It was the first time we had spent time together doing something completely ordinary. We weren't in a private plane, or on a yacht, or in a five star restaurant. Our lunch had pulled pork sandwiches washed down with a micro brew from the "Bison Bistro" at the zoo. We shared some cotton candy as we walked around the little lake by the bear exhibit. It was an afternoon that made me feel as if maybe there was a chance for something a little like a normal life with Kason.
We passed a roadside stand selling mums, pumpkins and gourds to decorate yards for the season. Kason pulled over and bought a big pot with three different colors of flower plants, a bunch of Indian corn and several decorative gourds.
"Are you planning to dress up our room at the Drake?"
"Uh, no. I have one last stop before we head into the city. If it's okay with you, I'd like to put this stuff on my mother's grave."
"Of course it's okay." I felt honored that he felt comfortable taking me there.
"I don't get to Chicago often, but when I do I like to at least pay my respects." He gestured toward the backseat and the fall flora. "She loved this kind of stuff. We always had cornstalks in the yard and lots of pumpkins."
We pulled into a cemetery. The sign at the entrance said "Woodlawn Memorial Park". It was actually quite a pretty place with gentle hills still covered with green lawns and a nice scattering of mature trees.
"I don't even remember the funeral. I know I went. Years later, I asked my father and he told me that I had been to the service." He pulled over to the side of the drive and we got out. Kason gathered the autumn flowers and handed me the paper bag that held the corn and the gourds. "I really don't like the idea of being buried. I'm going to go with cremation myself."
I followed a pace behind. "I agree," I said. "It seems like a waste of space and money."
"That's not my reason at all. It used to terrify me that my mother was buried in a box here. Part of me had visions of her waking up, alone and six feet underground."
"Yikes, what a scary thought!"
"I think it's a pretty common childish notion. Now that I'm older, though, it comforts me a little to come here. It's my way of knowing that I didn't imagine her." He stopped by a simple headstone with an angel standing watch at the top. "Maryann Katherine Royce" was inscribed on one side with her dates of birth and death and the other side was blank. "It's a double plot. Someday my father will have the other half. He'll never remarry. Whatever I might say about him, I know that he loved my mother fiercely. She may be the only person he ever did love."
He put the pot of flowers at the foot of the headstone. "You arrange that stuff. I'm inept at that sort of thing." I took the fall corn and the colorful collection of gourds and put them as artfully as I could around and against the terracotta planter. As I arranged them, Kason watched me from a nearby bench. The sun was dipping below the tallest trees and cast a soft ochre light amongst the long shadows.
When I was satisfied with the display I wandered around a bit on the paths that wound through the park. The avenues of the dead lined up in silent rows. I thought of Elsa and her snowy grave, unmarked somewhere in Italy. I wondered if Kason thought of her, too, as he sat quietly on his bench under the oaks.
I didn't walk far away and when I saw him rise, I took that as my signal to go back. He smiled at me and held out his hand to walk me back to the car.
"Thanks for doing that." I didn't know if he meant the gourds or giving him time alone so I just said, "You're welcome," and left it at that.
We drove back into Chicago as sunset approached. The light behind us to the west cast the buildings rising from the lake's shore in gaudy shades of pink and orange. As the colors faded, the buildings began to light from within and the skyline sparkled against the inky violet dusk.
Back in our room, Kason opened a bottle of wine from the bar and we toasted the rising half moon that came up over the lake. "To Maryann Royce," he said as his glass clinked into mine. "She would have loved you, Annalise."
What about you, Kason? Can you love? Can you love me? I understood more about him, but as I had feared, it did nothing to erase the nagging questions I wasn't asking. I simply said, "To your mother," and left it at that.
We decided to have dinner at the hotel. The car was parked, the wind had picked up and we had traveled enough that day. The seafood restaurant in the hotel was quite good and the atmosphere very much the same old school elegance of the rest of the building. We talked mostly about the day and my own childhood. I described what it was like growing up in my parents' Park Slope home.
