Like the First Time

by Francis Ray

  The phone rang before she could give him her answer. “Excuse me, it must be Claire or Lorraine calling to make sure I got home safely.” Going to the family room she picked up the phone. “Hello?” she answered, noting that Gray had come inside and closed the door.

  “Tell me Gray’s there with you?”

  “Yes, Brooke,” Claire said watching Gray watching her.

  Brooke screamed in delight. “I’ll call Lorraine so you won’t be disturbed again. We’ll understand if you’re late in the morning.”

  Claire flushed at Brooke’s innuendo and shot a glance at Gray. Thankfully, Brooke hung up before she had to respond.

  The corners of Gray’s sensual mouth kicked up. Claire thought again of his statement that he had grown up with a lot of women and wondered if he had any idea about what Brooke had intimated. Her face felt hotter.

  “Problems?”

  “I, err, no,” Claire said and wondered how a woman went about letting a man know she wanted to be kissed. Perhaps just do it?

  The phone rang again.

  “Lorraine checking in,” Gray stated.

  “Brooke said she would call her,” Claire said before she thought of the implications of that statement. “Hello?”

  “Hi, sis.”

  Her face lit up. She couldn’t wait to tell him about the progress of Bliss. “Hi, Derek. You’ll never guess what happened tonight.”

  “Baby sis, things aren’t going well here for me.” A deep sigh drifted out to her. “Bad luck keeps dogging me. I really hate to ask, but could you send me another hundred?”

  The smile on Claire’s face faded. Aware of Gray watching her, she walked deeper into the room. “What happened?”

  “The guy I loaned money to help him and his family from getting evicted now can’t pay me. I need the money to pay my cell phone bill. My clients need to be able to contact me.”

  Claire sank into the side chair. It would be comical if it wasn’t so bad. The cell phone wasn’t a frivolous item. He needed it for business, but so did she. “Derek, you know I lost my job. I need every extra penny to get Bliss up and going.”

  “At least you have another option. My job is my only source of income. You don’t want me to lose mine, do you? I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t need it.”

  In her mind Claire tried to shift money. Robbing Peter to pay Paul, her father had called it.

  “Claire, we’re family,” Derek whined. “You aren’t going to hold it against me because I couldn’t repay your money, are you? I have no place else to turn.”

  The decision became easier. It was only the two of them left. It wouldn’t hurt for her to go a few days longer without a cell phone. “I’ll wire the money in the morning.”

  “Thanks, baby sis. I knew I could count on you.”

  Hanging up the phone, Claire turned and saw Gray a short distance away. His face was hard.

  “How often does that happen?”

  For a moment she didn’t know what he was talking about, then it came to her. Derek would hit the roof if he learned Gray knew he was having financial trouble. The two had never liked one another. “Not often.”

  Gray didn’t move. “Thinking of yourself first is not selfish.”

  Gray had never been slow and, unfortunately, Derek had always needed help in one way or another. “Thank you for seeing me home, but as you said, I’m rather tired.”

  “Is that your polite way of telling me to mind my own business?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Please.”

  He went to the front door and opened it. “Lock up.”

  “Good night. Drive carefully.” The door closed and Claire went straight to her desk. Derek was family. Somehow she’d make the money stretch, just as she always had.

  * * *

  She wasn’t going to listen. Gray knew it even before the words had left his mouth. Claire would do anything for family, and as worthless and as opportunistic as Derek had proven himself to be, he was her brother. She’d lived in a one-bedroom apartment to buy her parents a home, done without and worked long hours to keep it.

  She could have sold the house for a tidy profit and given herself some breathing room. The thought had probably never crossed her mind. Money didn’t rule Claire. Family did. Her parents had been proud of the beachfront house, prouder of what it represented, a family member who had made it. Claire understood and accepted that responsibility better than anyone had ever known.

