by Anita Hughes
* * *
Hallie entered the apartment and put the groceries in the kitchen. Peter wasn’t home and the rooms were bathed in late-afternoon light. Hallie walked onto the balcony, feeling the breeze graze her cheek. The sun was playing hide-and-seek with the clouds, and the city looked like an illustration from a picture book.
Hallie leaned on the railing, watching a girl play hopscotch on the sidewalk. She saw a couple sitting on the stoop, exchanging sections of the Sunday New York Times. She saw Peter ride down the street, his body supple as a greyhound. He hopped off the bicycle and rolled it into the garage.
Hallie went into the kitchen and put the Chardonnay in the fridge and the ice cream in the freezer. She felt lighter than she had since before Patsy’s wedding. Constance was right: Peter was a good man and he worshipped her. She went into the dining room and lit the gold candles. She pictured eating a romantic dinner, sharing raspberry tart and ice cream, and climbing into bed. She watched the candles flicker and walked into the kitchen to prepare the salad.
chapter three
Hallie stood in the back room of the design store, picking at a carton of Chinese chicken salad. It had been a busy week; she hadn’t once taken a lunch hour or gone to the gym in the evening. Kendra was preparing to go to Tahoe and sent Hallie on errands all over the city. Hallie spent the morning at the Design Center searching for a house-warming present for Patsy and her new husband.
“Find something unique,” Kendra instructed. “I want Patsy to know I have a vision for her house.”
Hallie finally settled on a ceramic vase with silk flowers. She put it on Kendra’s desk and ate a few forkfuls of salad. Her phone buzzed and she saw Peter’s number on the screen.
“Hi, stranger,” Peter said. “Breakfast was lonely this morning.”
“I’m sorry.” Hallie put the lid on the salad and stuck it in the small fridge. “Kendra sent me to the Design Center at the crack of dawn.”
“Then she should let you off early for good behavior,” Peter replied. “I made dinner reservations tonight.”
“I can’t.” Hallie sighed. “She wants to go over her notes for Tahoe and fill me in on deliveries for two other clients. I’m probably stuck here till eight o’clock.”
“I’ve called Mr. Chow’s for takeout every night this week,” Peter complained mildly. “Tell Kendra you’ll come early in the morning.”
“She wants me here early anyway. I have to go to the flower market and buy bunches of sunflowers. Next week’s window is going to be a Sun King theme.”
“I need you tonight,” Peter replied. “I have a really important dinner.”
“Dinner with who?” Hallie checked her hair in the mirror and walked into the showroom.
“I got an interview with Marissa Mayer. I’m going to grill her about being the first female CEO at Yahoo!” Peter explained. “If you’re there she’ll open up more. You can ask her about her favorite designers.”
“I’d love to,” Hallie said. “But Kendra gets frantic before she goes away.”
“Please, Hallie.” Peter’s voice was soft and coaxing. “I’ve been after Marissa Mayer for months. I made reservations at Gary Danko.”
“Isn’t that a little pricey?” Hallie asked.
Hallie had only been to Gary Danko once, when Peter was wooing financial backers for Spilled. It was one of San Francisco’s most-admired restaurants. The maître d’ had been poached from a Michelin three-star restaurant in Paris. An army of waiters filled wineglasses, replaced breadbaskets, and rolled out lobsters on sterling silver trays.
“It’s a very important evening,” Peter pleaded. “I had to call in a couple of favors to get the reservation.”
“Okay.” Hallie nodded, arranging a stack of magazines. “I’ll meet you there at seven o’clock.”
* * *
Hallie approached the restaurant and checked her reflection in the window. She wore a black-and-white lace dress with a full skirt. Her hair bounced on her shoulders and she wore coral lip gloss and thick brown mascara.
Kendra hadn’t been happy about her leaving early, but softened when Hallie explained she was having dinner with Marissa Mayer.
“I heard she’s buying a place in Aspen.” Kendra had sat at her desk, sorting through papers. “Mention I’m doing Patsy Mane’s place in Tahoe. She’ll be impressed.”