"I had my own version of a wonderful childhood," I told him. "But mine is only now just ending. I think my parents would have kept me at home forever if they could."
"I noticed that Marjorie seemed a wee bit upset when you told her about the apartment that goes with your new job."
"It had to happen someday. I can't live in my parents' house forever." Kason nodded in agreement. "They've been great. I know how much they sacrificed for me—for all three of us."
"Tell me about your sisters."
"Olivia dropped out of college after two years. She spent the next two years getting ready to marry Ben. Ben's done very well and Olivia has played the supportive junior league wife to his successful small-town attorney. They have two children. A perfect set of one boy and one girl. Of course, the boy is the first born. Olivia wouldn't have it any other way."
"Do I detect disapproval? Even disdain?"
"A little," I admitted. "Olivia is smart and she's beautiful. I love Ben and the kids. It just seems like such a . . . calculated existence. She had a plan and she executed it with surgical precision. There's nothing spontaneous or unpredictable about my oldest sister's life."
"You, on the other hand, do spontaneous quite well."
"Trust me, that's a newly acquired trait."
"What about your other sister. Amy?"
"Amy is the sweetest person in the entire universe. She wasn't the academic type and neither was her husband Phil. She worked for several years as a warehouse clerk for a heating and air conditioning company right out of high school. She met Phil there. He had come to make his fortune in New York. When his father died he left Phil his hardware store in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. He asked Amy to marry him and the two of them run the store now. Phil also has a pretty lucrative handyman service going."
"Children?"
"They haven't had any luck conceiving."
"I think it would be very hard to want a child and not be able to have one."
"It is hard on them. They've been married for four years and . . . nothing. They've kind of stopped talking about it."
"What about adoption?"
"I don't know how they feel about it."
"If I wanted a child and couldn't have one, I would adopt. For sure."
"I asked you once before if you wanted to have children. Do you remember?"
"Yes, I do. I dodged the question."
"You dodged it and shut down."
"I know." He cleared his throat. "I've always wanted to have children. But my motivation may be a false one. I've always wanted to give a kid a better father than I had. Even if my mother had lived, I'd still feel deprived. I guess part of me wants to prove I can do better."
"That's not a great reason to become a parent."
"Hey now, that's not the only reason. It's just part of it. Believe it or not, I really like little kids. I'm drawn toward innocence. There's so little of it in my world." He looked at me when he said that and put his hand over mine on the tablecloth.
"You still insist on calling me innocent after what we've done together?"
"I told you before, innocence is more than a lack of experience and it doesn't mean naiveté. Innocence is a way of seeing the truth of the world and reacting to the world in truthfulness."
I laughed at that. "You need to spend more time around children. My nephew and niece are natural liars. 'Not me' is the perpetrator of all naughtiness in Olivia's house. Who broke this vase?
'Not me.' Who ate the last cookie? 'Not me'."
Kason chuckled. "Right now, I would like to perpetrate some naughtiness with you, my queen. Shall we move our little party upstairs?" He helped me to my feet. On the way out he asked me to wait a minute. He spoke to the maître d for a moment and then we pushed the button for the ancient elevator.
I was more than ready to get back to the room. I wanted to feel Kason's warm skin against mine again. There was never enough of him. Each sensuous adventure was a journey of unbelievable discovery about myself and my capacity for passion. He had opened doors that I never wanted to close. They were portals into depths I didn't know I possessed until his touch unlocked them for me.
Thirty two
I nervously twirled around for Kason's appraisal. I had chosen an ivory colored knit dress with a cowl neck and some coffee colored suede boots that came up to my knees. The dress slid over my skin as soft as goose down. It made me feel utterly feminine, as if the dress was caressing me. I had gathered my hair into a loose ponytail at the back of my head and let a few tendrils go free. My make-up, as usual, was minimal.
"If 'chaste' is the look you're after, I think you've nailed it."
