“I don't know what to say to you,” he said, sounding humble as he looked at her. “This is quite a place. You've done an amazing job. How did you put this together?” He was in awe of what she'd done, and however ornery she'd been with him at first, and contemptuous about his eating club, it was obvious to him that she was quite an extraordinary human being. A lot more so than he, he felt. At thirty-four, she had created a place that literally turned people's lives around, and made a difference for a number of human beings, old and young.
He had been so busy listening to every word she said, once they started the tour, that he had completely forgotten to charm her. Instead, she had knocked him right off his feet, not with her charm, or her striking good looks, but with her tireless work and achievement. The center she had created, however dilapidated it still looked, was an amazing place.
“This was my dream since I was a kid,” she said simply. “I saved every penny I ever got from the time I was fifteen. When I was in my teens, I waited on tables, mowed lawns, sold magazines, coached swimming. I did everything I could to make this place happen, and I finally did. I saved about three hundred thousand dollars of my own, including some money I made in the stock market later on. The rest I shook out of people, until I finally had enough to put a down payment on the building and get started. It was pretty touch and go at first. But it won't be anymore,” she said honestly, and gratefully at last, “thanks to your foundation. I'm sorry I wasn't more welcoming at first. I hate having to justify what we're doing. I know we're doing great work, but sometimes people who come here don't see it, or don't understand the value of what we're doing. When I saw the suit and the watch,” she said sheepishly, “I figured you wouldn't get it. It was stupid of me. I think I have a prejudice against people who went to Princeton, including myself. We're all so privileged, and don't know it. What I see here is the real deal. The rest just isn't, or at least not to me.” He nodded. Charlie didn't know what to say to her, she was an awe-inspiring woman, and he was in fact in awe of her. Not daunted or cowed, but in awe. He was suddenly embarrassed about the suit and gold watch too.
He pointed to the watch apologetically. “I promise I'll throw it out the window on the way home.”
“You won't have to.” She laughed openly. “One of our neighbors will probably take it off your arm. I'll have Tygue walk you out. You'll never make it to the curb.”
“I'm tougher than I look,” he said, smiling at her, and she had warmed up to him considerably. After all, whatever his eating club had been, he had given them nearly a million dollars, and she was grateful to him for that. She wondered if she had been a little tough on him at first, and knew she had. She just hated guys like him, who had never seen the other side of life. On the other hand, he ran a foundation that supported some impressive causes, so he couldn't be all bad, no matter how spoiled he was. She would have gagged on the spot if she had known he had a 240-foot yacht, but he didn't tell her that.
“I'm tougher than I look too,” she said honestly, “but you still have to be careful in this neighborhood. If you come back, wear your sweats and running shoes.” She had noticed his expensive John Lobb shoes, custom made for him at Hermès.
“I will,” he promised, and meant it. If only to avoid irritating her. He liked it a lot better when she looked as though she approved of him, as she did now. The look in her eyes when he walked in had been more than a little chilly. Now things were going a lot better, and he liked the idea of coming back to visit the center again. He said as much to her as she and Tygue walked him to the front door.
“Come back anytime,” she said with a warm smile. And just as she did, Gabby came confidently down the stairs with Zorro. She was holding fast to his harness, and recognized Tygue and Carole's voices.
“What are you doing down here?” Carole said with a look of surprise. The children usually didn't come downstairs, except to eat or play in the garden. The offices were all on the ground floor, which made more sense. Particularly if abusive parents showed up to look for their kids, or assault them again, when they had been mandated to Carole's care by the courts, as was Gabby's case. They were safer out of sight upstairs.
“I came down to see the man with the nice voice. Zorro wanted to say good-bye.” This time even Carole saw the tears in Charlie's eyes. Fortunately, Gabby didn't, as Carole gently touched his arm. The child was impossible to resist, and she ripped out his heart, as she approached them with a broad smile.
“Good-bye, Zorro,” Charlie said, first patting the dog, and then gently touching the child's hair. He looked down at her, but his smile was wasted on her. And nothing he could do for her now would ever change what had happened to her, neither the memory, nor the result. All he had been able to do was indirectly pay for her dog. It seemed so much less than enough, which was what Carole always felt about what she did. “Take good care of him, Gabby. He's a handsome dog.”
“I know,” she said, with a sightless grin, bending down to kiss Zorro's snout. “Will you come back and see us again? You're nice.”
“Thank you, Gabby. You're nice too, and very beautiful. And I will come back to see you again. I promise.” He looked right at Carole as he said it, and she nodded. In spite of her initial prejudices about him, she liked him. He was probably a decent human being, just very fortunate and very spoiled. She had been fleeing from men like him all her life. But at least this one cared about making a difference. A million dollars' worth of difference. It said something about him. And he had cared enough to come up and see the place. Even more than that, she liked the way he talked to the little girl. It seemed too bad that he didn't have kids himself.
Tygue had found a cab for him by then, and came back inside to tell him it was waiting outside.
“Put your helmet on,” Carole teased, “and hide the watch.”
