The Wedding

by Danielle Steel

  They sat at a back table at Elaine's and talked for hours, about Harvard and Yale, and his two years at Oxford. He had hated it at first, and eventually came to love it. His father had died while he was there, and he had started writing seriously after that. He talked about his mother's disappointment in him for not becoming an attorney like his father, or better yet, a doctor like her own.

  He described her as very strong, and very much a Puritan and a Yankee. She had definite ideas about work ethics and responsibility. And she still felt that writing wasn't a serious job for a man.

  “My mother's a writer,” Allegra explained, talking about her parents again, surprised at how much she suddenly wanted to share with Jeff. There was so much to talk about, so much she wanted to tell him. It was as though she had waited all her life for him to be her friend. He was so totally in tune with what she felt and what she thought. He was so understanding. Neither of them could believe it was one o'clock in the morning the next time they looked up. “I love the way the law works,” she'd been saying to him, “the sheer logic of it, and the satisfaction of solving problems. It drives me to distraction sometimes”— she smiled across the table at him, unaware that they were holding hands—” but it's really what I love most.” There was fire in her eyes as she said it, and he loved looking at her. He couldn't remember feeling that way about anyone on the first date in his entire lifetime.

  “What else do you love, Allegra?” he asked gently. “Dogs? Kids? The usual?”

  “All of that, I guess. My family. They mean everything to me.” He was an only child and he envied the stories she told about Sam and Scott and her parents. He envied her in many ways. His own family life had dissipated after his father died, and his mother was not a warm person. But it was easy to see that Simon Steinberg was a warm, loving man. “You'll have to come and meet them sometime,” Allegra said kindly. “And Alan, he's my oldest friend. Alan Carr.” She wanted to introduce him to everyone, like a little kid with a new best friend.

  “Oh, no.” Like everyone, he reacted immediately to the name. It was impossible not to. “He's your oldest friend? I don't believe you,” he teased.

  “He was my high school sweetheart, sophomore year. We've been best friends ever since.” It was odd how easily Jeff seemed to fit into all of it—he liked hearing about her work, her family, her friends. It was all so unlike her exchanges with Brandon, and yet she knew that comparing Brandon to a stranger wasn't fair. She knew nothing of Jeff's quirks, his foibles and failures. And yet she was so comfortable with him. It was very odd. And he loved her directness and total lack of pretension. She was the kind of woman he had always admired, and he hadn't met anyone like her in a long time. But as he looked at her, as the evening drew to a close, Jeff knew there was an important question he hadn't asked her. At first, he had told himself he didn't want to know, but he realized now that he should ask her.

  “Is there a man in your life, Allegra? A serious one, I mean. Other than Alan Carr.” He smiled, trembling slightly in anticipation of her answer.

  She hesitated for a long time, not completely sure what to say. He had a right to know. Or did he? They had spent a lot of hours talking to each other. They were obviously powerfully attracted, but there was no denying that Brandon was an important factor in her life, and she knew she ought to tell Jeff about him.

  “There is,” she said sadly, looking into Jeff's eyes.

  “I was afraid of that. I'm not really surprised, only regretful.” He didn't look as though he were about to run out the door into the night. “Are you happy with him?” That was an important question. If she was, he was out. He was willing to fight for what he wanted, but he wasn't stupid or crazy, or anxious to get hurt.

  “Sometimes I am,” she said fairly.

  “And when you're not happy with him, why is that?” he asked her very gently, anxious to know if there was still a chance for him. If not, it hadn't been time wasted. He would always be glad they had met. He had thoroughly enjoyed her.

  “He's had a difficult time,” Allegra explained, always anxious to make excuses for him, and surprised at how often she had to. “He's going through some rough times. He's getting divorced. Or actually,” she went on, as Jeff watched her. And there was something about the way she looked and what she said that didn't match up for him. “Actually, he's separated. He hasn't filed yet.” She didn't know why she told Jeff that, but it was part of the story, and at the way she said it, he looked up at her with a question.

  “How long has it been?” It was as though he knew this was the key to the story; she had thrown it to him, and he had picked it up and now he was examining it carefully.

