Adam was amusing and charming, but the elegant setting had subtly changed the atmosphere between them, from the beginning of intimacy to an almost awkward formality.
Ann put down her fork. “Tell me, Adam, what’s the history of this building? It’s exquisite, but I don’t recognize the style.”
He told her. It had been created as a pied-à-terre for very wealthy New Yorkers around the turn of the century. Stories had been added during the twenties. For some three decades it had slowly deteriorated until it had finally gone co-op in the early sixties.
“I did the legal work on it, and they gave me the top floor—penthouse if you prefer—in lieu of a fee. Like it?”
In lieu of a fee! Good God—his charges must be astronomical. Ann thought of poor Phillip, in his shabby little office, researching accident claims. She forced her mind to the present. Tonight was a lovely dream, and she would enjoy it as such—nothing more. Adam would remain distinct from the reality of her life; from the practical, loyal wife and career woman she would become again tomorrow. She looked across the table at Adam. She couldn’t decide whether he looked more like Gregory Peck or Cary Grant, with the silver at his temples. She picked up her fork and concentrated on the soufflé.
As Gaston refilled her wineglass, she realized she was getting a little tipsy, but when he poured champagne with dessert, she didn’t refuse. The dessert was a masterpiece: tiny succulent raspberries in a delicate crust, with crème Chantilly that was flavored with a delicately scented almond liqueur. Afterward came wafers of bittersweet chocolate.
“Oh dear,” Ann sighed, wondering where she would find room for more food. And then, after finishing the dessert and several chocolates, “Oh dear,” as Gaston refilled her champagne glass.
Adam studied her face for a moment, then nodded at Gaston. The servant left the room, then returned with a dusty bottle of precious Marquis de Caussade brandy and two Venetian glass snifters that seemed too airy and fragile to be real. “Ça suffit,” Ann heard Adam tell his servant. “Maintenant, bonsoir!”
And they were alone.
“Shall we have our drinks by the fire?” Adam said.
As they got up from the table, Ann asked with a giggle she couldn’t suppress, “Is this the way you eat every night?”
“If I did, I’d be a real tub, wouldn’t I?” Adam laughed, guiding her gently to a love seat and settling himself beside her.
Ann looked at him. She had to again remind herself that this handsome and vigorous man was in his fifties, for only the gray at his temples and a few lines around the eyes betrayed his age. She felt drowsy and contented. It was all unreal…. Then she gathered her strength and whispered, “Adam … it’s been marvelous. But it’s time to go now.”
“Not before you’ve sampled the brandy. It’s sixty years old. It’s for very special occasions.”
“And how many special occasions do you have?” she murmured.
“Not many. Not many at all.”
For a long, long moment, there was silence between them. Adam didn’t know what to say, and he was rarely at a loss for words. Ann was the loveliest woman he had ever seen. He had invited her to the apartment with every intention of making love to her, but he realized now he wanted much more than to sleep with her. She fitted into his home as if it had been created with her in mind. It was as if, without knowing that she existed, he had planned it for her. He wanted her, yes. But not just in his bed. He wanted her in every aspect of his life. He wanted her to be his wife.
Although he didn’t know how she felt about him, it seemed impossible that she too wasn’t aware of the bond between them. Looking at her gravely, he said, “Ann, you know why I asked you here.”
Ann realized that until now, she had been able to enjoy the fantasy without having to deal with the reality. But before she could answer, he continued. “I wanted to make love to you. But now I realize that I’m in love with you.”
Ann was too shocked to answer. He reached out and gently took the glass from her hand, setting it on the coffee table. Then he took her hand in his.
Ann could neither pull away nor respond. This was beyond anything she had imagined.
“Adam, I don’t know what to say.”
“I think you are as drawn to me as I am to you. We’ve both been playing games with each other for the last year. Isn’t that true?”
