Wings

Desmond picked her up at two o'clock, and they drove out to Malibu, and walked on the beach. It was a glorious day, and the beach was almost deserted. He talked for a while about his youth, his years in boarding school, and then at Princeton. He hadn't been home a lot during that time. His mother had died when he was very young, and his father had plunged himself into his business. He had built an empire, but in the process of building it, he had forgotten his only child. He had never even bothered to have Desmond home for vacations. He stayed at his various schools, first Fessenden then St. Paul's, and then finally Princeton. By then, he didn't really care anymore, he went away on his own or with friends for his vacation.

“Didn't you have any family at all?” Cassie looked horrified at the story of his desperately lonely childhood.

“None. Both of my parents were only children. All of my grandparents were dead before I was born. I never had anyone except my father, and actually, I never really knew him. I think that's why I've never wanted any children of my own. I wouldn't have wanted to inflict that kind of pain on anyone. I'm happy as I am, and I wouldn't want to disappoint a child.” There was something very bleak and sad about him, and she understood him better now. It was the loneliness she had sensed, the isolation that had gone on for years. He had put it to good use, but how painful for him. And he still seemed so lonely.

“Desmond… you wouldn't disappoint anyone… you've been so kind to me.” He had been. Her contacts with him had been nothing but pleasant. He was the perfect gentleman, the perfect friend, the perfect employer. There was no reason why he couldn't be the perfect husband or parent. She knew he had been married twice previously and she also knew he had no children. Magazines she'd read made a big point of saying that there was no heir to his gigantic fortune. But now she knew why. He didn't want one.

“I married very young,” he explained, as they sat on the sand finally, looking out at the water. “I was still at Princeton. And it was incredibly stupid. Amy was a lovely girl, and completely spoiled by her parents. We came back here when I graduated, and she hated everything about it,” He looked at Cass then with sudden amusement. “I was the same age you are now, but with tremendous illusions about being grown up, and knowing what I was doing. She wanted me to move to New York, and I wouldn't. She wanted to be dose to her family, and I thought it terribly strange. I took her to Africa instead, on safari, and then to India for six months. And then we went to Hong Kong, where she took the first ship back to her parents. She said I had tortured her and taken her to horrible places. She said she'd been held hostage with savages.” He smiled at the absurdity of it and Cassie laughed. He made it all sound very funny. “By the time I got back, her father's lawyers had filed for divorce. I suppose I never understood that she wanted to be near her mother, and I wanted to show her something a lot more exciting.

“My next wife was a lot more intriguing. I was twenty-five, and she was a fascinating Englishwoman in Bangkok. She was ten yean older than I was, and apparently she'd led a very busy life. It turned out that she was married to someone else, and he surfaced rather unexpectedly while we were happily living together. He was not pleased, and our marriage was annulled. And then I came back here and settled down eventually. I enjoyed some of it, but I'm afraid none of that sounds like real marriage. I've never really tried it right here, or done what was expected of me. And once I inherited the business, I had no time for ail that nonsense. I had no time for anything… except the business. So here I am, ten years later, alone, and very boring.”

“I wouldn't call all that boring… safaris… India … Bangkok.… It's certainly a long way from Illinois, where I come from. I'm the fourth of five children, and I've spent my whole life living on an airport, and I have sixteen nieces and nephews. You don't get much more mundane than that. I'm the first member of my family to go to college, the first woman to fly a plane, the first person to move away, although my father and mother came out from New York, and from Ireland before that. But it's awfully ordinary, and not in the least glamorous or exciting.”

“You're glamorous now, Cass,” he said quietly, watching her. He always seemed interested in her reactions.

“I don't think I am. I know I'm still the girl in the overalls, with grease all over her face.”

“What other people see is very different.”

“Maybe I just don't understand that.”