A Fine Mess

Chapter 6

The midnight blue Audi swept up the long drive, crunching to a halt in the gravel beside a short fieldstone wall that held architecturally designed iron planters filled with brilliant flowers. He shut the engine off and sat in the car, staring blankly out the window. If there was a merger and it were to go through and the new board displaced him, Myles calculated that the value of his five shares, while undoubtedly taking a leap in value, would hardly compensate for the possible loss of a regular income. Parachutes and handshakes aside, he would be relegated to living off Miriam's personal wealth even more than he was already.

The prospect was bleak indeed. It required some thinking, outside the box, as they say. He climbed out and pushed the door shut, pressing the remote lock on his key ring, sucking in a huge breath and looking with rueful pride around the property he loved so much. He loved this house. Loved the ego polishing fact that it was big, expensive and situated in an area that few even traversed.

Most of all he loved the fact that it was large enough to permit space and privacy from his wife Miriam, the one feature of his life he did not enjoy, the one feature that is, since her harridan of a mother passed away. In retrospect, he realized with reluctance, that it was the sizeable inheritance from Gabriella to Miriam that permitted such a lavish lifestyle.

He poked a finger in the dark soil around the plants, nodding with satisfaction that it was damp then straightened his tailored sports jacket and hopped up the front steps into the house. Abatha, the Forbin's maid cum chef cum factotum greeted him with her usual dour hello and took his jacket and briefcase.

"Mrs. Forbin in atrium is, sir." She announced in her peculiar brand of English.

"Thank you, Abatha." Myles made a beeline for his library and closed the door only to find that Miriam was nonchalantly watering the flowers beside his garden window.

"Myles, darling, you're home."

No, I'm an apparition. "Hello darling, busy watering I see. Abatha said you were in the atrium."

"Oh, did you look for me?" She smiled to herself at his obvious annoyance and continued without waiting for an answer. "The plants won't last if you don't look after them, dear." She set down the dainty watering can and came to him, presenting her cheek for a kiss. Myles obliged and went directly to his drinks wagon, pouring himself a stiff measure of scotch and sipping it gratefully.

"Would you like something," he asked, knowing full well she would refuse, which she did.

"Dinner will be in about twenty minutes, dear, I'm meeting with the woman's guild tonight at Marjorie's. I thought we might eat in the atrium. It's such a lovely evening."

"Fine. Atrium's fine, Miriam. Right now I have some business to finish so..."

"Did you think any more on our chat in bed the other night?"

"Aah... I really can't see how-"

"You underestimate yourself too much, Myles. Mother took great advantage of that."

The mention of Gabriella mad him seethe internally and he bristled unintentionally. "Your mother- I am quite confident with who I am, Miriam. I don't need to joust with any windmills to prove it either."

"Windmills generate power, Myles, and power generates wealth and wealth-"

"I know. Wealth generates freedom."

She smiled sweetly and drifted from the room like a wraith.

Myles slipped the bolt on the door and went to his desk, taking the bottle from the cart with him. With his feet propped comfortably on the leather blotter, he leaned back in his chair and gazed complacently out into the garden, topping up his glass at regular intervals. Maybe I should sound out dear old Moira he considered, letting the scotch soothingly warm his innards.