Ann was too honest to deny it. “All right, Adam, it is true. I’ve been—infatuated—with you from the very beginning. It has been hard even to talk to you on the phone. And being with you this trip …”
She broke off and took a deep breath. “But, Adam, dreams are just that. This is reality, and I can’t let myself fall in love with you.”
“Why not, Ann?” he asked softly.
Ann’s eyes were bleak. “Because I’m married.”
“You don’t love your husband, Ann. I don’t think you’d be here tonight if you did. You’re not just looking for a cheap thrill.”
She looked at him for a long, silent moment. “Adam, don’t you see? This is just not going to work.”
“Because you’re married.”
“Of course—because I’m married.”
“If you don’t love your husband, don’t you think that’s just a little hypocritical?”
“You don’t understand. I may not love my husband, but he loves me, and ultimately, that’s more important. He trusts me.”
“Ann, people get married for a million reasons, but if it no longer works, it’s like a bad business investment. You get rid of it.”
“I know a lot of people think that way these days. But I don’t. For me to betray the people who love me—to take my happiness at their expense—I just couldn’t live with myself.”
“Just tell me one thing. Do you love me?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “More than you know.”
That was enough for Adam. Taking her into his arms, he kissed her with all his pent-up passion. She kissed him back, wanting nothing more than to be able to give herself up to his embrace.
Then he lifted his lips slightly and, holding her very close, whispered, “I love you, Ann.”
No one would ever know how hard it was to push him away, but she couldn’t erase the images of Phillip and Evie from her mind. Maybe she was a fool. Maybe she was passing up the chance of a lifetime. No doubt she would regret it later: cry over it. But she just couldn’t do this.
“I’m so sorry, Adam. I wish things could be different, but they’re not.”
He frowned, then turned away, adjusting his tie and running his hand over his hair tiredly.
“Shall we finish our drinks?” The suave, assured mask was back in place.
But when he returned home after dropping Ann at her hotel, he paced his bedroom until dawn, chain-smoking. For all his intelligence, good looks, and social graces, Adam knew that he’d never had much luck with women. Poor Felicia, his former wife, had been a disaster from the beginning—and now Ann, too, was lost to him.
Chapter Thirty-Six
THE NEXT DAY, ON the plane, Ann was stricken by a terrible sense of loss and emptiness. For one rebellious moment she imagined herself taking the first flight back to New York and telling Adam, “To hell with both of them—I’m staying!” But how long would her resolve sustain her? Not only would her own guilt come between them, but there was the consideration that Adam didn’t want a casual affair either. He wanted to marry her—and that of course would mean a confrontation with Phillip. And quite aside from the dreadful wound her betrayal would inflict on Phillip, if she divorced him, she would run the risk of losing Evie entirely. Evie would never forgive her for hurting her father.
Ann knew that she had made the only possible decision. Furthermore, she swore to herself that from the moment of her arrival in San Francisco, she would do everything in her power to rekindle the love she and Phillip had experienced for each other when they were first married.
That night, before getting into bed, Ann put on a delicate nightie she
had bought in New York. She snuggled up against Phillip, put her lips next to his ear, and whispered, “Phillip … darling … do you know what I’d like?”
“What?”
“I’d like to take a week or so off and just go off somewhere—Carmel, or Baja California, or some other nice place. Anywhere you’d like.”
“Of course, honey. But you pick it—I don’t care.”
Ann reacted to his indifference as a challenge—she was now all the more eager to win back their old passion—if not that night, then on their belated honeymoon.
“Then how about Carmel? We could stay at the Del Monte.”
“Sure honey—Evie would love it there. She could ride horses along the beach.”
Ann was dismayed. Didn’t he understand that this was to be just the two of them?
“Darling … I really thought it would be fun to take a vacation alone.”
“But who is Evie going to stay with while we’re gone?”
“A friend.”
“Oh, darling, you know how I feel about that. I don’t like her spending more than a night away from us.”
“She’s a big girl now, Phillip.”
