by Francis Ray
“Thank you,” Claire said, ignoring the frown Gray was giving her. She listened as Mrs. Livingston gave her the time and place. “I’ll be there and thank you again.”
“Why can’t I sponsor you?” Gray wanted to know the instant she hung up the phone.
Claire’s arms circled his neck. “In a nutshell, because we’re lovers and some women are bad losers.” She almost laughed at the shocked expression on his face. “But in this case I can’t blame them. I’d be upset if you got away.” She’d meant it as a joke, but the sudden tensing of Gray’s body against hers said it was anything but. Her mind scrambled for something else to say, but nothing came to mind.
“Claire, I—”
She pressed her fingers against his lips. “No promises. No regrets.”
He caught her hand and clutched her to him. “I keep telling myself that I won’t let anything hurt you, yet I stay knowing one day I will hurt you most of all. You should hate me.”
How can I when I love you? she thought, knowing she could never say those words aloud. Nor could she tell him she had begun falling in love with him when she was eleven and he was a shy, sensitive boy. “I can’t ask you for more than you can give.”
Gray’s head lifted. Anger shone in his eyes. “You should. If any other man treated you this way I’d take him apart.”
“You mean you wouldn’t want a man to help me to be the best that I can be? A man to respect me? A man to make me laugh? A man to cherish my body and nurture my spirit?”
He stilled as her words sank deeply into him.
“You give so much to me. Yes, letting go and saying goodbye will be difficult, but never having been loved by you would be the real tragedy.”
“I wish…” His voice trailed off. Shutting his eyes, he drew her tightly to him.
Claire didn’t ask him what he wished for. The desperation of his arms was enough. One day he’d be gone and there was nothing she could do to keep him.
* * *
Monday morning Claire arrived at Bliss a little after nine with a smile on her face and Gray on her mind. He had spent the night again. After eating a leisurely breakfast on the deck, he had helped her clean up the kitchen, then followed her into the city before he passed her on East Bay to continue on home to change. He’d casually mentioned he’d call her after work to see if she was too tired for him to come by. That, she told him, would never happen. He had appeared relieved.
She could have wept for both of them.
Entering the shop, she relocked the door and went into the back to put the coffee on. No matter what he said, Jana’s betrayal continued to dictate how he felt about lasting relationships. Claire would just have to show him how good it could be with them and let his heart do the rest.
He cared about her. She felt it in the way he touched her, the way he looked at her. She just prayed he’d soon realize it, too.
Taking the carafe, Claire began filling it. Brooke had long since stopped insisting it be bottled water, or that they do espresso. Claire set the carafe on the stand and wondered if Brooke realized how much she had changed. Shopping and looking for a rich husband no longer were the focus of her life. As far as Claire knew Brooke hadn’t gone shopping in weeks. She didn’t have time. If she wasn’t at the shop, she was with John or his children. And apparently enjoying herself tremendously. Now, if only Lorraine could be happy.
Putting away her purse, Claire got the sweeper for the hardwood floors out of the closet. She never would have thought Hamilton would act the way he did. If ever there was a man who loved a woman, it was Hamilton. Going into the shop, Claire began running the sweeper over the floor. Unfortunately caring for another person didn’t guarantee a happily ever after.
It was a life lesson she could have lived without experiencing.
* * *
They didn’t get many men in the shop, but when they did, they usually stopped a few feet inside, looked around and if they saw too many women, headed back out the door. Since the shop was fairly crowded with lunch shoppers, all women, Claire expected the man in a tailored suit, with a well-worn attaché case in his hand, that had just entered to do the same.
Claire started around the counter to try and reassure him. Brooke who’d just finished with a customer reached him first. “Welcome to Bliss. I’d be delighted to help you or answer any questions you might have.”
He gave her a friendly smile. “Thank you, but I’d just like to look around if that’s all right?”
