Randall liked just about everything about Jacqueline. There were many male colleagues with whom to discuss his work but few females to engage. Not only was she beautiful and intelligent, but she was funny too. I’m glad Sherri met her, he thought as he tapped the screen to reply to her text message. That way it doesn’t appear as though, when it comes to her, I have anything to hide. His thumb moved quickly across the pad.
HELLO, JACQUELINE. BUSY PAST WEEK. EN ROUTE TO THE TOWERS NOW. YES, LET’S MEET. I’LL CALL LATER. RANDALL.
“Ran, my man!”
He looked back from the car he’d just exited in front of The Towers of the Waldorf Astoria, and smiled. “Perfect timing, huh?” He tipped the driver, passed his luggage to the bellman, and walked back to where James was getting out of a taxi. They shook hands. “I thought you were going to check in last night, take advantage of some quiet time to finish your research paper.”
“Had a change in plans, bro. My mother-in-law unexpectedly came into town.”
“Ah,” Randall answered in a tone that suggested that no more needed to be said.
“I saw the segment last night on News Today. Good job.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Not bad at all from a dude who grew up in the sho’nuff hood.”
“Everybody wasn’t lucky enough to grow up like the Huxtables.”
“We weren’t quite like that,” James countered.
“No? Physician father, attorney mother, four perfect children, the white picket fence. What would you call it?”
“Someone else’s family.”
“Ha!”
The men checked into their rooms and decided to meet for a drink in the hotel’s Peacock Alley before joining two of their colleagues for a dinner meeting, which would also be at the hotel.
“This is beautiful,” James said as he stretched his long legs in front of him and nursed a tumbler of scotch. “I’ve always loved New York. Fell in love the first time I came here, a wide-eyed dude fresh out of the Iowa cornfields. Lived on Long Island for ten years and am still as enthralled as when I first arrived.”
“It is a special city,” Randall agreed as he sipped his Arnold Palmer. “I know this is your home turf, but maybe Sherri and I can just come here for the four of us to hang out.”
“I wouldn’t mind that. Debbie and I rarely get into Manhattan unless we’ve been invited to some event or are entertaining guests. Showing you two around would be fun.
“Randall, how is your mother-in-law, man?”
“She’s doing better. The doctors are still trying to come up with a proper diagnosis so that they can better know how to treat it.” He told James about Miss Elaine’s most recent episode, when she left food cooking on the stove without realizing it. “Sherri is in regular contact with Mom Elaine’s neighbor, Ms. Riley. But she’s understandably very concerned. We’re looking into hiring a live-in assistant to help take care of her.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” James took a moment to look out on the magnificent view from this location, including the popular Chrysler Building landmark. “I know you’ve been working on a cure, and that’s been causing you some aggravation. Sherri knows you’re trying, Ran, and that if there is any way possible for you to help her mother, you’ll be on it.”
“It’s very frustrating,” Randall admitted. “I’ve never liked feeling helpless and I definitely don’t like seeing my wife in such pain. She and Mom Elaine are very close. It will be the end of Sherri’s world to lose her.”
“It may feel like it for a while,” James said. “But she’ll still have the kids. And you.”
Randall paused to read a message that came through on his phone. His smile was evidence that whatever he’d read had lifted his mood.
“Good news?” James asked.
Randall looked to see who was around him, then leaned forward to speak to his friend. “There’s something I need to tell you, James. It needs to stay between us.”
“Okay.”
“It’s very important that you not leak so much as a word to anyone, especially Debbie. I can’t take a chance on Sherri finding out.”
James frowned. “Am I going to find it difficult to keep this secret?”
“Perhaps. But it’s driving me crazy not to tell somebody. Because you’re like a brother—I know I can tell you. But believe me, you are the only one who can know.”
CHAPTER 20
Jacqueline tapped her finger against her chin, trying to decide between the little black dress that she’d just purchased at Nordstrom and a Calvin Klein striped maxi that fit her body like a glove and had a peekaboo slit up the side. Thinking of who she’d be keeping company with this evening, she finally decided on the black dress.
Thirty minutes later she walked into the restaurant, purposely late. She wanted to make an entrance, for Randall to be waiting when she arrived so that he could get the full effect. She wore black except for a colorful necklace and earrings made from various chunky stones paired with a wide bracelet. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail that cascaded from the top of her head. Her heels were five-inch-high Louboutins. When she reached him and spoke, his eyes spoke volumes. His reaction did not disappoint.
“Wow, Jacqueline,” he said as his eyes drank their fill. “You look fantastic!”
“Thank you,” she gushed, sitting in the chair next to him. “Sorry I’m late. I got caught up on a call with the office.”
“It’s okay. Gave me a moment to soak up the theater district atmosphere.” Randall looked behind her. “Where’s the young man from Columbia University, the one who you said would be joining us.”
“Evan isn’t here?”
“No.”
Jacqueline sat down in the seat next to Randall. “Let me text him.” She did, and then placed the phone into her small clutch. “Randall.” She placed a light hand on his forearm, noting the softness of the tailored black jacket he’d paired with a white shirt and jeans. “Thank you so much for agreeing to join me and see the show. Phillip was beside himself for having to renege on coming up to spend the weekend with me, especially knowing I’d scored first-row seats.”
