“I'll call, just to see how you're doing.” He was going to give her a few days to settle in, and then call her in the office.
And then suddenly there were no words, they just held each other and kissed, and finally he left, and when he did, she sat down on the bed and cried, she already missed him. The phone rang shortly after that, but she didn't pick it up. She was too afraid it would be Brandon.
CHAPTER 8
The next day was a mad rush for her. She had two last appointments downtown, and she was on a six o'clock plane, which meant she had to leave the city by four, possibly even earlier if the weather was bad, and because of the Friday traffic. She called Andreas Weissman to say good-bye, and thank him for all his help that week, and both of his extremely hospitable invitations. He assured her that it had been a pleasure to have her, promised to call if he came to L.A., and thanked her for her work with Jason.
She packed in a huge hurry at three o'clock, after a late lunch, and then in a rush of guilt and panic, she decided to call Brandon. She hadn't talked to him in days, and she was beginning to feel awkward about it. But at least, as a rule, he was never jealous, and he hadn't seemed worried about what she was doing in New York. He knew she was working. And she had been. But there had been Jeff. And she was still wondering if her life would ever go back to normal. Jeff had called her that morning when she got up, and just hearing him had brought tears to her eyes. He had just wanted to tell her he was thinking about her, and he didn't say it, but she could tell he was in bed, and thinking about it had haunted her all morning.
When she called Brandon's office, his machine was on, and she pressed the appropriate button to summon up his assistant. Allegra asked if he was in court, and was surprised to hear from his assistant that he wasn't.
“Isn't he in trial?” Was something wrong?
“They pleaded it out this morning.”
“How great for him. Is he pleased?”
“Very much so,” his assistant, whom Allegra didn't like, said dryly.
“Tell him I'll see him tonight then. If he wants to meet me, I'm coming in on United 412. We land at nine-fifteen. I'll be home by ten o'clock if he can't make it.”
“He can't. He's catching a four o'clock to San Francisco.”
“He is. Why?”
“To see his family, I assume,” she said nastily, and for a moment Allegra thought about it. He had gone the previous weekend, and he knew she was coming home that night. But not having spoken to him in two days, she didn't know if one of the girls had a problem.
“Just tell him I called,” Allegra said curtly. “I'll be home by ten. He can call me.”
“Yes, ma'am,” she said with obvious sarcasm. Allegra had complained to Brandon about her before, but he said she was a great secretary and he liked her.
Allegra thought about it for a minute after she hung up the phone. He had finished the trial. He was free for the weekend. He was going to San Francisco. He had told her that he couldn't see her till Sunday anyway, so maybe he thought she had made other plans, or maybe he was going to ask her to fly up as soon as she got home, probably on Saturday. But what was the point of that? That would just be exhausting. And as she thought about it, she had a great idea. She called the airlines, and asked if they had a seat on a flight to San Francisco. She knew where he stayed, she could meet him there. What a great idea … she could surprise him!
They had a flight at five fifty-three, just seven minutes before she had been scheduled to take off for L.A. She knew she could make it. They had a seat in first class for her, the only seat left on the plane, and she grabbed it. It was worth it just to see him. She really needed to see him now, after all the insanity she'd gone through with Jeff for the past four days. Maybe it had all been a romantic illusion. Brandon represented solidity to her, and time, and history. They had been together for two years. She had seen him through his entire separation. She loved his kids, and they loved her. She and Brandon had a life together. What she and Jeff had was a flash of something magical. It happened sometimes, but you couldn't build a life on it, she told herself firmly as she called the porter for her bags.
She hadn't called Jeff to say good-bye. She knew he had left on an earlier flight, and enough had been said between them. It was time to let go now, and see what was there if they ever met again. But she was not going to jeopardize her future with Brandon, and she was glad that things with Jeff had gone no further. It would have been wrong of her, and she felt guilty enough about it now. But she had decided not to say anything to Brandon. It would only hurt him. She smiled to herself then, thinking how pleased he would be to see her, and how happy she would be to see him. She thought about leaving a message at the office for him, to tell him that she had changed her plans, and then she decided that it would be more fun to surprise him.