  Taking one last look at the house, Gray got into his car and started back to Charleston. He couldn’t get over the happy look on her face when her brother had called, then the despair later in the conversation. Familiar with Derek, Gray doubted if he’d even asked how Claire or Bliss was doing. First and foremost, Derek thought of Derek, and to hell with everyone else.

  Just like his ex-wife.

  Gray started over Ben Sawyer Bridge. Thoughts of Jana no longer filled him with rage. He was just thankful he’d found out early in his marriage instead of later. Anger had driven out most of the love he’d had for her, work had done the rest.

  Or had it?

  He made a quick turn. Ten minutes later he pulled up in front of a replica of an Italian Mediterranean villa and cut the motor. The opulent neighborhood was eerily quiet, as if nothing was allowed to intrude on the residents who lived there.

  A light shone from the upstairs, balconied window of the house. He stared at the window and remembered how eager he’d been to get home to his wife, and how utterly devastated he’d been to see her in their bed with his business associate. Before, he would have shut the memory off, but tonight he let it play through his mind, let himself feel all the anger, the hurt, the loss and accept what nothing could change, then forget them and move on.

  A flash of light from the street cut across Gray. His gaze lifted and he saw the police car. He rolled his window down as one policemen came toward him, while another stood by the car.

  “Good evening, sir.” The flashlight swept Gray’s face, the interior of the car. “Do you have business at this residence?”

  “You might say that since I own it.”

  The light came back to his face, then moved away as the policeman quickly straightened. “Mr. Livingston, I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t recognize you.”

  Gray looked at the man, in his mid-forties, and mildly wondered if this had been his beat when gossip of him and Jana had stretched all the way to Virginia. The gullible, cuckolded husband.

  He started the motor. “No problem. Good night.”

  The officer took the hint. “Yes, sir. Good night.” Waving the other policeman back into the car, they pulled off.

  Backing up, Gray went in the opposite direction. He’d probably given them and the men at the station a lot to talk about. For the first time since the incident, he couldn’t have cared less. He had more important things on his mind, namely Claire Bennett, and doing his damnest to keep a smile on her face.

  * * *

  “We’re having a pre-opening at Bliss next Thursday and I’d like you to be there,” Lorraine told Hamilton casually the next morning over breakfast. The sky was as blue as the water in the swimming pool a few feet away.

  Hamilton glanced up from the newspaper he was reading, folded it, then laid it aside. “You’re talking to me again?”

  “I can always stop.” Lorraine sipped her coffee, watched a bee flit from one rose bloom to the other, and tried not to think this might be her fault for starting the silent treatment.

  The scrape of the iron leg of the chair on the terrazzo floor sounded unnaturally loud. Her fingers clenched slightly on the handle of the porcelain cup. Hamilton had a golf game with one of their country club members in thirty minutes. He was always punctual.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this last night or this afternoon?” he asked.

  Setting down the cup, she slowly turned to him. “I didn’t want another argument.”

  “So you purposely told me when you know I had to leave,” he accused, crossing to her. “Yo
u think more of Bliss than us?”

  The hurt and uncertainty in his eyes kept her temper in check. “There’s nothing more important in my life than you and the children, but I want to do this.” Her voice strengthened. “I will do this.”

  Hamilton checked the step he was about to make to her. “Then, there’s nothing else to say, is there?”

  “I guess not.” She picked up her cup to do something with her hands. Where had the love, the trust, gone? They shared a deep bond she thought nothing could destroy.

  “What time?”

  The cup clattered as she put it down and ran to him, her arms going around his neck. “Thank you! Six o’clock. Oh, Hamilton, I would have hated you not being there.”

  “But you would have gone?” he asked quietly.

  She closed her eyes briefly, then answered softly, “Yes.”

  He pulled her arms from around his neck. “I don’t want to be late.”

  “Hamilton,” she whispered, but too softly for him to hear. He kept walking.