“What happened?”
“Give me a moment.” Jacqueline turned to get the bartender’s attention. He walked over right away. “A white wine spritzer, please,” she requested. She turned to Randall. “You?”
Randall held up his near-full glass of club soda with a lime twist. “I’m good.”
“Okay.” Jacqueline fixed him with a dazzling smile even as she crossed her legs and not-so-innocently exposed a good deal of thigh. “Where were we?”
“I was asking about your boyfriend, and what he’s working on that kept him from spending time with someone as lovely as you.”
She lowered her eyes. “I appreciate the compliment. Regarding Phillip, one of the investors for his website came into town. And he’s not my boyfriend, remember. We’re just really good friends.”
“From the way he looks at you, he wants to be much more than that.” Jacqueline’s response was a simple, coy smile. “What is his occupation, the one that requires a degree in partying and having a good time?”
Jacqueline laughed easily. “Sorry that you remember that comment. He’s a dear but can be so quirky at times.” The waiter brought her drink, which she promptly held up. “To Les Misérables.” Clinking glasses, she continued, “Have you ever seen it?”
Randall shook his head. “The last Broadway play I saw was with Sherri and the kids, three or four years ago. I loved it though: The Lion King.”
“That’s one of my favorites! I love Les Misérables as well. It’s a very different type of play.”
“Oh, you’ve seen it before.”
“Once. A traveling cast came through Toronto. I loved it and said if I ever had the chance to see it on Broadway, I would.”
Randall checked his watch. “It’s almost time for the show to start. Has Evan texted you back?”
Jacqueline pulled out her phone. “He can’t ma
ke it,” she said, after checking the screen. “Sorry, doctor, but it looks like it’s just the two of us.”
“What’s that on your phone?” He pointed to a silver disc on the back of her cell case.
“It’s something that someone who uses the phone as much as you do needs. It’s a radiation shield that lessens potential brain damage from constant cell phone use. I’m surprised that you don’t have one already.”
“That’s because the results of studies about this potential hazard have been mixed.”
“Still, better safe than sorry, right? In fact,” Jacqueline reached for her purse. “I happen to have an extra one; I get them free from a friend of Phillip’s who works in the electronics industry. In fact, I have two. Give one to your wife.” She passed them over.
Randall studied the thin, lightweight device, about the size of a dime. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try it. Thanks, Jacqueline.”
“You’re welcome. Hand me your phone and I’ll show you how to attach it.”
They continued conversing while finishing their drinks and during the short walk to the Imperial Theatre on West Forty-Fifth. Not once did they talk about the conference, science, or PSI. Jacqueline found Randall fascinating, and he felt she was a breath of fresh air. He’d forgotten all about Phillip and finding out what Jacqueline’s boyfriend did for a living. By the time he’d joined the lead character, Jean Valjean, on his journey through legal struggles, grace, and the search for redemption, Randall wasn’t thinking about much of anything save the play he’d just experienced and the woman beside him—including the message from Sherri he’d listened to during the intermission and his promise to call her as soon as the show ended.
“Thanks again,” Randall said as they stood waiting for a taxi. “I didn’t know what to expect, didn’t think that I’d enjoy it, based on the title. But there was such depth to the story. It was really good.”
“So I take it you didn’t see the film adaptation with Hugh Jackman and Anne Hathaway?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“It’s out on DVD. I think you’d enjoy it as well.” She looked up and down Forty-Fifth Street, still bustling at almost eleven p.m. “This city is so exciting,” she exclaimed.
“I agree.”
“I’m not ready to go back to the hotel. Join me for a light snack?”
Randall looked at his watch.
“Please!” Jacqueline inched closer. “I won’t keep us out past midnight . . . promise.”
“I could use a bite,” Randall agreed.
“Perfect.”
Shortly after the theater manager made his recommendation, the two settled into a table at B. Smith’s on New York’s popular Restaurant Row. Jacqueline was excited.As the manager described the restaurant and its iconic owner, she remembered reading about Barbara Smith, the pioneering, transformational lifestyle expert whose home collection was the first by an African-American to be featured at the retailer Bed Bath & Beyond. Now, as she looked around at the stylish décor, she knew that the bedroom was not the only area in which Ms. Smith’s tasteful design sense prevailed. She shared all of what she knew with Randall.
He sat back and crossed his arms, a slight smile on his face as he stared at her.
“What?”
“You’re a very intriguing woman.”
“How so?” She took a dainty sip of water.
“You’re brainy enough to hold a fairly in-depth conversation about various sciences. Now you’re going on about . . . what was it . . . divets?”
“Duvets,” Jacqueline corrected.
“You didn’t finish your degree yet are making quite a name for yourself as a freelance writer. And while you clearly could take advantage of wonderful genes and pursue a career as an actor, model, or the like, you’re grinding it out in the rather geeky world of science. Your parents must be very proud.” He immediately noticed a change in Jacqueline’s demeanor. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” Jacqueline answered with a quick shake of her head.
