These Foolish Things

by Thatcher, Susan

  Astonished, Ty set Liz on her feet, holding her close. She wrapped her arms around him. After a few moments, Liz said, “Well, maybe it was for the best.”

  Ty looked at her, puzzled. “Why do you say that?”

  Liz grinned, “We were never going to get out of that bed otherwise. Now may I have my clothes?”

  Chapter 8

  “Step aside, please, Ma’am. Thank you,” the mover said to Liz. She stepped aside as requested as he and his colleague moved her breakfront onto the waiting truck.

  “‘Step aside, Ma’am?’” Millie asked. “You’re going to let him call you ‘Ma’am?’”

  “Hey, it beats the hell out of the usual ‘Move your ass, Gardner’ that I get from you,” Liz responded.

  “You know,” said Millie as she watched the proceedings with Liz, “This beats moving all your shit ourselves in the cold, having to bribe the guys to help us, buying beer and pizza and then hurting for three days afterwards.”

  “I agree,” said Liz in a distracted tone of voice. Millie gently poked her arm.

  “You know, for someone going to live with the man of her dreams, you don’t seem very excited or enthusiastic,” Millie remarked.

  “Mill, not all of us know how to dance the Funky Chicken,” Liz said, still watching the movers, “You gave the neighbors quite a show that day.”

  The men came back in from the truck, blowing on their hands from the January cold and headed back to the living room for more furniture.Liz was still kind of dazed from the speed with which Ty moved after their weekend in Hyannis. It had been little over a month and here she was, leaving her house and moving into his.

  Almost immediately, Ty had begun to chafe at the distance between his home in Wellesley and Liz’s house in Salem. He had wanted Liz to come home with him after their weekend, but she’d refused, reminding him that she had Beanie to care for.

  Christmas had been an experience, both wonderful and stressful. The wonder had come in being with Ty for the holiday, making love the night before, waking in his arms only to be showered with gifts that took away Liz’s breath, including a new car. Liz had noticed that Ty gave her old VW a bad look whenever he saw it, declining to ride or drive in it. One day, the car had refused to start altogether. She was at Ty’s house in Wellesley, preparing to leave when he had asked her for the keys. Liz gave him a quizzical look as she handed him the keys.

  “I just thought it would be nice if I started the engine for you and let it warm up a bit, so you don’t get cold,” Ty explained. He’d taken the keys from Liz with a kiss and she thought she could see something devious in his expression.

  Ten minutes later, Liz was beginning to worry since he hadn’t returned. Just as she was about to head out the door to see what was going on, Ty returned, threw the keys onto a table and announced, “The Rabbit died” on his way out of the room. He had taken Liz home to Salem and stayed with her for a few days.

  Indeed, Liz’s mechanic did pronounce the car dead, beyond even his considerable skills. The man looked upset and Liz put her arm around him and said, “Hey, you probably kept him going longer than he would have otherwise. He had a long, good life because you took care of him.” He nodded, although Liz thought she saw him well up slightly.

  As Liz began looking through the used-car ads in the Sunday Globe, she had a sneaking suspicion that the Rabbit hadn’t died so much as been assassinated. Ty had motives: he’d never liked the car and it was an effective way of keeping Liz closer to him. She had surreptitiously looked at him while pretending to study the Volkswagen column in the automotive classifieds, but he just kept working on the crossword puzzle and ignored her look, even though Liz thought she detected a slight smirk when she mentioned her conversation with the mechanic.

  On Christmas Day, after getting several pieces of expensive jewelry and a full ounce of her favorite perfume, Ty had handed Liz an envelope and told her, “Come with me.”

  He had taken her out to the garage where something sat under a tarp next his Mercedes. Something big. “Okay, open the envelope,” he’d instructed as he picked up a corner of the tarp. Liz found a registration, title and insurance in her name for a brand-new Mercedes coupe. Looking up, she saw Ty standing proudly next to the car described in the paperwork. Liz had dropped the envelope.

  “My God, Ty! You shouldn’t have!” Liz had gasped as she stepped forward to look at it. “This is too much. I can’t accept this.”

  “Yes, you can,” he had insisted, “You need a car and it is my pleasure to fulfill your needs,” playfully squeezing her ass, he’d added, “all of them.”