“I know, Ann. But with all those drug fiends and hippies over on Haight-Ashbury, I’m nervous about leaving her.”
Ann sighed. “Well … if you really want her to come along, I guess it’s okay with me.”
Evie insisted on bringing her best friend, Pamela. The four of them piled into the old Chrysler station wagon and puttered slowly southward along the beautiful coastal highway.
The Del Monte Lodge was charming, their rooms perfect, and the seafood couldn’t be faulted. It was too bad Phillip and Ann had to sit and watch the others dance, but Phillip’s leg had begun to bother him lately.
It was a perfect vacation except that nothing changed between Phillip and Ann. No new fires were lit. After a week of relaxation they returned to San Francisco no more than good friends.
This apparently was the price Ann had paid for her career. For several years, she had assumed that Phillip had adjusted to her success. She now realized that he had not; he had simply stopped opposing her. He had caved in. He no longer gave a damn—about his career or hers. The only person he truly cared for was his daughter, Evie. Seeing them together in Carmel, Ann had to acknowledge their closeness. Without intending to, they somehow excluded her. They loved her, true, but she was not the center of their lives, as she had thought she was.
A part of her wondered miserably whether they might get along just as well without her. After all, she wouldn’t be the only woman ever to leave her husband and child. But Ann could not escape that unsatisfied need that had haunted her since childhood—the need to belong. It was what really kept her from leaving Phillip. It was not just that he loved her. It was that for so many years, she had been able to console herself with the knowledge that no matter what happened, she had a family that belonged to her, and she to them.
No matter how much happiness might lay elsewhere, the thought of abandoning that safe harbor and launching herself into unknown waters was impossible. But she would have to do something, or she would never find tranquility anywhere. She would have to try even harder with Phillip, bring him to love her as he once had. That was where her security lay.
This summer, she decided, they should try to take a whole month’s vacation. It was impossible to make any real changes while she still had all the pressures and responsibilities of the business. And it was Evie’s last summer before college. The timing was perfect; she would devote herself to Phillip and Evie.
But when she described her plan to Phillip later in the week, he seemed skeptical. “You mean you’d leave your office for four whole weeks?”
“I’m not even going to use a telephone, Phillip. I’m going to put May Brubeck in total charge of the agency, and the property managers can deal with most of their problems on their own.”
Phillip almost smiled, but it was not entirely a smile of humor. Secretly, he knew that Ann Coulter could never spend an entire summer away from business.
“Okay, honey. If you say so. I certainly won’t be missed at my office”
On July 5, bright and early, Phillip, Ann, Evie, Pamela, and Consuela loaded their things into the station wagon and set off on the beginning of what Ann felt would be their most glorious holiday in over twenty-five years of married life.
It would be a new beginning for Phillip and her; she knew it in her heart.
The elegant redwood cottage she had rented was in Nevada, on Lake Tahoe. There was a tiny private beach and an outboard motorboat. For the first two weeks, Ann was true to her word, and took not a single phone call from work. They went on hikes and picnics, boated and fished, barbecued ribs out on the flagstone terrace, and generally enjoyed themselves.
Then, insidiously, business began to intrude. One of Ann’s managers quit unexpectedly, a loan needed to be rolled over, May Brubeck had questions that only her boss could answer.
At first it was only a call or two a day, and she was still able to participate in all the lakeshore activities. But as July waned, the calls increased in number, and before Ann knew it, she was spending most of the day talking to San Francisco.
Consuela packed lunches for Phillip, Evie, and Pamela, and the three of them spent long days cruising aimlessly along the lakeshore.
Often, when they returned, they would find Ann still on the phone. She would look up, cover the receiver, and whisper, “I’ll be off in a minute.” But things did not get entirely out of control until August, when an urgent call came from Ann’s secretary.
“Mrs. Coulter, Mr. Gayne’s office has been calling and calling from New York. A crisis has come up with the new syndication. You’re to telephone immediately.”