“I’m sure my parents would have been very proud. Had they lived to see me in this moment.”
“I’m sorry. They’re both . . . gone?” She nodded, her eyes still downcast as she reached for the glass of Riesling that the waiter had earlier set at their table. “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”
When she looked up, her demeanor had gone from vivacious vixen to vulnerable little girl, and a flash of something else in her eyes that Randall couldn’t quite name. “They died in a fire when I was ten years old.”
This time it was his turn to reach out and place his hand on Jacqueline’s arm. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She nodded and attempted a smile.
“Thank God I still have my mother, but I lost my dad when I was fourteen,” he added.
“Right, you told me during a conversation in Los Angeles.”
“He was my hero and a wonderful man. I miss him every day.”
“Do you mind my asking what happened to him? I wondered about it in LA but felt it impolite to ask. If you’d rather not . . .”
“No, it’s okay. It was a classic case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Randall looked up and waved away the waiter. Neither had picked up their menu to decide what they wanted to eat. “My brother and I wanted Oreo cookies. He went to get them. Put on his ever-present Redskins cap, and headed out the door. Told my brother Antoine and I that he’d be right back. Those were the last words I ever heard my dad say.”
“What happened?”
“A botched robbery; some young punks trying to hold up the local convenience store. Dad knew the owner, a hardworking Korean who’d been in the neighborhood for as long as I could remember. When he saw what was going on, Dad tried to intervene. Got shot in the back. Funny thing is, my dad died but the store owner, Mr. Koh, lived. To thank our family, he promised to help me and my brother graduate from college. And he did.”
“In a sad yet poignant way,” Jacqueline whispered, her eyes suspiciously shiny, “your dad helped too.”
“I never looked at it that way,” Randall said.
“As devastating as it was to lose them, my parents helped me, too. Both had substantial life insurance policies that have allowed me to pretty much do what I want without financial pressure. I left college my senior year to follow a boyfriend to Italy, his home country. He was a biochemistry grad and is responsible for my initial interest in the scientific and medical fields. So when things didn’t work out with him and I returned to Toronto needing a job, an opportunity presented itself and I made the best of it.”
“Do you have siblings?”
Jacqueline paused a long time before answering. “It’s just me.”
“I’m glad to know that Phillip is in your life,” he answered.
“It’s not good to try to make it through this world alone.”
“I don’t only have Phillip to call friend.” Jacqueline’s smile brightened and she picked up her menu. “Now I have you.”
Her heart soared when Randall did nothing to correct her. During dinner, not once did he mention his wife. And the best part? When they arrived back at The Towers of the Waldorf Astoria, Randall spent the entire night in her room, in her bed. How could this be wrong when their love was so perfect?
CHAPTER 21
Sherri turned in the department store mirror so that she could see how the dress fit in the back. The time last week that she’d spent with Randall, culminating in their Friday night date, had reignited something in her, and honestly, seeing the gorgeous woman who’d conducted the LA interview had made her want to step up her game. It was a shame to love a man as much as she did him, even after nearly fifteen years. But Randall had it like that. He’d kept himself in shape, ate properly, and aside from a gray hair or two still looked almost as he had in college. Sherri looked pretty much the same too. She longed to lose the twenty extra pounds that still lingered ten years after giving birth to Aaron, but thought that all in all she di
dn’t look bad for a thirty-seven-year-old sistah with two kids, one who was about to hit her teens. She had a cute, round face, the breast augmentation that she’d had after breast feeding made her girls nice and firm, and her butt—the part of her anatomy that Randall swears made him turn in his bachelor card—was still nicely rounded. Still, girl, you need to get back in the gym and lose that tummy. She turned to the side. I should call Elle and take her up on her offer. Elle was a woman who lived on their block. They’d met a couple years ago when Elle’s dog, in serious heat and on a mission, wanted to do the nasty with their dog Atom. Sherri had suggested that a spaying was in order, and Elle had agreed. The day of the surgery, Sherri went over and delivered gourmet doggy treats. The two women became friendly, and while their schedules didn’t allow for a lot of girl time, they enjoyed each other’s company. The last time they’d talked, Elle, who’d just had her first child a year prior, suggested they begin a workout regimen. Sherri had promised to think about it. Now, as she left the dressing room and went in search of the department that sold Spanx and other body-trimming apparel, she knew that she needed to do more than think. She needed to act.
Two hours later, Sherri pulled into her driveway. She was glad to see that the nanny had arrived. Blair, a cheery recent college graduate with a degree in child development, who also served as the children’s tutor, had decided to take a year off before going for her master’s. Next year she’d leave for Massachusetts to attend a small college with a great program in child education. Sherri missed her already.
“Hey, guys,” Sherri said as she entered the kitchen and saw Blair and Albany at the breakfast nook with a slew of books and a bag of chips between them. “What are we studying?”
“Algebra.” Albany’s tone and expression broadcast that she was none too pleased.
“Better you than me,” Sherri replied. “I barely made it through basic math.”
“She’s doing fine,” Blair assured them, reaching for a chip as she did so. “As soon as we nail how to factor polynomials, she’ll have it made.”
The Perfect Affair Page 11