  Liz had wrapped her arms around Ty and kissed him, her tongue darting around his, teasing and luring until he’d taken control, pulling her against himself.

  Liz had broken off the kiss long enough to give him a sassy look. “Wanna break in the back seat, Counselor?” she’d asked. Ty gave her a look of pretend shock. “You shameless hussy! There is no back seat!” He had kissed her, saying, “Anyway, my bed’s much more comfortable.”

  Before the office Christmas party, Ty had handed Liz several credit cards over lunch one day. “Here, these are yours. I took the liberty of looking through your closet and you’re going to need to do some shopping.”

  Liz looked at the cards. They were all either platinum or gold cards for the usual credit card companies or VIP cards for upscale department stores like Neiman-Marcus. And they had her name on them.

  “Shopping for what, Babe?” Liz asked in confusion.

  “We’ll be going to more black-tie functions and as much as I love that blue velvet dress of yours,” he had said, “you can’t wear it to all of them. Take the cards, take Millie and have fun. Shop ‘til you drop. Buy whatever you want. I love you. Gotta run.” And he had kissed her before leaving for a client meeting, 5 minutes after his meal had arrived and 25 minutes after he had sat down with Liz. Her first use of the cards had been to pay for the meal and Beanie had gotten leftover grilled salmon for dinner.

  The stress had come from the scrutiny of Ty’s colleagues and their wives at his firm’s Christmas party. Sarah Washburn had somehow managed to separate Liz from Ty at the Christmas party, nominally to introduce her to some of the other women, but also to put Liz in front of them for interrogation. The small group of women had asked mundane, polite questions with nasty edges to their voices and even nastier smiles on their faces. Rachel Dunn had given Liz a withering look before remarking in a careless way, “So, you’re Tyrone’s latest. I guess bigger IS better.” And she had then taken a big swallow of her vodka martini. Even Sarah Washburn had bitten back a gasp.

  Liz had smiled a saccharin smile back at her, remembering Corey mentioning that Rachel had pursued Ty to no avail. “You’re right, he is very well-equipped. No complaints here.” Rachel had almost choked on her drink and Liz excused herself, in search of Ty.

  She hadn’t gotten very far when a familiar sneer stopped her. “You know,” said Cheryl the Silicone Queen sullenly, “I put a lot of time in on that man and then you come along and steal him. You think you won, but I can take him away from you any time I want, Bitch. And don’t you forget it. ”

  Liz turned to face the younger woman, who was clearly drunk. She was clutching a margarita and had spilled some on her dress, but didn’t seem to be aware of it. The usual sex kitten air was gone, drowned in the tequila, no doubt and replaced by bitterness. Liz noted that the woman was alone, none of the usual male hopefuls to be seen. Her eye makeup had spread out, creating a raccoon effect and her hair looked like a haystack. She was glaring at Liz as usual.

  “I said, ‘I can take him away from you any time I want to’,” she repeated with a bitter edge. She swallowed more liquor. “Whaddya think of that, you fat bitch?”

  Liz looked at her evenly, feeling some pity, “I heard you the first time and you know what?”

  “What?”

  “There will probably be days when I’d let you. This isn’t one of them. Merry Christmas.” And she’
d walked away. Hearing a crash behind her, Liz turned. The Silicone Queen had flung her glass at Liz and missed, both in distance and accuracy.

  The background murmur of a party in full swing had come to a dead stop at the sound and people stared at the two women.

  Liz bit back the impulse to crack a one-liner and instead repeated, “Merry Christmas” before returning to her search for Ty. “YOU FUCKING BITCH!” She heard screamed behind her. “YOU FUCKING THIEVING BITCH! I’LL KILL YOU!”

  Liz kept moving forward, although now she could feel her heart hammering and her throat closing. Knowing that eyes were on her, Liz kept her head high and her pace deliberate.

  “Liz? Honey? What was that about?” Ty found Liz before she found him. He slipped an arm around her waist. Liz noted the cocktail glass in his other hand.

  She smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek as she slipped her arm around his waist. What Liz wanted to do was throw herself on him and sob hysterically into his shoulder, beg him to take her home now. She made light of the encounter. “Someone’s had too much to drink,” she said casually. “It wouldn’t be an office party otherwise. Just have to wait for someone to find a copier and sit on it. You know, if I ran a printing/copying shop, I’d decorate copiers in Christmas colors and rent them out for parties. That way, you get the traditional butt copies without damage to the office equipment.”

