“What’s the matter?” Zach demanded when Janie continued to stare at him. “My tie not right? These damned things…” he muttered, looking down and fiddling with the knot.
“No, you look fine, Zach,” Janie said. “In fact, you look very fine.”
“Well, it’s not every day,” Zach declared, holding the elevator door for Janie, “that you get to right wrongs, vanquish foes, and win new business all at the same time.”
“Hold it a second.” Janie stopped in front of the closing elevator and grabbed Zach’s arm before he started across the hall to Madame’s suite.
“Cold feet?” Zach asked, looking down at her. “I never said this was going to be easy. We’re about to finish Melina off, you know.”
“No, I’m okay,” Janie said, not meeting his eyes. “I just thought you should know I talked to Melina last night on the phone… and she told me that…” Janie hesitated, suddenly embarrassed and uncertain.
“What?” Zach asked impatiently. “What did the bitch have to say?”
“That you were the only man she ever really cared about,” Janie replied hurriedly. “And I think she means that. I think she really loves you. I just thought… you should know.”
“Great,” Zach said with a dry laugh.
“It doesn’t change anything?” Janie demanded, meeting his gaze. “I… could do this alone if you’d prefer.”
“No, Janie,” Zach said, looking down at her. “Melina’s tender feelings don’t mean a thing. You want to know why? It’s the bad in me she likes. That’s what she saw in me, that’s what she wanted. And that’s how I treated her. I was at my nadir with her—manipulative, mean. That’s what she does to people, she finds their worst traits—and exploits them. I always figured love meant bringing out the best in the other person. What Melina’s selling isn’t love.”
“Okay,” Janie said.
“Is that all?” Zach asked, studying her face.
“Well, actually,” Janie began, but then she discovered that she couldn’t possibly tell Zach what Melina had said about his feelings for her. She stared at him, wondering: could it be possible?
“Well, what?” Zach demanded, his gaze drifting from her eyes to her mouth. He swallowed hard and looked toward Madame’s double doors. “We’re keeping Her Highness waiting, Janie.”
“Right,” Janie replied, following Zach’s look. “It’s nothing really. Let’s get this over with.”
It didn’t take long. Melina had arrived earlier than the scheduled time and was sitting in uncomfortable silence next to Madame at her magnificent desk. Though she greeted Zach and Jane with frosty superiority, Janie could see that she was nervous. And for the first time since Janie had known her, Melina looked haggard. Her skin, never her best feature, appeared sallow and splotchy in places. Makeup couldn’t hide the fatigue rimming her eyes. The boxy pink dress she was wearing seemed snug and girlish. Her hair adhered to her head like a helmet, oversprayed and lifeless.
“Madame tells me,” Melina began smoothly, obviously trying to take command of the meeting, “that you two have been working on some special project for us. I’m anxious to see it, but we’ll have to make this quick.” Melina made a show of glancing at her slim gold watch. “I have another meeting at eleven-thirty.”
“It shouldn’t take long,” Janie replied. “Once you grasp the basic concept, we think you’ll understand how it will all roll out.” Neither Zach nor Janie had discussed who would actually present the advertising and promotional campaign they’d created to launch Recherché Ramona. But now that they were here, and Janie was facing off against Melina at last, Janie knew it was her job. Zach unzipped the portfolio and handed Janie the carefully prepared boards.
“We think it’s time for Madame to broaden her consumer base,” Janie began, smiling from Madame to Melina who flashed her a cold, tight smile in return.
“How proletarian of you,” Melina replied snidely.
“We think it’s smart, actually,” Janie continued, undaunted. Sensing Melina’s tightly wired anxiety, Janie suddenly relaxed. She’d chosen a lightweight summer suit for the meeting—beige linen jacket and short, tailored skirt—that emphasized her slimness and height. She wore a scoop-necked white silk blouse and a single strand of pearls to offset the slightly masculine feel of the suit, and she’d pulled her hair back off her forehead with a tapestry-covered headband, allowing it to fall back around her shoulders without getting in her way. Slowly, deliberately, Janie took Melina through the presentation they’d given Madame a week before.
“What you’re not taking into account,” Melina cut in when Janie had described the vastness of the down-scale market untapped by Ramona International, “is that none of this fits our image. Ramona is a prestige product line, reflecting Madame’s reputation and image. Developing products for drugstore distribution—I’m frankly shocked that Madame has even entertained the idea.” Melina glanced furtively at the lady in question.
“Please continue, Janie,” was all that Madame volunteered. “I believe Ms. Bliss will understand our logic when she sees the creative work you’ve done. Perhaps you should start with that handsome promotional piece you showed me?”
Janie lifted the brochure from the portfolio and held it out to Melina.
“Why don’t you just read it for yourself, Melina? We went ahead and set the piece in type, just so there’d be no doubt about what we’re trying to say.” They’d put two of D&D’s best copywriters on the project, and the resulting emotionally charged story of Madame’s fierce but eventually victorious struggle up from her impoverished beginnings had brought tears to Janie’s eyes. It had the opposite effect on Melina. After she finished reading the brochure, she stood, dropped it on Madame’s desk, and announced with a thin-lipped smile, “This is suicide, Madame. Utter folly. I would toss these two out before they start spreading this vile news to the press. We have to put a cap on it. Immediately.”