  “It's been two years,” she said quietly.

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Sometimes. Though not as much as it seems to bother everyone else. They've been arguing over property for two years. Actually, what bothers me is that there are still some things in the relationship that need to be worked out.”

  “Like what?”

  “He still needs to keep his distance,” she said honestly. “He's afraid to make a commitment, which is probably why he hasn't filed for divorce. If you get too close to him, in small, subtle ways, he backs off. He says he was traumatized by being forced into marriage the first time, and I understand that, but somehow I don't understand why, after all this time, I should still pay for it. It's not my fault.”

  “I lived with a woman like that once,” Jeff said quietly, remembering a writer in Vermont who had made him desperately unhappy. “I've never been so lonely in my life.”

  “I know,” Allegra said softly, not wanting to betray Brandon to Jeff. She loved him. She wanted to marry him. And it didn't seem fair to talk about him to someone else. And yet, she knew she had to. She needed to tell Jeff what her relationship with Brandon was all about. She felt as though she owed it to him, even though she had only met him that night.

  “Does he have kids?”

  “Two. Two girls. He's very close to them, and they're adorable. Nine and eleven. He spends a lot of time with them in San Francisco.”

  “And you go too?”

  “When I can. I work a lot of weekends, depending on what's happening with my clients, who's having death threats, doing a film, making a new deal, going on tour.” They kept her busy, but he was sure that Brandon's frequent absences contributed to her loneliness too.

  “You don't mind him going alone?”

  “I can't help it if I can't go. He has a right to see his children.” She sounded defensive, but he was more intrigued by what he was hearing. He suspected she wasn't happy with this man, but she wouldn't even admit it to herself yet.

  “You're not worried about his hanging on to his wife for that long?” he asked her openly, and she frowned.

  “You sound just like my sister.”

  “What does your family think?”

  “They're not crazy about him,” she answered with a sigh, and he was beginning to like what he was hearing. She may have been in love with him at one point, but it was by no means a done deal. Not with a girl like this one. She deserved so much more than this, and her family's approval counted for a lot with her. It was easy for anyone to see that. “I don't think they understand,” Allegra complained. “After everything he went through, Brandon has a problem with commitment. That doesn't mean he doesn't care. It just means he can't give what everyone else expects him to.”

  “What about you? What do you expect?” he asked her gently.

  “What my parents have,” she said, without thinking. “That kind of warmth and love for each other and their kids.”

  “Do you think he'll give you that?” Jeff asked, taking her hand in his again, and she didn't take it away. He reminded her of a number of people she loved, her father, Scott, even Alan. But not Brandon. Brandon was cool, and removed, and afraid to be forced to give. Jeff seemed willing to give openly. He didn't seem to hold back. He wasn't afraid of her, or of what she might feel, or even of what he might
feel if he got to know her. He seemed so willing to stand next to her, to be intimate, she could hear the words ring in her head as she thought of Dr. Green, and she smiled at Jeff for no reason. But he repeated his question. “Do you think Brandon will give you what you want, Allegra?” That was important for him to know.

  “I don't know,” she said honestly. “I think he'll try.” Or would he? How hard had he really tried so far?

  “How long are you willing to give it?” he asked, and she was startled by his question. Dr. Green had asked her that as well, and she'd never been able to answer.

  But she wanted Jeff to know how she felt. She didn't want to mislead him. “I love him, Jeff. It may not be perfect, but I accept him the way he is. I've waited for two years, and I can wait longer if I have to.”

  “You may have to wait a long time,” he said thoughtfully as they left the restaurant. It was easy to see that the relationship was troubled, but equally so to see that Allegra wasn't ready to let go yet. But Jeff was a patient man and he wondered if their paths had crossed for a reason. And as they waited for a cab in the snow, he put an arm around her and held her close.

  “What about you?” she asked, as they waited in the cold, side by side, stamping their feet in the snow. “Who is there in your life?”

  “My cleaning lady, Guadaloupe, my dentist in Santa Monica, and my typist, Rosie,” he said, and she smiled.

