Toxic Bachelors

by Danielle Steel

  “Let's go out.” He was being painfully polite and looked strained. She grabbed her coat and followed him out of the building. “Mo's or Sally's?” he asked her. She didn't care. She couldn't eat anyway.

  “Whatever you like.” He picked Mo's, it was closer, and they walked down the block in silence. Mo waved at her when they walked in, and Carole tried to smile. Her face felt wooden, her feet felt like cement, and there was a brick in her stomach. She could hardly wait to get it over with, and go back to her office so she could cry in peace.

  They sat down at a corner table and they both ordered salads. He didn't look hungry either. “How was the rest of your trip?” she asked politely, and then they spent the next half hour picking around at their salads, and eating little. She felt like she was going to the guillotine.

  “I'm sorry if I upset you before you left the boat. I thought about us a lot after you left,” he said. She nodded, waiting for it to happen. She wanted to tell him to hurry up, but just sat staring into space, pretending to listen. She didn't want to hear what he was going to say. She just had to sit there and take it. “There are a lot of reasons why this could work. And a lot of reasons why it couldn't.” She nodded, and wanted to scream. “We come from the same background. We have many of the same interests. We both have a strong philanthropic bent. You also hate my way of life. You want a much simpler lifestyle”—he smiled at her—“although your house is no simpler than mine. I think you like my boat, and you're a good sailor. We're not after each other's money. We both went to Princeton.” He droned on until she thought she was going to die, and finally she looked at him, wanting to put them both out of their agony. It had gone on for long enough.

  “Just say it, Charlie. I can take it. I'm a big girl. I've been divorced. Just get it over with, for chrissake.” He looked shocked.

  “What do you think I'm saying?”

  “That it's over. I get it. You don't have to dress it all up and gift-wrap it for me. You didn't even have to take me to lunch. In fact, I wish you hadn't. You could have called me or sent me an e-mail. 'Get lost.” 'Fuck you.' Something. I can pick up the clues if you give me a hint. You've been hinting for three weeks. So if you're going to dump me, just do it.” It was a relief to spit it out. He was staring at her strangely, as though he didn't know what to say now. She had said it all for him.

  “Is it over for you?” He looked deeply unhappy as he waited, and she hesitated, but decided to tell him the truth. She had nothing to lose now.

  “No, it's not over for me,” she answered him. “I love you. I like you. I enjoy you. I think you're terrific. I have fun with you. I like talking to you. I love sharing my work with you. I loved being on the boat with you. I like your friends. I even like the smell of your cigars. I love sleeping with you. But that's how I feel. Apparently, that's not how you feel. If that's the way it is, so be it. I'm not going to sit here and try to convince you of something you don't want.”

  He sat there and looked at her for a long time. He was looking into her eyes intently, and then he smiled. “Is that what you thought? That I came here today to tell you it's over?”

  “Yes. What else was I supposed to think? Before I left the boat, you told me a lot of mumbo jumbo about being worried about us. Then I left and I didn't hear from you for two weeks. You called me yesterday, sounding like the executioner, and invited me to lunch, not dinner. So I guess we've got it pretty well covered. Go for it, Charlie. If you're going to do it, do it.” She wasn't even scared anymore. She could deal with it. She'd survived worse. She'd been reminding herself of that all day.

  “That was the conclusion I came to on the boat. If you're going to do it, do it. Stop fooling around. Stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. To hell with the fatal flaw, and getting hurt, and worrying that the person you love is going to die or walk out or turn out to be a lemon. If you're going to do it, do it. And if it's a mess, we'll pick up the pieces later. Together. Carole, will you marry me?” He was looking her right in the eye, and her mouth fell open as she stared at him.

  “What?” She looked stunned.

  “Will you marry me?” He was smiling at her as tears filled her eyes.

  “You're asking me that at Mo's? Now? Here? Why?”

  “Because I love you. Maybe that's all that matters in the end. The rest is window dressing.”

