Till We Meet Again (9 page)

     “He was a business man,” I answered.

     “What type of business?” she questioned.

     “He started with a family run catering service. And then grew it into a large catering business and a real estate development company.”

     “I see,” she said again.

Feeling like I was being interrogated I waited for the next question. Thankfully Charles and his dad walked over with our drinks.

Charles handed me my wine, looked me in the eye and asked, “Is everything OK over here?”

Before I could say anything his mother said, “Yes. Simone and I are just getting to know each other.”

Surprised she even remembered my name; I decided not to let her questions get under my skin.

Charles and his dad walked over to the fireplace and held their own conversation.

I took a sip of the wine; again wishing it was something stronger. The surprisingly delicious crisp taste got my attention.

     “This wine is very good. May I ask what this is?” I asked Mrs. Dupree.

     “It’s OPUS One Napa Valley 2009. From our private stock,” she answered with her head held high.”

     “It’s lovely.” I hesitated, “Speaking of lovely, this is a beautiful home you have here,” I said.

     “Thank you,” Mrs. Dupree said stiffly. Looking around the room she continued, “This house has been in the Dupree family since the late 1800s. Dr. Dupree’s father was a doctor as well. And my father and grandfather were attorneys. Charles comes from a long line of professionals.”

     “Yes, I’m aware.” I said.

I could hear Charles and his dad discussing a real estate deal. I was on my own.

     “So Charles said you’re from upstate?”

     “Actually not really upstate. It’s Northern Westchester County. A small town called Quaker Ridge…about an hour north of New York City.”

Mrs. Dupree put her drink down. “I know that town…very well actually.”

     “Do you?” I asked.

     “Yes, Dr. Dupree and I have some friends in that live there. The Douglas’…do you know them?”

     “Ahhh, I went to high school with a Tara Douglas. Her dad owns an engineering company.”

     “Yes…yes,” Mrs. Dupree said sitting up in her chair and smiling at me for the first time. “That’s a lovely town.”

     “Yes, it is.” Then thinking to myself I said,
“So I’m not the ghetto snipe you thought I was.”

     “How long has your family been in Quaker Ridge?”

     “My sister and I started there in Elementary school. My family was there for over 30 years.”

     “I see,” she said taking a sip of her drink. She put her glass on the small table between her chair and the one I assume was Dr. Dupree’s.

I looked over at Charles and his dad. They were still in an in depth conversation.

     “So tell me, do you like the work you do?” Mrs. Dupree asked turning my attention back to her.

     “Actually I do,” I answered. “Although working in the finance field was not something I had planned I am very happy I landed there.”

     “Landed?” Mrs. Dupree asked with an eyebrow raised. A gesture I recognized from Charles.

     “Yes, landed.” I answered. “I was an English major in college. I thought I’d write ‘the great American novel.”

We both laughed.

I continued, “But when my marriage didn’t work out I needed to do something that was going to make a good life for me and my sons. I prayed…hard…consistently and ended up working for a financial firm. I fell in love with it and have been in the business ever since.”

     “Hmmm,” Mrs. Dupree said thoughtfully. “I understand what you mean by ‘falling in love’ with your career. My dad was an attorney and so was my grandfather. If I were a boy it would automatically be assumed that I would follow in their footsteps. But being the only child and a female, my mom and dad tried to push me into teaching. Mind you, there is nothing wrong with being an educator but I had no passion to be one.”

Mrs. Dupree continued with a faraway look on her face, “I remember visiting my dad and granddaddy at their office when I was a kid. I would sit at my dad’s chair at his desk…my feet didn’t even touch the floor yet but I knew…I knew in my heart that this was where I wanted to be…studying law. At 10 years old, I was reading my dad’s law books like a child reads Dr. Seuss. I couldn’t get enough of it. At night when I’d said my prayers, I prayed to one day be a lawyer like my daddy and granddaddy.”

     “If you don’t mind me asking, Mrs. Dupree, how did you get your dad and grandfather to agree with you becoming an attorney.”

She laughed, “My granddaddy was putty in my hands. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for me. Even still he was totally against me becoming an attorney, but I was relentless. Somehow I convinced my father and Granddaddy that the best way for me to find the ‘right’ husband was by going to an Ivy League college. So they let me enroll in Princeton.”

     “Oh, I know what you mean,” I interrupted. “We called those girls going for their M.R.S. Degree.”

     “M.R.S. Degree,” Mrs. Dupree repeated and shook her head. “I like it!” She laughed. “I continued to work at my family’s law firm during the summers and Christmas breaks. I continuously prayed that they would take notice. It wasn’t till I received A’s in all my pre-law classes that Daddy and Granddaddy started really noticing my talents. I would work on cases with them and they would be shocked with my knowledge and interpretation of the law. It was only a matter of time before I ‘beat’ them into submission and became a part of the Firm. And the funny thing is even though I did meet my husband at an Ivy League school it would be years before I even started dating him. I was focused on the law. That was all I could think about. I was so grateful that my dream was coming true.”

     “Never doubt the power of a praying woman,” I said with a smile.

     “So true,” Mrs. Dupree smiled back.

At that time Charles and Dr. Dupree walked back over to us.

     “So how are we girls doing over here?” Dr. Dupree asked.

     “We are doing just fine,” Mrs. Dupree smiled.

As if on cue Mrs. Dupree and I both raised our glasses in a silent toast to each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entering the formal dining room, through the arched mahogany pocket doors, I felt like royalty.  The dining room walls were a light gray with white wainscoting and elegant crown molding. There were hardwood floors and double glass doors that lead down to a large brick walled garden.  A crystal chandelier hung over the dining room table that was set with fine china, linen, and stemware. All I kept thinking was, I hope I don’t eat with the wrong fork.

