5
Adrian
Five hours after myhumiliating defeat and then my thrilling victory, I left my room en route to the covered patio. The house was abuzz with activity. Melanie was commanding the army of helpers doing the decorations. I made sure Chef Dominique and his staff had prepared the meal I requested for lunch with Nina—a simple meal of yellowfin tuna, roasted vegetables, and small red potatoes.
I asked for the table to be set for two. It amazed me when Chef Dominique dared to ask who the second setting was for because no other family members had yet arrived. Like I was forbidden to have guests here at the house.
I took my seat to await the arrival of my guest.
Nina.
Nina, who was about to cause me to question my beliefs, to reevaluate the things I cherished and to reflect on the things I needed to let go of.
I felt the same sense of anticipation and angst I had with Aimee. I had bungled my relationship with her primarily because I was afraid to face my parents. I was afraid to defend my reason for choosing the girl I fell in love with. I didn’t want to have to defend Aimee’s mixed racial identity. She was half Kalinago—part of the indigenous people of her island Dominica.
I chose to keep her to myself until she pointed out we had no future together if we couldn’t go public. “Anything kept in a dark secret place will wilt and die. Today I choose to bring voluntary death to this relationship.” She had uttered these words and it gutted me. Too much a coward, I had done nothing to reverse it.
Now, I had a magnified and complicated dilemma. The ticking obligation imposed by my family. Find a wife within this period and the hundred million is yours. I could smell the carrot. But would I be able to reach it?
I lifted my eyes from the table and saw Nina approaching. Her appearance pulled me out of my depressing thoughts. Dressed in a lilac chef uniform, her lean form moved with grace. There was a lightness about her. Although I had seen the shadow when she talked about her parents” death. I stood up and pulled the white wicker chair out for her. With her seated, I lifted the cover from the plate with a flourish.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile which softened her face, turning her into an angelic being. She settled herself at the glass-top table, oohing and ahhing over the food. “Wow, this looks delicious. Chef Dominique grumbled the whole time he prepped it, and gave me the evil eye a couple of times in the kitchen.”
“Why is he being difficult?”
“I have no idea, and won’t waste another second on his attitude. But tell me,” she said, leaning towards me, the same soft smile from earlier turning her eyes into twinkle stars, “are you always the gentleman?” she asked, her tone light and teasing.
“Always,” I responded. “I was trained by the best boarding schools money can buy to be a gentleman.”
“You went to boarding schools. I can’t say I am surprised,” she chirped.
“Are you going on stereotypes for your conclusion?”
“Is having loads of money a stereotype? If it is, you have your answer.”
“A quick wit. I like that.”
“Do you think intelligence is attractive?” she questioned, leaning in and watching my eyes.
“I think intelligent conversation is attractive, don’t you?”
“Is that what you’re into?” she asked in a low mumble as smooth as Nutella.
“You’ve zeroed in with precision, Nina. Enough about me. What do you find attractive?”
“Hmmm, let me think,” she said, her fork paused midair. There was no stiffness about Nina. She moved with her thoughts. She wasn’t trying to be impressive. She had no airs. And it was refreshing. She had no scheme for my money. She had no agenda for my name. If there was going to be any pursuing here, it would fall to me. I would have to be the one to give chase.
“Confidence and intelligence,” she said, bringing her fork down to sink into the salmon. I watched as she moved a piece to her plump glossy painted lips. When the salmon hit her tongue, she closed her eyes and said “Hmmm, this is delicious. Chef Dominique outdid himself today.”
“You like confidence?” I asked.
“Yes, someone who is sure of his next five moves in life, for example, can only be the result of extreme confidence. Do you know your next five moves, Adrian?” she asked, and her tone betrayed a keen interest. She wanted to know what I was made of.
“My next five moves . . . hmmm. Let me see,” I said, seeking to buy time.
Should I reveal all my next moves?
“I plan to complete my circuit of all our offices around the world.”
“How many offices are there?”
“We have twenty-nine offices in strategic places all over the globe.”
“You’ll be on the road for a while then.”
“I’ll be going back and forth to New York. But you asked about my next five moves and there is a lot to tell. My next move is to choose a wife and, after that, collect my hundred million dollar trust fund. Then I will start my foundation to support reparation efforts in war-torn countries around the world and then start my foundation to sponsor young black writers in America and abroad.”
“I’m very impressed, Adrian,” she said and I heard the admiration in her voice. She leaned back and looked at me, her eyes bright with admiration. She smiled. Her eyes locked into mine. My heart galloped into a steady trot. I wiped my sweaty hands on my khaki shorts.
“What’s with the trust fund for a hundred million dollars?”
“It’s to secure the bending of my will.”
“Bending of your will? You have the most intriguing use of words, Mr. Fourth-in-line-to-the-throne,” she said in a confident whisper.
“My grandfather and my parents want to ensure I choose a wife within the next twelve months.”
“Oh yes, you mentioned this earlier. How do you feel about it?”
“Angry. That they are forcing me to choose a lifelong companion within their timeline. They have ignored my pleas to allow me to decide on my own time. This is the most important aspect of my life and I should be allowed to choose.”
“But why have they imposed this on you?”
“Family tradition to be married by a certain age.”
“Really?” she questioned.
“Yes, every Adrian has been married by the time he took his place at the firm.”
“And you have just passed the bar and so you are being jolted to act.”
“Exactly. They were mad at me for delaying law school.”
“Ah. So you should have been a lawyer for years, with the next heir already in place.”