“I’ll try.” Hallie had smiled, changing into a dress she kept in the back room. Sometimes she had to attend a cocktail party or an opening and didn’t have time to go home and change. She stored a couple of little black dresses and a pair of Ferragamos in the closet.
* * *
Hallie opened the double oak doors and stepped inside. The interior was breathtaking. The taupe walls were covered with paintings by Erin Parish and Hunt Slonem. The sleek tables were illuminated by colored pinpoint lighting. The room was vibrant and alive like a movie set.
“Am I late?” Hallie approached Peter, who sat at a tall, leather banquette.
“I’m early.” Peter stood up and kissed Hallie on the cheek. He wore a navy pinstriped suit and black leather shoes. Hallie could smell his cologne and see the starch on his shirt collar.
“Where’s Marissa?” Hallie slipped into the booth opposite him. She gazed around the room. Men wore slacks and soft leather jackets. Women wore bright cocktail dresses and thin gold sandals. They nursed cocktails and leaned into one another, laughing and exchanging gossip.
“She couldn’t make it.” Peter shrugged. “She had a scheduling conflict.”
“Should we leave?” Hallie frowned. “This place costs a fortune.”
“I already ordered a bottle of Jacuzzi Sauvignon Blanc,” Peter replied. “I spent all day walking Jim Johnson through our first-quarter earnings.”
“How do they look?” Hallie asked, dipping a baguette in olive oil. The bread was warm and tasted of parsley and olives.
“Print is in the red, but online advertising is solid. I tried to explain we need the paper version. If people see the magazine at the newsstand they’re more likely to buy it on their tablets.” Peter waited for the sommelier to fill his wineglass. He swirled the wine, sniffing the rim and nodding appreciatively.
“I’m sure you’ll turn print around,” Hallie replied. “New magazines take awhile to gain their readership.”
“I don’t want to talk about Spilled,” Peter said, smiling. “I want to eat scallops and gaze at my stunning girlfriend.”
“I don’t feel stunning.” Hallie grimaced. “I feel like I’ve been sold into slave labor. Kendra has me running like a gerbil on a treadmill.”
“Wouldn’t it be great to take a vacation?” Peter mused. “Sit on a sandy beach and drink mai tais and suck on pineapple wedges?”
“I can’t get a Saturday off.” Hallie ate another bite of her baguette. Suddenly she was starving. She studied the spidery calligraphy on the menu.
“I was thinking about next summer,” Peter replied. “We could go to Como, I could finally meet Marcus and the scandalous Portia.”
“Poor Portia.” Hallie sighed. “I’ve been calling all week but a maid answers and says she’s not home. She’s probably in her room sticking pins in a Riccardo doll.”
“We could paddleboat on the lake, take day trips to Milan and Lugano.” Peter sipped his wine. “I haven’t used my Italian since Lucia’s closed in North Beach.”
“I’d love to go.” Hallie glanced at Peter. She flashed on what a wonderful honeymoon destination Lake Como would be. They could stay at the Tesoro villa and explore the lake by speedboat. Peter would take long bicycle rides on the shore, and Hallie and Portia would sit in outdoor cafés, eating slippery gelato.
“Good.” Peter nodded. “Now let’s eat. The menu reads like hieroglyphics; I’ll ask the waiter to decipher it.”
The meal resembled a Roman feast. Hallie started with the salad of figs with Gorgonzola dolce and pecan-raisin crostini. It was followed by quail stuffed with quinoa and cornbread pudding. Peter ordered sw
eet corn soup with pancetta and seared sea scallops in a zucchini-basil puree.
“The waiters must have graduate degrees to remember all that.” Hallie grinned as she studied the brightly colored vegetables. “And Ph.D.’s to understand it.”
“We’re lucky, we just have to eat it.” Peter ate a forkful of seared sea scallops. “My publisher said Paul Johns Unplugged went into its seventh printing.”
“I’m proud of you.” Hallie heaped mushrooms and foie gras onto her spoon.
“I’m just a yellow journalist who happened to be in the right place at the right time.” Peter shrugged. “I hit the jackpot when I met you. You’ve got style and class, and the most beautiful smile in the city.”