  “I mean why did you ask me here, at Mo's? Why didn't you take me out to dinner, or see me last night or something? How can you ask me something like that here?” She was laughing through her tears as he took her hands in his across the table.

  “I had to see my lawyers last night, for the foundation, and close out our fiscal year. I couldn't do it last night. And I didn't want to wait till tonight. Never mind all that. Will you?”

  She sat looking at him for a long time with a broad smile on her face. He was a little crazy. Nice crazy. But crazy. He had absolutely terrified her and convinced her it was over. And instead he wanted to marry her. It was totally nuts. She leaned across the table and kissed him. “You damn near gave me an ulcer. And yes, I'll marry you. I'd love to. When?” She got right down to business, and she was smiling from ear to ear.

  “How does June sound? We could honeymoon on the boat. Or any other time you want. I was so damn scared. I was afraid you'd say no.”

  “Of course not. June sounds great.” She still couldn't believe he had asked her. It felt like a dream, to both of them.

  “It doesn't give you much time to plan a wedding,” he said apologetically, but now that he'd decided, he didn't want to wait too long. It was time.

  “I'll work it out,” she said as he paid the check, and they walked slowly back down the street to the center. It wasn't the way she'd expected things to work out at all.

  “I love you,” he said as he kissed her, standing right outside the center. People walked by and smiled at them. Tygue walked past them on his way back from lunch, and teased them.

  “Having a nice day?” he asked as he opened the door to the center.

  “Very,” Carole said, and smiled at him, and then kissed her future husband again before he left to go back downtown. Mission accomplished.

  27

  THINGS SETTLED DOWN TO A DULL ROAR WITH ADAM and Maggie. They decided not to tell his children until the baby showed, which was a couple of months off yet. And they weren't going to tell his mother till after the children knew. Adam wanted to do them the honor of telling them first. It was still going to be hard to explain. And he was sure Rachel would have plenty to say.

  He was busy with his clients, but he managed to go to the sonogram with her two weeks later. The baby was healthy, looked fine, and it was a boy. When they watched him moving around, Adam and Maggie cried. She was four months along.

  He had to go to Las Vegas the week after that, and he asked her if she wanted to go with him. Coincidentally she had two days off, which worked fine for her. He had been in surprisingly good spirits, given the amount of tension in his life, and he had been a good sport about the baby. Maggie was sleeping a lot, and sick almost every day, but she tried not to complain. It was for a good cause.

  The night they flew to Las Vegas, she was feeling slightly better. One of his major musical acts was playing there for two days. But he said he only had time to stay there for two nights, and Maggie had to be back at work anyway.

  They flew to Vegas on his plane, and stayed at the Bellagio, which she loved. And much to her delight, Adam said the hotel had given them the Presidential Suite, which had a dining room, conference room, and the biggest bed she'd ever seen. It had a grand piano in the living room, and they got there early enough to spend some time in bed before dinner. The act they had come to see wasn't going on till midnight, and just before they went downstairs for dinner, Adam said he had to do some business in the room. He told her he'd use the conference room, and closed the doors. Two men in suits arrived, and as Adam had asked her to, she showed them into the room. When she opened the conference room doors to let them in, t
here was an enormous bouquet of red roses on the table, and a bottle of Cristal chilling in a bucket, as Adam smiled at her.

  “Come on in, Maggie.” He beckoned her in with the two men, who were smiling too.

  “What are you doing?” Something strange was happening, and she didn't know what it was. Everyone seemed to know what was going on except her. “What's going on in here?” She looked around suspiciously. She was dressed for dinner, in a pink dress and high heels. Adam had told her to wear something nice. Everything was getting tight on her, but the baby didn't show yet. Her figure was as good as it had been before, just fuller, and she was spilling out of the top of her dress.

  “We're getting married, that's what's happening,” Adam said to her. “I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. And if you give me any trouble, Mary Margaret O'Malley, I'm not letting you out of this room until you do.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she asked him, grinning. She was stunned.