I looked at her with fresh eyes. “You are rather perceptive,” I murmured. Her observation made me pensive until she spoke again.
“Isn’t this how traditions and legacies work? The patriarch must have some guarantee that there are more pedigreed heirs to carry on.”
“You’re onto something here, Nina. My grandfather is at the head of this mission. He called it Operation Marry Adrian. The operation begins with the party on Saturday.” My voice was subdued and serious.
“So my first major event at the house may bag you a wife. I should be extra careful with my desserts. I need to produce the best so you can impress your queen.”
I looked at her and caught the smirk playing at the corners of her full plum-colored lips.
“This is not funny, Nina,” I said, running my hands over my face. “They know I want to get my hands on my trust fund. My father alluded to how I planned to spend it. I don’t know yet, how he knows—if he has spies on me, or if my cousin Jacob spilled my secrets.”
“But why would you keep your causes a secret?”
“In my family, the only acceptable cause is Watkins and Williams. The firm. Nothing else matters.” I growled and dropped my gaze.
“It’s quite a weight placed on your shoulders.” Her face softened and she turned toward me. “You want to know what I think?”
“Tell me.” I could hear the slight quaver in my words as I leaned towards her. Just a few more inches and I could kiss her lovely lips. The remnants of our lunch lay forgotten on our plates. The glory of the sun. The reds, blues, yellows, and white of the flowers in the garden surrounded us but we didn’t see any of it. This was all about two souls communicating.
“I think you are more than confident, intelligent, wise and mature enough to manage the expectations of your grandfather, father and mother. What about your sister?”
“She’s at law school now, but she’s not expected to take over Watkins and Williams.”
“It’s gender-biased.”
“Yes, the entire reason behind the name Adrian Watkins-Williams to the fourth power.”
“Adrian, what happens if you fail to produce a son? What if you fail to produce any children?” she asked, calm and soothing.
“There’s no room for failure. Hence, this kick-off party. It’s supposed to be a graduation and passing-of-the-bar celebration, but it is really about Operation Get Adrian Married,” I rasped.
She touched her neck, laughed at me, and said, “This is how the rich ensure their progeny continues. Tell me, Adrian, are you going to capitulate to the dictates of your forebears?” She punctuated her playful tone with a raised eyebrow.
“To answer your question I think I am going to have a hard time capitulating to their demands.”
“How much value do you put on your causes?”
“A lot of value.”
“I am sure you will be tested and gutted in the coming months,” she pronounced, rubbing her finger against her lips in thought.
“Can you see the future?”
“No, Adrian, I am only telling you what you already know.”
I raised my glass to her in response. “Unfortunately, that is true. You are a wise woman, Nina the baker.” We were quiet for a moment as we considered each other. A stiff breeze gusted, pushing the tablecloth edge up and rattling the silverware. We both reached to straighten the table and giggled at how startled we were. “I don’t want to talk about my impending doom anymore. Let’s talk about better things. Like you. Do you swim a lot?”
“Yes.”
We both turned toward the ocean, the shades of blue shimmering under the brute force of the midday sun.
“Do you go out on the sea a lot?”
“On what? We don’t all have docks and yachts and speed boats,” she stated, the teasing back in her tone.
“Fair enough,” I grunted. “I can rectify that tomorrow morning. A ride on the speedboat. Same time. 5:30 a.m. We will be back long before the dragon, Chef Dominique, begins circling.”
“The dragon,” she said with a loud laugh. “Don’t let him hear you. He will go French on you.”
“Chef Dominique has been with us for a few years. I am his most favorite person in our household.”
“You and that confidence thing.”
“I try. But I need an answer. Will you do your first morning speed-boat ride?” I crossed my arms and squeezed my biceps, trying to bargain. I was pleading, but I hoped she couldn’t hear it.
Please don’t say no.
She placed her elbows on the table and leaned over to me, her eyes bright sparks of excitement lit up by her smile. Her smile made her cheeks swell, showing off her dimples. I wanted to sink my forefinger into one of those dimples to feel the dip of softness.
Be still, my desperate heart.
“Adventure is my drug. How can I say no?” She scooted to the edge of her chair, smacked her lips, winked and gave me a thumbs up. “Yes, yes, yes. But I want to experience you driving the boat. Say you will be the one driving and not Tony the boat captain.”
“Okay, if you insist. I will take the speedboat out myself tomorrow. We will save Tony for when we take out the yacht.” I grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly, I saw her breath catch and I heard my own galloping when her fingers curled around mine in response. I’d never felt before, with any woman, a tenth of the connection I felt when I held Nina’s hand. The thought jolted me to release her hand.
She turned her head toward the kitchen, laid her napkin on the table and stood from her seat. “I think I hear Chef Dominique calling my name. I’ll leave now. I certainly don’t want him to come out here to get me.”
“Please, let’s not keep dragon Chef Dominique waiting,” I said, laughing. At that moment, the house manager, Lizette, poked her head through the open doorway. The news of my “indiscretion” would spread like an unchecked brush fire through the staff.
“Not just Dominique. Have you met Melanie, the slave driver? Sorry . . . event planner?”
I laughed until my eyes watered.
“Okay, okay, I know you don’t want to cross her; she’s my mother’s event-planning alter ego. Go, go.”
She left and I fell back against my chair and ran my hands through my hair for probably the fiftieth time today. Too many issues swirling in my head. I groaned aloud.
Am I going to do Aimee again? Am I setting myself up for another epic fail? I moved my empty plate out of the way to butt my head against the table. To knock some sense into my already enchanted heart.