Doris Fell - Long-Awaited Wedding

“Too young.”

She smiled wanly. “He was doing what he liked doing best.”

“Yeah, I guess you can look at it that way. So you’ve been married and widowed. That’s a well kept secret at the office.”

Over the years, Maureen had kept another secret. Whatever you do, Dwayne Crocker, she warned silently, don’t ask me if Carl and I had children. I would have to lie and I have denied my daughter long enough.

Even as she looked across the table at Dwayne, Maureen remained calm, the thudding of her heart not visible to him. But surely he would think it was Carl’s child, not Allen’s. No one knew of the birth of Allen’s child, given up for adoption nineteen years ago. Almost twenty. Maureen rarely allowed herself to dwell on the infant daughter she had given away. And yet the girl was always there in Maureen’s mind. In her heart In her dreams. In this restaurant filled with strangers.

“Any kids, Maureen?”

“One daughter,” she said, and then quickly asked, “And you, Dwayne, have you ever been married?”

“I’m still waiting for the right girl to come along.”

Don’t wait too long, she thought You’re pushing forty.

But what did she want? She had no immediate plans to remarry again and settle down. She would if the right person came along, but for now she was carving out her niche in the business world.

But what if the “right man” came along? She knew for certain that Dwayne Crocker was not the one. As he talked on, she did what she always did when she sat across the table from a boring dinner date—she imagined that “special” person sitting there. Allen was always the right one, but he was gone, presumably lost in one of the country’s peacekeeping missions. After all these years, it was like lighting an old torch, like awakening a sleeping giant, like plucking back a painful memory. She tried to picture Allen across the table from her—older, wiser, handsome. Smiling and leaning forward and boasting that his father was grooming him to take over the family dynasty.

“So what do you think?” Dwayne’s question cut into her thoughts.

“Excuse me?” Maureen asked, embarrassed to have drifted off.

“I just suggested that you run away with me to some far-off island and get married.”

She laughed. “You do know how to get a woman’s attention.”

Maureen was thankful when their waitress arrived with fried chicken, mashed potatoes with country gravy, and biscuits with honey. She ate more than she had intended, as Dwayne monopolized the conversation.

He was unstoppable, inexhaustible, talking figures through much of the dinner. The billions of dollars of government overspending and predictions for the Dow Jones averages. Then—just when she thought that he was running out of steam—he offered statistics that would iron out the flaws in the Fabian missile project He was right, too. Dwayne Crocker didn’t make mistakes.

Normally she might find his conversation stimulating. But tonight the information seemed wearying, irksome, oppressive.

As the last roll disappeared from his plate, Dwayne carefully licked the honey from his finger. Over steaming cups of coffee and tea, he discussed the financial advantages of merging. He favored the merger with Larhaven.

She dreaded it.

“It’s nothing but a hostile takeover,” she said hotly.

“But, Maureen, Larhaven will come out on the winning side. Once we combine building military aircraft and the skins of commercial liners and keep signing contracts for more missiles, there’s no stopping us.”

“I dislike the bidding wars,” she told him.

“Look, a merger means billions of dollars on the drawing board. Fabian can’t keep pace with the industry unless we merge.”

But it wasn’t fair to be so close to being CEO at Fabian and then lose out to a merger, she thought She’d never have another opportunity to move to the top. “Jobs will be slashed,” she reminded Dwayne. “Hundreds of them. I expected to replace Eddie McCormick when he retired. Now I don’t even know whether I’ll have a job at all.”

“You know why McCormick stayed on? He’s fishing for better dollar signs and benefits in his retirement package. But my job’s secure,” Dwayne boasted. “They need my mathematical genius.”

“I wouldn’t count on it Larhaven will bring in their own management team.”

He looked surprised. “No chance they’ll let me go. If they do, I head right to their competitor. They won’t let you go either, Maureen. They may not want women as vice-presidents, but they will need research scientists.”

He pushed his plate aside and told the waitress to bring two apple pies. “Why are you so worried, Maureen? What did you do—have a run-in with the powers that be at Larhaven?”

“A long time ago. Old man Kladis doesn’t favor women on his board.”

“He’s been dead for ten years. His eldest son runs the show.”

Her body went rigid. Allen Kladis? “I thought Allen was dead,” she said softly.

“No, his wife died. About a year ago. But Allen is still going strong. He’s the force behind this merger. I can’t believe you. Haven’t you been listening in the conference room? Eddie keeps talking about A. G. Kladis. The guy’s about my age.”

Allen’s age.

So Allen was the head of Larhaven, not the father? What was his father’s name? Adam? No, Alexander G. Kladis, a tall man with olive skin and a barrel chest and anger in his black eyes, a father who had been determined to make millionaires out of his three boys even if he had to stomp on the heart of a seventeen-year-old girl who loved his eldest son more than anything else in the world.

“Maureen, are you all right? You look sick.”

“I have a headache. I just need to get some air.”

Dwayne dropped a tip on the table as they stood.

He gave her a winsome smile as they left the table. “Can we have dinner again soon, Maureen?”

She smiled back. “I’m too full to think about it right now.”

“Then I’ll keep asking.”

As they reached the door he gently touched her elbow. “Maureen, I’ve apparently given you a shock. I’m sorry. But when you get back to the office tomorrow, read the correspondence—check the masthead on the Larhaven contract. A. G. Kladis is CEO at Larhaven.”

Allen Kladis, not his father Alexander. She felt a stinging betrayal. Alexander Kladis had won. Why had the older Kladis lied to her so long ago? Why had he told her that Allen was dead?

Allen was alive—alive, and he never came back for her!

Outside, she was grateful to take Dwayne’s arm again and sense his strength as they strolled companionably along the avenue of quaint shops.

“Would you rather skip the show and just take a walk?” he asked quietly.

“Actually, I’m not feeling very well, Dwayne,” she answered honestly. “I think I’d better go home.”

She felt his disappointment as his hand wrapped around hers. Just ahead of them a commotion broke out. Several people ran out into the street, staring up in the sky.

Someone shouted, “Look, there’s been a midair crash.”

Maureen listened for the sound of falling metal. Was it a plane taking off from nearby John Wayne Airport? If so, run for cover! she thought. Don’t just stand there.

But Dwayne Crocker was already propelling her toward the crowd. Overhead a brilliant, blazing light illuminated the sky. The resplendent glow of a rocket missile—dazzling, magnificent

As if awakening a slumbering planet, the missile had split the heavens on soundless wings—mute, echoless as it soared into the clear evening sky. As she watched, it hovered to the left of Venus, shining brighter than the evening star. And then its diaphanous haze cut a course through the clouds, swirling into shimmering vapor trails, churning into eerie streamers.