  Ty chuckled, but his eyes probed her face and he squeezed her. “You want another drink?” he asked.

  “Actually,” said Liz, “I think I’m going to find the powder room and freshen up a bit.” She kissed Ty slowly and deeply, mostly because of the pleasure of it, but also for the benefit of the onlookers.

  Liz found her way to the powder room of the Park Plaza Hotel and sat in front of the vanity. She rested her elbows on the counter and pressing her palms together, leaned forward, closed her eyes and rested her face against her hands. Without her gang around her and Ty busy networking, Liz thought, this was going to be a long, miserable night. Luckily, the powder room made for a comfortable hiding place.

  “Praying for deliverance?” asked a warm voice behind her. Liz jumped and looked at the speaker. She recognized Nancy Brooks, wife of one of Ty’s partners. With a smile, Nancy seated herself next to Liz, who braced herself for another round of catty conversation.Nancy saw this and waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m not in league with that tramp, Rachel Dunn.”

  Liz smiled. “I feel like the red-headed bastard at a family reunion.”

  “So you’re hiding?” the question was gentle. Nancy laid a hand on her arm. “Don’t let them win.”

  “I prefer to think of it as a strategic retreat to regroup. It’s not often I have drinks and invective hurled at me simultaneously. Usually it’s just one or the other. I was unprepared to get both.”

  Nancy laughed. “You’re funny. If that had been me, I’d have turned around and slapped the little bitch.”

  Liz smiled ruefully, “Apparently, in her eyes, I’m a thief.”

  “Don’t worry about her,” said Nancy, “That woman’s gone down on more men than the Titanic and she’s already moved on to one of the junior associates. She’s even gone after my husband, but Bill didn’t bite. I saw you at the Barrister’s Ball. Ty couldn’t keep his eyes off you. That pissed her off no end. I don’t know what you did to him that night, but Bill says he was unapproachable for the next week, in a pitch-black mood and that isn’t Ty. He was terrorizing everyone who came near him.”

  I know exactly what he was going through, thought Liz.

  “And now?” she asked. “He’s his usual self, according to Bill,” said Nancy. “Works hard, makes a ton of money for the firm and himself. He’s a good man, Elizabeth, and I’m glad to see him with someone worthy, not Silicone Sally the Super Slut.”

  Liz laughed. This wasn’t like the viciously funny debriefing she would have done with Millie and Corey, but it was an immense relief to have a conversation with this kindly soul. She held out her hand to Nancy Brooks. “Call me Liz.”

  Nancy shook it. “Good. Now, Liz, you come with me and we’ll talk to some people who aren’t looking to stick a knife in your back. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the party much more after that.”

  And she had. In the course of her conversations, Liz discovered that Ty had been telling stories about her to anyone who would listen. More than once, someone would smile and say, “I feel like I already know you.” Or, “Ty says you write. Have you published anything?”

  Ty had booked a suite at the hotel for that weekend and they had made the most of their time in town, returning to the Top of the Hub for dinner, going to a blues club and making love until daylight both nights.

  Liz had been astonished the first time she saw Ty’s house. It was a graceful modern interpretation of a cape-style house. Five bedrooms, four and a half bathrooms, including a Jacuzzi in the master suite plus a swimming pool and substantial lawn.

  “Wow,” Liz had remarked. “All this for just you?” she had asked.

  “Well, I do entertain here,” Ty had said. “I just saw the place and really wanted it. It came on the market about the same time I won my first class-action suit and I paid cash out of my fee.” There had been a look of pride in his accomplishment on Ty’s face.

  The interior was as elegant as the exterior, beautifully decorated and maintained in pristine condition. Ty’s housekeeper took care of the place as if it were her own, even doing laundry and arranging for dry-cleaning pickup and delivery. Liz loved the kitchen, especially. It was big, equipped with the best appliances and had counter space enough even to satisfy Liz. What I couldn’t do in there, she had thought.

  They had dined out that night and most of the nights Liz stayed in Wellesley. And on the last night of an extraordinary year, Liz couldn’t stop looking at the house as she removed her bags from her car. It had been decorated for the season with white lights, fresh greenery and red velvet ribbons. A huge wreath hung on the front door. All very tasteful and understated.

