Part Two: The Arrangement
By the time 6:30 came around, Gaele was nervous. She paced back and forth
in her room, checking the mirror with each turn, wondering if she looked
all right. She then sat down to write in her journal to make the time pass
faster.
I'm having to myself for the hundredth time, it's only a casual dinner, he
just wants to talk about science-related things... he's not going to proposition
me, or anything, he isn't the type to do a thing like that... Daddy would
never let him live it down, if he did... Daddy is so protective, and he didn't
seem terribly concerned about me going to his place alone. Maybe he's in
cahoots... no, he'd talk to me first... and mom would have a fit if he was
in cahoots... so why am I so hung up on this? I feel so stupid
for even thinking this!
When she looked up from her writing, it was
almost 7:15. Oops, she thought as she slung her diary in a drawer, and, after
a fleeting check to see if her hair was out of place, she scurried down toward
the rear door that led to the garden.
"GO-ing somewhere?" Devon's strident voice followed her down the stairwell.
"Not worth noting."
"Uh huh... just keep an eye on his hands," Devon said, giving her a knowing
wink and a snigger.
"Come on, not everybody's like YOU, brother dear."
At Devon's open-mouthed indignation, Gaele smiled and slipped out.
Gaele hesitated and then rang the doorbell of the guest house where Don was
staying. She could hear the TV set going. Funny, I didn't know he was into
watching TV...
Don appeared, grinning a little, and was wearing a dark grey housecoat. "Thought
perhaps you'd changed your mind," he said calmly, stepping aside to let her
enter.
"I'm so sorry, I started doing something to make the time pass, and then
forgot to check the clock. I rarely am ever late for anything," Gaele said,
breathless from her fast pace. She noticed his thoughtful gaze at her, and
realized belatedly that she'd let on about her nervousness.
Don smiled, and gestured toward the living room. "I was just watching the
tube... deciding which news reports I want to download... but," He picked
up the remote and the TV went dark and silent. "Now that I have more interesting
company, it can wait. Would you like a drink?"
"Oh- uh, I'm not allowed to drink."
Don gave her a grave look. "Then you must be terribly thirsty."
Gaele's mouth opened. "Oh! I thought you meant... you know, a DRINK drink."
He laughed, showing his white, even teeth. "Heaven forbid I should offer
alcohol to a minor, much less Mike's daughter! I made some iced tea, or maybe
you'd like seltzer, or cider..."
"All three would be nice, sort of an iced-tea-cider-soda... thing?" Gaele
asked in a hopeful tone, noting his raised eyebrow. "Why not? They bottle
it like that, and sell it for three times the price of the other stuff. It's
great, you should try it yourself."
"Okay, I'll get you this... what do you call it?" Don hesitated thoughtfully
in front of the refrigerator. "Iced Teederodah?"
Gaele giggled, in spite of her nervousness. "I like that name, maybe I'll
call it that, from now on."
"Ah, if you want any music, feel free to look through the cabinet. Seems
your dad has plenty of choices, considering his audiophilic occupation..."
Don said lightly. "One little request, keep it easygoing. I don't want to
hear some instrumental rendition of a strip mining operation."
"Ew," Gaele said half to herself, as she peered at the labels on the CD
covers.
"What was that?" Don handed her a tall glass, that tinkled with little ice
cubes.
"Strip mining operation. You mentioned it, and I said, 'Ew'," Gaele set the
glass on a side table and pulled out several CDs.
"Ah," Don said, settling into one of the recliners that faced the picture
window. "So... why do you say 'Ew'?"
"Well," she said, as she dropped the disks into a stacking tray and watched
them slide into the player. She set the volume low enough for conversation,
and turned to look at him. "Strip mining is a dirty word in my vocabulary."
She then went and took a sip from her drink, thinking it was the end of the
conversation.
"Why?" Don's word was quietly spoken, but it carried a lot of weight.
Gaele turned and stared at him. "What do you mean, why? Everyone knows how
damaging to the environment that sort of thing is. It's simply awful."
"That depends on where or how it's done," Don said gently, running a tentative
finger around the rim of his glass.
"Hmm. You sound like one of those fatcat politicians from the East, whose
pet pork barrel projects are trying to find some lame excuse to open up some
nature preserve for oil drilling, or something." Gaele said without
thinking.
Don laughed a little, not seeming to take offense to Gaele's dig. "Far from
it, my dear. But you sound like a well meaning- though not thoroughly informed-
adversary against those fatcat politicians' pet pork barrel projects."
Gaele shrugged a little in response. "I take it you know something about
it? "
He took a drink from his glass, and set it down, and then went on to explain
to her the intricacies of prospecting, core samples and surveying.
"Very interesting," Gaele said. "But in all this research, has anyone made
as much effort to determine the environmental impact such an operation can
create on the life in that area, including the people who live there, as
well as the wildlife?"
"In my company, yes," Don said.
"So, you ARE involved in strip mining... I suppose you've made PLENTY of
profits off of this." Gaele tried hard to keep her calm composure, but inside,
she was reaching a level of annoyance that was going to be difficult to cover
up.
"Yes, I am, and I have, and I can tell you, without apology, that it is something
that needs to be done, to supply materials for certain chemical
processing-"
"What sort of chemicals?"
"Sulfur, for one."
Gaele decided it was best not to answer at that moment, but took a large
gulp of her drink instead.
"Gaele, I can understand if you find this upsetting. I am not happy with
this type of mining either, but to shut it down would have caused a local
economic impact of disastrous proportions. The operation was in financial
trouble, so I bought it, and invested a lot into cleaning up and making the
place more efficient and less polluting, without anyone losing their job.
