Family Merger. Leigh Greenwood
a terrible snob she was until tonight. She’d given Ron three choices for the evening. The Charlotte Opera’s production of Puccini’s Tosca, the Mint Museum’s exhibit of Tutankhamen, or the latest Harry Potter movie. Rather than accuse her of being exactly the kind of snob he’d suffered from growing up, he discussed her choices as if they were all of equal importance.
He said he’d always want to see Tosca, but after hearing the recording of Maria Callas in the role, he didn’t think he could stand to hear anyone who wasn’t absolutely world-class. He’d already seen the Tutankhamen exhibit, so if she didn’t mind, they’d catch an early showing of the movie, have a late dinner, and she could drop him off at the airport.
Snobbery had caused her to pit the movie against Tosca and King Tut. Honesty forced her to admit she’d enjoyed it. And being with Ron.
“I realized early that being a success in the business world and being accepted in the social one were two different things,” Ron was saying over dinner at one of his private clubs. “I signed up for every art and music class I could fit into my schedule. I even went to a couple of ballets.” He made a face. “I can’t say I enjoy men in pants so tight it makes me uncomfortable just to watch them, but I like opera. I don’t even care if the soprano is twice as big and three times as old as the heroine is supposed to be. I just get angry when they go for a high note and can’t reach it. You’d think they wouldn’t give the part to someone who can’t sing the notes.”
He’d gone from Harry Potter to sports—the University of North Carolina, her alma mater, had just won the national soccer title—to opera. They’d discussed city planning when he said he wished she could get the city fathers to establish more parks. He said people in the inner city needed places for picnics and family gatherings, not just soccer fields, bike trails and ponds for ducks and geese. He was also in favor of preserving more trees, establishing deeper green belts around lakes and rivers, and improving public transportation.
Two things they didn’t discuss were his job and hers.
“I can’t believe you studied all those things just so you could talk to rich people at parties.”
He laughed as if she’d made a joke. She didn’t know more than a dozen men who could talk about anything remotely cultural. Most didn’t consider it something a man needed to know. Like religion and table manners, culture was left to their wives.
“There’s a lot more to business than just knowing how to do your job. Besides, I found I liked learning about all those things. It rounded me off, gave me that finish only a certain kind of education and lifestyle can give you. And as I said, I like the Impressionists, opera and Greek myths. I also like horse racing, but I can’t afford that.”
The more he talked, the more she realized she’d underestimated him, the more she started to feel he probably knew more about everything than she did.
“What do you do for fun?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Everybody has something they do when they want to let their hair down.”
“I don’t have time. In my business if you don’t work all the time, somebody passes you.”
“You’ll go crazy.”
“Not if you like your work. The pressure can be intense and the hours long, but I like challenges, pitting myself against the other guy.”
“That sounds primitive.”
“It is. Instead of doing it with rocks and spears, we do it with computers and leveraged buyouts. But there are some things I don’t like. I hate golf. It’s a boring game, but every executive in the world seems to play. I find eating endless meals at high-priced restaurants or tedious dinner parties a waste of time. And I have little appreciation for fine wines or aged whiskey.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “I’m surprised they haven’t thrown you out of the country club.” She nearly swallowed her words. Did he belong to any country clubs? Some discriminated for the most ridiculous reasons.
“Not yet, but I don’t go often enough to offend anyone. Belonging to the right club is part of business in Europe. You’ve got to be the right sort before they’ll touch your money.”
He said it all as if it didn’t matter, but she could feel the undertone of resentment. He wasn’t accepted by the people who mattered, even though he’d accomplished more than they had. He’d accepted it as a fact of life, but it was something he wouldn’t—couldn’t—accept for his daughter.
“Now tell me something about yourself,” Ron said. “I find it hard to understand why a pretty woman like you isn’t married with her own children.”
“Is that the only thing you think women are good for, being wives and mothers?” She hadn’t expected that of him, but wasn’t it what he’d done in his own life, left his wife home to take care of the baby while he roamed the world? That’s what her father thought, and just about every other man she knew.
“I’ve come up against too many tough women across the board table to think that,” Ron said. “You’re clearly not interested in a career unless you consider taking care of other people’s children a career.”
“I think of it as a vocation.”
“I think of it as an avocation, something so important you’ll continue to be involved in it but not your main goal in life.”
That’s something else all men seemed to have in common, a certainty they knew what a woman was thinking. She didn’t know which male gene made them feel infallible, but she hoped medical science would soon find a way to eradicate it. It was time men realized they were no more talented or gifted than women, only bigger and often stronger. And the need for bigger and stronger had vanished centuries ago.
“What is my main goal?” She was curious to know what he thought.
“I don’t know. That’s why I asked you. Do you have anything against marriage, or do you just dislike men in general?”
He was clever enough to know he’d taken a wrong step. “I have nothing against marriage or men. I probably would have been married ten years ago if I’d found the right man.”
“Then you should be going out every night, leaving those girls to Ruby. She looks more than capable of handling any trouble.”
“Ruby is absolutely wonderful, but she likes to go to bed early.”
“Then hire one of your experts.”
“I do. I not only date, but I enjoy all the ordinary social activities normal for someone my age.”
“Like what? You avoid your family.”
“Not all the time.”
“And you stopped running and playing tennis because you couldn’t afford to take the time away from the girls. You stopped going to the opera or the symphony because the men you dated didn’t know enough to be able to discuss what they’d heard, and you don’t like professional football, basketball, soccer or hockey because they’re loud and too violent. I won’t even ask about stock car racing. I can’t see you with that crowd.”
“You make me sound like an unbearable snob.”
“No, you make yourself look like a woman who’s cut herself off from the rest of the world. You’re young, beautiful, wealthy, intelligent, good company and you have a sense of humor when you let yourself relax. You’ve got more going for you than ninety-nine out of a hundred women, so why aren’t you out there having the time of your life?”
“You’ve known me for less than two days. What do you think gives you the right to ask such a question?”
“Nothing gives me the right unless it’s that I’m interested in you. I even like you. I sure as hell know you’re sexy. I’m surprised you don’t have to station Ruby at the door to drive off dates so overcome by your body they forget themselves