Ann called, heart pounding at the mere mention of Adam’s name. But her excitement was replaced by anxiety when Justin Roth, Adam’s partner, came on the line and told her the bad news. There was no choice; she had to fly to New York immediately.
Just then, Phillip appeared at the head of the stairs carrying his fishing rod and a tackle box.
“Phillip? Would you come here for a moment, please?” Even before she spoke she knew what his reaction would be.
“Honey, I just talked to New York. They’ve apparently discovered a fraudulent omission in the seismological survey down in Florida, and all the partners are meeting in New York tomorrow to discuss what can be salvaged of the project. I’m afraid I have to go.”
Phillip’s expression was unreadable. Then he shrugged and replied in an even tone, “It’s your life, Ann.”
Later that day, they drove her to the airport. As they neared Reno, she tried again to apologize. “I’m so sorry, Phillip darling. I hate to leave you, even for a day. But that’s all it will be, I’m sure. A day, or at most, two.”
Phillip nodded. “We’ll see. Have a good trip.”
She felt a brief stab of anger. If Phillip had been a successful lawyer, he wouldn’t feel guilty if he went to New Orleans to plead a case. Did any husband apologize to his wife as she packed his bags?
“I love you,” she called as she entered the plane, feeling increasingly guilty.
The ride into Manhattan from the airport seemed terribly exhausting, and her weariness didn’t lessen even after she had settled into her room at the St. Regis, where the office had finally managed to book her. Kicking off her shoes, she sank onto the bed, fighting off the desire to call Adam. Instead, she called room service and ordered a steak sandwich and a pot of black coffee.
After she had eaten, she placed a call to Phillip. When he answered, Ann said in her most conciliatory tone, “Darling, how are you?”
“I’m fine. How was the trip?” he asked, but it was obvious he didn’t really care. Well, she didn’t blame him. She had left him high and dry. Why should he be concerned?
Ann hung up almost wishing she hadn’t called. There was an odd note in Phillip’s voice she had never heard before.
Chapter Thirty
-Seven
PHILLIP, TOO, REGRETTED ANN’S call. Something inside him had snapped when she left this time. He knew he was being unfair, even irrational, but he felt that she had deliberately deserted Evie and him. Her work would always come first. And it wasn’t the need for more money, or for security, that drove her these days. It was sheer competitive instinct. The lust for power.
Phillip suddenly felt an anger toward his wife that surpassed any he had experienced in all their years together. He thought his chest was going to burst as he paced his room. Then he decided: To hell with it all—I’m going out on the town.
He put on his navy cashmere blazer and caramel flannel trousers, adjusted his horn-rim glasses, and examined himself in the mirror. Not bad. Not bad for fifty-two. Ann liked to tell him that he looked like Robert Taylor. But no—that wasn’t so. He stared hard at his reflection. No, what I really look like is Mr. Ann Coulter, husband of the famous San Francisco real estate tycoon. He looked down at his gold Patek Philippe watch, then at his tasseled Gucci loafers. Gifts from Ann. As was the Mercedes parked outside. No, he certainly wasn’t Robert Taylor. A kept man, perhaps. A gigolo. Some used the word “pimp.”
He choked back his rage, adjusted his tie, and marched into the living room, where Evie and Pamela were watching television.
“Evie, honey—I’m going down to the South Shore for a couple of hours. Don’t wait up for me.”
Evie looked at her father with approval and winked. “You look gorgeous. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Dad.”
Phillip smiled at her: his self-assurance had returned. “I won’t, honey. Don’t worry.”
God bless you, Evie, he thought as he stepped out the door.
Even the limp didn’t bother him tonight. He walked a little faster to the car and set off down the unlit, winding road that led to the other side of the lake.
Switching on the radio, he began to hum along with the country-music station. Before he knew it, the neon lights of the State-line casinos lined the road. He picked the second one and pulled into the parking lot.
Seasons of the Heart Page 24