“Oh, no, my dear,” Madame replied with a sigh, shaking her head. “I’m well aware it’s a risk, but it’s one I intend to take. How else to rid myself of you? I’m tired of living in fear, of holding my pride ransom to your threats. This is it, Melina. I’m ready to tell the world who I really am.”
“But you can’t!” Melina cried. “You mustn’t. This is going to ruin you, don’t you see? Destroy you.”
“I believe,” Madame answered coolly, “that it will only destroy you. Now, get out. Zach and Janie and I have work to do.”
But Melina wasn’t quite through. She spun around and sneered at Janie. “Okay, I gave you fair warning. As far as I’m concerned, the field is wide open. Do you understand what you’ve done?”
“Absolutely,” Janie said. “Do whatever you like, Melina, but you won’t be able to hurt me anymore.”
“We’ll see,” Melina retorted, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “We’ll just see about that.”
Later, as Zach and Janie headed back to the agency in a taxi, Zach asked casually, “What did Melina mean at the end? When she said she’d given you fair warning?”
“Oh, nothing really,” Janie replied quickly. “A private joke.”
“It didn’t sound very funny to me,” Zach observed, glancing over at Janie. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I think so,” Janie replied, meeting his gaze head-on.
“Good,” Zach replied, “because I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.” They traveled in silence the remainder of the way to Dorn & Delaney. The silence continued in the elevator. As the doors swished open at the reception area, Janie’s first thought was that there’d been a blackout. Everything was dark. Janie groped for Zach’s arm.
“What’s going on?” Janie asked, but then the lights flashed on and she saw the entire agency grouped around a sign that read “Congratulations and best of luck, Janie!”
“What is this?” Zach demanded, turning on Michael who was working open a bottle of champagne.
“A party,” Michael re
plied as the cork flew out of the bottle and hit the ceiling. “For Ramona. For Janie. This is her last week.”
“Actually, Michael,” Janie began to protest, “I hate to disappoint you, but…”
“Plans change,” Alain announced, stepping out from behind the crowd who’d been concealing him.
“Surprise!” Louella shrieked, and everyone began to clap. More champagne corks flew, and Alain put his arm around Janie. There were speeches. Toasts to Janie and Alain. Toasts to Ramona. Toasts to the toasts. A tape deck materialized from the audio room, and music spilled down the crowded hallways.
“What’s the matter, darling?” Alain asked at one point over the noise. “You don’t like my surprise?”
“No,” Janie replied quietly, turning to face him, “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“What?” Alain demanded. “I don’t think I heard you. All this uproar…” He waved his arm in the direction of the music.
“Follow me,” she told him, leading the way down the corridor to her office. When she closed the door behind them, the silence seemed almost as deafening as the music had been. Alain moved toward her.
“No!” she said, the word coming out with unplanned vehemence.
“Still nervous about the wedding?” Alain said, his handsome face clouding. “Will it help you to relax to hear I have been named director of Chanson?”
“I’m sorry, but no,” Janie said, facing him squarely. “I’ve been realizing something I should have seen months ago, Alain. I don’t love you.”
“Jane, what madness is this?” Alain demanded, taking a step toward her. “What are you saying? Of course you love me. I love you. You are perfect for me—especially now.”
“No, Alain,” Janie said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry, but you’re wrong. I fell in love with the idea of you, the way a girl falls in love with a storybook prince or a movie star. I loved the feeling of love, Alain. The excitement of romance. But not you. Never really you. From the beginning, I sensed something was wrong. At first I told myself that it was my uncertainty, my self-doubt, but that’s not so. I don’t love you, Alain. I know it now.”
“But how do you know?” Alain asked coldly. “How can you be so sure?”
“Last night,” Janie replied carefully, “Melina told me that if I went ahead with my plans to win back the Ramona account, she would do everything in her power to ruin our marriage.”
“But, darling,” Alain cried, relief spreading across his face, “that’s absurd! She can’t hurt us. I’ve told you before. I’ll tell you a million times again—I love you, only you. Believe me. Trust me. I swear.”
“It’s not that I don’t partially believe you, Alain,” Janie replied sadly. “It’s that I realized when she first threatened me… I realized that I don’t care enough. About you. About our marriage.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Alain said, his expression darkening. “You must be ill or exhausted. You must be overworked. It was absurd to allow you to continue working, I should have stepped in before and stopped this nonsense.”
“It wasn’t up to you,” Janie replied. “It was my decision. I wanted to stay. I still do. I realized that, too, last night.”
“No wife of mine is going to work,” Alain replied in clipped angry tones. “I thought you understood that, Jane.”
“But I do, Alain,” Janie answered. She’d never been so sure of anything in her life as she faced him, probably for the last time, and said, “You see, Alain, this time I really mean it: I’m not going to be your wife.”
Chapter 49
Alain was gone, leaving swiftly, angrily, his head held stiffly erect as he closed the door behind him. He had told her she could reach him at the Plaza if she changed her mind. But if he didn’t hear from her by six the next morning, he would be gone. Forever. A book slammed shut, put back on the shelf, never to be opened again.