“Of course,” Brooke said. “There are shopping baskets available if you’d like.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He went to the display of BTS products, picked up the sample jar of moisturizing cream and sniffed. Moments later, he moved to another display, this one of the orange-pear products.
Brooke went to stand beside Claire at the counter. She waited until she had rung up the sale. “He looks like he knows what he’s doing.”
“Same thing I thought. Whoever he’s shopping for is very lucky,” Claire said.
The shop’s door opened and a couple came in. The man had the same long-suffering look she’d seen countless times before in the six weeks the shop had been opened. “I’ll take this one,” Claire remarked.
“All right,” Brooke said. “It will be kind of interesting to see what he buys.”
He purchased nothing. The man had wandered leisurely around the shop for forty minutes, often talking with customers or asking them a question about a particular product. They couldn’t decide if they should be concerned or not. Men, as a rule, hated shopping and usually were much more decisive and faster.
“You think we should call someone?” Lorraine asked as she helped Claire restock the shelves.
“I don’t think so.” Claire placed the last candle on the glass shelf, then stood.
Lorraine came to her feet as well. “Brooke says she can take him, but … he’s coming this way. Empty-handed.”
“And only a few customers are left,” Claire said, her hand unconsciously closing on the candle she’d just shelved.
“Ladies,” he said in greeting. “You have quite a business here.”
“Thank you,” Brooke said, moving to his left. “Is there something we can help you with?”
“As a matter of fact, I think we can be of mutual benefit.” He reached into the inside pocket of his suit. Claire and Lorraine tensed. Brooke shifted her weight to one foot, and lifted her hands to her waist. He pulled out a business card and handed it to Claire. “My name is Reginald Turner, Director of Acquisition for Livingston Catalogue.”
Lorraine gasped. Brooke stepped around in front of him. Claire felt her heart plummet.
“I’d like to talk to you about our catalogue carrying a few of your products. When would be a good time?” he asked.
“After closing,” Brooke and Lorraine said almost in unison.
“Is that convenient with you, Ms. Bennett?” he asked.
“How did you know my name?” Claire asked. Had Gray sent him because they were sleeping together?
Before he could answer, Brooke said, “I have to check out a customer. I’ll be back.”
“Mr. Turner?” Claire said.
“Research,” he told her. “I should have announced who I was at first, but I wanted to see if all I had heard about Bliss was true.”
“Who’d did you hear it from?” Claire’s voice was sharper than intended.
“Claire?” Lorraine said, in surprise at her defensive tone, touching her arm to calm her.
“Perhaps it would help to say that I have complete autonomy in choosing products. Management can certainly offer suggestions, but the final decision is mine,” the man said, his gaze steady. “However, your shop came up because my secretary received a jar of moisturizing cream from Mrs. Livingston and couldn’t stop raving about it.”
Claire and Lorraine’s eyes rounded. “Mrs. Livingston?”
“Gray might be in charge, but she still makes her presence known. But I have to tell you that I ha
ve an appointment with Gray in an hour to go over several new products we plan for the Christmas issue. He often has suggestions.” He glanced at his watch. “Can I call you later or can you tell me now if you’re interested?”
“Of course, we’re interested,” Brooke said, rejoining the group.
“It has to be Claire’s decision,” Lorraine said.
Brooke opened her mouth, then closed it and nodded. “It’s Claire’s decision.”
Now it was Claire’s turn to stare. A listing in Livingston Catalogue was what they had hoped for from the first. The potential profits were staggering.
“Ms. Bennett?” the man was the one now prompting her.
Apparently more people were aware of her and Gray’s relationship than she had suspected. It wouldn’t matter if his grandmother did sponsor her; everyone would know. She’d always been a private person. With Gray in her life, that was no longer possible.
“One of us will call you, Mr. Turner,” Lorraine said.
Obviously disappointed, he nodded. “Please do. I had hoped I could report that we had an appointment at the meeting. Goodbye.”
