The car swerved suddenly, and horns blared beside and behind it. Matt's eyes snapped open, and he caught Joe watching him in the rearview mirror. "Did it ever occur to you," he said curtly, "to glance at the road now and then? It might make the trip less adventurous, but more restful."
"Naw. I get traffic-hypnosis if I stare at the road too much. So, he said, launching into me topic that was obviously on his mind after witnessing the altercation between Matt and Meredith in the car, "that was your wife today, huh, Matt?" He glanced at the road, then returned his gaze to the rearview mirror. "I mean, you were arguing about a divorce, so I figured she must be your wife, right?"
"Right," Matt snapped.
"She sure is a spitfire," Joe chuckled, ignoring Matt's narrowed gaze. "She doesn't like you very much, does she?"
"No."
"What's she got against steelworkers?"
Her parting words shot through Matt's brain. You're nothing but a dirty steelworker. "Dirt," Matt said uninformatively. "She doesn't like dirt."
When it was obvious his employer was not going to offer any further information, Joe reluctantly changed the subject. "Are you gonna need me when you're in Indiana at the farm next week? If not, your father and I thought we'd have a two-day orgy of checkers."
"No. Stay with him." Although his father had been sober for over a decade, Patrick was very emotional about the sale of the farm despite the fact that it had ultimately been his decision to sell it. Because of that, Matt felt a little uneasy about leaving him entirely alone while he was going to be out there, packing up their personal belongings.
"What about tonight? Are you going out?"
Matt had a date with Alicia. "I'll use the Rolls," he said. "Take the night off."
"If you need me—"
"Dammit! I said I'll use the Rolls."
"Matt?"
"What!"
"Your wife sure is a knockout," Joe said with another chuckle. "Too bad she makes you so grouchy."
Matt reached out and rudely closed the communicating window.
* * *
With Parker's arm around her shoulders offering silent comfort, Meredith stared at the fire crackling in her fireplace, her mind riveted in helpless anger on her ill-fated meeting with Matt. He'd been so nice in the beginning, teasing her because she'd been unable to make up her mind about what to drink ... listening to her talk about her work.
The call he'd gotten about the Southville Zoning Commission had changed everything; Meredith realized that, now that she'd had time to think. But there were some things she didn't understand, things that made her feel uneasy because they made no sense: Even before Matt had gotten the phone call she'd felt as if he harbored some sort of underlying anger—no, contempt —for her. And despite what he had done eleven years earlier, he had not once been on the defensive today. Far from it. Instead, he'd acted as if he thought she should be! He had wanted a divorce, she had been the injured party, yet today Matt had railed her a vicious, conceited bitch.
With an irritated mental shrug, Meredith shoved those useless thoughts aside. She was looking for reasons to justify his actions, she realized with disgust, trying to find excuses for him. From the night she'd met him, she'd been so dazzled by his hard-bitten strength and rugged looks, that she'd set out to make a knight in shining armor of him. To a lesser degree she was doing the same thing now—and all because, today, he'd had almost the same mesmerizing effect on her senses that he had years ago.
A glowing red log tumbled off the grate in a shower of orange sparks, and Parker glanced at his watch. "It's seven o'clock," he said. "I suppose I'd better leave." Sighing, Meredith stood up and accompanied him to the door, grateful for his considerate departure. Her father had been having tests run at the hospital all afternoon, and had insisted on coming over that night to hear a full accounting of Meredith's meeting with Matt. What she had to tell him was undoubtedly going to make him angry, and though Meredith was used to his ire, it embarrassed her to have him unleash it in front of Parker. "Somehow," she said, "I have to make him agree to reverse his stand about the Southville zoning commission. Until he does that, I haven't a prayer of making Matt agree to a quiet divorce."
"You'll succeed," Parker predicted, his arms sliding around her as he drew her close for a reassuring kiss. "For one thing, your father has very little choice. He'll realize that."
She was closing the door when she heard Parker greeting her father down the hall, and Meredith drew a long breath and braced herself for the confrontation that lay ahead of her.
"Well?" Philip said to her as he strode into her apartment. "What happened with Farrell?"
Meredith ignored that for the moment. "What did your doctor say about the test results? What did he say about your heart?"
"He said it's still in my chest," Philip sarcastically replied, taking off his coat and tossing it over a chair. He hated all doctors in general and his own doctor in particular, because Dr. Shaeffer could not be bullied or intimidated or bribed to give Philip what he wanted—a strong heart and a clean bill of health. "Never mind all that. I want to know exactly what Farrell said," he announced, walking over and pouring himself a glass of sherry.
"Don't you dare drink that!" she warned, then her mouth dropped open when he took a slender cigar out of his inside jacket pocket. "Are you trying to kill yourself? Put that cigar down!"
"Meredith," he snapped icily, "you are causing my heart more stress by not answering my question than this drop of brandy and puff of cigar could possibly do. I am the parent, not the child, kindly remember that."
After a day of frustration, that unfair attack sent sparks of anger to her eyes. He looked better than he had all week, which meant the test results must have been encouraging, particularly since he was deciding to risk the sherry and cigar "Fine!" she replied, glad he was feeling strong, because she suddenly felt incapable of trying to gloss over the meeting. He wanted a blow-by-blow accounting, and Meredith gave it to him. Strangely, when she was finished, he looked almost relieved.
"That's it? That's everything Farrell said? He didn't say anything that seemed"—he glanced at his cigar as if trying to think of exactly the right word—"anything that seemed odd?" he emphasized.
"I've told you everything that was said," Meredith replied. "Now I'd like some answers." Looking him straight in the eye, she said with quiet force, "Why did you block Matt's membership at Glenmoor? Why did you get his rezoning request denied? Why, after all these years, are you still carrying on this crazy vendetta? Why?"