Hallie and Peter ate silently, sterling silverware scraping against white china. Hallie felt like there were unsaid words hanging in the air. Was Peter going to bring up what happened with Kendra? Should Hallie mention that Kendra didn’t remember the entire episode?
The waiters cleared the plates and brought the dessert menu. Hallie gazed at the elaborate crêpes and soufflés and groaned.
“I can’t have dessert.” She shook her head. “I’ll have to spend the next day horizontal.”
“In that case you have to have dessert,” Peter replied. “I’ll choose for both of us.”
Peter ordered the graham cracker–pecan streusel and coconut sorbet. “They prepare it at the table; you’ll love it.”
Two waiters reset their place settings. They rolled a sterling silver cart next to the table and took the rich streusel out of a warming tray.
“The sorbet is served separately,” the waiter explained. “The warm and the cold function as yin and yang for your palate. Allow me.” The waiter served Hallie a slice of streusel and a bowl of white sorbet.
Hallie put her spoon in the sorbet and blinked. On top of the ice cream, like a glistening cherry, was a large diamond-and-ruby ring. Hallie glanced at Peter, her heart thudding in her chest.
“I meant what I said.” Peter took her hand across the table. “Without you I’m just a Southern boy who can scribble. You make me excited to get up in the morning. You make me want to fly high and see how far we can go. You’re beautiful and bright and generous. I love you, Hallie. Will you marry me?”
Hallie stared at the ring. It was an oval diamond, flanked by two rubies. It was so breathtaking she was afraid to pick it up.
“Put it on.” Peter scooped it up and held it in his palm. The pinpoint lighting made the diamond sparkle, as if it was flirting.
Hallie slipped the ring on her finger. The platinum band was sticky from the sorbet. The waiters applauded as if they were at the theater.
“Say yes,” Peter prompted her.
Hallie gazed at Peter. She pictured walking down the aisle in a satin wedding dress. She saw her friends clapping. She imagined Constance swathed in vintage Valentino, smiling and nodding at the guests.
“Yes,” she murmured.
The waiter brought a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes. He popped the cork and poured hundreds of tiny bubbles.
“You proposed,” Hallie mumbled. The ring made her finger feel heavy. She poked the streusel with her fork, unable to take a bite.
“I’ve been wanting to propose all summer,” Peter said, grinning. He looked like a boy who had won the spelling bee. “I wanted to pick the perfect time.”
“You were going to propose in front of Marissa Mayer?” Hallie frowned.
“I didn’t really have an interview with Marissa,” Peter admitted. “I used her as a decoy. I wanted to take you somewhere special without making you suspicious.”
Hallie put down her fork. Suddenly her throat closed up and she couldn’t swallow.
“You lied about the interview?”
“It’s an old trick in journalism,” Peter explained. “Offer your subject an opportunity they can’t resist: theater tickets, box seats at a sporting event. They show up even when they don’t want to do the interview.”
“I’m not a subject.” Hallie tried to keep her voice light.
“You’re my gorgeous, talented fiancée,” Peter replied. “I asked you to have dinner but you refused. You said Kendra had you running in circles.”
“I guess I did.” Hallie glanced at the smooth, round diamond.
“I didn’t want to wait till you found time in your schedule.”
Peter leaned across the table and kissed Hallie on the lips. She tasted the sweet coconut sorbet and the rich streusel; she felt the soft imprint of Peter’s mouth. He sat back, his hands sweeping across the table, and Hallie’s bowl of sorbet tipped over and dribbled on her skirt.
“I’m all thumbs!” Peter exclaimed, reaching for his napkin.
“I’ll dab it in the bathroom.” Hallie glanced at the spot that was spreading over black-and-white lace.
* * *
Hallie stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She felt like her breath was caught in her lungs and she had forgotten how to exhale. Everything was moving so fast. She was still reeling from Patsy’s wedding and now she had a diamond ring on her finger.
Hallie rubbed the smooth stone, imagining announcing their engagement. Constance would immediately take out her calendar and circle the Saturdays in June. She’d call St. Dominic’s and mull over reception locations. Should they have a black-tie affair in the city or a casually elegant event in Napa? Constance would make endless lists, ticking off their choices with her gold fountain pen.