“Wait!” Claire called as he turned to go. Gray and his grandmother believed in her, believed in Bliss for good reason. She and her partners had made their bath and body products concept work It was time to take it up a notch. “Would seven-thirty this evening be convenient or would nine in the morning be better?”
Brooke and Lorraine squealed, drawing the attention of the shoppers. Excusing themselves, they went to relieve the customer’s concerns.
Relief swept across the man’s face. “I’ll see you at seven-thirty.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Lorraine had never felt lonelier than she did when she drove home that night. Bliss would have two lines of bath and body products in the Livingston Christmas catalogue. They’d have to hire help to get the thousand sets Livingston had ordered ready, find storage, and fifteen other things, but none of them doubted they’d succeed.
Gray, who had stayed at his office and out of the negotiations, wanted to take Livingston’s newest business associates out to celebrate. Brooke had called John to join them. He’d been able to get his parents to stay with his children so he could meet them at the Peninsula Grill. Lorraine had called Hamilton, but he said he was too tired. He’d congratulated her, but hadn’t sounded as if he meant it.
She swallowed and eased on her brakes at a stop sign. Not wanting to put a damper on the celebration, she’d left after a couple of sips of champagne. There should be a person she could share her triumphs with. She didn’t have to think long before Thomas came into her mind. The light changed and she pulled off. Picking up the cell phone, she punched in his number.
“Hello?”
Just hearing his voice made her feel better. Margaret had been lucky to have such a supportive husband. “Two of Bliss’s product lines will be in the Livingston’s Christmas catalogue.”
“Wonderful!” he exclaimed. His warm laughter boomed through loud and clear. “You ladies are certainly making your mark.”
“We’re trying. Thank you. I wanted to ask you if you had a property we might lease to make and store the products.”
“I think I have just the place. But first, we should celebrate. How about lunch tomorrow?”
As always, he was there. “I’d love to. Is eleven-thirty all right?”
“It will be. I’ll see you then.”
Lorraine hung up the phone, no longer feeling lonely.
* * *
Three bouquets of flowers were delivered to Bliss by eleven Tuesday morning. The largest and much more elaborate was from Livingston, welcoming Bliss. The second, a mixture of peach and white roses, was from Thomas. The third, a spring bouquet, came from John. All the notes congratulated the “Ladies of Bliss,” but each woman knew they were for her.
Lorraine was even more appreciative of Thomas’s friendship. She’d never been one to compare herself or be jealous, but she realized that if only Claire and Brooke had received flowers, she would have felt left out, especially after Hamilton’s refusal to attend their impromptu celebration. He’d left that morning on another business trip. They’d barely said goodbye. He certainly hadn’t sent flowers. Thomas was more considerate. He’d chosen a wonderful restaurant and the salmon was fabulous.
“Thomas, this is marvelous. The roses were perfect and beautiful.”
He sipped his wine and smiled across the table at her. “I’m glad. I seemed to remember you liked roses.”
Her brow lifted in surprise. “How could you remember something like that?”
He paused. “Most men notice what beautiful women enjoy.”
Lorraine was even more startled by his announcement. She wasn’t sure what to say.
“If my compliment surprised you, I’ll have to have a talk with Hamilton,” he told her easily.
Sighing, Lorraine leaned back in her chair. Brooke and Claire were aware of her increasing problems with Hamilton, but Lorraine hadn’t wanted Thomas to know the extent of her marital problems. She was tempted to change that.
“Lorraine, you looked so sad for a moment,” he said, reaching across the table to place his hand on hers. “Is everything all right?”
Lorraine glanced at the large hand covering hers, the offer of comfort it represented. How long had it been since Hamilton has been there for her? Aching a little inside, she pulled her hand from beneath his. “Just thinking of all the work ahead in getting the products ready.”
“I can take you to see the property I think will be ideal anytime you want,” Thomas told her.
“Perhaps Thursday. They’re doing the photo shoot Wednesday.”
