In the foyer of Jeffery Ting's house Jasmine's Dad
.
Andrew Clark hesitated uneasily, searching through the crowds of people who, like himself, had come to pay the obligatory condolence visit on the day of Cyril Ting’s funeral. and he was drunk The vodka, combined with gin he'd drunk in the car, made him feel slightly better fortified to face the funeral amenities,
A few minutes later Andrew spotted Ebenezer King with two young women and another man talking. After getting another drink, he walked over to join his friends. "Great party, isn't it," he remarked with a sarcastic smile as he spoke to Ebenezer, they Grew up together with Jasmine being one class below
"I thought you hated funerals and never went to them," King said when the chorus of greetings was over.
"I do hate them. I'm not here to mourn Cyril Ting, I'm here today to protect my inheritance." Andrew took a swallow of his drink, trying to wash away the bitterness he felt over what he was about to say. "My father is threatening to disinherit me again, only I think he means it this time."
Leigh Zan, the pretty brunette, looked at him in amused disbelief. "Your father is going to disinherit you if you don't attend funerals?"
No dear, my father is threatening to disinherit me if I don't 'straighten up and make something of myself immediately. Translated, that means I am to appear at funerals of old family friends such as this one, and I am to participate in our family's newest business venture. Or else I'm cut off from all that lovely money my family has."
"Sounds dire," King said with an unsympathetic grin. "What new business venture have you been assigned to?"
"Oil wells," he said. "More oil wells. This time my old man has cut a deal with the Qatar government to carry out exploration operations over there."
Leigh Zan Said, "Don't tell me he's sending you to Qatar?"
"Nothing as essential as that," Jon scoffed bitterly. "My father is turning me into a glorified personnel interviewer. He put me in charge of hiring the crews to go over there. And then you know what the old bastard did?"
What did he do? King Asked. After I picked out the first fifteen able-bodied, experienced men, my old man insisted on meeting everyone I'd interviewed personally so that he could rate my ability to pick workers, he rejected half of my choices. The only one he liked was this guy named James Peterson, who's a sawmill worker and who I wasn't going to hire. The closest Peterson had ever been to an oil rig was two years ago. He has never been near a big rig like we'll have in the Middle East. Furthermore, Peterson doesn't give a damn about oil drilling. His only interest is the Two-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar bonus he'll get if he sticks it out for two years over there. He told my father that right to his face."
So why did your father hire him? the friends asked in unison. He said he liked Peterson's style, Andrew sneered, tossing down the rest of his drink. He liked Peterson's ideas about what he planned to do with the bonus when he gets it. I half expected my father to change his mind about sending Peterson to Qatar and offer him my office instead. As it is, I have been ordered to bring Peterson in next month and acquaint him with our operation and introduce him around.
Andrew, Leigh said calmly, You're getting drunk and your voice is getting loud. Sorry, I have been extremely irritated, he said. I'm telling you, Peterson is an arrogant, ambitious, Annoying guy. He has no class, no money, no nothing.
When the others remained silent, Andrew said defensively, "If you think I'm exaggerating, I'll bring him to the Fourth of July dance at the club and you can all see for yourself what sort of man my father thinks I ought to be."
Don't be an idiot, Leigh warned him. Your father may like him as an employee, but he'll castrate you if you bring someone like that to Cappadocia.
I know, but it would be worth it. Andrew said mischievously
Just don't dump him on us if you bring him there, she warned him. We aren't going to spend the evening trying to make small talk with some sawmill worker just so you can spite your father. No problem. I'll leave Peterson all by himself and let him flounder while my father looks on, watching him try to figure out what fork to use. My old man won't be able to say a word to me either. After all, he's the one who told me to 'show Peterson the ropes' and 'look after him' while he's in Chicago.
King chuckled at Andrew's ferocious expression. "There must be an easier way to solve your problem."
Andrew turned his head and started to reply, but his attention was suddenly diverted by the sight of a breathtaking brunette wearing a black sheath with a high collar and short sleeves, who was walking down the stairs. He stared at her with a slackened jaw as she paused to talk to an elderly couple, "Who are you looking at?" Leigh asked, following his gaze. I don't know who she is, but I'd like to find out. Where is she? asked the rest member of the group, and everyone looked in the direction he was staring.
There! Andrew said, pointing with his glass as the crowd around the brunette moved and he saw her again.
King recognized her and grinned. You've all known her for years, you just haven't seen her in a while. Four blank faces turned to him, and his grin widened. That, my friends, is Jasmine Ting.
You're out of your mind! Andrew said. He stared hard at her but could find a little resemblance between the gauche, rather plain girl he remembered and the poised young beauty he beheld: Gone was the baby fat, the glasses, the braces, and the ever-present barrette that used to hold back her straight hair. Now that brunette hair was caught up in a simple chignon with tendrils at her ears framing a face of classic, sculpted beauty. She looked up then, somewhere to the right of Andrew's group and nodded politely at someone, and he saw her eyes. Halfway across the room, he saw those large aqua eyes, and he suddenly remembered those same startling eyes peering up at him long ago.
Strangely exhausted, Jasmine stood quietly, listening to people who spoke to her, smiling when they smiled, but she couldn't seem to absorb the reality that her grandfather was dead. The fact that she hadn't known him very well had reduced the grief she'd felt for the last few days to a dull ache.
She'd caught a glimpse of King at the graveside service, and she knew he could very well be somewhere in the house, King her childhood Love and Crush, but because of the melancholy circumstances, it seemed wrong and disrespectful to go look for him in hopes of furthering a romantic relationship at that time. Furthermore, she was growing just a little bit weary of always being the one who sought him out; it seemed to her that it was his turn to make some sort of move toward her. As if thinking of him had suddenly summoned him to her side, she heard an achingly familiar masculine voice say in her ear, "There's a man over in that alcove who's threatened my life if I don't bring you over so that he can say hello
Already smiling, Jasmine turned and put her hands into King's outstretched palms, then felt her knees go weak as he pulled her forward and kissed her cheek. "You look beautiful," he whispered, "and very tired. How about going for one of our walks after we get the social amenities over with?"
"All right," she said, surprised and relieved that her voice sounded steady.
When they reached the alcove, Jasmine found herself in the ludicrous position of being reintroduced to four people she already knew, four people who had acted as if she were invisible, who shunned her when she'd last seen them several years earlier, and who now seemed gratifyingly eager to befriend her and include her in their activities. King deliberately introduced her to Andrew last. I can't believe it's you, he said, but the alcohol was making his words a little slurred. Miss Ting, he continued with his most winning grin.
Putting his hand on Jasmine's elbow, King told her we are going for a walk, and they strolled and wandered down the drive. He said the last thing Jasmine wanted to hear. You can be one of the first to congratulate me. I am getting married. I am going to announce my engagement officially at a party Saturday night to Sarah Chike.
The world tilted sickeningly. Sarah Chike, Jasmine knew who Sarah was and she didn't like her. Although she was extremely pretty and very vivacious, she'd always struck Jasmine as being shallow and vain. I hope you'll be very happy, she said, carefully hiding her sadness and disappointment.
"I hope so too," King answered
For a half hour, they strolled about the grounds, talking about his plans for his future and then about her plans for her own. He was terrific to talk to, Jasmine thought with a feeling of poignant loss. Jasmine watched him as he walked away, taking all her romantic girlhood dreams with him. The summer breeze ruffled his sun-streaked hair, he looked up and waved goodbye to her, she waved back trying desperately not to dwell on her loss and the sting she felt in her heart.