“I think I can make it from here to the cab.” He smiled at her again, and thanked her for the tour. It had made not only his day, but possibly his year. He said good-bye to Gabby again, and turned one last time on his way out the door to look at her and the dog. He shook hands with Tygue, and carrying his jacket over his shoulder, with his sleeves still rolled up, he slipped into the cab and gave the driver his address. He sat in silence, thinking of all he had seen that afternoon, feeling a lump in his throat every time he thought of Gabby and her dog.
Charlie walked through his front door and picked up the phone when he got home. He called Gray on his cell phone. A lot of things had come clear to him that afternoon, about what mattered and what didn't.
Gray answered his cell phone on the second ring. He and Sylvia were cooking dinner, and he was surprised to hear it was Charlie. He had been telling her about the lunch again, and how upset he still was by Charlie's reaction to his announcement that he and Sylvia were dating.
“I'm sorry I was such an asshole at lunch today,” Charlie said without preamble. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually think I was jealous.” Gray's mouth was hanging open as he listened and Sylvia watched him. She had no idea who it was or what they were saying, but Gray looked dumbstruck.
“I don't want to lose you, pal. I think it scared me, thinking that things were different. But what the hell, if you love her, I guess I can get used to her too.” There were tears in his eyes again as he said it. It had been an emotional afternoon, and the last thing he wanted was to lose a friend like Gray. They loved each other like brothers.
“You're not going to lose me,” Gray said in a choked voice. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This was the friend he had always known Charlie was. In the end, Sylvia was wrong.
“I know,” Charlie said, sounding like himself again. “I figured it out this afternoon. And then I fell in love.”
“No shit,” Gray said with a grin. “With who?”
“A six-year-old blind girl with a black Lab Seeing Eye dog named Zorro. She's the cutest kid I've ever seen. Her mother poured bleach in her eyes, and she's never going to see again. Apparently we bought her t
he dog.” The two men were silent for a moment, as tears ran down Charlie's cheeks. He couldn't get the memory of her out of his head, and knew he never would. Whenever he thought about the Children's Center, he knew he would always think of Gabby and Zorro, long after she was gone.
“You're a good man, Charlie Harrington,” Gray said, overcome with emotion. All afternoon he had thought he was losing his friend. Charlie had sounded so angry, and so bitter, especially when he'd called Gray a traitor. But he seemed to have forgiven him. It had only taken a few hours.
“You're a good man too,” Charlie said, looking around his empty apartment, which suddenly seemed emptier than ever. And as he did, he couldn't help thinking about Sylvia and Gray. “Invite me to dinner sometime. I hope she cooks better than you do. The last dinner you cooked for me damn near killed me. Whatever you do, don't make her your secret goulash.”
“As a matter of fact, it's bubbling away on the stove at this very moment. I was teaching her how to do it.”
“Take my advice, flush it now, or the romance will be over. I nearly had to get my stomach pumped. Call in for Chinese takeout.”
“O ye of little faith… she's already had it. She loves it.”
“She's lying. Believe me, no one in the world could love your goulash. Either she's crazy or she loves you.”
“Maybe both. I'm kind of hoping that's the case.”
“It's not in my best interest,” Charlie admitted cautiously, “but for your sake, so am I. You deserve a good one for a change. I guess maybe so do I. If I ever find one.” He hesitated, and then went on. “Some of what you said today is true. I'm not sure what I want, or if, or who. My life is a lot simpler like this.” Simpler, but lonely. He had been more aware of it recently than ever in his life, ever since he had come back to New York.
“You'll find one, if you want to. You'll know when it's right, Charlie. I did. One day it just walks into your life and hits you on the head.”
“I hope so.” They talked for a few more minutes and hung up. Gray said the goulash was burning, which Charlie commented was a blessing.
After he hung up, he sat in the silence of his apartment, thinking of the tour he'd taken of the Children's Center. All he could think of at first was Gabby and Zorro… then Tygue, the doctoral student from Jamaica, by way of Yale… and then Carole Parker. They were an amazing group of people. He found himself staring into space then, thinking of the way she had looked at him when they first met. She had absolutely hated him, and had nothing but contempt for him as she took in his suit and watch. And in spite of that, he liked her. He liked what she had done, what she believed in, how hard she had worked to set it up. She was an impressive woman, with an extraordinarily bright mind and a lot of guts. He had no idea how or why or when, but he knew he wanted to see her again. He had a lot to learn from her, not only about what she was doing with his money at the center, but about life. And he hoped that one day, with luck, in spite of the suit and gold watch, they could be friends.
9
ADAM PICKED CHARLIE UP IN A RIDICULOUSLY LONG limousine on his way to the concert. One of his most important clients was singing. The whole concert tour had been an agony for him, and the contracts relating to it a nightmare to negotiate, but now that the big night had come, he was in great spirits. The star herself was one of the most important artists in the country, if not the world. Vana. A single word. A singular woman. They had booked her into Madison Square Garden, and every screaming teenager would be there, along with every groupie, weirdo, and adult rock-and-roll fan in New York. It wasn't the kind of event Charlie went to often, but Adam had convinced him it would be fun and said he had to go.
