Harvey J. Appleton
Harvey was annoyed at the need for Charlotte's helping their good friends the Knudsens. Nothing to be done for it, however. Ingrid was confined to her bed with the coming birth. Ingrid was Charlotte's dearest friend so Charlotte felt the need and delight of overseeing her friends home and self in addition to her own Victorian on the hill.
Charlotte's deep longing for a child of her own certainly prohibited Harvey's taking a stand that she see better to the condition of their household in the tall Victorian his father had built fourteen years before. As the servants had been well trained by his mother well before his parents went on their tour of Europe he had to acknowledge that it was working out well.
Sighing he gave himself a moment to indulge in the pride he took in his father turning the business over to him at such a young age.
The only fly in his ointment was a truth he had been hiding from his wife. That ridiculous case of Mumps he contracted two years ago had left him sterile. It was something he was going to have to face soon. It was not fair to his beloved and he had to break the news to her soon that they could never have children.
It was late, too late to navigate the treacherous road carved out of the bluff. He had forbidden Charlotte to return after night fall. She would have to remain the night with Ingrid and Knute.
It was astounding that two such dominant men as Knute and himself had grown to be such friends. And then for them to marry cousins! On top of that Knute and he had occasionally been mistaken for twins. They were of a height, two inches over six feet. His wife once described them as being long, lean and lethal.
The two women on the other hand were physical opposites. His Charlotte was tall and slim, wonderfully curved and patrician. Her hair was fair, as golden as corn silk. She habitually wore it coiled high on her head, emphasizing the slim column of her throat. Knowing what a kiss right "there" beneath her ear would do to her gave him a jingle every time he admired that slender column. She was regal in her bearing, her coloring golden. (Last sentence says what was said in previous sentences.)
Ingrid on the other hand was a smallish woman, barely over five feet in height. She was certainly not dumpy but her womanly curves were pronounced. Ingrid was his best friend's wife and his own wife's cousin but she still gave him tingles when he surreptitiously admired her figure. With her Norwegian ancestry you would expect her to be as blonde as Charlotte. The opposite was true. Her hair was a blue black as dark as a moonless midnight. Ingrid wore her hair in ringlets, a midnight cap that emphasized her milk white complexion.
Where Charlotte was reserved and aristocratic Ingrid was vibrant and lively, her essence invigorating any gathering. The combination of Ingrid's energy seasoned with Charlotte's classic bearing ensured any gathering including the two of them was memorable.
Knute and he had been raised together, their fathers being business partners and both he and Knute were born in the same April. Knute's father's passing at such an early age would have been an even greater tragedy except for Harvey's father gathering the reins of the business into his capable hands. The value of the Knudsen share of the business had more than doubled since the accident.
The two families had always been close and after the loss of Knute's father the boys had been raised as brothers. Harvey's father had prevailed on Knute's mother to move in with the Appletons in the big Victorian towering over the town. When Knute's mother died just five years after her husband Knute had been accepted as a second son by the family. The two boys had been raised virtually as twins.
Harvey had always been grateful for the friendship he shared with Knute.
After doffing his gray suit coat and shrugging out of the matching vest Harvey hung them and his tie in the closet. Stripping off his white shirt Harvey stepped into the bath to drop it down the laundry chute while preparing himself for bed. Out of habit he left the lights off in the bathroom, just leaving the door open to provide what light was needed. Turning on the light interfered with the view from the window.
As he washed the tall man stepped to the window to enjoy his nightly view of the town. Knute's home was just to the left of the home directly below his big Victorian and with his wife visiting he glanced at Knute's home with more than his normal interest.
As he watched the back door opened and his Charlotte stepped out into the garden dressed in a white shirt and her favorite ankle length lemon yellow skirt. She was carrying a wicker basket, the long neck of a wine bottle protruding up from one corner. Charlotte was closely followed by his friend Knute, the man Harvey considered a brother.
It was a warm night and Harvey understood their delight in taking a few moments of the night air before seeking their beds. The wine made no impression on him at first.
Watching in confusion from the window Harvey saw Charlotte stop just inside the spill of light from the door. Knute stepped up behind her, slipped his arms under hers to enclose her in his arms from behind, then pulled her tightly to his large, athletic body. Harvey stared, stunned to see his wife raise her face back against his friend's chest to accept a far from chaste kiss. Knute's hands were resting at the bottom of his wife's bosom. The kiss seemed to last for hours to the man watching from above, his heart breaking.
When their lips finally broke apart both participants looked back through the open back door to the Knudsen's house. Something amusing inside had caught their attention and they appeared to be listening. Knute called an answer into the house and Harvey saw his wife's laugh. After a moment Charlotte looked up over her shoulder at the man still embracing her. She nodded her head then reached to kiss him at the pulse point on his throat. Knute said something again, directing it back to the invisible listener inside the house then again bent his face to Charlotte's.
Harvey clearly saw her lips part just before Knute captured them with his. While they were bent together in the kiss, sure they were unobserved, Knute's hands were busy. After a long few moments in the privacy of the enclosed yard Charlotte's white shirt was opened to the waist displaying her camisole to her husband's eyes from where he watched above.
When they finally broke apart they stepped away from the spill of light from the open back door. Knute's arms still surrounded her as Charlotte slipped the opened shirt from her shoulders. Before they disappeared into the deeper shadows she dropped the shirt on the grass and Knute had begun working her camisole up her body. Harvey groaned as his one time friend's hands cupped his Charlotte's firm breasts just before they disappeared into the shadows.
For a moment Harvey stood frozen, then he bolted back into his bedroom. Leaping to the bedside stand he snatched his Colt Peacemaker from the drawer. He felt in his pocket for the keys to his new Simplex runabout as he half ran out into the hall.
There he stopped. What was he going to do? The two had been quite familiar with one another. It was too late to prevent their placing horns on his head. If he stormed into the Knudsen's home he would be honor bound to shoot Knute. That didn't phase him. The man he had considered his friend had just been proven a lying, deceitful cad. After doing this to him Harvey would be unable to trust the man either in business or personally. But did he want to destroy both families?
And if he walked in on them now the courts would exonerate him. He would have caught them en flagrant delict.