  Ty had given Liz a key to let herself in, explaining that he was undoubtedly going to be running late, but he’d come fetch her for the party and, by the way, they had a suite at the Ritz Carlton for the night, so pack accordingly. Liz had reflected that it was lucky that Beanie was not only a forgiving animal, but his baby-sitters enjoyed looking after him.

  Juggling her bags, Liz opened the front door and half-walked, half-fell inside. “Hello?” she called out.

  “Yes? Who’s there?” a female voice called back. Liz heard footsteps and Ty’s housekeeper strode into view. “Oh, Miss Gardner, it’s you. Happy New Year.”

  “And the same to you, Mrs. Wyman. Has Mr. Hadley called?” Liz asked as she closed the door.

  “Yes, Ma’am, he just called to say he’ll be here by 8:00 at the latest and you should make yourself at home.”

  Liz looked at her wristwatch. It was 6:00 PM. “Okay, that gives me 2 hours of unchallenged access to the bathroom and I’m gonna take full advantage of it. Ty doesn’t know it, but I’m really after him for his tub.”

  Mrs. Wyman laughed. “You do that, Miss Gardner. Mr. Hadley instructed me to make sure you had wine and hors d’ouevres available.”

  “Sounds good, thank you. Do you have big plans for tonight, Mrs. Wyman?” Liz asked.

  “Oh, I’ll be leaving here in a half-hour and going to my son’s house in Dedham. He always brings together his family and friends on New Year’s. We’ll have a buffet dinner and watch some movies, then we toast the New Year and have breakfast around 2 in the morning, then everybody sleeps until the football starts,” she said with a smile. “It’s a nice tradition.” She turned to get wine and hors d’ouevres for Liz.

  “Sounds great,” said Liz. Sounded like Joey’s party, something she hadn’t missed in years. It wouldn’t be the same, ringing in a new year without them, but sometimes you have to let go of things, no matter how much you love them, to make room for something better. “I’ll just head upstairs and get
started.” Liz huffed her way upstairs with her bags, dropping them in Ty’s master bedroom. As with the rest of the house, it had been decorated with understated elegance in shades of blue. The end result was something out of Architectural Digest. Actually, remembered Liz, the house had been in Architectural Digest a few years before. A specially bound copy lay on the coffee table in the den downstairs.

  Liz carefully unpacked her dress for the occasion, full length, one shoulder, black with silver beading. It had cost a small fortune in a snotty Newbury Street boutique, but Millie (and Corey) had argued that she couldn’t leave it behind. She located the shoes and other accessories to go with it.

  “Here you go,” said Mrs. Wyman with a smile. She had a tray with a Waterford wine glass, a small crystal decanter of Merlot and canapés that she set down on the bureau. “Now, you enjoy your bath and Happy New Year again, Miss Gardner. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mr. Hadley so happy as he has been with you. You two have a good time at your party. I’ll be thinking of you, all dressed up like Cinderella.”

  Liz laughed and hugged her. “Thank you and a very good New Year to you, Mrs. Wyman. You have a blast.” Mrs. Wyman left.

  Liz shampooed before drawing the bath for herself. The tub was deep and designed for extended soaking and she wanted to take full advantage of it. Liz found her bubble bath next to the tub, the same scent as her perfume and purchased for her by Ty to be used only here. She dumped a generous amount into the tub and poured herself a glass of wine while she waited for the tub to fill.

  So, here she sat in the home of her love. Alone. She had been waited on upon her arrival, but no Ty. She was alone in his house.

  New Year’s Eve had also been her last day at Lovell, Hoffman and Dennis. They’d thrown a party for her, including parting gifts such as a new briefcase and desk nameplate. Millie had cried a little and Corey had cried a lot, mostly because he feared being reassigned to Dan. Joey and Rocco had hugged her and vowed that they weren’t afraid of roughing up judges if necessary. Win Lovell and David Hoffman had come by. Dan was playing golf in Palm Beach. They told her that her work and herself would be missed at the place. “You mean my cooking, don’t you, Sir?” Liz had asked of Win. He had laughed and patted his stomach. “My wife seems to think I’ll lose weight if you’re not here. Now, you go knock F.L. McCafferty’s socks off and remember,” he became serious, “if you change your mind, you always have a place here.” They both knew she wouldn’t.