“I can pick you up around ten Thursday morning. The photo shoot sounds interesting.” He picked up his fork. “Mind if I drop by and watch?”
“Of course not,” she said. “We’d love to have you.”
Something flickered in Thomas’s eyes, then it was gone. But her breathing went off kilter and she began to wonder just what in the world she was doing.
* * *
It took the photographer from Livingston Catalogue longer to decide the angle and positions of the shot than to shoot the actual picture. She wanted seduction and sensuality, and decided on a tight shot with ribbon, potpourri trailing from its bottle, and a couple of the flowers from the bouquets amid the orange-pear products. BTS products were grouped on the vanity seat.
The photographer had barely finished when Mr. Turner phoned. A reporter from The Post and Courier was doing a piece on the catalogue and, when she’d heard about the photo shoot, she wanted to interview the Bliss owners. This article was scheduled to go in the business section next Wednesday. Would it be all right? If Knight Ridder picked up the piece it would go nationwide.
The answer had been a resounding yes. Less than an hour later, the reporter and photographer were there. As with the freelance photographer for Livingston, the reporter and her photographer left with products in Bliss’s signature bag.
“Looks like you have more to celebrate,” Thomas said to Lorraine. “I’d like to take you and Hamilton to dinner.”
The happy smile faded. “He’s out of town.”
“Well, there’s no reason for you not to celebrate. I could pick you up at your place at eight and we could have dinner.”
She debated only for a moment. “All right.”
“Good. See you at eight.” Lorraine stared after him as he left the shop.
“He’s a handsome man,” Brooke said from beside her.
“Yes, he is, and considerate,” Lorraine said, a soft smile playing around her mouth.
Brooke’s brow lifted. “I think we need to talk.” Without giving Lorraine a chance to balk, Brooke took Lorraine by the arm and pulled her to the back of the shop.
Lorraine frowned all the way into the storage area. “What is it? We shouldn’t leave Claire by herself.”
“I’m more concerned with you handling yourself.” Brooke finally dropped th
e other woman’s arm. “I may be out of line, but I’ve seen it happen too many times.” As the puzzled look on Lorraine’s face grew, Brooke continued, “Inattentive husbands and neglected wives.”
Lorraine gasped. “How dare—”
“I dare because I like you and respect you,” Brooke interrupted. “You’re vulnerable now and some guys can see that.”
“Thomas is just a friend.”
“A friend who lost his wife six months ago. He can’t be more than fifty-five and from a couple of the looks he threw at you, sex is still on his mind.”
Lorraine’s mouth gaped.
“Cancel the date, Lorraine,” Brooke said gently.
“I—I’d never betray Hamilton.”
“Intentionally no, but sometimes the unexpected can happen.” Brooke took her purse from the file cabinet. “Soft music, slow dancing, then—wham—you’re in a situation you hadn’t counted on. I had a couple of close calls when Randolph was out of town, but I have to say, if one of them had been John, I wouldn’t have been able to hold back.”
“But … but you care about John,” Lorraine said.
“My body wanted him before my mind caught up.” She touched Lorraine’s shoulder. “Call off the date. After Mark’s try outs we’ll probably grab a pizza. I’ll be home if you want to talk.”
Lorraine closed her eyes. Brooke had already said enough.
* * *
Brooke arrived home that night at eight-seventeen. Mark had made the team as the alternate pitcher. He’d been more worried that his father would be disappointed than anything. After John had reassured him, he was all right. She and John had managed to steal a goodnight kiss, then he had taken the kids home. She had gotten in her car and tried to call Lorraine at home. There had been no answer.
Pacing in her apartment, she hit redial, then dialed Lorraine’s cell. “Lorraine, pick up.” She was seriously considering calling Claire to see if she knew where they were having dinner when the phone was picked up.
“You had no right to say those things to me.” Lorraine’s voice wavered.
Brooke sat on the arm of the sofa. “Before Claire, I never had any close female friends. You’re the second.”
