Page 65 of The Playboy and the Widow
The phone pealed in the distance, and a minute later Katie stuck her head in the bathroom door. “It’s for you, Mom. It’s Cliff.” Katie paused and glanced at her elder sister. “Wow, you look almost grown up.”
“You really think so, Katie?”
Smiling, Diana hurried into the upstairs hallway and picked up the telephone receiver. “Hi, there. Oh, Cliff, you wouldn’t believe how pretty Joan looks. I’ve never seen her—”
“Diana, listen...”
“She’s more excited than on Christmas morning—”
“Diana.” This time his voice was sharp, sharper than he’d intended. He was in one heck of a position, torn between his job and his desire to be with Joan for her special night. He didn’t mean to blurt it out, but there didn’t seem to be any other way to say it. “I can’t make it tonight.”
Diana was so stunned she sagged against the wall and closed her eyes. “What do you mean you can’t make it?” she asked after a tortuous moment when the terrible truth had begun to sink in. Surely she’d misunderstood him. She hoped there was some kind of mix-up and she hadn’t heard him right.
“The senior vice president has asked me to take over a case that’s going to the state supreme court. I just found out about it. The first briefing is tonight.”
“But surely you can get out of one meeting.”
“It’s the most important one. I tried, Diana.”
“But what about Joan?” This couldn’t be happening—it just couldn’t. The new dress, Joan’s first pair of panty hose, her hair freshly permed and set in hot rollers. “What about the father-daughter banquet?”
Cliff couldn’t feel any worse than he already did. “I phoned George Holiday, and he’s agreed to take her. There will be other banquets.”
“But Joan wants to go with you.”
“Believe me, if I could, I’d take her. But I can’t.” He was growing impatient now, more angry at the circumstances than with Diana, who couldn’t seem to believe or accept what he was telling her.
“But surely they’d have let you know about something this important before now.”
“Diana, I’ll explain it to Joan later. I’ve got to get back to the meeting. I’m late now. Honey, believe me, I’m as upset about this as you are.”
“Cliff,” she cried, “please, you can’t do this to her.” But it was too late, the line had already been disconnected. When she turned around, Diana discovered Joan watching her with wide brown eyes filled with horror and distress.
“Cliff’s not going, is he?” she asked in a pained whisper.
“No... he’s got an important meeting.”
Without a word, Joan turned and walked into her bedroom and closed the door.
The minute it was feasibly possible, Cliff prepared to leave the meeting. He shoved the papers into his briefcase and left with no more than the minimal pleasantries. He felt like a heel. His conscience had been punishing him all night. Okay, okay, it wasn’t his fault, but he hadn’t wanted to disappoint Joan. His only comfort was that he’d be able to take her to the father-daughter banquet the following year and the year after that. Surely she’d understand this once and be willing to look past her disappointment.
The porch light was on at Diana’s, and he hurriedly parked the car. To his surprise, Diana met him at the front door. She looked calm, but she didn’t fool him; he knew her too well. Anger simmered just below the surface. He’d hoped she would be more understanding, but he’d deal with her later. First he had to talk to her daughter.
“Where’s Joan?”
“In her room. She cried herself to sleep.”
“Oh, no.” Cliff groaned. He moved past Diana and up the stairs into the eleven-year-old’s bedroom. The room was dark, and he left the light off and sat on the corner of her mattress. His heart felt heavy and constricted with regret as he brushed the curls off her forehead.
“We need to talk,” Diana whispered from outside the doorway. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her feet were braced apart, as though to fend off an attack.
“How did the banquet go?” he asked as he followed her down the stairs.
Diana shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Joan hardly said a word when she got home.”
“Honey, I’m sorry, I really am. This kind of thing doesn’t come up that often, but when it does, there’s nothing I can do.”
“You broke her heart.”
