He took a deep breath and exhaled the words, “Gillian Wright is my natural daughter.” With that he raised his eyes upward as if he expected the ceiling of the New Media Lounge to come down upon us in retribution for either his productivity or his confession thereof. It didn’t.
“This is not Sabrina’s first visit to our Island,” he expanded on his confession. “She was here some thirty years ago when we were both students. It was labeled spring break and Fort Lauderdale was the hot spot for that holiday. As I recall it was a hundred and ten in the shade and very drunk out. Sabrina and I had what some poet called a brief encounter.” “Playwright, sir. Noel Coward,” I corrected.
“Playwright or poet, the result was Gillian,” he said.
To add a little romantic nostalgia to the tale I asked, “Was Sabrina very beautiful, sir?”
“Let’s say she was available, Mr. McNally.”
“Please, sir, call me Archy.”
“And you call me Tom.”
There is nothing like talk of sexual transgressions and ethics bashing to evoke intimacy between men of good breeding. Having melted the ice we fell into the drink and went with the floe.
“I’m afraid, Tom, the reason for Sabrina’s visit has much to do with your brief encounter.”
He nodded as if resigned to his fate. “I thought so,” he said. “I am not an insensitive man, Archy, and I didn’t exactly leave Sabrina in the lurch. In fact, monetarily speaking, she was far better off after our brief encounter, believe me.”
Now that he had opened up to me I saw no reason to pretend I didn’t already know his secret. Also, certain that Appleton would never talk to anyone about this conversation I felt I wasn’t compromising my former client’s position by revealing facts of which Tom Appleton was already painfully aware. “She told me as much,” I revealed, ‘and I’m not one to cast the first stone.”
“She told you everything?” he asked.
“Everything but your name. She did not divulge that.”
“So if I hadn’t called you, you would never know…”
His voice died away and he shook his head woefully. “What fools we mortals be,” he lamented. Then, perhaps to rationalize his actions, he added, “I couldn’t take that chance, I had to know what she’s up to.
I’m a widower, Archy, and I would now gladly acknowledge Gillian and to hell with what anyone might say, but such a move could prove disastrous for those innocent of any wrongdoing. You know my son is involved in state politics?”
“So I’ve heard, and with a bright future, they say.”
Appleton started in his chair. “More than bright. There’s talk of a run for the Senate, the U.S. Senate, that is, within the next four years. Any hint of a scandal would cause his backers to run scared.”
“He has nothing to do with the brief encounter,” I said.
“But he has everything to do with me, and in politics guilt by association is a fact, not a figure of speech.”
“I assume your son is happily married,” I ventured.
“He’s married, Archy, that’s for sure. She’s photogenic, and that seems to make them both happy. She’s given him the requisite number of children, boy and girl, employs no staff off the books, subscribes to no less than four charities, the recipients of which are Asian Americans, African-Americans, Native Americans, and Hispanic Americans, and she wears her hair in the style of the late Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. They’re what the pols call a dream couple and I don’t intend to turn the dream into a nightmare.” In the manner of a harassed executive being confronted with a hostile takeover he leaned toward me and pleaded, “What the hell does Sabrina want, Archy?”
“Only to protect you,” I assured him.
I believe that we humans come equipped with a sixth sense that, at this early stage of our evolution, we cannot access at will, but the uncanny thing does make itself known for no discernable reason at the oddest of moments. This was one of them. Call it intuition, inspiration, instinct, precognition, or plain old gut feeling, but when I spoke those words to Thomas Appleton I knew as sure as I was sitting in the New Media Lounge of the PBICA that Sabrina’s mission was to protect herself first, and Thomas Appleton only as long as it didn’t jeopardize her position.
Why was she so unyielding in her determination to keep the name of Gillian’s father a secret? Because of the deal she had struck with Appleton? I no longer believed that. In fact my gut feeling said Sabrina Wright didn’t give a dam for Thomas Appleton per se after all these years, yet she was willing to sacrifice her daughter’s affection, such as it was, to protect him. This was not the stratagem of a survivor.
Appleton’s eyes searched my face like a child wanting to believe in the tooth fairy when common sense, and the kid next door, told him it was all a crock. Tom,” I said, “Sabrina knows your name and address, correct?”
“Sure,” he answered.
“Therefore she didn’t hire me to find you. Correct?”
“I know all that, Archy, but who’s the man that got away?” he questioned.
Never had so many been so concerned over five words from a gossip column that didn’t mean a thing to anyone, including the columnist. I explained their meaning to Appleton as best I could and gave him what I believed to be their source.
Still skeptical he said, “Sabrina came down here looking for her husband?”
Having reached the point of no return, I told Appleton exactly why Sabrina had come to Palm Beach, reiterating yet again, “She’s here to protect you, Tom.” Of course, what I had to say didn’t alleviate his fears, it just shifted them from mother to daughter.
I hate to hear a grown man moan, but that is exactly what Thomas Appleton did when he heard my story. Or should that be Sabrina’s story? “She told Gillian the truth?”
In our society what passes for the truth is usually the lie everyone agrees upon hence Appleton’s incredulity. He couldn’t agree with her less. Sabrina had broken the commandment and reprisal was swift and exacting. Gillian and Zack go after the Holy Grail, Silvester and Sabrina follow to make sure they don’t find it, Lolly runs a blind item and Archy is toe-to-toe with an Appleton in the New Media Lounge of the PBICA. You go figure.
And another county is heard from. Good grief, Zack Ward. I almost forgot about him. If Appleton thought he had reached the nadir of this conversation I had a bulletin for the old bean.
“Sabrina didn’t disclose your identity to Gillian,” I insisted. “In fact she’s down here to make certain that Gillian does not learn who you are. I can tell you that Sabrina is determined that Gillian, or anyone else for that matter, will never know you are Gillian’s father.
Her sole concern is protecting your anonymity, Tom.”
“Why?” he wondered.
Two minds with but a single thought. Appleton was having as much trouble as yrs. truly trying to figure out Sabrina’s munificence. My job was to placate not incite the man so I answered, “Because she entered into a pact with you…”
“For which she was well paid, believe me.”
The rich can’t resist reminding you of the fact. Be that as it may, I went on, “She’s holding up her end, as agreed.”
Still perplexed, he groused, “Whatever induced her to tell Gillian the truth? It was my understanding at the time that the infant would be put up for adoption and then Sabrina would adopt her. It was the most expedient thing to do at the time and, lord knows, it’s worked for others. Why? And why now?”
I told him what Sabrina had told me. “She doesn’t like Zack Ward, the guy Gillian is dating and getting serious about, and she thought the girl would be more receptive to the advice of her flesh-and-blood mother.”
Appleton frowned, “Now she and her boyfriend are down here looking for her flesh-and-blood papa. It’s bizarre.”
“Not really,” I protested. “If you learned your father was not your real father, wouldn’t you be curious to know who was?”
“Archy, my father was one of the richest men in the world. If someone told me he wasn’t really my father I would tell that SOB. to bug off.”
Hey, the guy had a point.
