Rod, who exhaled deeply and began the conversation.

“It appears that this contract is ironclad, Wilfred.”

David Sr. rose and retrieved his briefcase, removing a copy of the contract.  Wilfred’s eyebrows furrowed, wondering how he had managed to get a copy.

“I have reviewed it, son, and David worked with the legal team to draft it.”

Wilfred was not happy and even more furious that his legal team had contacted his father before returning the document to him.  Who was he kidding?  The legal department was Chuck’s sister, Khalea, whom David had used to create the contract and lock everything into place.  Evidently she had contacted her favorite uncle once she realized her reclusive cousin had been made aware of the document.  Wilfred understood now.

My parents are here to cushion the blow.

David had been calling all day to explain why he had screwed him over and Jaelon, he guessed, was here to hold him if he cried. 
I hate this shit
.  He hated this feeling of helplessness and he resented them all for being here like he was going to fall apart.  He said it out loud.  “I am a grown-ass man and I can handle this new element in my life.  Just say it.”

Technically, he didn’t sign the contract, so maybe there was a loophole.  “What if I don’t honor the contract?  What happens then, Dad?  I won’t lose anything if I don’t add the new divisions. And technically, I didn’t sign it, so what is the big deal?”

His father leaned forward with his forearms on his knees.  “The big deal, son, is that your brother signed it, and it was signed by a Devonshire, and a Devonshire honors his word.”  He continued by asking Rod to go over what exactly this ghostwriter was supposed to do.

Rod began, “The ghostwriter has to be on-site no later than June first to begin the writing.  Also, the writer is obligated to stay for six months or they will not be paid.  The autobiography has to be written in its entirety by the end of the six-month period.”

Wilfred rubbed the hairs on his chin from the overgrown beard that have taken over the bottom half of his face as he listened to Rod explain the formalities.

“David was very specific with his instructions,” which included a prepaid card for purchasing the needed supplies to live on Green Gables Ranch, as well as a list of his dietary restrictions and schedule.  Wilfred looked at the schedule and grumbled at how strict and regimented his life had become.  “On paper, I look like a weirdo,” he said out loud.  Jaelon only coughed.

 The schedule, when written out, included horseback riding on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday.  He did yoga on Tuesday and Thursday and swam on those afternoons as well.  The paper said he ate very little beef, mainly fed on chicken and fish with a whole grain diet and lots of leafy green vegetables.  “Hell, if it said I used my own shit to fertilize the veggies I wouldn’t sound as weird as I do on this piece of paper!”  He had started to break out in hives again as Rod stifled back his laughter.

“Wilfred, when I read the schedule, I thought it was a little rigid, but being here for a few days, it’s not a bad way of life.”

What woman would want to spend any time with him? 
I’m a nerd, a geek, and a man who hides behind loving words written in books because I never learned to use them in real lif
e.

She
was coming to his ranch. 

She
was going to turn his life upside down and he was going to hate her flipping guts simply because David had chosen her.

His mother was the one to break his silence and concentration.  “Sweetie, the contract states that you have to have someone from the staff of Hughes Publishing.  There is no reason why you can’t fly to Atlanta yourself and pick your own person.  Who says you have to go with whom David has picked for you?” She told him as she handed him an allergy tab from her purse.

Wilfred stopped scratching and sat up.  Suddenly, he felt a little better.

The meeting with Delphina Hughes had been set for 2 p.m., which gave Wilfred plenty of time to fly to Atlanta, sit in the lobby, and observe the passers-bys.  He wore his favorite deep gray suit with the lavender striped shirt.  Nervously, he fondled the silver cufflinks that Willie had given him for his birthday last year.  He didn’t know what in the world he was looking for and after about an hour, he felt defeated, deflated, and stupid. 
How in the world is this going to work?
  It wasn’t as if the right person would just magically come along and all of his prayers would be answered.

In retrospect, David may have been on to something and he should just go with what his brother set up and call it a day.  He refused to believe that the Cosmos could be so cruel and not align in his moment of need so that he, like his big brother, could be properly positioned to grasp the cosmic dust that shaped, formed, and created a beautifully synonymous relationship with another human being.  Sitting in the waiting area of the lobby of Hughes Publishing, he waited for that sign to come along. As a good measure, he looked upwards asking, “Dear Lord, hear my plea.”

Several women passed by and acknowledged him. The female security guard had approached him twice and three women had invited him to lunch.  He looked nothing less than bored out of his mind and when he continued to fiddle with his cufflinks, they got the message and quickly moved on.  He had been staring into space, when in his peripheral vision, he spotted a set of legs under a box and a pile of papers.  What truly caught his eye was that underneath one of her arms was his latest novel,
Honour’s Splendor.
 She moved toward the elevator and could not see to push the buttons.  In a flash, he was up from the chair and at her side. 

“Here, let me help you with those….”  He grabbed the box that was almost shielding her view and helped her into the elevator.  She turned to look at her rescuer and before she realized it, she had muttered something very low. 

Wilfred turned to look at her full on.  “Did you just say I look like a full-sized Prince?”

The lady looked mortified. “You heard me?” 

He only flashed a gigantic toothy grin, pursed his lips, and emitted the pop star’s signature sound, “Ooooh-oop.”  Wilfred found himself laughing.

She laughed with him. 

“What floor are you headed to, Prince fan?” he asked.

“Nine.”

His arms were still full with her box, but she had made him laugh and he felt comfortable with her.  “What do you do on the ninth floor….”  He was waiting for her to give her name. 

“I’m a copy editor or copywriter, depending on who you talk to.…”  She paused as if looking for the right words.  “As trends go in publishing, you end up spending more time rewriting than actually mastering the art of storytelling.”  She looked at him and she had his full attention.  The elevator dinged and she said, “Well, this is my floor.”  Shock was on her face when he stepped off with her. 