  Refusing to cry again, Lorraine sat down and picked up the cordless phone she had brought with her in case Claire or Brooke called and began to dial. More than ever she planned to succeed. The pre-opening had to be a resounding success. Thomas was the fourth friend she called. He answered almost immediately.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, Thomas. Bliss is having a pre-opening next Thursday night and I wanted to know if you’d like to come.”

  “Just try and keep me away,” Thomas said, sounding excited.

  If only Hamilton could be like Thomas, she thought, then pushed the idea aside. “Wonderful. I’d like to send Candace and Karen a gift basket since you can’t use the products,” she said with a smile.

  “If they make a woman’s skin feel as good as yours, they’ll be ecstatic.”

  Lorraine hadn’t expected the compliment and faltered for a brief moment. “That’s the object of Bliss.”

  “I’d say you’ve achieved your goal,” he said. “How about lunch if you can get off?”

  She was surprised at how much she wanted to say yes. “We’re stocking.”

  “Maybe some other time,” he said, obviously disappointed.

  “I’ll hold you to that. Bye.” Lorraine hung up the phone, then looked at the empty chair in front of her and sighed. If she thought it would help, she’d ask Thomas to talk with Hamilton. But it wouldn’t. Hamilton kept his own counsel. Besides, she and Margaret might have been best friends, but their husbands weren’t. She just had to keep hoping and praying that he’d come to understand and accept her choice. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he didn’t.

  * * *

  Five minutes after arriving at Bliss that morning, Brooke knew Lorraine and Claire were not in good moods. She wasn’t doing so well herself. Last night she had dreamed of John.

  This time there was no camera, no crowd, just them beneath a moonlit sky on the beach as the rush of foaming Atlantic sea tumbled over their entwined bodies. This time he hadn’t stopped with his wide hands on her thigh. He’d let them slide up her legs until they could go no further, then he had done things to her body that had caused her to moan and weep with pleasure.

  “Let’s listen to the radio while we work.” For her efforts Brooke received a shrug from Lorraine and a nod from Claire. “You know, just yesterday we said we wouldn’t do this.”

  That brought their heads up. Lorraine stopped doing inventory. “You’re right.”

  “Sorry.” Claire stopped making notes at the card table. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “Anytime. Either one of you want to talk about it?”

  “If I thought talking would help, I’d do it non-stop.” Lorraine went back to the inventory. “It won’t, but thanks for asking.”

  Claire’s answer was almost the same. “I have to work this out by myself.”

  “All right.” Brooke walked over to turn on the computer. “You have until noon to get it together.”

  As the day lengthened, Brooke was relieved to see the lines of strain on Lorraine’s face and the worry on Claire’s disappear. By the time they were ready to break for lunch, conversation was flowing normally again. Brooke decided to treat. On the way back a wrecker passed and Brooke strained her neck to see if it was John, then noticed the other women staring at her.

  “So, he does something for me,” she admitted with a wry twist of her mouth. “I don’t have to like it.”

  “But you definitely like what he does to you,” Lorraine said with such straightforward frankness that Brooke stopped and stared at her.

  Claire giggled, then clamped her hand over her mouth.

  “Well, since you asked.” Brooke looped her arms through theirs and proceeded to tell them every naughty, delicious detail of her dream. When they arrived at Bliss, they had to turn up the air conditioner, and cool down with bottles of Brooke’s Evian. Finished with that tale, she regaled them with her horror date stories. By the time Brooke wore down it was almost three, Claire had a stitch in her side from laughing so much, and Lorraine was holding her stomach with one hand, while she dabbed at her eyes with the other to keep from laughing.

  “Please stop,” Lorraine begged.

  “He came out of the cabana wearing long black socks, sandals, and bunny rabbits on his swim shorts. I laughed so hard I couldn’t get up from the side of the pool for five minutes,” Brooke said. “That was my first and last blind date.”

  Claire finally straightened and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. “Tell me you’re making that up.”

  Brooke held up her right hand. “On my honor as the Woman of Bliss.”