Francesca would hug Hallie and say she was glad she’d found someone who made her happy. Kendra would plan a small soiree, possibly in the store. Peter was a minor celebrity and her clients would be impressed by Hallie and Peter’s engagement.
Hallie dabbed water on the stain and checked her hair and lip gloss. She pictured flickering candles and stained-glass windows. She imagined Peter slipping the ring on her finger. She could hear his vows, like the ones she listened to all summer.
Peter would promise to make her eggs sunny-side up, and to be there for her every day. Hallie would say “I do” and the guests would smile and clap. They’d leave the church in a white Bentley, sipping champagne and peering out the window. It was going to be a gorgeous wedding and they were going to be a golden couple.
Hallie walked back to the table and saw a tall man leaning against the banquette. He had red hair and freckles and he was punching Peter on the shoulder.
“Hallie, this is Rex Meany. He was a couple of years ahead of me at Stanford. He was a brilliant math major with a brain like Einstein.”
“Seems like you’re the smart one.” Rex winked at Peter approvingly. “Yesterday I saw you at lunch with that ravishing brunette and tonight you’re at dinner with a classy blonde. I should quit finance and become a journalist.”
Hallie froze. She looked from Rex to Peter. She slid into the banquette, her heart beating fiercely.
“Hallie is my fiancée,” Peter explained. “We got engaged this evening.”
“In that case, you better give me the brunette’s phone number.” Rex pounded Peter on the back. “I haven’t seen Peter in years. Obviously I’ve been hanging out in the wrong places.”
“I’d like to go,” Hallie said quietly.
“I don’t want to interrupt the celebration.” Rex shook Peter’s hand. “Congratulations, send me an invitation to the wedding.”
Hallie watched Rex walk to the bar. She glanced at Peter, but it was as if she was peering down a tunnel. His face came in and out of focus and his voice seemed far away.
“Hallie,” Peter repeated. “Did you hear me?”
“Hear what?” Hallie tried to concentrate on Peter’s mouth.
“I met Kendra for lunch to show her your ring.” Peter rested his elbows on the table.
“My ring.” Hallie glanced at her finger as if she’d forgotten she was wearing it. “Why would you want to show her my ring?”
“She works with you, she knows your taste.” Peter was almost shouting.
“I can hear you,
” Hallie murmured. “I don’t quite understand.”
“I met Kendra at Perry’s on Union Street,” Peter said in a rush. “I needed a woman’s perspective. I wanted to make sure I chose the perfect ring.”
Hallie blinked. “Don’t they have women at the jewelry store? Aren’t there such things as salesgirls?”
“I needed to ask someone who knew you and could keep a secret. The ring is really important to me,” Peter pleaded. “You’re going to wear it forever.”
“I don’t think I am.” Hallie wriggled it off her finger and dropped it on the table. “Maybe you and Kendra are a better match. You’re both really good at keeping secrets.”
“Hallie, stop.” Peter grabbed her hand. “I love you. I want to marry you.”
“And you’re both excellent liars.” Hallie stood up. She slipped out of the booth and ran to the door.
“You have to believe me.” Peter followed her outside. “I can’t live without you.”
Peter grabbed her and squeezed her shoulders. He pulled her face to his and kissed her hard on the mouth. Hallie tasted wine and sorbet. She felt his chest shielding her from the fog.
“I don’t know what to believe.” Hallie pulled away and ran down the street.
“Wait!” Peter called desperately. “I have to pay the bill.”
Hallie ran until Peter’s voice was swallowed up by the fog and she could only hear her heels clicking on the sidewalk.
* * *
Hallie ran four blocks before she realized she didn’t know where she was going. She couldn’t face Peter back at the apartment. She couldn’t go to her grandmother’s. Constance thought the world of Peter. It would break her heart to see chinks in his armor. Hallie checked the money in her purse. She flagged a cab and gave the driver her mother’s address.
Hallie buzzed Francesca’s apartment and waited. Francesca was probably at the bakery. She shared a commercial kitchen with another baker and rarely came home before ten o’clock. Other single women relaxed with an episode of CSI and a bowl of popcorn. Francesca’s idea of fun was making buttercream rosettes.
