The room was cozy and pleasant, designed more for comfort than for fashion. Burton Carlisle folded his newspaper, laid it on the couch beside him and studied the woman who sat in a rocking chair near the window. Her hands rested on the knitting in her lap. She stared into space.
Diane Wilmington Carlisle had been Burt's wife for almost twenty years, yet at times she still seemed an enigma. Almost twenty years? Remembrance exploded inside his brain like a penny firecracker. As of three o'clock this afternoon, they had been married twenty years. This was their wedding anniversary, which meant it was also Diane's thirty-eighth birthday. How could he have forgotten? Easily, he decided, what with Christine, his secretary, on maternity leave and him in the middle of a much publicized murder trial.
Burton J. Carlisle had not become a distinguished trial lawyer and important community figure by being hesitant and indecisive. Quite the contrary, he'd acquired his high-status position by being intelligent, shrewd and hard working. He could also be devious when it suited his purpose. He considered inventing an elaborate excuse to explain his forgetfulness. Burt also possessed a sixth sense that allowed him to key into the feelings and emotions of others. That sixth sense was telling him that if he hoped to come through this fiasco relatively unscathed, he'd better tell the truth. He spoke softly, "Diane."
Diane blinked as her stare moved from blank to cognizant. "Yes?"
"You've been very quiet this evening. Is something wrong?" Maybe she would broach the subject of their anniversary and he wouldn't have to.
Diane pushed back a strand of blonde hair. "Dan Miller is going away to college in September."
Burt had no idea who Dan Miller was. "Is Dan a friend of B.J.'s?"
Diane smiled at the mention of her only son's name. "No, Dan Miller is the boy who does our yard work. Do you think I should try to find a replacement for him or hire a professional company to take over once he's gone?"
Burt didn't give a damn what she did about the yard. He bit back a sharp reply. "Hire a professional company," he said and waited for Diane to respond. When it became obvious that she had no such intentions, he added, "Happy anniversary and happy birthday, I have plans for us to celebrate tomorrow." There went golf and poker with the boys.
"That's nice but I won't be here tomorrow."
If this had been anyone but Diane, Burt would have suspected some kind of get-even game. In her case he knew better. In many ways she was as naïve and as innocent as she'd been when he married her twenty years ago. "Where will you be?"
"I'm driving up to Raymonville tomorrow morning. Aunt Ida is having surgery Monday."
There was no love lost between Burt and Diane's Great Aunt Ida. The old woman had never forgiven him for seducing and impregnating Diane when she was only seventeen years old. "I'm sorry to hear that. Do you know what kind of surgery? Did Doctor Jennings call?"
Diane laid her knitting in the basket beside her chair. "Aunt Ida is having something called angioplasty. Sylvia Brannigan called."
Burton corrected, "You mean Sylvia O'Shea." Sylvia, Aunt Ida's next-door neighbor, had been married to Michael O'Shea for eighteen years and they had six children; still Diane insisted on referring to her as Sylvia Brannigan. "I hope Aunt Ida comes through the surgery okay." What else could he say? Aunt Ida was Diane's only living relative. "You can visit with Mother and Emma while you're there."
"If I have time I'll try to get over."
Burt reminded her sharply, "My mother and my sister live across the street from Aunt Ida, not across town."
"I know where Gladys and Emma live." Diane moved restlessly under his steady gaze. "I was on their front porch the first time I saw you."
Burt's recollections didn't match his wife's. "You and I met at a country club dance." She'd been a vision of loveliness as she extended her hand to him and said, "Mr. Carlisle, how are you?"
Diane shook her head. "That's when we were formally introduced. I saw you for the first time the summer I came to live with Aunt Ida. Sylvia, Emma and I were playing jacks on your front porch when you came up the steps and spoke to us. After you went inside Emma told me you were her brother and that you were seventeen-years-old and going away to college soon."
"I hope you were properly impressed," Burt teased, and then asked on a more serious note, "Will you be away long?"
"It may be a while," Diane answered. "I've arranged for a housekeeping service twice a week until further notice. You will have to remember to drop off and pick up your laundry and manage your own dinners unless you prefer eating out."
"I can cope," Burt snapped. He hadn't intended to speak sharply but finding out so suddenly that Diane would be gone for an extended period of time came as quite a shock. "In a much gentler tone he asked, "Why didn't you mention this earlier?"
"I should have," Diane replied. "I didn't want to spoil your dinner."
She was visibly upset. Until now, Burt had thought it was because he'd forgotten their anniversary. The realization that she'd been preoccupied and distant most of the evening because of worry about her aunt put a different light on the situation. Softly he whispered, "I'll miss you."
"And I'll miss you." Diane extended one hand in a pleading gesture. "I have to go."
