It was a good ten minutes before she felt normal. Now she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Managing Editor. Jobs like that only came around once in a lifetime. It certainly was something to think about. It was also something to keep to herself for the time being. She wouldn’t share it with Griff now, especially when he was just getting started in his new job. What a long way he had come from the days when he worked for the ASPCA. She wouldn’t do or say anything that could put a blight or a shadow on his confidence or happiness. For now, Griff had to come first. Would her successful career be as appealing if Griff were not in her life? Would a life with Griff but without a career for herself be appealing? She didn’t know, wasn’t sure. For now, she could have the best of both. She was a reasonably intelligent woman and she should be able to handle both the man in her life and her career. It was something she really wanted, to return to school and finish her degree. But was that really true? Or was she using school as an excuse to go with Griff? The thought bothered her. It was the perfect time and the perfect opportunity. But was she really ready to go back to the academic life? Really ready? She shrugged. It felt right and that would have to be good enough. If it proved to be the wrong decision, she would handle it. Griff seemed to sense how important her doctorate was to her. Could that have something to do with her decision to go back to school? She didn’t want to disappoint him. He found it admirable for a woman to pursue education, and she believed it brought their relationship to a more equal level. He already had his degree in veterinary medicine; she would soon hold a doctorate in the humanities. No, she couldn’t disappoint Griff. It had to be Griff and Dory. Equals.
By the end of the day news of Dory’s plans had spread through the entire fifteenth floor. She knew this had been engineered by Lizzie who, by showing her approval, sanctioned all the good wishes and congratulations of Dory’s colleagues. David Harlow, the editor of Soiree, stopped by to congratulate Dory and offered her drinks and dinner at Le Bernardin the following day. In essence, this was an open declaration that Soiree would always welcome Dory back with open arms.
Dory was overwhelmed by Harlow’s offer. In her eight years at Soiree she had rarely been in the man’s presence. Several wild and exhilarating Christmas parties and one summer picnic hardly counted. David Harlow was a commanding, dynamic man who generated office gossip concerning his private life. Two wives and twice as many mistresses were attributed to this rather short, nattily dressed man with the bruised circles under his eyes. Because of the authority and timbre in his voice a person forgot about the road map of veins in his cheeks and nose and the beginning of ponderous jowls.
“I’d like that, Mr. Harlow,” said Dory as she accepted his invitation. Although she wasn’t eager to spend an evening with this man, she realized it would be inopportune to refuse. Especially for Lizzie’s sake. Dory’s replacing Lizzie as managing editor would require Harlow’s blessing and now was as good a time as any to pave the way.
He didn’t smile or brighten at her acceptance, nor did he ask her to call him David. One didn’t call Mr. Harlow David. Ever.
Jewel-bright eyes flicked over Dory’s attire; he seemed to register satisfaction. “Fine,” he told her, his voice conspiratorially muted, “I’ll stop by around seven tomorrow and we can catch a cab from here.”
Dory sat quietly for a few moments considering the brief exchange of words. For some reason she felt vaguely disgruntled. Katy always said it would take an act of Congress to make the big guy step down to the fifteenth floor to chat with the underlings. Was her leaving and the offer of Lizzie’s job equivalent to an act of Congress?
The late afternoon sun slanted into the spacious office, turning the plants into shimmering green jewels. Dory looked for dust motes but could see nothing but the band of light that seemed to laser through the wide window. She suddenly felt claustrophobic—as though she were trapped in a paperweight, the kind she had when she was a child that snowed tiny flakes when you turned it upside down. An overwhelming urge to talk to Griff washed over her. She drew in her breath, not understanding the feeling.
Katy bustled into the room, jarring Dory from her deep thoughts. She closed the door behind her and flopped down on the chair next to Dory’s desk. With the door closed they could indulge in familiarity. “I’m impressed. So is everyone on the damn floor. God, do you have any idea of the stir you just created? By the weekend, according to rumor, you’ll either be having a raging affair that’s been going on for years or going off on a ‘business trip’ with Big Daddy Harlow. Le Bernardin, no less. Mr Harlow’s secretary told Lizzie’s secretary who told Irma who told me. What do you have to say about that?” Katy grinned.
“With a network like this who needs AT&T? I was as surprised as you are. I’ve only spoken to him once or twice and both times it was at a Christmas party. He’s being nice. Don’t give me problems, and for God’s sake shut the girls up, will you? You know how I hate gossip.”
“I’ll do my best but it’s going to be a lost effort. Wouldn’t you rather assign me to something else?” Not waiting for a reply, Katy rushed on. “I was going to invite you over to the house for dinner, but I can’t come close to Le Bernardin in decor or food. So enjoy. We’ll get together before you leave. How did it all go today?” Her question was serious and Dory, long used to Katy’s moods and questions, fell into the called-upon role.
“Good. Lizzie really surprised me. It’s going to take some getting used to, I can tell you that. It’s a chance of a lifetime, but so is going for my doctorate. I won’t deny that I have a lot of thinking to do. Did you know about the adoption and the offer?”