I knit my brow. "You gave me the dress! Was 'chaste' what you were looking for?"
He rose from the stuffy button-backed chair and held me. "I was looking for soft, which is what you are. Soft and sweet. You are perfectly and appropriately dressed. Except . . ."
"Except what?" I scanned my image in the mirror trying to figure out what I had missed.
Kason pulled a velvet box from the inside pocket of his blazer. "I know you're going to object, but you need to be properly 'accessorized' as Taishi would put it. My father has an eye for details. If you hate the jewelry, we can take it back—later."
"I won't hate the jewelry. I just don't think you should spend so much money on me," I said as I accepted the box. "Besides, from what you've told me, your father's opinion shouldn't matter one way or the other." Of course, I knew that wasn't true at all. I could read a lot more in what Kason had said—and not said—about his father than he gave me credit for. Cold and indifferent parents are the kind children spend their lives trying to please or impress.
The bracelet and earrings were set with a gemstone I didn't recognize. They were perfectly matched square cut stones set in rose-colored gold. Each was about the size of my thumbnail. But it was the color that made them so unique. Not orange and not pink, the warm glow of the crystals was somewhere in between. They reminded me of an autumn sunset.
"I purposely chose something modest. I know how squirrelly you are about expensive gifts."
"Yes, I'm sure you bought these at Claire's," I said sarcastically.
"Claire's?"
"Nevermind, it isn't a place you'll ever set foot in. What are the stones?"
"Imperial topaz. Unusual, aren't they? I thought the color would suit you."
"They're beautiful. Thank you."
"That's it? I don't have to argue with you about it? Just a graceful 'thank you'? My, my, perhaps you're growing up."
"Keep it up and I won't wear them," I threatened, but with a smile. I held out my hand and he fastened the clasp around my wrist. Then he brought my hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over my fingers.
"You deserve beautiful things. You wouldn't frame a Van Gogh in plastic, and you should be adorned and clothed like the masterpiece that you are."
I turned back to the mirror and put the earrings on. He watched me from behind with an expression that was dangerous and devouring. There was a possessive side to him and I couldn't decide how I felt about that. On the one hand, I was thrilled that he wanted me. On the other, I resented the way he wanted to control me without giving me anything to . . . hold on to.
When I turned and met his eyes I felt as if I was falling again. Falling into his depths, getting lost in the tangle of his desire and losing myself in the dense jungle of his damaged soul. I looked at him and knew that it was impossible to be near him without wanting him. At that moment it was enough. It had to be enough.
We went out to the ancient elevator and I used the long ride to admire how fine he looked. He had chosen a rather understated outfit for our brunch meeting with his father. The bespoke suit he had worn to dinner the night before had been replaced by a blue blazer and a pair of khaki slacks. His crisp white shirt accentuated his tawny skin and gold-brown hair. He glowed with good health and prosperity down to the tips of his perfect fingers. Today he chose not to wear a tie, but he had tucked a red pocket square in the breast pocket of his sport coat. The double-breasted blazer emphasized the broadness of his shoulders, his strong chest and narrow waist. For the thousandth time, I thought him as beautiful a man as had ever been made.
We drove nearly the entire way to the Pump Room in silence. He was trying hard to appear casual, but I could sense his mood. There was tension in his jaw and his grip on the Bentley's steering wheel was a little too tight.
"The Pump Room used to be about as old school as the Drake Hotel. A couple of years ago, the hotel that it's attached to was sold and the restaurant was completely overhauled. I'm kind of surprised my father still goes there."
"He's not fond of change?"
"That's part of it. But also because it was one of my mother's favorites. They used to go there on New Year's Eve." He smiled. "They took me there for brunch once in a blue moon. The thing I remember the clearest was the midget who served coffee."
"A midget?"
"I'm not kidding. He was a midget dressed in pink satin livery with an ostrich plume on his turban."
"That would certainly make an impression on a kid. Or anyone for that matter."
"I hope you aren't too disappointed. I think they did away with the midget years ago."