You see, I too, have a great concern for the environment, but the welfare
of the workers involved, in my book, are more important."
"Lot of good that will do if the atmosphere is poisoned, and there's significant
global warming, and a hole in the ozone layer the size of the Indian Ocean
..." Gaele muttered. "...and I think there already is."
"I am very much aware of that, and believe me..." He leaned forward for emphasis.
"This is as important to me as it seems to be with you. Most of the scientific
research for these concerns are heavily funded by my companies."
"So..." Gaele said, feeling bolder. "What would you call yourself, an
industrialist or a capitalist?"
"Neither," he said , straight-faced. "I call myself Donatello."
Gaele gave him a long look, and he returned it easily, with amusement in
his eyes. Then Gaele burst out laughing. "I'm sorry," she said, waving a
little at him as though to dispell the tension in the air. "I get a little
carried away by my crusade."
"That is perfectly understandable," he said, smiling. He leaned back and
stretched his legs out farther in front of him. "You are young, and full
of enthusiasm, and I predict you will make a lot of significant contributions
to the world... and may continue to do so, long after I am gone."
Gaele's smile faded. "Oh, I hope not. I mean, I hope you will be around a
very long time."
"Agreed! I will do what I can, but you will always have three decades more
of lifespan to your advantage on me."
They were quiet a moment, listening to Kitaro, and for some reason, Gaele
felt very sad. When they finished their drinks, Don stood up. "Are you hungry?
Still interested in staying for dinner?"
"What are you having?"
"Grilled teriyaki tuna, arugula salad with a balsamic vinaigrette, basmati
rice, and... mango sorbet for dessert."
"In that case, I'm staying," Gaele said, grinning up at him. "Sounds fabulous,
but the mango sorbet is the real hook."
Don straightened his housecoat with a little hitch. "That's good, because
this afternoon I asked your father what you liked to eat."
"You did? How utterly devious of you," Gaele said, teasingly.
Don grinned and then went out to the back patio to put the fish steaks on
the hot grill. He covered it, and then returned, and got the other things
out of the refrigerator. He waved away any offers of help. "You just sit
there and distract me with your lovely, contralto voice."
"Well, okay, if you say so," Gaele said, perching on a stool at the bar that
separated the kitchenette from the rest of the living room. "You look like
you enjoy this sort of thing. Did you ever study at the Academy of Culinary
Arts in San Fran?"
"Ah, no. I haven't much in formal education," Don said, putting the rice
in the microwave to warm. "I used to be the worst cook on the face of this
planet, and decided to work on improving my skills a bit."
"Really? No formal education? You seem so... I don't know, educated."
"Self educated," Don said. "And correspondence school. Not to mention having
an excellent tutor."
"Oh."
Don looked at her a moment, before finishing up his meal preparation. "Not
that I'd recommend self education to anyone, it's a long, hard road, few
will pass it, and so I've put a lot of financially disadvantaged, but hard
working, talented people through some very good schools."
"Which reminds me..." Gaele sighed. "I have to figure out where I'm going
to go, this fall."
"You haven't decided?"
"No."
"Then, may I make a suggestion?"
"Sure."
"Go to the school you want to attend the most."
Gaele stared at him. "Is that all?"
Don grinned at her in reply.
Rahab was sitting in her customary place at the kitchen table, having her
customary cup of tea.
Gaele sighed gustily and flopped into a chair. She leaned her head into her
folded arms on the table, cradling her face as she looked languidly at her
mother. Her mother didn't seem any older than when Gaele was little. Poor
humans, she thought, they age so quickly... her eyes closed.
She heard her mother exhale softly. "Growing up so quickly... where has the
time gone," she said in a quiet voice.
Gaele made a noncommital noise.
"How was dinner?"
"It was nice. We had a good talk."
"That's good."
They sat in silence, and Rahab sipped moodily from her cup.
"What's wrong, mom?"
"Wrong?" Rahab looked at her quizzically. "Nothing's wrong."
Gaele bit her lip and squinted at her mother as though to see past the mask
of innocence.
"You seem kind of off center about something."
"Uhm, no... just a bit of a headache. I'm feeling better, now."
"You weren't like... waiting up for me or anything."
"Should I have been?"
The tone in her mothers voice made her sit up straighter. "Well, no... no
reason. There wouldn't have been anything to worry about, anyway."
"Okay..." Rahab's eyes unfocused as she stared into her cup.
Gaele nibbled on a cuticle, deep in thought. She wondered what really motivated
Don to invite her over. What did he really want? He either has canonical
patience, or he's arrogant enough to think that she will do nothing other
than accept him, and go along with whatever plan he is carefully laying before
her. She was no dummy, and she had spent enough time tonight observing that
she was dealing with a very intelligent mind, well versed in the ways of
the world, and was not one to be turned by foolish whims. It was better to
take the direct approach, he had seemed quite open with her- unless it was
another way to conceal a more hidden agenda.
Rahab looked up in surprise as Gaele leaped to her feet. "Off to bed?"
"Yes, eventually... I need to, ah, ruminate on all of this," Gaele said,
giving her mother an absent peck on the cheek.
"Gaele," Rahab's eyes were on hers again. "Just one little thing... about
school... just remember, you have so much out there in front of you. Think
carefully before making any decisions, okay?"
Gaele nodded mutely, and turned to leave the kitchen. Not in the direction
of her bed, but to go back down to Don's, and confront him, before he turned
in. Otherwise she'd be up all night, too agitated to sleep, unless he diffused
her emerging suspicions.