She checked out of the hotel, and got into the waiting limousine. The ride to the airport was New York rush hour traffic at its worst, and she barely made it. She had to change her ticket, and check her bag through, and she boarded the plane with one minute to spare before they closed the doors. Every seat was full, and most of the flight attendants looked as though they were in bad humor. It was the end of the week, everyone was tired, the plane was too full. They were half an hour late taking off because of bad weather, and it was stuffy and hot in the plane, and the movie broke in coach, which made everyone crabby.
She took Jeff's book out during the flight, and turned it over several times to look at him. There was something so haunting about his eyes, so familiar about his lips, he looked as though he were going to say something to her, or move. He was leaning up against a brick building. It was a great photograph, and she finally put the book away in her briefcase.
When they finally arrived in San Francisco, they had to wait on the runway for forty-five minutes for a gate. It was eleven o'clock local time, two hours later than they were supposed to arrive, and everyone looked frazzled and exhausted. It was a typical modern-day flight, the food had been bad, the flight uncomfortable, there were endless delays, and the people leaving the flight all looked disgruntled. Welcome to New Age travel.
She walked to the carousel, and despite the aggravations of the trip, there was something fun about being there unexpectedly. It was like sharing a giant secret. She wasn't going home to a dirty house and unread mail. She didn't have to unpack, or take her clothes to the cleaners. She couldn't go into the office on Saturday. It was like a little extra gift. A weekend with Brandon in San Francisco, and right now it was just what they needed, more than he knew, or would ever need to know. But Allegra was thrilled that she'd done this.
As she picked up her bag, she thought briefly of Jeff again. He would be in L.A. by then, in his house in Malibu, and she couldn't help wondering what he was feeling. He said he would call in a few days. But she wasn't even sure she should take the call now. They both needed to get over the insanity that had struck them, and seeing each other would only make it harder. Now that she'd left New York, she was determined to strengthen her resolve and try to forget everything that had happened.
Allegra hailed a cab outside the terminal, and asked him to take her to the Fairmont. It was a grand, old hotel, and Brandon always liked to stay there. He thought it was an adventure for the girls, and it was close to everything they needed. She had tried talking him into a smaller hotel in Pacific Heights, but old habits were hard to break and he always insisted that his daughters loved it.
At that hour of night, it took them twenty minutes to drive into town, and Allegra felt as though she were moving underwater as the porter picked up her suitcase.
“Checking in, ma'am?” he asked pleasantly, and Allegra mustered a wintry smile and told him she was meeting her husband.
She realized that he was probably asleep by then, but the surprise of seeing her there would be worth it. She was going to pick up a key, let herself into the room, take off her clothes, and slip into bed beside him. She would have loved to take a shower, but she didn't
think it was fair to make all that noise when he was asleep; she'd have to settle for a shower in the morning.
It was eleven-thirty when she reached the desk, and people were coming and going in the lobby. There were assorted restaurants where people from all over town came for special dining. The Tonga Room for Oriental and Polynesian food, the Venetian Room for name bands and well-known entertainers, Mason's for something more intimate. But all Allegra wanted was the key to the room where Brandon was staying.
“Edwards, please,” she said, looking vague, and pushing the hair out of her eyes. She felt a mess as she stood there holding her heavy New York coat, and wearing the raincoat. She had a tote bag in one hand, and her briefcase in the other, and next to her, her suitcase.
“First name?” the woman in charge asked her, without expression.
“Brandon.”
“Have you already checked in to the hotel?”
“I'm sure he has. He arrived earlier this evening. I just flew in from New York to meet him.”
“And you are?” She stared blankly at Allegra.
“Mrs. Edwards.” She felt perfectly comfortable with the lie. She always stayed at the Fairmont as Mrs. Edwards. It was simpler.
