by Anita Hughes
“I suppose I could if I had to.” He debated. “But it would be like having to learn Chinese when you spent your whole life speaking English.”
“Women would line up to be with Oliver Bristol, restaurant critic for the New York Times.”
“Is this about Mirabelle again?” He took her arm.
“I walk into a trendy restaurant, and you’re being cozy with a blonde at a bar.” She paused. “You are an attractive man, and you meet dozens of women every day.”
“You’re the only woman I ever wanted, and I’m lucky to have you,” he said and kissed her.
Lily could smell Oliver’s cologne. She kissed him back, and he tasted of vanilla and almonds.
“I know you’re lucky, Oliver,” she said playfully. “Just don’t forget it.”
* * *
Lily stood at the window of her room at the Westin St. Francis and thought the sunset in San Francisco was spectacular. The sky was purple, the cable cars were bright red, and the Bay Bridge was a silvery outline.
She had been in San Francisco for four days and now she couldn’t wait to get home. But her meetings ran long and she had to postpone her flight.
Her phone rang, and she picked it up.
“I was supposed to pick you up at JFK in five hours. But you sent a text that you’re not on the plane.” Oliver’s voice came over the line.
“I’m sorry. My bookkeeper told me she’s five months pregnant, and I have to hire a new one,” Lily explained. “I have to stay for two more days.”
“But tonight is the eighty-fifth anniversary party of the Rainbow Room,” Oliver reminded her. “We were going to drive straight from the airport. It’s the event of the season.”
“Then you’ll have to go without me,” she said.
“You don’t mind?” he asked.
“You can’t have a foodie event in Manhattan without the critic for the New York Times.” Lily smiled.
“I’ll take pictures of the food spread,” Oliver replied. “There’s going to be a caviar bar and lamb flown in from Singapore.”
Lily hung up the phone and decided to get clam chowder at Fisherman’s Wharf. Her phone rang again, and she wondered if she’d forgotten to give Oliver the flight number.
“Lily, you’re still here,” her mother said. “I was afraid you were on the plane to New York.”
“I spoke to you this morning, Mother.” Lily clutched the phone. “I told you I had to stay until Friday.”
“I’m glad you haven’t left,” Alice continued. “I’m having a dinner party tonight, and you must come.”
“Sorry, I can’t. I have to study résumés,” Lily answered.
“Gavin Newsom and his wife, Jennifer, are invited, and they’re redesigning their cabin in Tahoe,” Alice said. “They’re the ideal clients for Lily Bristol.”
“I don’t have time,” Lily replied. “I have four interviews tomorrow.”
“The Newsoms are San Francisco’s premier couple, you can’t pass up the opportunity,” Alice insisted. “Plus, they have a daughter Louisa’s age. You have a lot in common.”
Lily fiddled with her earrings and thought she didn’t really want to eat dinner alone. And Jennifer Newsom seemed lovely in her photos.
“All right, Mother,” Lily agreed. “I’ll come.”
“Excellent,” Alice replied. “Cocktails are at seven.”
* * *
Lily rushed up the stone steps of her parents’ house and rang the doorbell. She heard the clatter of heels, and her mother opened the door. Her ash blond hair fell to her shoulders, and she wore a cream dress and diamond earrings.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Lily entered the marble foyer. Crystal vases were filled with orchids, and the air smelled of expensive perfume. “It was impossible to get a taxi.”
“I don’t know why you don’t stay here when you’re in San Francisco,” Alice remarked. “Your room is the same.”
“I’m a thirty-one-year-old career woman, I can afford a hotel,” Lily said and stopped. She was determined not to let her mother upset her. “I love staying on Union Square. I bought Louisa a dress at Neiman Marcus and picked up a shirt for Oliver at Wilkes Bashford.”
“The Newsoms aren’t here yet anyway.” Alice led her into the living room. “But there is someone you haven’t seen for ages.”