He raised the box in his arms.  “Let me walk you to your desk.”

He shifted the box to his side and opened the door for her to enter as she walked to a cubicle that was smaller than his downstairs linen closet.  He scanned her desk looking for pictures of children, a long-term love, or something that said she was tied to her job here.  There was nothing.

He sat the box on her desk and took a seat in the chair opposite her.  She was a mousy black woman, not quite in her thirties, with frizzy hair and a missing waistline.  The oversized glasses perched precariously on her nose made her look like an out-of-work librarian.  Her shoes were worn and her skin was splotchy, which overshadowed her clothing from the local thrift store.  But her eyes… her eyes were full of spark. 
This one may just be the answer to my prayer.

Wilfred turned her nameplate to face him.  “So, Elsie.”  Her eyes came up to meet his and he noticed she was scowling at him.

“Is it okay if I call you Elsie?”  he asked with an added load of charm to the question.  She only nodded, tilting her head to look over his shoulder at the people who had started to gather behind his back.  “So, are you married?”

She shook her head while silently mouthing the word no.  He continued firing questions at her about kids, husband, steady boyfriend, mother who counted on her for daily support, grandmother who needed her to come pour tea and watch Jeopardy, and a few more questions.  She answered no to each.  She wanted to know why he was asking so many questions.

“I have this project that I need some help with, and I think you would be perfect.”  He picked up the copy of
Honour’s Splendor
.  “I see you are a fan of her work.”  She nodded yes,  but still was looking over his shoulder at her co-workers, who had started to move in closer to hear what this gorgeous man could possibly be saying or wanting from the office wallflower.  “Are you free to travel a bit?”

Elsie’s mouth was dry as she whispered, “Yes, some, but I have a dog.” 

He was again, smiling at her.  She, in turn, was looking at him as if he were about to sprout horns. Wilfred did not allow his smile to fade.  He seemed to be entering some form of euphoric phase where only he had the answers and understood the inside joke.

“What kind of dog and what is his name?”  His eyebrows went up when he said ‘his’ and she nodded so that he would know it was a male dog. 

“His name is Champ and he is a narcoleptic Schnauzer.”

“Well, Elsie, I have one more question for you before I head to my meeting in 10 minutes,” he said, and all of the staff leaned in closer like an old E.F. Hutton commercial.  “I’d like to offer you a paid contract position on my ranch.”  She dropped the cup that she was holding and Wilfred quickly-handedly caught it while   picking up the book.  “It appears that I need a ghostwriter to write the autobiography of W.E. Devons, and I am offering you the job.  Would you be interested?”

Someone, in the small crowd that had now gathered at her cubicle, yelled, “Hell, if she ain’t going, you can take me!”  This statement started a bunch of cackling, guffaws and a few comments that made both he and Elsie blush.  Gilbert Wainwright, her tight-faced, tight-lipped boss came over to micromanage the action.  “What is all this then?  Get back to work, all of you.”

Wilfred looked at Elsie.  He used his head as a pointer to question who it was.  She mouthed silently to him, “My boss.”  As Wainwright approached the desk, attempting to occupy more space than his thin body filled, Wilfred quickly realized Wainwright was the type of man to try to bully his employees.   He rounded the cubicle wall ready to pounce on Elsie when Wilfred slowly unfolded himself from the chair.  He watched Wainwright’s face as he turned to greet him, adding a stern face to his six-foot-two height.

“Sorry for the disruption, Mr….?” Wilfred intentionally used his looks to intimidate the smaller man.

“Wainwright, Gilbert Wainwright, Production Editor.”  The small man extended his hand and Wilfred accepted. 

“And you are?” he asked, and Wilfred looked forward to telling not only him, but also Elsie and the rest of the nosy staff.

“I am Wilfred Devonshire, CEO of Davonshire House Publishing.”  He heard the man gasp, and oohs and ahhs came from the staff that still had yet to disperse.  “I have a meeting in about five minutes with Delphina Hughes and I would like to borrow Elsie here for about a half hour, if at all possible, to go with me.” 

Wainwright was about to say something really dumb and Wilfred moved in closer to the man.  “After this initial 30 minutes, I am probably going to borrow her for about six months.” 

He was squinting his eyes at Wainwright.  “Hope you don’t mind too much, but I do hate being late.” 

He turned to Elsie and offered her his hand.  “Shall we?”  She did not accept the hand, but rose to lead the way from the office pool, telling her boss, “I’ll be back in few, sir.”

As they headed to the elevator, Elsie looked at him more closely and was not sure what just happened.  The elevator opened and it was crowded.  He looked at his watch, noticed the time, and stepped inside, pulling her by her oversized sweater to join him.  They were standing close, but he was careful not to touch.  It did not take Elsie long before the smell of him penetrated through her haze. Mr. Davonshire House CEO Man smelled absolutely divine and she began to feel a little light-headed.  He looked familiar, but she did not want to be rude and stare at him. 

There were several ladies in the elevator who made comments and she was appalled that the women could be so brash.  Several, on their way out of the elevator, slipped their business cards into his jacket pocket and he pretended not to notice, but kept his eyes trained on her face. To Elsie, it seemed as if he was gaining strength from leaning on her – but they had just met.  To pour juice into a vial of fate’s evil tricks, the elevator seemed to stop on every floor.  They finally reached the top floor and Elsie had never felt so relieved in her life. 

He strolled up to Delphina’ s door and opened it and let himself in, much to the shock of her assistant, who was so surprised by the look of him that she had no words to come from her mouth.  He announced himself as he entered the room.  “I’m Wilfred Devonshire, and I believe you ladies,” he noticed Catherine Whatever-her-name-was on the couch, “were expecting me.”