“Thank you, Mrs. Edwards, five-fourteen.” She handed her a key, and signaled to the porter. He picked up the suitcase, and walked her to the elevator, offering to take the smaller bags from her, and she gladly gave them up. She felt as though she were about to fall over. It was two-thirty in the morning Eastern time, and she'd been going nonstop since seven-thirty. And in the end, her trip East had been fraught with emotion. She pushed that from her mind now, and rode upstairs, trying to suppress a small smile as she thought of Brandon's surprise when he saw her. Maybe he wouldn't even wake up and see her there, next to him, until morning. She wondered if he already had the girls with him, or if they were joining him in the morning. She suspected they might already be there, which was probably why he had come up so early.
The porter turned the key in the door for her, and she told him to set the bags down just inside the door and leave them there, as she tipped him and put a finger to her lips, for fear that Brandon was sleeping. He'd had a hard week with the trial, and he was probably exhausted. She tipped the porter handsomely, and turned on one small light in the living room of the suite, and closed the door behind her. Brandon was such a good customer that they almost always gave him a two-bedroom suite for the price of two king-size rooms, and she made her way through the living room of the suite now in the dim light, careful not to wake anyone up. There was no sound in the room beyond, and she was sure he was asleep. His briefcase stood near the desk, his jacket was hung over the back of a chair, there were several books and newspapers, The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, a Law Review, and there was a pair of his shoes, the loafers he often wore to work, under the chair where he'd hung the jacket. He was fairly neat at home, but in hotels he was never as careful.
She set down all her bags, and with a small smile, she tiptoed into the darkness of the bedroom. She just wanted to see him, and then she'd get undressed, and get into bed beside him. The room was dark as she went in, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that there was no one in the bed. The covers were turned back, and there were chocolates on the pillows. Brandon wasn't there. She wondered if he was with the girls, or still with Joanie talking about business again, or maybe he'd gone to a movie. He liked going to movies so he could unwind, particularly after a hard week, like the trial. But she was a little disappointed not to see him. She realized quickly though that this would give her time to shower and wash her hair, and she'd have time to relax before he got home, and they could go to bed together, possibly with a more interesting outcome. She had to force Jeff from her head again as she thought of it, and it was ridiculous but she felt unfaithful to him too now. It was a totally schizophrenic situation. But she would not allow herself to think of him, as she nicked on the light so she could get ready.
She took off her suit jacket, and went to hang it up in the closet, and as soon as she got there she realized why Brandon wasn't in bed. They'd given her the key to the wrong room. There were someone else's clothes there. There were half a dozen women's dresses hanging there, two of them fairly dressy, and a pair of jeans, and some shoes. And as she realized it, Allegra backed out of the closet quickly. She hurried back to the living room, to pick up her things before the people returned and were outraged by her intrusion. But as she reached the living room, she saw his jacket again, and the familiar shoes, and she went and looked at them again. She was sure of it. They were Brandon's. And the briefcase was his too. She'd have known it anywhere, and it bore his initials. It was Brandon's room … but there were women's things in the closet. She went back and looked again, wondering if they were her things and he had brought them in case she'd join him, but that was ridiculous. These were the clothes of a woman who was at least four or five inches shorter. Allegra fingered the dresses, as though trying to understand why they were there. She was so tired, her mind refused to absorb what she was seeing.
She walked into the bathroom then. There was makeup, and gold slippers with little white feathers on them, and an almost transparent white lace nightgown. And as Allegra stared at it, the full impact of what she was seeing finally hit her. He had come to San Francisco with another woman. These weren't her things, they didn't belong to his daughters, who were clearly not there. And she realized he didn't even have a two-bedroom suite this time, as usual, to accommodate the girls. And the clothes she had seen were far too small to be Joanie's. These were clearly someone else's. But whose? That remained an unanswered question. As she looked around, she saw feminine articles of clothing everywhere, panty hose on the bed, a bra over the back of a chair, panties next to the sink. Allegra wanted to scream as she looked at all of it. What had he been doing? What had he done? And for how long? How many times had he fooled her? How many times had he come to San Francisco with someone else, while telling her that he wanted to be alone with his children? She had never suspected it, not even for a minute. She had always trusted him. And he had cheated and lied. And there had been plenty of opportunity for him to do it in Los Angeles too. Jeff's face loomed into her head as she thought of all of it. She had been consumed with guilt over a few kisses, and left a man who claimed to be seriously interested in her, all because she felt such an obligation, and a bond, to Brandon. And all the while he was a cheat and a liar. Hot tears stung her eyes as she continued to look around. But there was no more to see, and she knew she didn't want to be there when they returned from dinner.