The valet took our keys and Kason led me through the doors as if seeing his father was the most natural thing in the world. When Mr. Royce rose to greet us, the resemblance to his son was striking. He had Kason's regal bearing, the same aristocratic features and an almost identical smile. But where Kason was golden, Bradley Royce was dark. His hair was once jet black but now showed silver at the temples. His eyes were dark chocolate and almost unreadable as they took me in. If my presence at the table was a surprise, he didn't let on. Like Kason's eyes, his seemed to bore right through me.
I found myself appraising his body. Under the pinstriped suit were shoulders every bit as broad as his son's, a chest that looked solid and strong, narrow hips that ended in long graceful legs.
"Father, this is Annalise Harding."
"Brad Royce," he said as he took my hand. His grip was more powerful than I had expected but I saw the same elegant Royce fingers. His smile seemed forced. "I'm happy to meet you, Annalise."
The two men didn't embrace or even shake hands. Kason hadn't told me how long it had been since he had even talked to his father, but I suspected it had been a while. We sat down, Kason to my right and Mr. Royce to my left. The two men faced each other across the small table.
Their conversation was bland and all business. But it was plain that they followed each other's exploits carefully. Both men were able to converse about the other's triumphs in different financial arenas with ease. I felt quite irrelevant. Mr. Royce had forced a few polite questions out at the beginning of the meal—where I was from, where I went to school, that sort of thing—and then turned his frosty attention on his son.
I picked at the meal in front of me and wondered what Kason's purpose had been in arranging the meeting. Did he want to impress upon me that his reserve was an inherited trait? I didn’t see much value in that discovery. It changed nothing.
Kason put his hand to his coat pocket and pulled out his vibrating phone. "You'll have to excuse me, I need to take this call," he said as he rose from his seat and left the table. Alone with Mr. Royce, I felt small and childlike. I wanted to dazzle him with some witty conversation but I drew a complete blank and settled for what probably looked like a stupid grin.
"How well do you know my son?"
Yikes. "We've been seeing each other a few months."
He went straight for my heart. "Kason rarely takes the time to introduce me to the young ladies he sees. I take it there's something serious going on?"
How was I supposed to answer that? I was tempted to tell him that I was the only serious one but thought better of it. "Your son has been very good to me. And to my family."
Mr. Royce smirked. "I'm sure my son can afford to be as generous as it pleases him to be."
I didn't like the implication. "I care very much about Kason, Mr. Royce. He's a fine man."
"He's a fine catch. Especially for . . . someone like you."
"Someone like me?" I was dressed to the nines, decked with jewels and hadn't mentioned a word about my family's circumstances. So what gave me away?
"Oh, please. You needn't be defensive. I simply meant that Kason could have any one of dozens of stars or heiresses or even royalty. You seem rather straight forward and down to earth." He took a sip of his wine and continued, "Then again, I hardly know my son. What I know is what I read in the papers. Only not the papers these days. You know what I mean."
"I've seen the pictures, too, Mr. Royce. I don't imagine myself to be as glamorous as the ladies on his arm on the internet."
"Plastic, all of them. I meet plenty of that variety myself." He fixed me with his dark enigmatic stare. "You know about the girl?"
"You mean Elsa?"
"I had hoped that she would . . . that she could be the one who healed him. I never met her."
That surprised me. I felt a selfish sense of satisfaction that I was the one who he'd brought to meet his father. "Kason has a lot of hurt in him." Then I said something that I thought I might regret. It just came out. "You could be part of healing him, too, Mr. Royce."
The mask just crumbled in front of my eyes. I saw it as clearly as if he had reached up and peeled off a false face. "I would love to be part of that." To my utter surprise, he reached over and took my hand. "I'm getting old enough to have regrets. And one of my biggest regrets is my only son. Success is a cold companion, Annalise. I don't want Kason to wind up like me."
Almost Always: A Love Unexpected Novel Page 19