  “I've never been more serious in my life,” he said as he came to stand next to her proudly. “You're not having that baby without me. This is Judge Rosenstein, and his assistant, Walter. They're here to perform the ceremony. Walter is going to be our witness.”

  “We're getting married?” She looked at him with tears in her eyes.

  “Yes, we are.”

  “Does your mother know?”

  “She will tomorrow. I want to tell the kids first.” He had thought of everything and overridden all her objections. She had always wanted to marry him, but not because he thought he should. He had taken it out of her hands now, and it was obvious to her that he wanted to do it too.

  The judge performed the ceremony, and Maggie cried as she gave her responses. Adam put a narrow gold band on her finger that he had bought at Tiffany the day before. He had bought one for himself too. And Walter signed the marriage certificate as their witness. By eight o'clock that night, the deed was done. He kissed her as they stood alone in the room. She had only sipped the champagne since she wasn't supposed to drink.

  “I love you, Mrs. Weiss,” he said, smiling at her. “I'd have married you sooner or later anyway, even if you weren't pregnant. This just speeded things up.”

  “You would?”

  “I would,” he said firmly. She was still in shock.

  They had dinner at Picasso's, and went to the midnight show, and she looked at her ring about a million times. She loved seeing his too.

  He was just drifting off to sleep that night, after he made love to her, when she poked him in the shoulder. He stirred, but was too far gone to fully wake up.

  “…Uh?…I love you …” Adam mumbled.

  “I love you too.…I just thought of something.”

  “… Not now… too tired…tomorrow…”

  “I think I should become Jewish. I want to convert.” She was wide awake. He was within milliseconds of sleep, but managed to nod his head.

  “… Talk about it tomorrow… love you… 'night…” And then he fell asleep. She lay there next to him, thinking about everything that had happened. It had been the most wonderful night of her life.

  28

  THE NEXT DAY WHEN ADAM CALLED HIS MOTHER, YOU could have heard her from Long Island Sound to the Brooklyn Bridge.

  “O'Malley? She's Catholic? Are you trying to kill me? You're a sociopath! You'll give your father another heart attack!” She pulled out all the stops and accused him of everything she could.

  “She's planning to convert.” She barely stopped screaming long enough to hear what he said. She told him that he was an utter and complete disgrace.

  “Is that where you were going when you walked out on Thanksgiving?” she accused him, and this time he laughed. He wasn't going to let her give him headaches anymore. He had Maggie now, his lover, ally, and best friend.

  “As a matter of fact, it was. Best decision I ever made.”

  “You're insane. With all the nice Jewish women in the world, you marry a Catholic. I guess I should be grateful you didn't marry one of those schwartze singers you represent. It could have been worse.” For the remark she had just made, and for disrespecting Maggie, he decided to let her know it was worse. She had it coming. And had for forty-two years.

  “And, Mom, before I forget. We're having a baby in June.”

  “Oh my God!” You could have heard the screams all the way to Nebraska that time. “I just thought you'd want to know the good news. I'll call you soon.”

  “I don't even have the heart to tell your father, Adam, it will kill him.”

  “I doubt it,” Adam said calmly. “But if you tell him, be sure to wake him up first. Talk to you soon, Mom.” And with that, he hung up.

  “What did she say?” Maggie asked, looking worried, as she walked back into the room. They had just gotten back to New York. He had called his kids before his mother, and they were fine. They had said they liked Maggie a lot, and were happy for him.

  “She was thrilled,” Adam said with a broad grin of victory. “I told her you were going to convert.”

  “Good.”

  The three couples met for dinner at Le Cirque a week later. Charlie had invited them, and had given them a clue. He said he had important news.

  They all arrived on time, and were ushered to a well-placed table. The three women looked lovely, and everyone was in a good mood. They ordered drinks and chatted for a few minutes, and then Charlie told them that he and Carole were engaged and getting married in June. Everyone was thrilled. And then Adam looked at Maggie with a conspiratorial grin.

