Forcing a smile on his face, Ron walked toward Veronica. He was struck with the thought that he'd made a tactical error. He would have shown a lot more power if he'd had Ellen bring Veronica into him instead of going out to meet her. Damn it, why couldn't he remember anything he'd learned while getting his degree in business? Always have the little guy come to you. It was just about the first commandment of unethical, condescending businessmen everywhere.
"Veronica! It's great to see you again! It's been a long time." From the corner of his eye Ron could see Ellen watching the two of them like someone sitting front row center at a Wimbledon. "Let's go into my office so we can catch up."
Nodding at Ellen, Ron led the way back into his office and shut the door firmly behind him. Of course Ellen didn't belong to the Schuyler Country Club and they sure didn't socialize with the same set of people but he still didn't need to have his secretary overhear any of the conversation he was about to have with his former lover and then spread it around the grocery store or the bowling alley or wherever Ellen spent her time once she left work.
Veronica followed silently. She looked good, Ron thought. She looked better than she had when she was twenty. Older, naturally, with lines under her eyes and a neck that would benefit from turtlenecks and scarves but she looked pretty good. The thought entered Ron's mind that maybe Veronica had dropped in to see him to suggest another romp at the Drop On Inn but he quickly dismissed it. Even Ron's ego wasn't that over inflated. No woman in her right mind would pop up after two decades and immediately suggest that they go to bed together. He might have to spring for a few martinis first.
"So, Veronica, this is a surprise." Ron was pleased that his voice sounded its usual deep pitch. He'd been afraid that it would come out all high and squeaky given the present state of his guts.
Veronica looked around the office and shook her head. "It's like stepping back in time."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing's changed around here, Ron. I think that's even the same plant you had when I worked here. Don't you believe in redecorating?"
"Why fix something if it isn't broken?"
Veronica's laugh was short. "You always were quite the philosopher. Look, Ron, I'll cut to the chase. I don't want to be here but I need your help."
Veronica was still standing. Ron's knee was aching from the round of golf he'd played that morning and although he didn't really want to extend the conversation, he also wanted to sit down in the worst kind of way. "Please, have a seat," he suggested. "Let's be comfortable."
Veronica sat down in a chair that was covered in beige vinyl. The armrests were dirty from countless sweaty hands resting on them and there was a tear across the side of the chair. Ron could see her point; his office was looking pretty seedy. "It's about Kirk."
Ron blinked. "Who's Kirk?" he asked although he had a pretty good idea. Kirk? She'd named their kid Kirk? Then Ron remembered how Veronica had been such a big Star Trek fan. Kirk was obviously her way of paying homage to William Shatner. Good grief, he knocked up a Trekkie.
"Our son. The son I had all by myself twenty-seven years ago. Surely you remember the letters I sent you. And the photos. And the copies of Kirk's report cards."
Ron swallowed but nothing in his throat seemed to be working. He felt like he had a peach pit stuck in there. "I thought you were joking."
The look Veronica shot at him would have stopped a raging rhino in its tracks. "You thought I was joking about having your baby?"
"Well, you did stop writing," Ron pointed out, feeling somewhat virtuous. "I figured that you realized that you'd made a mistake about who fathered your son."
For a split-second Ron was afraid that Veronica was going to leap out of the battered beige vinyl chair, hurl her body over his desk and start clawing his eyes out. "You were the only man I ever slept with, Ron," she said, her own voice sounding choked. "You knew that."
"So why did you stop writing?" A good offense was the best defense. Ron did remember that much from business school.
"I met someone who fell in love with me and who agreed to be Kirk's father. I didn't need you anymore."
Ron was surprised at the sting he felt over Veronica's words. She let some other guy raise his kid? What kind of immoral tramp was this woman? "That doesn't sound quite right to me."
"Don't make me laugh," Veronica snapped. "You wouldn't know right if it bit you on your butt. Jeff was a wonderful father to our son and you should be grateful to him and to me for not dragging you through the courts."
"Where's your husband now?"
Pain swept through Veronica's green eyes. "He died."
"I'm sorry." Ron was sorry. Because if Veronica's husband was dead and if Kirk really and truly was his son, then Veronica had showed up for one reason. Or maybe he should say that she showed up for a million and one reasons. Ron could feel a slow burn start somewhere near his wallet and spread upward. He had a sudden, sure sensation that he was about to get taken to the cleaners.
A tap on his office door saved him. "Come in," Ron called out, not caring who was knocking. Whoever it was, they were a welcome interruption.
The door open and Ron's oldest son Brad poked his head in. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked, his eyes glued on the blonde sitting across from Ron.
The acid in Ron's stomach began to boil. Almost anyone would have been a welcome interruption. Anyone but Brad.
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