Scalpers were selling seats at four and five thousand dollars a ticket. People had stood on line for two or three days to buy them when the box office opened. It was the hottest show of the year, and Adam had warned Charlie to wear jeans. He didn't want him showing up in a suit, and getting the shit kicked out of him. He had enough to worry about that night, without worrying about him. And of course, Adam not only had backstage passes but front-row seats. It was a night no one would forget. He just hoped everything would go smoothly. All three of his cell phones kept going off all at once as they rode to Madison Square Garden. He couldn't even talk to Charlie until they were halfway there. He had gesticulated hello to him, and poured himself a drink in the limo, as they stopped at a red light.
“Jesus, and my doctor wonders why my blood pressure is so high,” he finally said, grinning at Charlie, who was vastly amused by his antics. Listening to Adam scream at everyone who called him was half the fun. “This business is going to kill me. What's happening with Gray? Is he okay? He never calls me.” But then again, with the insanity of Vana coming to town and performing at the Garden, he hadn't had time to call him either. Adam said he was up to his ears in concert shit.
“He's fine,” Charlie said cryptically, and then decided to tell him. “Actually, he's in love.”
“Yeah, sure. I'll bet he is. Where'd he find her? Coming out of rehab or an institution?” Adam laughed as he finished his drink, and Charlie grinned.
“Portofino,” Charlie said, looking smug, and ever more amused. Adam was never going to believe it, and at first neither had he. He was still getting used to the idea himself.
“What, Portofino?” He was looking stressed beyond belief and totally distracted. One of his assistants had just called him to say that Vana's hairdresser hadn't shown up with her wigs, and she was having a fit. They were rushing someone to her hotel to pick them up, but they might have to start late. It was all he needed. The unions would go nuts if they ran late, although they always did. He wasn't producing the show, but if she violated her contract, there would be endless lawsuits. He was there to protect her from herself. Vana was famous for walking right off the stage.
“Gray met her in Portofino,” Charlie said quietly, as Adam stared at him.
“Met who in Portofino?” He looked blank, and Charlie laughed at him. This was no time to be discussing Gray's love life, but it was something to talk about, as they sat in traffic and Adam fumed. He wanted to get to Vana before she did something illegal, insane, or quit.
“The woman Gray's in love with,” Charlie continued. “He says he's staying with her, not living with her, staying with her. I gather that's not the same thing.”
“Of course it isn't,” Adam said, sounding irritable. “Staying with her means he's too tired to get out of bed after he makes love to her, which is probably just due to laziness and age. Living with her is a commitment he'd be a fool to make. He can get just as much out of her, and have a better sex life, if he just stays with her. Once he lives with her, it's all over. He'll be taking the garbage out, picking her dry cleaning up, and cooking for her.”
“I don't know about the dry cleaning and the garbage, but he's cooking for her.”
“He's insane. If he's only staying with her, he doesn't have a closet or a key. And he can't answer the phone. Does he have a key?”
“I forgot to ask.” Charlie was laughing by then. Adam looked like he was going to have a nervous breakdown while they waited for the light to change. Talking about Gray at least distracted him. And Charlie was fascinated to hear the rules, according to Adam. There seemed to be a whole list of things that translated to what one's status was. Charlie had never qualified for most of them, though once he'd had a key.
“Who the hell is she?”
“Sylvia Reynolds, the art dealer we met in Portofino. Apparently, Gray got closer to her than we realized, while you were chasing her niece.”
“Oh Jesus, the girl with the face of an angel and the brain like Albert Einstein. You can never get girls like that into bed, they talk you to death and you die of old age trying to get into their knickers. She had great legs, as I recall,” Adam said regretfully. He always missed the ones that got away. The ones that didn't faded for him in a day.
“The niece had great legs?” Charlie asked, trying to remember. All he could recall
now was her face.
“No, Sylvia. The art dealer. What the hell is she doing with Gray?”
“She could do a lot worse,” Charlie said loyally, and Adam agreed. “He's crazy about her, I hope she's as crazy about him as he thinks she is. But if she's eating his goulash, maybe she is.” He didn't tell Adam how upset he'd been when Gray first told him about it over lunch at the Yacht Club. It had been a momentary lapse that still embarrassed him, remembering his own lack of grace. Gray seemed to have gotten over it, and hearing that Gray was “staying” with Sylvia didn't seem to bother Adam a bit. He had other, more important things on his mind that night, like Vana walking off the stage if they didn't find her wigs. The lawsuits that would generate, given the size and importance of the concert, would keep him busy for the next ten years.
“It won't last long,” Adam commented about Gray's new romance. “She's too normal. He'll be tired of her in a week.”
“He doesn't seem to think so. He says that's why he likes her, and he doesn't want to die alone.”
“Is he sick?” At that, Adam looked genuinely worried, and Charlie shook his head.
“Just thinking about his life, I guess. He leads a pretty solitary life, when he's painting. She got him into a terrific gallery, so I guess this isn't entirely a bad thing.”
“Maybe it's more serious than we think, if she's doing things like that for him. I'd better call him. We don't want him going off the deep end over a great pair of legs.” Adam started to look worried again, as Charlie shook his head.
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