The dining room table was small enough for the four of us to have an intimate dinner. There were matching dining room chairs off to the side, which lead me to believe they had taken some of the sleeves out of the table in order to make it smaller, like we use to do occasionally at my grandparents’ house. Dr. and Mrs. Dupree sat at each end of the dining room table while Charles and I sat across from each other.

I’m so happy I listened to Charles and only ate a light breakfast and nothing for lunch. Sophie served us a four-course gourmet meal. To start we had roasted carrot soup with pancetta and croutons, and then a garden salad with Roquefort dressing. As a main course we dined on Lobster Thermidor (a French dish with a creamy mixture of cooked lobster meat, egg yolks and brandy) accompanied with mini beef wellington in a red wine sauce, roasted asparagus, and potatoes au gratin. All so delicious I wanted to cry. And for dessert we had my favorite, a molten chocolate soufflé. The oozing chocolate, seriously to die for, melted in my mouth.  With every course I was convinced that the Dupree’s had stolen Sophie from a five star restaurant.                                                                                                                                                                       

     “So Simone,” Dr. Dupree said over cappuccino and dessert, “I understand you have two sons.”

     “Yes, I do,” I said after swallowing a piece of the soufflé. “They are about a year or two out of college respectively.”

     “Oh, and what do they do?” Dr. Dupree asked.

     “My oldest son, Thomas, is a Financial Counselor.”

     “Oh he’s in the same business as his mother,” Mrs. Dupree interjected.

     “Actually, I’m afraid not,” I smiled. “Thomas is a Financial Counselor with a non-profit organization where they teach ‘ordinary people’ about financial responsibility.”

     “I see,” both Dr. and Mrs. Dupree said in unison.

     “Actually what Thomas is doing is very commendable,” said Charles. He continued, “Thomas had every intention of becoming a Financial Advisor for one of the big firms. But during the fall semester of his senior year in college he had a reawakening.”

     “Oh,” said Dr. Dupree, “What happened to him?”

Before Charles could continue I answered, “Nothing actually happened to him. It was more like everything he had been taught throughout his life had come to a culmination. Thomas spent a semester abroad traveling to about 10 different countries. Although he met wonderful people and saw beautiful sights, the trip also opened his eyes to real poverty. He realized it is our responsibility as human beings to help others who are not able to help themselves. Unfortunately, our school systems does little to teach children about financial responsibility. If it is not taught in their homes they grow up as adults who are financially ignorant.”

Dr. Dupree shook his head. “That’s true…so true.”

     “Very good,” Mrs. Dupree smiled. “And as for your youngest son?”

     “He works for a Sports Management firm,” I answered. “He’s also a Personal Trainer for several athletes.”

     “Oh really?” Dr. Dupree’s ears seemed to perk up. “I have season tickets to the Knicks. Maybe we could go to a couple of games together.”

Before I was about to say “hell yes!” (Or maybe not quite those words) Charles jumped in “Simone’s more of a football fanatic…especially when it comes to the New York Giants,” he laughed.

Forgetting where we were I stuck my tongue out at Charles while he and I laughed. Suddenly remembering Charles’ parents I turned to them embarrassed and apologized.

     “I am so sorry,” I exclaimed. “That was just a joke between Charles and me.”

I looked at Charles for help but he kept laughing. I looked at his parents. They both wore a serious face. The moment of silence was overwhelming.

Then Dr. Dupree said, “That’s ok. Lizzy sticks her tongue out at me all the time.” Both his parents began to laugh.

After dessert, Dr. Dupree suggested we go to the living room. As we all got up from the dining room table Mrs. Dupree touched my forearm. “Simone, why don’t you come with me? I’d like to show you our garden.”

No longer feeling comfortable I looked back at Charles who gave me a non-committal smile and shrugged his shoulders.

     “Of course,” I said to Mrs. Dupree and followed her through the glass doors and down the iron stairs to the garden/solarium. Motion lights came on as we went down the stairs.

The “garden” was actually a greenhouse in the cold weather. The glass walls were collapsible doors so that when opened all the way, you’re actually sitting outside. But today due to the cold the doors were closed.

In the middle of a sea of flowers and plants there was a sitting area with a couple of maroon cushioned chairs as well as two matching chaise lounges. I could easily see myself sitting here in the summer time drinking a glass of iced tea and reading a book.

Mrs. Dupree went over to the geraniums. She picked up a water bottle and begun to spray the plants.

     “This is my special haven,” Mrs. Dupree said looking around the garden. “My place of solace.”

     “I understand that,” I said. “We all need that special place.”

     “What’s your special place?” She asked.

Back to feeling comfortable I bent down and sniffed the geraniums. The fragrance reminded me of the flowers my grandmother kept on the side porch of the house.

     “Actually a couple of places. The sitting area of my master bedroom with a really good book and the hiking trail in the woods behind my house, there’s something about nature that is so soothing…just so special.”

     “Yes,” Mrs. Dupree said while watering a plant. Nonchalantly and while continuing to water another plant she continued, “So tell me Simone, what’s so special about you?”

Totally caught off guard, I looked up from the geranium, “Excuse me?” I asked.

     “In all the years, Charles has never brought a woman to the house for his dad and me to meet, not since his ex-wife. In all the years, he has never even talked about another woman. And in all the years, Charles’ work has always come first, second, and last but now he actually has a personal life. So I ask again, what is so special about you?”

Recovering from the shock of the initial question I stood up a bit straighter, “I guess that’s a question you should ask Charles, Mrs. Dupree.”

     “Maybe,” Mrs. Dupree said coolly clipping off a bud. “But right now I am asking you.” She turned to face me.