Bad Dad. Alice Shane
But having knocked the girl up, he would not have been accepted by these elite military institutions with policies against enrolling students with children. The illegitimate kid and marrying out of his class, infuriated Lester, culminating in the rupture between them.
“A wasted life – a superb private school education and a family background with Mayflower roots meant nothing to my son, thanks to that conniving girl who believed she would get her grubby little hands on my money,” was Lester’s frequent lament.
“He threw his future away for a fuck, a blow job. He didn’t have to marry that girl,” Lester vented angrily to Margo, barely able to conceal his anguish. “I gave him everything and he gets the little whore pregnant. Well, I hope he’s happy being her meal ticket!” he sputtered, his face reddening, alarming Margo who feared he might have a heart attack. Lester was 57 years old, still youthful, but mature enough to develop a cardiac condition.
His anger was justified, Margo reasoned. Yet, she couldn’t wholeheartedly endorse Lester’s point of view. True, he did make sure Danny had the right prep school education. He also sent Danny to exclusive summer camps that provided tennis, golf, soccer and polo lessons, equestrian training – any and all of the advantages accruing to a boy raised in an upper class lifestyle. But she could see that these benefits did not protect Danny from the clutches of “that girl,” or shield him from his ‘fall from grace’ as Lester sometimes described it.
“If I had known he was shacking up with that girl, I would have pulled him out of Bridgefield and sent him to public school. Of all the girls he could have latched onto – girls from good, fine families – he had to wind up with a welfare slut!” Lester would say to Margo, not once but many times.
“OK, OK, so he didn’t do what you wanted him to do. But that doesn’t mean you should let it embitter you,” Margo said in an effort to calm him, give him another perspective. “I understand, darling. I do understand. But sometimes things don’t go our way.”
“Maybe you’re right. My only son, my only child has hurt and disappointed me. But I shouldn’t allow myself to be consumed by his failures,” Lester acknowledged solemnly, looking sheepish, realizing all this venting was upsetting to Margo who, with the best of intentions, tried to avoid fanning the flames of his pent-up rage.
CHAPTER 5
Margo wondered if she should tell Lester about the telephone call from Danny’s wife. If she didn’t, it would be tantamount to lying and she hated the idea of engaging in deception. Yet, a white lie – withholding the information – would better serve her interests, give her time to figure out how to deal with this new development. There was no payoff in being a good girl, she concluded. Sometimes you’ve got to protect yourself, even if it means omitting the truth.
Of course, Lester would want to know about Gloria’s death, she thought guiltily. He needed to know. All that hatred and conflict would be put to rest, She suddenly felt riddled with doubt, conflicted over what course of action she should take.
Gloria had hounded him for years, always demanding money in excess of what the courts had generously allocated for alimony and the support of their son. When she launched a suit seeking 50% ownership of Fuller Energy, she alleged their divorce was moot, merely a separation agreement. But Lester had hired an impressive team of lawyers from Cadwallader, Duane & McDowell, one of Philadelphia’s most prestigious law firms, and prevailed. Finally, Gloria faded away, financially depleted, unable to pursue other legal avenues. All became quiet in the war between the Fullers.
And now she was dead, Margo thought, feeling relieved. What a stroke of luck! They were free of her! They could go about their lives unfettered, without Gloria hovering in the background, about to strike at any moment with new demands for money.
Maybe Lester will finally have some peace, Margo hoped – unless the kids conjure up an unpleasant scenario requiring Lester’s full attention.
She wondered if his outrage over Danny’s descent into blue collar life would ever subside. Would he allow Sonny Boy to re-enter his life? Their lives? It was all so depressing! She was unprepared to welcome these intruders – these rednecks, with their Southern twangs, their poverty, their nine-year-old brat. They would surely find Lester fair game from a financial perspective. She could easily lose her place as Number One, with Danny, et al, rendering her less significant, raising legal questions about his right of inheritance, threatening her entitlement to Lester’s wealth, maybe even invalidating their prenuptial agreement. The prospect of being usurped frightened and depressed Margo.
She would not tell Lester about the call just yet, she decided. She would wait. For what she didn’t know. So what if he didn’t know right away about Gloria’s demise. What did it matter? The woman was dead. She couldn’t hurt Lester anymore.
Margo resolved not to give the call another thought, at least for the time being. It would only drive her crazy. For the moment, she would wipe it from her consciousness, not think about it until she was ready to take further action.
CHAPTER 6
Lester’s face was expressionless when she finally told him about the call from Mary Lou. Under the pressure of harboring a secret that had become a burden, Margo managed to summon the courage to mention it a week later.
Without a word, without inquiring why she delayed telling him about it, he rose from his brown leather chair in the library and stormed upstairs to their bedroom, slamming the door shut.
What was he thinking, she wondered? Was he angry that she didn’t tell him right away? Was he trying to come to terms with Gloria’s death? Was he still outraged over Danny’s failures? Or piqued that Mary Lou had made the call and not Danny?
The telephone call and its implications were even more complex than she anticipated. All these questions! One call and her life was about to be transformed into hell!
She knocked on the bedroom door, but Lester did not respond. She knocked again and opened the door. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
“When did Miss White Trash call?” he finally asked without looking at her.
“I told you – about a week ago. I suppose I should have mentioned it right away, but it took some time for me to get it handled, ” she confessed, wondering if she should apologize. But what was there to apologize for? She was being honest, transparent. What did he want from her?
Lester was staring at her now. She was pretty, girlish, he observed, her dark hair combed back in a pony tail. Margo was beautiful in a subtle, refined way. Slim. Elegant. She looked upset, vulnerable at this moment.
“You should have told me immediately,” he admonished, his enunciation clipped, edgy.
“I know what I should have done,” Margo said, her voice descending to a whisper. She wanted to avoid an argument. She wasn’t ready to deal with this issue, so there was no point going to battle. She needed time to think things through, to avoid saying stupid or hurtful things.
“Then why didn’t you?” he asked, his voice thick with suspicion.
Lester was beginning to frighten her. He normally didn’t address her so sternly, with such coldness. subjecting her to the third degree. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have the words to explain her decision without exposing her insecurities, her fears, her dread of these intruders barging into their lives.
“Because I didn’t, that’s all,” Margo said. “Is there anything else you want to know?” She didn’t like the sound of her own voice which had hardened. She really wanted to appear calm, cool, dispassionate. Certainly, not tough.
“Where’s the phone number? I’ll have to call down there, find out what’s going on.”
“I’ll look for it. It’s somewhere on my desk,” she said, without intending to give it to him. She was not going to cooperate. She would not collude in a situation that could damage their marriage, she decided, a surge of hatred settling in her chest, constricting her breathing. Who was