  “Hey, I’ve got an idea.” Lorraine straightened. “Why not put a few of those incidents on the Web site? Not specific enough to embarrass anyone, but enough to show what you went through on your way to being the self-assured woman you are, the one who can take or leave the Man of Bliss.”

  Brooke who had been about to veto the idea sat up straighter. “John will burst an artery if he finds out.”

  “That means she’ll start working on it immediately,” Claire said.

  “It’s great when your friends know you so well,” Brooke said, then thought that was exactly right. The day had certainly gotten brighter … for all of them.

  * * *

  “I’ll be there in five. I want to take you someplace. Don’t dress up.”

  Gray’s cryptic message had Claire pacing the floor in her entryway later that night. He’d sounded all right, but she couldn’t think of one single place he would want to take her. The phone had been ringing when she entered the house, almost as if he’d been calling every few minutes until he reached her, which was absurd. Why would it be that urgent for Gray to speak with her?

  She didn’t even think of not being ready. She’d raced into her bedroom and quickly changed her khaki pants and blouse for a sundress and flat sandals.

  She heard the car and didn’t wait for him to come inside. Her long legs carried her swiftly to him. “Are you all right?”

  “I will be.” His hand brushed her hair behind her ear. “Ready?”

  “Yes.” She clutched the handle of the worn brown handbag she’d had forever and allowed him to seat her in his car. “Where’re we going?” she asked when he got inside.

  “To bury the past.” Giving her hand a squeeze, he put the Porsche in gear and pulled off.

  Gray stayed quiet, Claire did the same. But when they turned into an exclusive residential area she’d been to once before in her life, tension rolled through her.

  “You know where we’re going?”

  She wondered how he had sensed the change in her. “Yes.”

  “At one time it was as much a tourist attraction as Fort Moultrie,” he related calmly as he pulled up in front of the house.

  “That’s not why I came,” she said, willing her voice not to falter.

  He angled his body toward her. “Then why?”

  “To mourn for your loss,” she said.
<
br />   His eyes narrowed. “Thank you.” Getting out, he circled the car and opened her door. Together they went up the curved walk. He stuck the key in the top, then the bottom lock. “I haven’t been inside in two years.”

  “Why now?” she asked, ignoring the slight pressure of his hand at her back.

  Once again, his hand touched her cheek. “It’s time.”

  This time she didn’t resist. She stepped over the threshold. The house was beautiful, but somehow cold. They went from room to room. At the top of the stairs he didn’t pause.

  “I don’t want to go in there.”

  His hand slid to catch hers. “I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important.”

  Claire recalled what he’d said about burying the past. She opened the door and walked in. The room was huge, with a recessed ceiling, artwork and heavy furniture. Directly in front of the door was the bed. Her heart constricted.

  “That isn’t the infamous bed. I tore it apart and pitched it piece by piece out the window along with most of the things in this room. Then I bought more furniture to replace it.”

  “But it didn’t help you forget, did it?”

  He looked at her. “No. It didn’t help.” He walked further into the room. “I thought I had everything. I was thirty-eight, vice-president of a multimillion dollar company, voted Man of the Year by top publications in the country, had a slew of honors both academic and civic, a beautiful wife that I loved, that I thought loved me. The world couldn’t have been brighter.”

  Claire pushed aside the pain threatening to send her to her knees. This was for Gray, not her. “Then she betrayed you in the worst possible way.”

  “Did you know she initially said she was forced, but after the judge denied her alimony, and her suit, she told me how inadequate I was, then proceeded to give me dates and details of all the men she’d slept with while we were engaged. She even managed the pool boy while we were on our honeymoon in Bermuda.”

  “Gray, don’t.” Nausea rose in Claire’s throat.

  “Do you know how used and utterly stupid that makes me feel?”

  Grabbing his arms, she turned him toward her. “She was the stupid one. She had you and your love and she threw it away.”