Her face blazed as she thought of all the times he had been so aloof, and needed “space,” and had to be “alone,” and could never make a commitment to her. No wonder. He was a complete bastard.
Juggling all her bags awkwardly, she hurried from the room, and rushed to the elevator, praying that they wouldn't come out of it just as she was leaving. But the elevator was empty when she got in, and she went all the way downstairs to the California Street entrance, and hurried outside to look for a cab, knowing full well it might take a while for her to find one. Taxis in San Francisco were not as easy to find as they were in New York, and most of them would be waiting at the hotel's main entrance. But that was the last place she wanted to be now. She didn't want to run into Brandon as they came back from wherever they'd been. And she stood on California Street, holding her bags, as the cable cars lumbered by laden with tourists. She looked up at them with eyes filled with tears and anger.
It was beyond incredible what he'd done to her. He'd been cheating on her, and God only knew for how long. The master of noncommitment had been spreading himself around.
She finally saw a cab, and dropped her briefcase to hail it, and the driver got out to help her organize her bags.
“Thanks very much,” she said distractedly, and got into the taxi.
“Where to?”
“The airport,” she said as her voice shook, and she covered her face
with her hands.
“You all right, miss?” He was a nice old guy, and he felt sorry for her. She looked like a little kid running away from home.
“I'm fine,” she said, her face awash with tears, as they drove back the way she had come less than an hour before, and as she looked down, she saw that she still had the room key in her hand. She dropped it on the seat next to her, and stared out the window, wondering for how long her life with him had been a lie. She tried to think back to all the times he had said he had to come and see the children, and the other times when he had said he needed to be alone and have some space. Looking back on it, she wondered if he had always cheated on her right from the beginning, if this was just a very old game with him, and part of his lifestyle.
They got back to the airport again in twenty minutes, and the driver helped her out of the cab. “Where are you going tonight?” he asked her gently. He was an old man with a paunch and a bushy mustache. But she was such a pretty girl, and she had cried all the way to the airport. He felt sorry for her, and he wanted to help her.
“Back to L.A.,” she said, fighting to regain her composure, but it seemed hopeless as she reached into her bag for a tissue and blew her nose. “I'm sorry…. I'm really fine,” she said apologetically.
“Honey, you don't look it. But everything's gonna be okay. You just go on home. Whatever he done, he'll be sorry in the morning,” he said, assuming she'd had trouble with a man. But Brandon would never be as sorry as she was that night.
She thanked him and walked into the terminal, only to be told that she had missed the last flight. The last flight for L.A. left at nine o'clock. It was after midnight, and all she could do now was sit in the airport and wait for the first flight the next morning. There wasn't even anyone there to check her bags for her. They suggested she go to the airport hotel, but she didn't even want to do that. She didn't want to go anywhere. She just wanted to sit there. She had a lot to think about, and for a fraction of a second, she thought of calling Jeff. But that didn't seem right either, whining to him after all she'd put him through in New York. She had made him sweat for every one of her kisses, while Brandon was probably getting laid all week. She couldn't help wondering who the girl at the Fairmont had been, but she had been too taken aback to try to look for identification, or her name anywhere. It had been such a cozy scene, with her underwear and her see-through nightgown. Allegra still couldn't believe what she'd seen. She had felt like an intruder, and she was only grateful they hadn't walked in on her. That would have been the last straw. Or worse yet, if she had walked in on them while they were in bed. Just thinking about it made her shudder.
The Wedding Page 16