“I had an inkling. Lizzie’s secretary spread the word that an adoption agency has been calling Lizzie for several months now. That was something no one wanted to discuss because if it didn’t come through for Lizzie we would all have been devastated. You know how badly she wants a baby. And who but you is capable of stepping into her job?”
“They could have brought someone in from outside. I was stunned. I had no idea whatsoever. This has been a day to end all days.”
“The day isn’t over. You still have dinner and the theater, and then there’s tomorrow—dinner with the big boss. You will tell me what it was like, won’t you? I won’t sleep a wink tomorrow night, worrying about you.”
“For heaven’s sake, Katy, why would you worry about me having dinner with Mr. Harlow?”
Katy pursed her full lips till they resembled a rosebud. “Because Mr. Harlow was just divorced and divorced men get lonely and for God’s sake, Dory, do I have to tell you that men, important men like David Harlow, sometimes bring pressure to bear on lowly employees to get . . .”
“My sexual favors?” Dory laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing like that. This is strictly business, I can feel it in my bones.”
“That’s what Cassie Roland thought,” Katy mumbled.
“Okay, who’s Cassie Roland?”
“Cassie Roland is the girl in the publicity department.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “They say Harlow lured her back to the stacks after closing time and had her bloomers off in the wink of an eye.”
“Katy, I’m surprised at you for repeating such gossip. Did they get caught?” She giggled.
“Why do you think he was just divorced? Where in hell have you been for the past eight years? Everyone knows you can’t get a job in publicity unless you sleep with Harlow.”
“I never pay attention to rumors like that,” Dory said. “Where’s Cassie Roland now? Did she get a promotion?”
Katy doubled over. “She sure did. She lives in the Dakota and is driving a Mercedes S550. She says she’s doing freelance work.”
Dory’s stomach churned. “I’ll handle it.”
“Will you be going to D.C. this weekend?”
“I’m going to leave early Friday. Griff’s partners’ wives have been lining up apartments for us to look at. Griff will be staying with John for the time being. He hasn’t even left yet, but I alread
y miss him. Just knowing he won’t be here in the city after tonight gets to me.”
“And yet you say you aren’t ready for marriage. I don’t understand you, Dory. You’re obviously crazy about the guy, yet you won’t marry him. A live-in relationship could get sticky. You know, everyone isn’t as liberal as we are. How much do you know about his partners’ wives and the other women you’re going to be associating with? Not much, right? I’d hate to see you get hurt, Dory, or dumped on, for that matter. I suppose you’re sophisticated enough to handle it all, but is Griff? He seems like such a sweet guy, and he’s going to be hanging out with some pretty influential people if he goes into equine medicine. You’re talking about political clout, old money. Look, I’m talking to you like a mother, now. You can’t just think about yourself—you have to think about Griff. Don’t get so involved you can’t walk away. I want to make sure that whatever you do you do for the right reasons.”
“It will be for the right reasons, believe me. I’ve been honest with Griff and he’s been honest with me. He says he understands and will wait for me to make my mind up. I didn’t jump into this. I’ve given it a lot of serious thought. For me now, at this point in time, this is my best move. I’ll deal with later when later comes. All I know is I love him and I love my career. I have to find a way to combine the two of them, and going back for my doctorate is the first step. It’s the best I can do for now. Everything is up front. Neither of us would have it any other way.”
“Okay, I can buy that,” Katy said, sinking deeper into the leather chair. One shoe slipped off and she sighed with relief. “If I could just take off about twenty-five pounds, I know my feet wouldn’t hurt so much.” She grimaced. “How you manage to walk around in those three-inch heels is beyond me. What’s the shoe count this month? I picked one hundred sixty-six in the pool. Just tell me if I’m close.”
Dory laughed. At first she had been less than amused when she found out the girls in the outer office were running a pool on her shoes. Then she had been flattered when they continued the practice. “No way. Pay your money and take your chances like everyone else.”
“Much as I’d like to chitchat some more, I have to clean up my desk, run down to copy-editing, and then it’s home for me and the love of my life. I’m referring now to my cat, Goliath, not my husband. We’re not speaking. It was his turn to do the laundry last night and he copped out. He said his back hurt. He’s starting to give me that ‘women’s work’ routine. It isn’t sitting too well with me.”
“That’s because you make more money than he does. I told you, every dollar you earn above his is a dollar’s worth of power. Guess you’re going to have to turn down your next raise. You’re due next month, aren’t you?” Dory’s voice was light, teasing, but there was something in her eyes that made Katy think twice before she answered.
“I would never turn it down. I would, however, do some serious reevaluation of my marriage.”
Dory said nothing, but her eyes were sympathetic as she watched Katy bend over and struggle to slip her swollen foot into her espadrille. She winced and Dory looked away. “I’ll see you in the morning and thanks again for the invitation.”
“Any time,” Katy said, limping from the office.