“You have insulted me,” Alain told her bitterly, “and my family. This will not look very good to the Chanson board. You’ve hurt me. You, who I have done nothing but try to improve from the first day we met.”
“Maybe I didn’t want to be improved,” Janie tried to explain, though she knew from the cold glint in his eyes that he was too angry to listen.
“You—who I loved,” Alain went on. “Who I would have treasured for a lifetime.”
“Loved, Alain,” Janie wanted to make him understand, “the way you would love any pretty thing. Treasured the way you would an object. Don’t you see? I’m flesh and blood—imperfect, changeable. I can’t be transformed into the ideal wife for you and still have any of the real me left.”
“The real you?” Alain retorted. “And who is that, please? I have known you for months, intimately. Have you been some figment of my imagination then, Jane?”
“In a way, yes,” Janie told him, facing him directly. When she wore heels, as she did that day, they were the same height. She began to search the steely horizon of his gaze for some way into his thoughts. “I have tried so hard to be what you wanted me to be—sweet, modest, giving, dignified. And it’s not that I can’t be like that, Alain, I mean I have those qualities … but I have others as well. Like being sarcastic, and laughing too loud, and mushing my peas up with my potatoes, and…”
“You’re being absurd. Ridiculous.”
“I’m trying to be honest,” Janie said. “I’m just trying to explain.”
“You have simply changed your mind,” Alain informed her. “That is your right. However, I warn you, Jane, if you decide to change your mind back again, you better do so before I leave tomorrow morning. After that you are excised from my life.”
“And what about Dorn & Delaney?” Janie demanded, the thought occurring to her for the first time. “You’ll continue on with them, won’t you?”
“Actually,” Alain replied thoughtfully, “I think not. The association would no doubt be … too uncomfortable.”
So now he was gone. And Janie, who might have just done the dumbest thing in her entire life, felt suddenly wonderful. Lightheaded. Giddy. She walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked out on midtown. The awkward jumble of aging brick wedged between gleaming rectangles of glass and granite. The wild gardens of air vents and chimney pots growing on top of each building. The crush of rush hour traffic. The grayish blue haze that clung to the horizon. The smells. The noise. It was all so crass and pushy and unnerving. And it had never looked so beautiful, so inviting, so familiar to Janie as it did at that moment.
The music down the hall stopped suddenly, and Janie could make out the muffled sounds of people leaving.
“G’night, Lou, see you tomorrow.”
“Michael, don’t forget that screening in the morning.”
“Bye, Freddie. Hey, hold the elevator.”
In some ways it seemed like a lifetime had passed since she first walked out of that very elevator and into Dorn & Delaney’s old lobby. It had been the beginning of summer six years ago, before the agency expanded, when they’d just had that one crowded floor. She remembered the rickety filing cabinets, full to overflowing, leaning against one another down the corridor. The tired drone of a copy machine from some interior room.
“Michael’s office is at the end there,” the plump, loud receptionist had encouraged her when Janie had hesitated. She had been so nervous that the handle on her portfolio glistened with sweat. “Just knock and tell him you’re here for the art job, okay?” Lou had been busy at the switchboard—the big old-fashioned one that looked like a leftover from the Depression—she had pulled out a wire, flicked a switch, and added, “I’d take you back, but I’m joined at the waist to this monster.”
Janie needn’t have been nervous. She knew that the second she first said hello to Michael Delaney. He was a bit shy himself, a lean, slightly balding man with the kind of smile that made her feel immediately confident and at home.
“Sit down, or would you rather stand to show me
your book?” Michael had said. “Or perhaps we should move to the conference table over there?” Janie had glanced at what looked like a battered picnic table, then back to Michael.
“Don’t let our decor fool you,” he’d told her eagerly, “we’re booming. Outgrowing our humble beginnings. I’ve been trying like crazy to convince my partner, Zach Dorn, to upgrade the interior design. But he has some bizarre superstition that it would bring bad luck. He’s worried about angering the gods or something.”
“If I were a god,” Janie had replied without thinking, “I think I’d be praying you’d get yourselves some new chairs.”
“I love it.” Michael had laughed. “You’ve got to meet Zach. I think you two are going to like each other.”
And they had, hadn’t they? For years they had been friends, odd mismatched friends to be sure, but still … up until the moment Janie met Alain, Zach had been the only man in her life she really cared about. Oh, he could be opinionated and irritating and often downright impossible, but…
Zach. She remembered the first time she had seen him, sitting behind that disaster of a desk with his feet crossed on important-looking papers. His hair wild, tie askew. She hadn’t liked him much, or at least that’s what she told herself. But in fact, the moment he’d finally focused on her, finally took the time to look at her, she remembered thinking that his eyes were the warmest she’d ever seen. She remembered thinking that he moved like a caged animal, up and down his office. She remembered feeling the force of his energy, the quick, sure movements of his body, the unexpectedness of his thoughts.
“Tell me something, Jean—I mean, Janie,” he had demanded, “just what the hell is it that you want to be? I mean, who is the secret you?”
Changes of Heart Page 38