Lily followed her mother and gasped. Roger sat on the sofa, nursing a gin and tonic. She hadn’t seen him since before her wedding, but he looked the same. His blond hair was perfectly cut, and he wore a navy suit and tasseled shoes.
“Roger!” Lily exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“Your mother invited me to dinner.” He stood up. “Gavin and I are friends, we serve on the same committees.”
“Roger is doing so well,” Alice cut in. “He’s a partner at his firm, and thinking about going into politics.”
“It’s wonderful to see you.” Roger beamed. “You haven’t changed a bit, you look lovely. Alice showed me a photo of Louisa. She has your eyes and smile.”
“I’ve always thought Louisa looks like Oliver,” Lily said and turned to her mother. “Could I see you in the kitchen?”
* * *
“How dare you invite Roger without telling me?” Lily fumed. “Oliver would be furious if he knew.”
“Why shouldn’t you attend a dinner party with an old friend?” Alice arranged a bouquet of peonies. “And Roger knows a lot of people in San Francisco. He can send you clients.”
“Lily Bristol is doing very well, I don’t need Roger’s help,” Lily snapped. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to interfere with my marriage.”
“Oliver could have come on your trip. I would have loved to see Louisa.” Alice sighed. “I don’t know what you’re doing in Connecticut anyway. Your friends and family are here, you belong in San Francisco.”
“Oliver loves his job and Louisa is happy in school.” Lily bristled. “I don’t believe the Newsoms are even coming; you lured me here to see Roger. How could you? I’m in love with my husband, and I’m not the slightest bit interested in Roger’s accomplishments.”
“It’s always nice to be surrounded by successful young people.” Alice’s tone softened. “Let’s go back and join Roger. Your father will be home soon, and we’re having sirloin tips and roasted potatoes.”
Lily grabbed her purse and walked back to the living room.
“I’m terribly sorry, I remembered I have an appointment,” she said to Roger. “Have a wonderful dinner. I’ll see you another time.”
“Lily! You can’t just leave.” Alice followed her to the foyer. “What will I say to the Newsoms when they arrive?”
“You’ll think of something.” Lily turned to her mother. “You’re very good at twisting words.”
* * *
Lily sat on the sofa of her hotel room and sipped a cup of tea. She had ordered a Caesar salad. Now she leaned against the cushions and wished she were home in bed with Oliver.
It was almost midnight in Connecticut. She wondered if it was too late to call him again. She had tried his cell phone a few times, but each time it went straight to voice mail. Oliver never charged his phone at night; it was probably sitting on the bedside table.
She dialed the home number and pressed send.
“Hello, the Bristol residence,” a female voice answered.
“Audrey?” Lily asked. “I didn’t think you’d still be there. Is Louisa all right?”
“She’s fine,” the babysitter replied. “She’s been asleep for hours.”
“Oh, good.” Lily let out her breath. “I was looking for Oliver.”
“He called earlier and asked if I could sleep over,” Audrey said. “He had to stay in the city.”
“Oliver is staying in the city?” Lily repeated and felt something hard press against her chest.
“He has his cell phone with him. I’m sure you can reach him.”
“Of course,” Lily answered. “Thank you for being so flexible. Please tell
Louisa I can’t wait to be home, and I bought her a present.”
Lily hung up and stared at her phone. She wondered if something had happened, and Oliver had gotten in an accident. But he would have told Audrey.
She flipped through her phone and clicked on Oliver’s Instagram account. She recognized the floor-to-ceiling windows and crystal chandeliers of the Rainbow Room. There was a photo of Oliver talking to a blonde in a black cocktail dress. She zoomed in and realized it was Mirabelle.
Her hands shook, and she walked to the window. She tried Oliver’s number one more time, but it went through to voice mail. There was nothing to worry about. Oliver probably had a perfectly good reason to stay in the city. He had to file an early morning story or he lost his wallet and couldn’t afford the train fare.
But Oliver always took the last train home, even when he was on deadline. And she was the one who lost things; he never misplaced his phone or car keys.
