Deconstructing Tara

It was after her junior year at Masters that Tara began to think about life after school. She hadn’t seen Winston since learning about him and Savannah. Nonetheless, Tara was anxious to get away from her mother and Long Oaks as soon as she graduated. Could she find someone to marry? She pictured a beautiful wedding outdoors at Long Oaks. She would be dressed in a white lacy gown with a long train and veil and a sparkly tiara. Every man there would be watching her every move. She could see herself chastely pulling up her skirts, revealing a shapely leg so that her handsome groom could retrieve her garter and toss it to some lucky man. She would throw her bouquet to whatever distant cousin or unmarried daughter of her parents’ friends she disliked the least. Then she and her new husband could drive off to catch a plane to the French Riviera where people sunbathed in the nude. But she didn’t really love anyone and hadn’t seen anyone in Columbia, not to mention Austin who interested her in the least. No, that particular dream would not do at all.. Her grades were sufficient to get her into an adequate college. Maybe she’d find a sexy professor to make school palatable. No, she really hated school. Secretary, nurse, teacher, even airline stewardess, the only careers she could think of for women were boring or worse. Of course, that is why women marry she thought, in addition to legitimizing sex, and they avoid getting stuck in a boring career. The beautiful women she saw in magazines fascinated Tara, but she was too short to be a model, and in spite of her theatrical behavior at times, she had not the slightest inclination for acting. She’d shown a talent for drawing. Her drawings and later, paintings of her father’s horses graced the walls of the homes of friends and relatives. She had even been commissioned as young as twelve to paint acquaintances’ horses and estates. Her father was extremely proud of her talent and her mother considered it a safe and harmless hobby. They thought she would outgrow it and go on to Columbia College. But she didn’t want to go to Columbia College. She wanted to be an independent woman with a glamorous career. She was beginning worry. The restaurant was fairly new, promoting the chic and trendy California bistro cuisine. Its décor was light and tropical with ceiling fans and pink and white linens. By the time she and Magdalena arrived and were escorted to the table, the men seated there had already had a pre-luncheon cocktail or two. As they approached, the four men at the table arose, all dressed impeccably in hand-tailored business suits. Magdalena smiled widely. “Oh, do sit, gentlemen. Let me introduce my new associate, Miss Tara Denise.” Magdalena proceeded with introductions as she and Tara were seated and ordered white wine. Tara tried to look confident and professional, but Theo Kefalas was fascinating and she couldn’t keep from glancing at him. After being introduced, he had stared almost fixedly at Tara for a long moment, his blue eyes twinkling but his face otherwise expressionless. He was trying to make her nervous, she decided. Theo was close to her father’s age but looked like a Greek god, an impeccably dressed Greek god. He wore his bountiful straight gold and silver hair back from his forehead, any detectible trace of gray lost in the gleam of the gold. He had a prominent widow’s peak and no evidence of a receding hairline. He had a perfect straight Greek nose and a deeply cleft chin. His eyes were a sharp discerning blue. His hands, Tara noticed were long, the nails short and shiny. He was wearing an elegant suit the gray of a thundercloud. Theo had immense appetites and he moved quickly and decisively once he made a decision. He was a man used to wielding power and authority, and one not to be denied anything. Time was his enemy and they did battle every day. That regardless of his determination, time would eventually win was not Theo’s concern. That he would squeeze every moment for all it was worth was. Even at lunch, his eyes darted constantly around the dining room, evaluating the men and appreciatively appraising the attractive women, especially those with ample bosoms and long legs in short skirts. His attention seemed to be everywhere at once. He interjected comments into conversation no matter what the topic, though he appeared to not even be listening. He knew a lot of people and often waved to diners at other tables. Occasionally he jotted down notes on a small pad in front of him, using a gold ballpoint pen. Tara was sure that nothing escaped his notice and assessment, including she assumed, herself. He was an exceedingly attractive man, though possibly dangerous. Lunch was served and Magdalena kept the conversation going, steering the talk from Tara and their work to local crime and politics, always a good choice for lively conversation. Being unable to join in the conversation because she didn’t live in Miami, which made her even more uncomfortable, Tara glanced up from her snapper, to find Theo, though eating voraciously still watching her. She stared back defiantly. He winked at her. The luncheon wound down. Men consulted their watches and began saying good byes. The man named Williams put his hand on Tara’s shoulder comfortingly as he readied to leave. “Don’t take this talk too seriously, gal, we’re all just businessmen but we do admire a pretty woman. Call me,” he said to Magdalena, “my wife wants to re-do the place in the Keys and you know her taste and I’m ready to do the lobby at the bank.”