The end of another day. For some reason Dory felt saddened at the thought. There weren’t too many days left. She couldn’t start thinking wishy-washy thoughts now. The die was cast; she was leaving. Maybe she would return and maybe she wouldn’t. For now she had an evening with her aunt and Griff to look forward to. His last night in town and he was generously offering to share it with her and her aunt. It pleased her that he was going to the theater after a busy day and all the last-minute details that had to be taken care of before he could leave in the morning. That was so like Griff. He really put out for her in more ways than one. And, in her own way, she did the same thing. It was give and take. Griff wouldn’t exactly “suffer” through the play but she knew he would rather be doing something else. Thoughtful, kind, wonderful Griff.
Dory straightened her desk as she made her brief call to Griff to arrange their meeting in the coffee shop. He was agreeable as always. “Love you,” Dory said softly.
“Yeaaaaaah,” Griff drawled.
Dory knew when Pixie walked into the coffee shop, even though she couldn’t see her. Pixie’s entrance had created a hush. Dory smiled. There was no doubt about it. Pixie was an attention getter. She stood up and waved. “Over here, Pixie.”
“My God, you look stunning, Dory. You do take after our side of the family. I’m not late, am I?” she asked, looking around. “Where’s Grit? He is coming, isn’t he?”
“Of course. He’ll be here any minute now. Good Lord, wherever did you get that outfit? Is that a new wig? Those aren’t real diamonds, are they? Is that cape really lined with ermine?”
“One thing at a time. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Yes, the wig is new. I always wanted a black wig. I had to take this one because all the others made me look like Cher. I’m as skinny as she is but there the resemblance ends. I had to glue it. There’s a high wind out there. Of course these diamonds are real. Your mother would give her eye teeth for them. I needed a cape and this was the only one I could find. What difference does the temperature make? The theater will be air-conditioned. You can wear ermine any time, any place. What are we having to drink?”
“Coffee. Here comes yours.”
Pixie looked around to see if alcoholic beverages were served. Seeing nothing but a coffee urn, she rummaged in her bag and came up with a silver flask. She faked a sputtery kind of cough and poured liberally for the waitress’s benefit. “Medicinal purposes.”
“If that’s your story, it’s okay with me,” the waitress said wearily.
“Smart-ass.” Pixie grimaced.
Dory stifled a laugh. “Here’s Griff.”
“You didn’t tell me he was this good-looking,” said Pixie. She held out her hand to Griff. “Be continental and pretend you’re kissing my hand. I do so love attention. Look at these poor starved souls in here. This will be something for them to talk about for days.”
Griff swallowed hard as Dory made the introductions.
“It’s all right, young man. I usually have this effect on people. Isn’t that right, Dory?”
“Absolutely,” Dory said.
“I always wanted to be a household word. You know, famous, that kind of thing,” Pixie said, yanking at the black wig.
“In Mother’s house you’re a household word,” Dory said as they sat down. “She called me today and told me you went for your annual checkup. How did it go?”
“The doctor was dumbfounded. He couldn’t find anything wrong with me. Your mother seems to think I’m senile. I sent her an e-mail saying I would live. That should ruin her day tomorrow when she gets it. The doctor was amazed when he took my history and found out I had had so much repair work done. He said it was astonishing that a woman would go under the knife so often and for so little results. He also told me I should get a cat or some other dumb animal for my twilight years. I let him know what I thought of that in quick order. Grit, would you like a belt of this?” Pixie held out her flask. Griff shrugged and took a swig.
“Jesus, what is that?” he croaked.
“Some people call it white lightning. Others call it shine. I have a whole barrel in my kitchen. It was a legacy from one of my husbands. Right now, I can’t remember which one. But it will come to me.”
“Those gloves are certainly elegant,” Dory said, peering closely at her aunt’s hands.
“I only wore them because my hands are smeared with Porcelana. I do hate those damn liver spots. No one really believes they’re giant freckles except your mother,” Pixie said fretfully. “Shouldn’t we be leaving? It’s not nice to walk in after the play starts.”
“I guess so. Why so quiet, Griff?” Dory asked.
“No reason. Here, let me help you . . . Pixie.” He looked wildly at Dory and mouthed the words. “What should I ca
ll her?”
“Of course you should call me Pixie. Everyone else does,” Pixie said, craning her neck and knocking the wig off center. “Is it on straight, Grit?”
“Looks all right to me. Dory?”
“Perfect.”
With a swish of the ermine-lined cape Pixie sailed down the aisle.
Dory almost choked on her own laughter when Griff pinched her arm. “She’s wearing Puma funning sneakers.”
“Guess her bunions are bothering her again. Don’t worry, no one will notice unless she trips on that damn cape. Don’t you just love her?”
Griff grinned from ear to ear as he linked arms with both women. “I’ll be the envy of every man at the theater. Not one but two beautiful women. What more could a guy ask for?”
“Not much,” Pixie snapped. “I like him, Dory. He knows beauty when he sees it.”
“There’s one thing I hate about the theater,” Pixie whispered during the third act. “They don’t sell anything for you to eat during the play. I like to nibble and sip.”
Dory nudged Griff, who was dozing in his seat. She smiled. “He only came along because he knows I like the theater. He’d rather be home watching a ball game. Isn’t he wonderful, Pixie?”
Balancing Act Page 17