It was late, and she was upset by her mother and Roger. She would call Oliver in the morning, and he would explain everything. A chill ran down her spine, and she wondered how she would ever fall asleep.
* * *
Lily slipped off her pumps and poured a cup of coffee. She had held interviews all day, and now it was almost evening. A soft fog drifted over San Francisco Bay, and Coit Tower was bathed in a golden light.
She had tried calling Oliver in the morning, but his phone had gone straight to voice mail. Now she curled up on the upholstered love seat and dialed his number.
“I haven’t spoken to you all day,” Lily said when Oliver answered. “How was the Rainbow Room?”
“The scallops were soggy, and the upside-down martinis gave me a headache. I came home and took two aspirin and went straight to bed.”
“Was Audrey still there when you arrived?” she asked.
“Of course she was here,” he replied. “She wouldn’t leave Louisa home alone.”
Lily had never run out of things to say to Oliver. But suddenly her throat was parched, and she couldn’t form any words.
“There’s a new Basque restaurant in the East Village I’ve been wanting to try. Why don’t we have a romantic dinner tomorrow on our way home from the airport?” Oliver suggested. “I’ll rub your thigh under the table and tell you how much I’ve missed you.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Lily gripped the phone. “I can’t think of anything I’d like better.”
Lily hung up and wondered why she hadn’t asked Oliver if he’d stayed in the city. But Oliver had lied to her before she got a chance.
Her teeth chattered, and she felt like she was coming down with the flu. She searched the bathroom for some aspirin but all she could find was a pink bottle of Pepto-Bismol. She grabbed her purse and took the elevator to the lobby.
“Lily,” a male voice called. “I was about to ask the front desk to call your room.”
“Roger?” Lily turned around. “What on earth are you doing here? Don’t tell me my mother sent you.”
“She told me where you were staying, but I came by myself. I want to apologize.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’m sure you didn’t have to rush off to an appointment last night. You were the victim of an ambush.”
“It’s nothing against you,” Lily assured him. “But my mother shouldn’t have invited you without telling me.”
“I completely agree.” He nodded. “If I had known you were coming, I would have declined the invitation.”
“You would have?” she repeated.
“You’re married, with a beautiful daughter,” he continued. “I understand if you’re not comfortable around me.”
“Of course I’m comfortable around you.” She suddenly felt flustered. “I really should go. I have to buy some aspirin, I’m coming down with a fever.”
“Aspirin won’t do anything to help that.” He looked at Lily. “And you do look a little pale. Why don’t we order a brandy at the hotel bar?”
Lily’s head ached, her eyes burned, and she longed to sit down.
“All right.” She nodded. “A brandy sounds lovely.”
* * *
The Clock Bar had paneled walls and oriental rugs and red velvet booths. Lily leaned against the cushions and sipped a Toasted Almond. The Kahlúa was sweet, and the amaretto was rich, and a warmth spread through her chest.
“I haven’t drunk one of these in years.” She stirred her drink. “We drank Toasted Almonds at the Dakota Bar when I visited you at Columbia. I’d never even heard of it. It sounded like a jelly bean flavor,” she giggled. “I didn’t believe something that tasted like a milkshake could affect me.”
“You started singing ‘Silent Night’ in front of the whole bar, and I had to carry you out.” Roger laughed. “I didn’t mind. You were light as a sparrow.”
“I’ve never been a good drinker,” she mused. “Oliver had to finish my glass of champagne, or I wouldn’t have been able to dance the first dance at our wedding.”
“I still remember everything about that Christmas you visited me in New York,” Roger said slowly. “It snowed all night, and when we woke up, the streets were covered in a white blanket.”
“I’d only seen snow a few times in Tahoe,” she recalled. “Manhattan looked so pretty. The lights twinkled in Rockefeller Center, and Central Park was hushed, and everything was magical.”
“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I never posted that letter?” Roger finished his martini. “We’d be living in an apartment on Fifth Avenue, and I’d be a partner in a Manhattan law firm. You could have done anything you liked: decorated houses and traveled and served on charity boards.”