  “They sound like a good group.” She looked up at him, amused at the descriptions. “And that's it? No gorgeous young starlet, hanging from your every word, watching you type by candlelight, and waiting for you to finish work?”

  “Not lately.” He smiled again. There had been serious women in his life, and two he'd lived with. But no one in a long time. The only hurdle they had to overcome was Brandon, and Jeff wasn't quite sure how to do that.

  A cab came by finally and they got in, relieved that it was cozy and warm. He gave the driver the address of the Regency, and as they took off, he pulled her closer, and neither of them spoke as they rode along and watched the snow swirl around them.

  The ride to the hotel was too brief, and they were both sorry when they reached it. But it was so late by then that even the bar was closed. It was just after two o'clock, and she didn't want to invite him to her room, and give him the wrong impression, so they said good-bye downstairs in the lobby.

  “I had a great time, Jeff,” she said wistfully. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

  “I had a good time too. For the first time in my life, I really feel as though I owe something to Andreas Weissman.” They both laughed when he walked her to the elevator. “How does the rest of your week look?” he asked hopefully, and she shook her head with a look of disappointment.

  “Pretty busy.” For the next four days she had lunches and meetings. She had to work on Bram's concert tour and see Jason Haverton again. The only free time she had was in the evening, but at night she'd been planning to work.

  “How about tomorrow night?” he asked hopefully, and she hesitated. She really shouldn't.

  “I've got meetings at a law firm on Wall Street till five, and a drink with an attorney here after that. I don't think I'll even be free till seven,” she said regretfully. She wanted to see him again, but she wasn't sure if she should because of Brandon either. But on the other hand, she told herself, there was no reason why they couldn't be friends.

  “Why don't I call you? See how tired you are. Maybe we could just eat something here, or go for a walk. I'd really like to see you,” he said, looking at her, and she felt his meaning somewhere deep in her soul. He was asking, and he was definite, but he wasn't pushing.

  “You don't think it would be confusing, Jeff?” she asked softly. She didn't want to be unfair to anyone, not to him, or Brandon, or herself.

  “It doesn't have to be, as long as we know where things stand,” he said honestly. “I won't press you. But I'd still like to see you again.”

  “So would I,” she nodded, and then the elevator came and they said good night.

  “I'll call you tomorrow at seven,” he reminded her with a wave as the doors closed, and as she rode upstairs, all she could think about was Jeff. She wondered if she had been unfaithful to Brandon, just being with him, and talking about the things they had. She wouldn't have liked it if Brandon went out to dinner with another woman, and yet there had been something so seemingly predestined about this night. It was as though she had been meant to meet him, as though she needed him in her life, and they were meant to be friends. He understood so much of what she was saying, everything in fact, and she sensed what he thought too, almost before he said it.

  She let herself into her room, still feeling faintly guilty, and there was a message from Brandon under the door, which seemed like a reminder of real life. She thought about calling him, and hesitated because of the hour, but it was only eleven-fifteen in San Francisco, and then, finally, she took off her coat, sat down, and dialed him. He answered on the second ring. He was working on his material for the trial the next day, and he sounded surprised that she was calling so late. But he seemed glad to hear her.

  “Where were you tonight?” He sounded more curious than angry.

  “I was at the home of Haverton's agent. It broke up very late. In New York these literary types go all night.” It was a lie, but she didn't want to tell him she'd gone to Elaine's, and have to explain to him who Jeff was. She'd been honest with Jeff, and told him that she was seriously involved. That was all that was important, and all that she owed Brandon. Nothing had happened. She didn't have to tell him about Jeff.

  “Are you having a good time?” he inquired with a yawn. He had been working for hours on the trial.

  “How's it going?”

  “Very slowly. We're just starting to pick the jury. I wish the guy would just plead so we could all go home.” He hadn't liked this case right from the beginning.

  “How long do you think it'll take if he doesn't?”

  “A couple of weeks, max. That's long enough.” They were covering a vast amount of material and Brandon was using three assistants. It was white-collar crime at its most complicated.