  “What do you two have up your sleeve?” Charlie had seen them exchange the look.

  “We got married last week,” Adam said, beaming at his wife. “And we're having a baby in June.” There was a small roar from the group.

  “We've been upstaged!” Charlie said, and laughed. He was pleased for them. Carole and Maggie consulted immediately about the date the baby was due. The wedding was set for two weeks before her due date, so Maggie said she'd be fine. Fat but fine.

  “What about our August trip on the Blue Moon?” Gray asked, looking worried, and everybody laughed.

  “Works for us,” Charlie said, looking around the group, as all the others nodded their heads.

  “Can we bring the baby?” Maggie asked cautiously.

  “Bring the baby and a nanny,” Charlie confirmed. “Looks like everybody's on. And Sylvia, I hope you'll come too.” They all agreed it would be a cozy group of six with all their ladies along, different than before, but a lively group nonetheless.

  “Oh, and by the way,” Gray said, smiling happily, “I just moved in last week. Now I'm living with Sylvia, not just staying with her. I have a closet, I have a key, my name is on the bell, and I answer the phone.”

  “I remember those rules.” Maggie laughed. “Do you have holidays yet? It's not a relationship till you do.” She glanced at Adam, and he winced.

  “I just did.” Gray answered her question about holidays. He said he'd gone to Vermont with Sylvia and her children, and celebrated Christmas with them. It had made him nervous once or twice, but he had done fine. Emily and Gilbert had gone back to Europe the week before, and he had promised to go to Italy with them for a week before he and Sylvia went on the Blue Moon. He had assumed Charlie would invite her now, since he'd had Maggie and Carole on the boat over New Year's.

  He was hard at work on the portrait of Boy, and moving full steam ahead for his April show. He wanted the portrait of Boy to be the most important piece in the show, but it wasn't for sale. He was planning to hang it in Sylvia's loft, and referred to it as a family portrait. In death, more than he had ever been in life, Boy was his brother. They had found each other at the eleventh hour, thanks to Boy.

  “What about you two?” Adam teased him, since everyone else was getting married. “When are you going to tie the knot?”

  “Never!” they both said in unison, and everybody laughed again.

  “You should do it in Portofino next summer, where you met,” Charlie sug
gested.

  “We're too old to get married,” Sylvia said convincingly. She had just turned fifty, three days after Gray turned fifty-one. “And we don't want babies.”

  “That's what I thought too,” Adam said sheepishly, with a grin and a loving glance at Maggie. She'd been feeling better for the past few days.

  “No wonder you got seasick on the boat,” Charlie said as he figured it out.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Maggie said shyly. “I didn't know then.”

  They were a congenial group and toasted each other liberally all evening. As usual, the men drank too much. And given the occasion, the women made no attempt to keep them in control. It was all in good fun. They drank an impressive amount of very fine French wine.

  By the time they left each other at the end of the evening, plans were made, dates were set. Everyone had made note of the date of Charlie and Carole's wedding, Maggie had shared her due date, and they were all set for the Blue Moon on August first, as always. Life was sweet. And good times were ahead.

  29

  AFTER MUCH DEBATE, IN SPITE OF THE FACT THAT IT WAS Carole's second wedding, and Charlie's first, she acceded to her parents' wishes, and they got married at St. James. It was a small, elegant, and formal event. Charlie got married in white tie and tails. Carole asked Sylvia to be her matron of honor, and Maggie to be her bridesmaid. Carole wore a simple but elegant gown in the palest mauve, and lily of the valley in her hair. She carried a bouquet of white orchids and roses. She looked absolutely regal as she came down the aisle on her father's arm. Gray and Adam were Charlie's best men. After the ceremony, all two hundred guests attended the reception at the New York Yacht Club. The wedding was as traditional as possible, except for the flock of children from the center who came, with Tygue and a handful of volunteers to keep them in control. Gabby and Zorro were there, of course, and Carole had hired a group of fabulous gospel singers from Harlem. The dance band played until three A.M.