"Naw. I get traffic-hypnosis if I stare at the road too much. So, he said, launching into me topic that was obviously on his mind after witnessing the altercation between Matt and Meredith in the car, "that was your wife today, huh, Matt?" He glanced at the road, then returned his gaze to the rearview mirror. "I mean, you were arguing about a divorce, so I figured she must be your wife, right?"
"Right," Matt snapped.
"She sure is a spitfire," Joe chuckled, ignoring Matt's narrowed gaze. "She doesn't like you very much, does she?"
"No."
"What's she got against steelworkers?"
Her parting words shot through Matt's brain. You're nothing but a dirty steelworker. "Dirt," Matt said uninformatively. "She doesn't like dirt."
When it was obvious his employer was not going to offer any further information, Joe reluctantly changed the subject. "Are you gonna need me when you're in Indiana at the farm next week? If not, your father and I thought we'd have a two-day orgy of checkers."
"No. Stay with him." Although his father had been sober for over a decade, Patrick was very emotional about the sale of the farm despite the fact that it had ultimately been his decision to sell it. Because of that, Matt felt a little uneasy about leaving him entirely alone while he was going to be out there, packing up their personal belongings.
"What about tonight? Are you going out?"
Matt had a date with Alicia. "I'll use the Rolls," he said. "Take the night off."
"If you need me—"
"Dammit! I said I'll use the Rolls."
"Matt?"
"What!"
"Your wife sure is a knockout," Joe said with another chuckle. "Too bad she makes you so grouchy."
Matt reached out and rudely closed the communicating window.
* * *
With Parker's arm around her shoulders offering silent comfort, Meredith stared at the fire crackling in her fireplace, her mind riveted in helpless anger on her ill-fated meeting with Matt. He'd been so nice in the beginning, teasing her because she'd been unable to make up her mind about what to drink ... listening to her talk about her work.
The call he'd gotten about the Southville Zoning Commission had changed everything; Meredith realized that, now that she'd had time to think. But there were some things she didn't understand, things that made her feel uneasy because they made no sense: Even before Matt had gotten the phone call she'd felt as if he harbored some sort of underlying anger—no, contempt —for her. And despite what he had done eleven years earlier, he had not once been on the defensive today. Far from it. Instead, he'd acted as if he thought she should be! He had wanted a divorce, she had been the injured party, yet today Matt had railed her a vicious, conceited bitch.
With an irritated mental shrug, Meredith shoved those useless thoughts aside. She was looking for reasons to justify his actions, she realized with disgust, trying to find excuses for him. From the night she'd met him, she'd been so dazzled by his hard-bitten strength and rugged looks, that she'd set out to make a knight in shining armor of him. To a lesser degree she was doing the same thing now—and all because, today, he'd had almost the same mesmerizing effect on her senses that he had years ago.
A glowing red log tumbled off the grate in a shower of orange sparks, and Parker glanced at his watch. "It's seven o'clock," he said. "I suppose I'd better leave." Sighing, Meredith stood up and accompanied him to the door, grateful for his considerate departure. Her father had been having tests run at the hospital all afternoon, and had insisted on coming over that night to hear a full accounting of Meredith's meeting with Matt. What she had to tell him was undoubtedly going to make him angry, and though Meredith was used to his ire, it embarrassed her to have him unleash it in front of Parker. "Somehow," she said, "I have to make him agree to reverse his stand about the Southville zoning commission. Until he does that, I haven't a prayer of making Matt agree to a quiet divorce."
"You'll succeed," Parker predicted, his arms sliding around her as he drew her close for a reassuring kiss. "For one thing, your father has very little choice. He'll realize that."
She was closing the door when she heard Parker greeting her father down the hall, and Meredith drew a long breath and braced herself for the confrontation that lay ahead of her.
"Well?" Philip said to her as he strode into her apartment. "What happened with Farrell?"
Meredith ignored that for the moment. "What did your doctor say about the test results? What did he say about your heart?"
"He said it's still in my chest," Philip sarcastically replied, taking off his coat and tossing it over a chair. He hated all doctors in general and his own doctor in particular, because Dr. Shaeffer could not be bullied or intimidated or bribed to give Philip what he wanted—a strong heart and a clean bill of health. "Never mind all that. I want to know exactly what Farrell said," he announced, walking over and pouring himself a glass of sherry.
"Don't you dare drink that!" she warned, then her mouth dropped open when he took a slender cigar out of his inside jacket pocket. "Are you trying to kill yourself? Put that cigar down!"
"Meredith," he snapped icily, "you are causing my heart more stress by not answering my question than this drop of brandy and puff of cigar could possibly do. I am the parent, not the child, kindly remember that."
After a day of frustration, that unfair attack sent sparks of anger to her eyes. He looked better than he had all week, which meant the test results must have been encouraging, particularly since he was deciding to risk the sherry and cigar "Fine!" she replied, glad he was feeling strong, because she suddenly felt incapable of trying to gloss over the meeting. He wanted a blow-by-blow accounting, and Meredith gave it to him. Strangely, when she was finished, he looked almost relieved.
"That's it? That's everything Farrell said? He didn't say anything that seemed"—he glanced at his cigar as if trying to think of exactly the right word—"anything that seemed odd?" he emphasized.
"I've told you everything that was said," Meredith replied. "Now I'd like some answers." Looking him straight in the eye, she said with quiet force, "Why did you block Matt's membership at Glenmoor? Why did you get his rezoning request denied? Why, after all these years, are you still carrying on this crazy vendetta? Why?"