  “I'll be home before you finish, at least.”

  “I'll probably have to work this weekend,” he said, matter-of-factly, but she had expected that. She'd have to go into the office Saturday anyway to catch up, and maybe she could talk him into relaxing a little on Sunday.

  “Don't worry about it. I'll be home Friday night.” She was booked on a six o'clock flight, and she'd be home by ten California time. Maybe she'd even go to his place and surprise him.

  “I'll catch up with you sometime over the weekend,” he said coolly, and it reminded her of her conversation with Jeff as they left Elaine's. She hated it when Brandon made a point of keeping her at a distance. “I'll call you tomorrow night,” he said mechanically. “Will you be in this time?”

  “I have a business dinner actually,” she lied for the second time. “Why don't I call you when I get back? I don't think it'll be late.” She couldn't stay out till two every night, or she'd be too exhausted to work, and she was sure that Jeff understood that. Tonight had been a rare thing, one of those unusual meetings of the soul where two people discover that they have a million feelings and ideas in common. But it couldn't go on night after night.

  “Don't work too hard,” Brandon said briefly, and hung up, telling her he had to go back to work on his trial. There had been no “I love you. … I miss you.” No promise to meet her at the airport or at home when she got back. It reminded her all over again of how tenuous their situation was, and yet, in spite of that, she always hung on, because she loved him. What was she waiting for? she asked herself. What did she think was going to change? As Jeff had said, she might have to wait for a long, long time. Maybe forever.

  She walked slowly into the bedroom, thinking of Brandon, and the good times they'd had. There had been a lot of them in two years, but what she didn't let herself think about were the disa
ppointments, like tonight. There had been plenty of those, moments when he couldn't be there for her, in soul or body. Moments when he didn't say the words she needed to hear, or when he didn't come to the events that mattered to her, like the Golden Globes. She wondered if she was thinking of them now because she was angry, or because she had met Jeff and she wanted him to be right for her, and Brandon wrong. Did she want him to be everything Brandon wasn't? Was he a fantasy, and was she only imagining their similarities? She stood there, with none of the answers, thinking of both of them, as she looked out the window.

  CHAPTER 6

  On Tuesday, when Allegra got up when the alarm rang at eight o'clock, New York was covered with a blanket of snow. It looked like mounds of whipped cream sitting on Park Avenue, and there were already children leaping and sliding, and throwing snowballs at each other as they walked to school. From her vantage point far above, it looked like fun, and she wished she could be there with them.

  She spent the day in meetings, and just to be sure she was all right, she called Carmen Connors.

  The housekeeper was out, the answering machine was on, and Allegra could only assume that she was either shopping or out of town. She left a message for her, hoping that everything was fine, and called Alice to make sure there had been no messages from her, no further threats, or problems.

  “Not a sound since you left.” In fact, all of her clients had been quiet. Mai O'Donovan had left a message that he was drying out again, and Alan had left a message for her to call him when she got back to town, but not before. And other than that, everything was in order. “How's New York?” Alice asked.

  “Very white,” Allegra responded.

  “Not for long.” It would all be black, and slush by the next morning, but it was pretty in the meantime.

  Allegra had lunch with an attorney she'd been corresponding with for a year, at the World Trade Center, and she spent the rest of the afternoon with Bram's promoters, and two more lawyers. After that, she hurried back to the hotel for a meeting with another lawyer. It was about a licensing agreement for Carmen. Someone wanted to do a perfume and use her name, but Allegra was not enthused about it. The product was not high-end, and Carmen had no intention of sitting around department stores, selling perfume. The more Allegra heard about it, the less she liked it. And at six-thirty, she was back in her room, exhausted. It was snowing again, and traffic had been a nightmare all day. It had taken her an hour to get back from Wall Street for her meeting at the hotel. And the prospect of going anywhere in the mess outside sounded dreadful. Cabs were honking, cars were sliding, and pedestrians were wading through snow and slush, and now the snow was starting again. The only place it might have been pretty was Central Park, but on the streets of New York it was a nightmare.