Love Me Tonight by Gwynne Forster Page A

Henry. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
    â€œWell now, seems to me you ought to call me Aunt Cissy. Everybody else does.”
    His face broke into a smile. “Thank you, Aunt Cissy. I’m looking forward to meeting you. See you tomorrow.”
    Maybe he would finally know. He told himself that because the woman knew the Motens was not reason to think she knew the circumstances of his adoption. But he couldn’t help hoping. He’d needed to know so badly and for so long.
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    Heather read the letter a third time. As she stared at the bold signature of the Secretary of State, she knew that her next move could determine her foreign service career. She was not going to Albania. In that post, a diplomat was no more than a special envoy, and everybody knew that. She needed to talk with someone about it, and she reasoned that it wouldn’t be fair to discuss it with Scott.
    She heard a knock on her door. “Come in.”
    â€œHow’s it going?” Scott asked her. “I thought we had a lunch date. What happened?”
    What else had she forgotten while she digested the letter? She picked up the letter and handed it to him. “This was not what I expected, Scott.”
    He glanced over it. “You’re turning it down, of course.”
    â€œThat’s what I had in mind. My problem is how to do it. I don’t want to shoot myself in the foot.”
    â€œYou know, Pete is separating from his wife. He said a minute ago that he wants an overseas assignment, any assignment anywhere. He wants a change.”
    â€œGoodness! Is he still in love with her?”
    â€œQuite the contrary. They’ve been miserable for some time. Tell you what—if you want me to, I can drop a hint that he wants out of here, and you don’t want to leave. That job is not a promotion for you, and you could be stuck there for maybe four years, but at least two.”
    â€œYou can drop that hint, and I’m going to tell the Secretary that although I’m due a promotion, this doesn’t seem to me to be the one. I’ve received perfect scores on all of my evaluations, so I’ll assume that by exercising my right of refusal, I haven’t adversely affected my career.”
    â€œSounds good to me,” he said, “but be very careful of your choice of words. What did Judson say about this?”
    â€œI haven’t had a chance to tell him.”
    â€œLet’s go eat. I’m starving.”
    â€œScott, do you mind if we cancel today? I don’t much feel like eating. I need to go someplace and blow off steam.”
    â€œHeather, this is your first disappointment here. Letme tell you that you’ll have to learn to take the lumps and still walk as if you just won a presidential election. By tomorrow, everybody will have heard about this. Half of the staff will think you got what you deserved. The other half will know you didn’t. But not one will ever say anything to that effect. Some people are ignorant, some are cowards, and the others just don’t give a damn.” Scott turned to the door. “See you later.”
    â€œI’d better do this before I lose my nerve.” She wrote the letter, read it once, printed it out, signed it and called for a messenger. It’s what I believe is right, and I’m going with it. I’ll take the consequences.
    She’d just begun to outline a plan designed to introduce self-help programs to women in sub-Saharan Africa when her cell phone rang.
    â€œHello, sweetheart.” His deep velvet voice had the ability to comfort her. Somehow, hearing it made everything right. “I have the most wonderful news.”
    â€œYou found something?”
    â€œNo, but I found someone.” She listened to his tale about Cissy Henry. “That’s wonderful. Judson, I’m so happy for you. The pieces will all come together. I know they will. When are you going there?”
    â€œTomorrow morning.