DIPLOMACY

by JoAnn Baca

* PG-13 *

 Diplomacy is the art of letting the other party have things your way.

~ Daniele Vare

“How is the situation my fault?” William’s voice…along with his aggravation…had risen until he was shouting the last two words.

“Calm yourself, now, William. Please!” Father was concerned about how red in the face the Tunnel cook had gotten. It was simply ridiculous that he could be so upset over a simple observation. All Father had said was that there seemed to be less beef in the beef stew these days. Honestly, some people got defensive so easily.

Vincent hastened to intervene, ushering the big man back to the kitchen while murmuring in his ear. When last seen, William was grumbling but nodding his head while Mary steered Father away as he was attempting to follow William. She knew, even if Father didn’t, that no good could come from continuing their conversation.

“What did you say to calm him down?” Catherine asked once Vincent had returned and they had both left the Dining Chamber.

“I told him that Father hadn’t been sleeping well and was just crotchety today.”

“That’s the word you used?” Bemusement lit her features. It definitely was not a “Vincent” term.

He bent his head to hide his smile. “Perhaps I used even more colorful language. Sometimes that will soothe William faster than a reasoned excuse.”

She swallowed a bark of surprised laughter. Her Bondmate was a seasoned diplomat, as it helped to be, living Below with so many people crowded into a small-ish space. But he knew when to be less of one when that would serve his purpose better.

“Was the issue Father raised…be it extremely undiplomatically…a valid one? Is meat scarcer these days?” She felt bad that she hadn’t paid much attention to their meals. She rarely ate Below, and when she did, her proximity to Vincent usually took top of mind.

He rocked his head in a tick-tock fashion as he said, “That depends on one’s perspective. We still have generous Helpers, yes. But our numbers have increased…and donations have not.”

“I see…”

Noting the thoughtful expression on her face, he hastened to add, “I’m sure the situation will be addressed soon. Please, don’t concern yourself with it.”

But Catherine already had a plan taking shape.

* * *

“Uncle Peter!”

He chuckled and sat back in his desk chair. “Uh-oh. When you call me that, I know I’m about to be asked a favor! What can I do for my favorite Chandler?”

Catherine sat in the chair facing his desk. “It’s about Helpers.”

He stood up and closed the door to his office. “Can’t be too careful. Judy’s at lunch but…”

She blushed. “Sorry. I should have thought of that.” She sat up straighter. “We were talking about favors and Helpers. Here’s the situation…”

After she had related the food shortage problem, he sat back, hands clasped under his chin, to contemplate the issue. “We can’t really expect the Helpers to contribute more. Most of them are barely able to scrape by as it is, and that makes what they do give an extraordinary sacrifice.”

“I’m aware that there aren’t many Helpers flush with cash. I know I’m one of the exceptions.”

“Well, if we’re addressing cash flow, I’m in that column with you.”

“No, you already do so much more than anyone else – medical supplies and drugs are not things any other Helper could provide without questions being asked, and they aren’t cheap. I’m not looking for anything from you but advice right now…and possibly collusion later.”

He nodded. “But…”

“No ‘buts’ – and I’d feel terrible if my coming to you resulted in you reaching even deeper into your pocket. Anyway, here’s the idea I came up with…”

Two weeks later

“Now, that’s more like it.” Father sat back and patted his stomach. The beef stew was substantial tonight. He took private satisfaction in the fact that his little talk with William had resulted in a better dinner product. After all, it was called “beef” stew, not “vegetables with a smattering of beef” stew.

Vincent’s sideways glance at Catherine took in her smile, quickly stifled. He had suspected her involvement in the increase in their food donations, which were slowly but steadily augmenting their supplies. A few pounds of meat more from one Helper, a half a bushel of apples additional from another. Spread out, it wasn’t obvious how much more food was being brought Below, but taken as a whole…

“Did you enjoy dinner?” He waited for her confession, but wasn’t surprised when it didn’t come.

“Father seems pleased with it.” She folded her napkin and sat back, surveying the chamber. “I heard William earlier, smugly telling Mary he’d like to hear Father complain this time!”

“You look a bit smug yourself, if I might say so.” He stood to assist her with her chair.

“Have you read the novel I brought down for you last week? I’m looking forward to discussing it with you.” She looked up at him, smiling, aware that he was aware that she was changing the subject.