“I’m happily married,” Lily said stiffly. She remembered the Instagram photo of Oliver and Mirabelle and felt a searing pain. “I should go. I have an early morning flight.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” He rubbed his brow. “It was the martini talking. Can we still be friends?”
“It would be impossible not to be friends with my mother around,” Lily said and smiled.
She opened her purse and rifled through her lipsticks. “I must have left my key in the room. I’ll get another from the front desk.”
“I’ll tell the concierge you aren’t feeling well and ask for a key.” Roger led her to the elevator. “I’ll only be a minute.”
Lily’s cheeks were flushed, and she felt slightly dizzy. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I’ll only be a minute.” Roger led her to the elevator.
Lily sat on an ottoman and noticed a couple standing near the gift shop. The woman had blond hair and reminded her of Mirabelle. She remembered Oliver and Mirabelle’s knees touching at the restaurant, and a prickle ran down her spine.
Could Oliver have spent the night with Mirabelle? Lily had been traveling a lot; perhaps Oliver felt neglected. Or he couldn’t resist the attention of a beautiful young chef. Why else would he have lied? Oliver told the truth about everything.
Roger returned from the front desk, and Lily tried to stand up. He had only been gone for a few minutes, but she felt ill. She shouldn’t have drunk the Toasted Almond, but it had looked so innocent, like one of Louisa’s smoothies. Her knees buckled, and she sank onto the ottoman.
“I can’t have you fainting in the elevator. Your mother will never forgive me.” Roger took her arm. “Let me help you to your room.”
“It’s just a chill,” Lily protested. “I’ll be fine.”
“I was a Boy Scout for years.” He pressed the button. “I can’t abandon a woman in distress.”
Lily inserted the key in the door and entered her hotel room. She placed her purse on the coffee table and poured a glass of mineral water.
“Once I caught a bug in Singapore and was stuck in bed for a week.” Roger followed her inside. “Maybe you should stay an extra day. You don’t want to get on a plane with a fever.”
“I’m sure it’s a twenty-four-hour thing,” she said. “All I need is a good night’s sleep
.”
Suddenly Roger pulled her close and kissed her. A warmth flooded her chest and, for a moment, she kissed him back. Then she started and pushed him away.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“There was something different about you tonight,” he urged. “I could sense it.”
“I wasn’t feeling well and needed a drink.” She recoiled. “You imagined anything else.”
“You kissed me back,” he insisted. “Whatever we had is still there.”
“I think you should leave,” she said and smoothed her skirt.
“Lily, I never should have let you go.” Roger walked to the door and turned around. “You’re the loveliest woman I ever met. You deserve to be happy.”
Lily stood at the window and tried to stop her heart from racing. Roger just left and she was alone. Had she led him on? She had been feeling ill and needed to sit down, nothing more.
The lights twinkled over the bay, and she touched her mouth. What would Oliver say if she told him? And had he already done something she couldn’t forgive? She closed her eyes, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
* * *
Lily hurried along the cobblestones from the piazzetta and shielded her eyes from the sun. She shouldn’t have stopped to talk to Oliver while she was shopping. Now it was almost noon. Ricky was meeting her at the Hotel Cervo to go on the picnic, and she needed to pack a swimsuit.
Oliver was wrong; it wasn’t just that they hadn’t trusted each other. They’d both done something impossible to forgive. That was why they’d divorced, so they had a chance to be happy.
A car honked, and Lily looked up. Ricky jumped out of a red convertible. He wore wraparound sunglasses and held a bouquet of daisies.
“You’re early! And where did you get that gorgeous car?” Lily laughed.
“My brother-in-law lent it to me.” Ricky opened her door. “It’s a crime to drive along the Emerald Coast in anything but a convertible.”
“I’m not ready, I haven’t packed a bathing suit.” Lily climbed into the passenger seat.
“We’ll buy one in Porto Rotondo.” He slid in beside her. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll get stuck in traffic.”