Of course she did. Not only did Diane love her Aunt Ida, she felt beholden to her. But for Aunt Ida's intervention, Diane would have been shipped off to boarding school when her parents were killed in an automobile accident. Diane was ten-years-old when the accident occurred and her Great Aunt Ida was well into her fifties. Her parents' last will and testament made a friend of Diane's parents her guardian with provisions and instructions for their daughter to be enrolled in a prestigious girl's school in the East.
Aunt Ida would have none of that. She moved in with the force of a tornado and insisted that she be granted custody of her great niece. Ida Belle Stratton had been a moving and volatile force in the corporate world before her early retirement. She was well known for being shrewd, merciless and relentless. No one had ever gone up against her and won. The court system of Texas was no exception. After months of litigation, Ida won custody of Diane.
The ringing of the telephone brought Burt's wandering thoughts back to the present. He reached for the clanging instrument. "Hello."
His son's voice sounded on the other end of the line. "Dad--Happy anniversary, I'm sorry I didn't call sooner but I'm taking two classes this session and you know how accelerated college is in the summer."
Burt did know and he said so before asking, "How is school going?"
B.J. sighed. "Okay, I guess, but remind me never again to take a children's literature class during summer session. I've spent the last five weeks reading everything from nursery rhymes to Grimm's Fairy Tales."
Burt would never understand why a young man as gifted and intelligent as his son wanted to be an elementary school teacher. "You should have taken my advice and majored in engineering."
B.J.'s voice took on a belligerent note. "Dad, don't start." His tone softened. "Let me talk to Mom."
Burt handed the telephone to Diane. "It's your son."
Diane smiled as she pressed the receiver to her ear. "Hello sweetie--pie."
Aggravation itched through Burt. A mother should not address her nineteen-year-old son as sweetie--pie. He listened as Diane carried on an animated conversation with B.J.
"I understand. Thank you for the good wishes." After a brief pause, "I have some bad news," another pause, "No, nothing like that. It's Aunt Ida; she's scheduled to have surgery on Monday. I'm driving up to Raymonville tomorrow morning."
Burt listened with rising agitation. Was there anything more pointless than hearing only half a telephone conversation?
After a lengthy stretch of time, Diane protested, "You will do no such thing." There was another infuriating pause before she said, "You know that's impossible." Another stretch of silence and then, "I will, I promise. I love you too, goodbye." She hung up the phone and turning faced Burt. "I'm proud of our son. He's going to make a wonderful teacher."
Burt wanted to tell her B.J. would be wasting his time and his talents teaching nine-year-olds. This was not the time to resurrect old disagreements. "I'm missing the evening news." He aimed the TV remote toward a large flat-screened television that covered much of one end of the room. The screen sprang to life.
Diane asked, "Would you like a snack or something to drink?"
Burt shook his head in negation.
Diane stood and yawned. "Then I'll call it a night. I have to get up early tomorrow."
At the doorway she paused, "Burt..."
Burt hit mute on his remote and turned his head in her direction. "Yes?"
Diane stared at him with an unreadable expression clouding the blue of her eyes. After a long moment she said, "Nothing, good night."
Burt watched her disappear down the hall with a vague uneasiness tightening his chest. He sat through fifteen minutes of the news, looking and not seeing, listening and not hearing, before switching off the TV and following Diane into her bedroom.
She'd once shared the master bedroom with him. Through the years his late hours, unpredictable schedule and frequent bouts with insomnia had caused her to take refuge in what was once the guest bedroom.
She sat on a stool in front of her dressing table brushing her long blonde hair. After twenty years the sight of her in a thin night gown made his heart pound. "May I come in for a while?" He stood waiting for her response.
Diane laid her brush on the dressing table. "Please do."
Burt sat on the edge of the turned back bed. He was a man with a silver tongue and a superior intellect. Why then was it so difficult for him to speak honestly and openly to his wife? "I'm sorry I forgot our anniversary and your birthday. I know it's not an excuse but this Bennett Barnes murder trial is a tough one. It consumes so much of my time and what with Christine on maternity leave..." His voice trailed away. He was making excuses, and not very good ones at that.
"You don't have to apologize." Diane opened a drawer of her night stand, extracted a small brown box and held it out to him. "Happy anniversary."
Burt took the box and lifted the lid. Nestled in a bed of tissue paper was a finely tooled leather wallet. He swallowed over the lump in his throat. "Thank you."
"I hope it's okay." Diane picked up her brush. "I never know what to get for you. It seems you have everything."
"It's perfect." Burt replaced the lid and slipped the box into his suit coat pocket. "Damn it Diane, I'm sorry."
Diane put her brush on the table and moved quickly to sit beside him on the bed. "Don't be. It's all right." For the first time in a long time she put her arms around his waist. Her touch sent a shiver of warmth through his body. He wanted to take her in his arms and make love to her. He knew she'd submit to his advances. Damn it he wanted more than her passive surrender. He wanted what he'd once had, her passionate, insistent response; he wanted the assurance that she desired him as fervently as he wanted her.
)