He realized she would not be drawn into a chat about the recent uptick in food donations. Well…there was no reason to discuss it…not really. She must suspect that he knew she had something to do with it. As soon as she’d witnessed that ado between Father and William several weeks ago, he had realized that nothing would stop her from addressing their shortfall. So he was resolved to make one more try, if only to thank her for her efforts.

He drew a breath to begin, but she held up a hand to stop him. “Before you interrogate me about your supplies, I want to go on record as having not asked any Helper to contribute extra food.”

He gazed down at her, narrowing his eyes. “Really?”

She lifted two fingers in a salute. “Scout’s honor.”

“You asked no Helper to increase their contribution?”

“Not one.”

Openly skeptical, he shook his head. “I find that…difficult to believe, considering the results.”

“The ‘results’? Of what?”

She could be quietly infuriating, but he was used to her lawyerly trick of parsing her replies to seem to respond honestly while hiding the real truth. He’d seen her in action with Father often enough.

Thinking for a moment, he finally found the words to perhaps pierce the veil. “You did not speak to any Helper about our food shortage?”

She glared at him. “What exactly are you asking?”

Ahhh…meeting a question with a question – a classic avoidance maneuver. But before he could reframe his query, she spoke again, ticking her answers off her fingers as if counting.

“I did not ask any Helper to donate more food. I did not pay any Helper who owns a bodega or food shop to provide more food. You can ask anyone who donates supplies and they will back me on this. And no, I did not request that anyone lie about it.”

There was that smug smile again. But he would have to accept her responses.

“All right. Then whomever our benefactor is, I hope they know we are grateful.”

“I’m sure all the Helpers who participated know you are grateful…and they don’t do it for the gratitude anyway. They do it out of kindness and love, and because they are good people.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

* * *

The restaurant was crowded, but he caught her wave. “Did everything work as planned?” Peter hugged Catherine and sat down to enjoy the lunch she had ordered for them.

She nodded. “Vincent was suspicious, of course. But I shut down any avenue of questioning.”

“You didn’t give him the satisfaction of confirming what you did?”

“Nope. And although he’s 99% sure it was me who instigated the effort, I can smile over that 1% of uncertainty for a while. You know it’s not easy to pull one over on him!”

They both chuckled and clinked glasses.

* * *

“Did you find out who was responsible for the increase in donations?” William was adding some dried basil to the pot of sauce for their spaghetti dinner when Vincent entered the kitchen to begin his shift.

“I think we both have figured out who it was. But…it may be wise to keep our suspicions to ourselves. You know how Father gets.”

The chef rolled his eyes. “Boy howdy, do I!” Shaking his head, he added, “Your woman is a fine one, my boy. Did she admit it?”

Vincent sat on a stool and began slicing a loaf of Italian bread. “No. She denied her involvement, and I wisely chose not to ask the one question she would have had to answer in the affirmative. She was having such a good time ‘flummoxing’ me, I couldn’t ruin her fun.”

“What question was that?” William tasted the bubbling sauce and added a bit more oregano.

“She said she hadn’t asked the Helpers to donate more or give them payment for extra supplies. She said I could question them if I didn’t believe her, and they would confirm it. And I’m sure that’s correct. She didn’t. The one question I didn’t ask that would have tumbled her house of cards was: did she involve another Helper, who did the asking, and who paid with funds she’d given him.”

“Oh, ho! Dr. Peter was her cut-out!” William shook his head in admiration at her plan. “When will you tell her you figured it out?”

Vincent began spreading garlic butter on the slices of bread. “I won’t need to. In a little while, she’ll come clean to me. And I’ll be ‘surprised’ at how she fooled me.”

“Quite the diplomat, you are.” He began dropping meatballs into the sauce.

“Perhaps. But I also know she will feel bad about her temporary deceit. And want to… let us say…make it up to me.”

William turned to stare at his younger friend. “You’re gonna get some extra lovin’ outta this, aren’t you? You old dog!” 

Vincent had the grace to blush.

* * *

It really was a glorious night of lovemaking, and nothing more was said about the reason for it – not the man who had figured out the trick but kept silent…and not the woman who knew darn well her extremely intelligent love had not asked the one question he should have asked because he wanted her to believe she’d fooled him.