Chapter 7
Tamara chattered every second of the ride. Dave hopped onto the expressway, soon reaching a cruising speed of seventy-five. At a quarter past eight he was at least twenty minutes away from downtown. He pressed the gas pedal until the speedometer read eighty five. He was certain the extra speed would shave off five minutes.
The Cadillac purred down the highway until Don said, “Daddy, the car behind us has on Christmas lights.”
Dave glanced into the rearview mirror and saw a highway patrol car rolling up behind them. He winced in his seat. Defeated, he slowed down and gradually maneuvered to the shoulder.
“Why are we stopping, Daddy?” Tamara asked, seeming excited.
Don continued being intrigued by the flashing lights. “Who is he?” his son asked as Dave fumbled with his papers.
“Excuse me, kids, but Daddy has to get out for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
“Ooh, it’s a policeman,” Tamara said. “What is he going to do? Are you going to jail?” she asked, sounding frightened.
“I have to talk to him for a few minutes. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” Dave said, trying hard to gather his registration from the glove compartment and get out of the car before the officer approached his door. Dave couldn’t dare let Tamara get a whiff of the conversation if he wanted to keep a distorted version from getting back to Madeline. Their mother wouldn’t care what the reason was. He’d be toast, which caused him to open the car door and practically leap out with his hands raised.
“Daddy, don’t go. I’m scared!” Don screamed as his father let the door close.
Dave was crushed as he digested the fright in their voices. He prayed silently for mercy. That was the most Dave could do, recognizing he was in the wrong.
He approached the policeman slowly with arms raised.
“Stop right there,” the officer demanded, with his hand latched on to his gun.
“Officer, I’m not armed. I just didn’t want my kids to be frightened by seeing you.”
“Sir, you should never approach an officer during a traffic stop. Please place your hands on the car.”
“Here’s my registration papers and ID,” Dave said, extracting his license from his wallet.
“Hands on the car, sir.”
Dave did as he was told and said no more.
“Do you know why I stopped you?”
“Speeding?”
“Yes, you were doing eighty-five in a seventy-mile-an-hour speed zone.”
Dave didn’t protest. How could he when the officer was telling the truth? The officer took the materials and went to his car. Don stared at Dave through the back window. Tamara climbed into the driver’s seat and poked her head out the window. Dave was mortified.
“Daddy, what are you doing? Are you going to jail?” Tamara asked.
“Get back in the car, young lady.”
“But—”
“No buts. Put your head in the car right this second, young lady,” he said with enough force to get her out of harm’s way.
“Is that your daughter?” the officer asked.
“Yes, she’s my little princess,” Dave said.
Dave heard the officer laugh softly. “I have a little girl about her age. What is she? Six?”
“Seven going on thirty.”
“I understand exactly what you mean,” the officer said, handing Dave his registration and ID back. “I have a six-year-old,” he said, laughing openly, allowing Dave to relax some. “Mr. Mitchell, I don’t want your children to be frightened, either. So I’m going to give you a warning if you promise to slow down.”
“I can do that,” Dave said, relieved.
“Then you’re free to go, but slow down.” The officer started walking away. “Take care of that beautiful family of yours.”
Dave got into his car, grateful. Tamara was asking questions rapid fire. Don was too quiet.
“I told you we’d be fine. Nobody’s going to jail,” Dave told his daughter.
“Where are we going, then?” Tamara asked.
“We have to make a stop. Are you hungry?” he asked.
“No,” Tamara and Don said simultaneously.
Dave took one more glance at his watch. Eight-forty. He hung his head. He was an hour late, with another twenty to thirty minutes of driving at the speed limit remaining. He sighed and eased onto the highway. He considered pulling over and using his car phone to call the restaurant. They should be able to get a message to Sherry if she was still waiting. He set the cruise control and decided to keep moving. He’d get there and deal with the situation then.
Arriving at 9:00 P.M., Dave took the glass elevators to the seventy-second floor. It was like an amusement ride to the kids.
“Can we go down and then come back up?” Don asked.
“No, son. We have to hurry,” Dave said, combing the lobby as they meandered to the dining room. Much to his surprise, he saw Sherry sitting in a dimly lit corner of the adjoining reception area. He was fully prepared for her to have bailed on him by now.
“Sherry,” he called out. “I’m very sorry for showing up so late.”
“Are you all right?” she asked with a tone of concern.
Dave wasn’t prepared for her sincere reaction, and it caused him to take notice. “You won’t believe how much has happened since we spoke this morning.”
Tamara chimed in, but Dave didn’t answer. He was focused on Sherry.
“Dave, it’s all right. I didn’t mind waiting. Are these your children?” she asked.
Dave had forgotten that she had never met his children in person. Sherry had seen plenty of photos during her reign as his administrative assistant. During his separation from Madeline he’d get the kids for weekends, but Sherry hadn’t met them.
“Yes, these are my two youngest, Don and Tamara.”
“Are they joining us for dinner?”
“I really am truly sorry, but we can’t stay.” He couldn’t possibly hang out with Sherry and ever hope to see his kids again without a court order and federal marshals. “I am truly sorry.” He couldn’t help but feel badly about inviting Sherry to dinner and then canceling.
Tamara tried interrupting again, but Dave couldn’t speak with her and Sherry simultaneously. He’d conclude this conversation, leave, and let Tamara have his sole attention.
“It’s okay. I understand,” Sherry responded.
She accepted Dave’s apology and showed no sign of excessive disappointment, although it was there. It didn’t feel good being placed on the bottom rung of his priority list. She knew his children were important, and they would rank higher than a casual date with her. Deep within, she wanted to understand and not lodge a complaint. Sherry would have to accept his reality if she wanted to have her friend back. It didn’t mean she had to like his set of priorities, especially when she was excluded.
Tamara wasn’t keeping quiet. “What’s your name?” she asked, too loud to ignore.
“Sherry.”
Dave coughed as they remained in the reception area.
“Are you my auntie?” Don asked.
“No.”
“Then who are you?” Tamara quizzed.
“A friend of your dad’s.”
“And my mom too?” Don added.
Sherry hesitated. “Not really.”
“Oh,” Dave’s son said, sporting a look of confusion.
Tamara didn’t ask any more questions.
“It’s time for us to go,” Dave said moving toward the elevator. Don and Tamara followed.
“Maybe I can join you and your children for dinner one day?” Sherry said.
“Maybe,” he said, punctuating his answer with a slight grin. “Since it’s after nine, can I give you a ride home?”
“No, thank you. I’ll take the bus.”
“My dad had to talk with the policeman,” Don blurted.
Dave was even more embarrassed, as Sherry appeared perplexed. “It’s a long story for another night,” he said as they exchanged glances. “Seriously, let me give you a ride home.”
“Trust me, it’s not necessary.”
“Maybe not, but I’d feel a whole lot better about it since I had you waiting here for almost two hours. Please let me take you home.”
She finally acquiesced. When they got to the car, Tamara climbed into the front seat. Dave didn’t say anything to his daughter, so Sherry didn’t, either. Sherry sat in the back with Don as he asked question after question. The bittersweet ride would be over in a half hour, but the possible effects might last long after. Sherry knew at least one of the children would tell their mother about her being with them. She hoped for the best, but knowing Madeline, that wish was a stretch.