The War of the Roses

14

Harry Thurmont bore the brunt of her rage. Barbara had hurried over to his office after a most debilitating conversation with the Greek ambassador's wife.

'She said her guests were polite until two of them vomited, one directly on the table.'

'That must have put a damper on things,' Thurmont said, unsuccessfully trying to hide a smile.

'You're not taking this seriously, Harry. It's sabotage.'

She was trying to control herself, to be cerebral rather than emotional. But her morning had been awful, absolutely awful. She had been summoned to the embassy at seven a.m. The Ambassador and Mrs. Petrakis met her in the dining room, which smelled unmistakably of vomit. Without a word, they led her into the kitchen to view the evidence.

'Taste,' the ambassador ordered. Their faces were dead white, their eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. Barbara sniffed at the loaves, from which emanated peculiar odors.

'Taste.' The ambassador repeated his order. From his wife's face Barbara could draw no pity, and she dutifully put a lump of meat in her mouth, spitting it out immediately.

'A caterer. You call yourself a caterer. You poisoned my guests.'

She was too shocked to offer any explanation. Besides, her throat was paralyzed from humiliation.

'At first I thought the Turks had put you up to it.' 'The Turks?'

Then I decided I wouldn't dignify this sort of thing by putting it on the level of a diplomatic incident.' His anger was accelerating. 'It tastes like shit. Shit,' he began to shout as his wife tried to calm him.

Barbara had run from the house in tears.

'I really believe we have an actionable issue here,' she said calmly to Thurmont. 'It's what we've been waiting for. He deliberately ruined the food.' The memory made her stomach turn. 'Not to mention the damage to my business. The loss of a client.'

Thurmont stroked his chin.

'You have proof?'

'Who else could it be? I believe in Ann.' She found herself strangely hesitant as the memory of Ann on Christmas Eve floated into her memory. Something barely detectable had surfaced and her mind fished for it. She had, she remembered, sensed the presence of Oliver in the library, a fleeting sensation, just below the level of consciousness. She let the idea pass for the moment as Thurmont interrupted her thoughts.

'It won't hold up, Barbara. We could harass. But we won't win in a way that will satisfy you. It won't get him out of the house.'

'He'll admit it. He'll have to admit it under oath.'

'Barbara, do me a favor. Stop practicing law. Becoming an object of ridicule won't help your case.'

She felt the provocation and her anger erupted.

'The orchids weren't a big deal. Not in comparison.'

‘The orchids?'

She hadn't intended to tell him, but now her words overflowed. She had told about the Christmas-tree fire but had left out the matter of the orchids.

'Christmas was ruined. I was throwing out buckets of foam. I saw the orchids and they made me angry. I'm afraid it wasn't very rational. Besides, I didn't know the stuff would kill them. That is, I wasn't sure. I wanted them injured. Not dead.' He looked at her and shook his head in mock rebuke. She wondered when he would point a finger at her and say, Shame, shame.

'The name of the game is discipline, Barbara.'

'It's easy for you to say.'

'And I can't be available at every little crisis.'

'Little crisis.' She glared at him. 'Harry, I can't lock up my food. I intend to make this business my livelihood. Why should he interfere with that? It's .. . it's cruel, heartless.'

'It's just that you need something more .. . more damaging. More bizarre.'

'You didn't do much with breaking and entering,' Barbara huffed. But what he said had triggered the errant thought again of Ann and Christmas Eve.

'Something with moral turpitude,' Thurmont continued. 'You need a real hook.'

'Like another woman?'

'Not necessarily.' He looked at her shrewdly. 'You need something that is damaging enough for a judge to say he'd better get out. It's a bad influence on the kids. A danger.'

Oliver was there. In the library on Christmas Eve. She was certain. She had sensed it, dismissed it. Little, innocent Ann.

'At least one good thing has come out of this,' Thurmont said. 'Oliver can be provoked. If only the provocation wasn't so obvious. The thing you must avoid is the appearance of tit for tat. Judges don't appreciate that. It puts everything on a lower plane and the tendency is to compromise, which is exactly what we want to avoid.'

'All right, Harry,' she said smugly. 'I won't be obvious.'