Southern Belle. Fiona Hood-Stewart
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I don’t understand it myself.”
“I guess we’ll just have to be patient, give her the time and understanding she needs to get over this…this idea she’s got in her head,” he murmured, lips tight as he stared blindly through the window into the lush garden, past the camellias and the Roman fountain where two starlings perched, eyes fixed on the ivy-covered wall that for nearly two centuries had protected the Hathaways’ privacy.
“Well. At least if she’s with Gioconda we don’t have to worry she’ll be properly looked after. We should have thought of Gioconda immediately. It was the obvious place for Elm to go, now that I think about it.” The senator eyed Harlan sharply. “You mentioned that she had some idea in her head. What was that, I wonder?”
“Oh, nothing serious. Just malicious gossip.” Harlan shrugged dismissively. “They chatter too much over at the Tennis League. Unfortunately, sir, Elm appears to have been listening to some pretty outrageous lies.”
“Hmm.” Senator Hathaway sent his son-in-law another long, speculative glance. So something was up, after all.
“It was stupid of me not to have thought of Gioconda,” Harlan said quickly. “I haven’t called there, though. I thought—” he looked across at the senator and hesitated “—I thought it would be better to let her take the initiative.”
“Perhaps.” George Hathaway pondered the matter, not in the least bit fooled by Harlan’s effort to shift the conversation. He didn’t like it, not one little bit. It was so out of character for Elm to act like this. If Harlan had strayed—and it now seemed possible he had—why hadn’t she just talked it over with him, had it out? Maybe sent Harlan to the doghouse for a few weeks, then patched it up, as all women did. And if she was sick, why didn’t she stay close to her family? But as he watched Harlan, it was clear his son-in-law had more to say.
“There’s another thing, sir.” Harlan shifted, plainly uncomfortable.
“Go on,” he said dryly.
“I got a call this morning from Meredith Hunter.”
“Oh?” Something in the younger man’s tone told him this was deeply serious.
“Elm’s asked her to file for a divorce.”
“Divorce?” The senator’s glass came down on the small mahogany table next to him with a heavy thud, and he rose. “Why on earth would Elm want a divorce?”
“I don’t know. It’s utterly crazy. I could hardly believe it when Meredith spoke to me.”
“What did she say?”
“That Elm had asked her to go ahead and prepare the papers,” he said bleakly. “I just can’t believe it, sir. After all these years. I thought we were happy.”
“Are you sure? Something very serious must have occurred for her to take such radical action.”
“Okay, we’ve had a couple of arguments now and then, and, well…I…well, I may not have always been a perfect spouse.” Harlan shifted uneasily. “But nothing to merit this, sir, I assure you.”
George Hathaway quelled a surge of anger at Harlan’s oblique admission of adultery—Elm was his daughter, after all—but even more disturbing was the evidence that his son-in-law had been so foolish. There was too much at risk here to let one’s libido rule one’s actions, he reflected in disgust. His whole political future could be at stake. Smothering the pithy comments he would normally have delivered, he reminded himself that it was water under the bridge—what was needed now was crisis control. He paused thoughtfully. “Meredith Hunter, you say?”
“Yes. At least she’s kept it close to home.”
“Thank God for that.”
“Elm doesn’t seem to realize the implications of what she’s done,” Harlan ventured, “to all of us.” There was a bitter edge to his voice that didn’t escape the senator’s sharp ears.
“Obviously not. Although it’s rather clear you didn’t take into account the consequences your, er…behavior might incur, either,” he responded sarcastically, sending Harlan that piercing look that had been known to make the most stalwart opposition flinch. “But you and I will address that later. For the present, I think it’s best that I have a word with Meredith.”
“A word, sir?”
“Yes. This is a mess and we’ve got to contain it before it goes any further. I’ve known Meredith all her life. Her father, John Rowland, and I go back a long way, as you know. Perhaps she could be persuaded to delay filing, at least until the New Year. By then we must hope Elm will have had time to reflect on her rash decision and come to her senses.”
“You think she might?” The hope in Harlan’s eyes made the senator soften—very slightly. The boy had obviously been playing around. But, he admitted—honest enough to recall his own political past—it was almost inevitable in a position like his. What mattered was that he clearly regretted what he’d done.
“It certainly won’t hurt to try. You leave Meredith to me, Harlan. I’ll get in touch with her first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harlan said gratefully. “You’ll keep me informed, won’t you? I—I’m pretty anxious.” He straightened his tie, looking uncomfortable and depressed.
“Of course.” Elm shouldn’t have put them in this position, the senator reflected, suddenly irritated. Whatever indiscretion Harlan had committed—and it couldn’t have been that bad, or he would have learned of it from his own sources—she had no right to behave this way, no right at all. And just weeks before Christmas, when she knew very well Harlan would be expected to appear at every public function with her on his arm.
“Have there been questions?” Hathaway lifted a steely brow.
“Well, yes. There have. I’ve taken it upon myself to say she’s resting in a clinic in Switzerland. At least the last part’s true, since that’s where she is. I hope you think that’s all right?”
“Good.” He nodded, eyes narrowed, quickly setting up a strategy to contain the damage. “Everybody knows she’s been out of sorts lately. At least that should keep the gossips quiet. But not for long,” he added with a significant look.
“I know. But Elm’s health and well-being must come first.” Harlan’s brows drew together, forming an intense line over the bridge of his aquiline nose.
“Very right, m’boy, very right indeed. But she also needs to come back home where she belongs. We can’t forget your career, Harlan. You can’t afford to make the kind of mistakes that could cost you farther down the line, just remember that. We must take every precaution.”
“I know, I—” Harlan rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. “Sorry, I’m kind of tired right now. I guess the last few days I haven’t slept too well, that’s all.”
“I understand.” The senator eyed him, bending just a little more. “But I’m sure that in a little while we’ll bring Elm about. A few weeks in Switzerland with Gioconda may be just the right thing to cheer her up.” He nodded sagely.
“You saying that makes me feel a heck of a lot better, sir. I’ve been—well, I guess I don’t need to tell you how worried I’ve been the past few days.” He gave a tentative boyish smile that expressed far more than words.
“So. What’s on your agenda tonight?” the senator asked, feeling it was time to change the subject and lighten up. He’d made his point. Harlan would think twice before being careless again, and it wouldn’t do to make the young man any more stressed than he already was. That would only serve to make matters worse.
“I have the Kaplan party, followed by a dinner at the Staceys’. I wish…well, I guess that’s neither here nor there.”
“Right. How’s young Earl Stacey doing these days?