Olivia (Logan 5)

"Olivia!" Nelson cried. "What a nice surprise. Business or pleasure?"

"Neither," I said. "You and I have to see each other tonight, Nelson."

"Pardon me?"

"I've been sitting here thinking of an

appropriate location and I've decided my yacht. We'll have the required privacy for certain. Be there at eight," I said sharply. He was silent for a long moment before replying.

"What's this all about, Olivia?"

"It's better that we discuss it at eight, Nelson," I told him.

"This is rather short notice. I promised Louise I would take her to a movie and . ."

"I wouldn't be calling and making these plans with such short notice if it wasn't important to both of us, Nelson."

"Maybe we can meet tomorrow night," he began to suggest. "I have something I can easily cancel and . . ."

"The Admiral's Inn, Boston," I said.

"What?"

"I don't really have to repeat that, do I, Nelson? Eight o'clock you will find me on my yacht," I said and hung up, my heart now beating more like a gong in a grandfather's clock.

Concentrating on my work was impossible for me after that call. Every time I began something, I found my eyes slipping off the page and my thoughts meandering back to Nelson's voice on the phone. Would he have the nerve not to show up? Finally, I decided to give up and leave the office for home a little earlier than usual.

Samuel noticed a difference in me at supper and kept questioning me about my health. Belinda, who sat like a beaten puppy at the other end of the table, her eyes low, her words few and far between, glanced at me each time he inquired.

"I told you I was just tired, Samuel. Leave it be," I finally ordered.

"Just trying to be a good husband," he quipped and looked to Belinda for some support, but unlike any other time Samuel smiled at her, she dropped her eyes quickly.

Needless to say, he was eager to leave and get to his card game and happier surroundings. As soon as he left, Belinda turned to me.

"Did you . . do anything yet, Olivia?"

"No, but I'm about to," I told her.

"What should I do?"

"There's nothing for you to do. You've done it all," I growled. She started to whimper.

"You're wasting your tears, Belinda. Daddy's gone." She pulled up her head and glared at me.

"You're going to really hate me now, aren't you? You're going to make my life miserable," she predicted.

"No, you've done that yourself," I said calmly. "I'm going to rescue as much of your life as I can, as much of all our lives as I can. That appears to be my role in this family."

"You enjoy it," she accused, her eyes smaller now. She followed that with a mad, light laugh. "You always did. You should have been a schoolteacher or a minister. Or better yet, a prison matron."

"I am what I have to be," I said firmly. "I don't have time to enjoy it, believe me. I don't expect your thanks, but I do expect your respect, Belinda, and especially your appreciation."

She held her smoldering look of resentment for a moment longer and then her face folded as she shrank into a tight ball, wrapping her arms around herself and looking down.

"I'm going to meet with him tonight," I revealed and she looked up, her eyes wide.

"Tonight? Where?"