The Black Door

by Velvet

  “Well, just think of it as your bachelorette party, your one last hurrah,” Meri said convincingly.

  “Since Preston has been the attentive fiancé lately, and has made me his number-one priority, I don’t need the services of the club anymore,” she responded, trying to convince her friend as well as herself.

  Meri raised an eyebrow, as if doubting Ariel’s words. “Spoken like a true bride-to-be. On that note, I think we need a drink.” Meri stopped one of the servers milling about and asked him to bring them a chilled bottle of champagne.

  They settled in the living room and toasted before the party began. Meri raised her flute. “To the new Mrs. Hendricks, may you and Preston have a long, healthy, happy life together.”

  Ariel clinked her glass with Meri’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “Where’s Mrs. Grant? I thought she’d be with you tonight.”

  “She wanted to come so badly, but she has a new set of three-year-old twins and didn’t want to leave them with a babysitter. She’s so happy that I’m getting married; you’d swear she was the one engaged,” Ariel mused.

  “She just wants the best for you. After all, she’s never had children of her own, and having raised you, I’m sure she considers you her natural daughter.”

  “Yes, she does, and I love her like my natural mother. I made her promise that she’d leave those kids long enough to come to the wedding, and she said that’s one event she wouldn’t miss for the world,” Ariel said.

  “And she’s not the only one; I myself will definitely have a front-row seat to witness the nuptials,” Meri said, taking a sip of her champagne.

  Ariel looked down at her engagement ring. “Wow, this is really happening, isn’t it?” she asked rhetorically. “To be honest, I didn’t think Preston would ever propose. His last marriage was a disaster, and I resigned myself to the fact that he probably never wanted to get married again. Sometimes I think he’s going to get spooked and change his mind.”

  “Ariel,” Meri said, “stop being paranoid, and accept the fact that Preston loves you and wants you to be his wife,” she said sternly. “Darling, you’ve got to let go of that ‘I’m not worthy’ baggage.”

  “I know, I know, but I’ve carried it around so long that it’s hard to put down. But I promise I’m going to make a concerted effort to let go of the past.”

  Meri raised her glass. “I’ll most definitely drink to that.”

  BY THE TIMEthe first guest arrived, the two women had polished off one bottle of Dom, and were onto their second. The bubbly elixir had put them in a festive mood and they were feeling no pain.

  “Anna, so good of you to come,” Ariel said, greeting Preston’s longtime secretary and giving her a warm hug.

  “I wouldn’t have missed this occasion for anything.” She kissed Ariel on the cheek. “I’ve been hoping for a long time that you and the judge would tie the knot,” she gushed, like an overprotective aunt. “Oh, by the way the judge wanted me to tell you that he’ll be here shortly. He had a last-minute conference call.”

  So much for being his number-one priority, Ariel thought. “Thanks, Anna.”

  The party was nearly in full swing with colleagues and close friends mingling, munching on delectable hors d’oeuvres, sipping champagne, and chatting—but still no Preston. Ariel was fuming and could feel the vein protruding in the middle of her forehead. She couldn’t believe his audacity. How could he be late for his own engagement party? She excused herself from a conversation with coworkers, slipped into Meri’s bedroom, and called his cell.

  “Where the hell are you?” she asked in a hushed tone, when he picked up, careful not to be overheard by the guests. “I can’t believe you’re late to our engagement party. I hope this—”

  He cut her off midsentence. “Calm down, honey. I’m downstairs with my son and his date,” Preston said casually, as if his tardiness was a nonissue.

  “Well, it’s about time,” she responded.

  Ariel rejoined the party and watched Meri work the room. She was chatting up a distinguished-looking gentleman wearing a Brooks Brothers suit, with graying temples, a protruding belly, and tortoiseshell spectacles. He was the polar opposite of her type, which was the young, hard-body GQ model type. “Looks like she found a victim,” Ariel mused.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Preston apologized, walking up and giving Ariel a light kiss on the lips. “Look who I bumped into in the lobby?” he said, gesturing to the handsome couple standing beside him.

  Ariel exhaled deeply, looked at the pair, and said unenthusiastically, “Hello, Michele.” She wasn’t exactly happy to see Preston’s overtly sexy assistant. She took one look at Michele’s spaghetti-strap slip dress and slightly rolled her eyes. The outfit would have been suitable for a black-tie affair if she had chosen to wear a strapless bra, but in true vamp form, her hard nipples were pressed against the thin silk fabric for all to see. This girl has no shame, she thought and rolled her eyes. Disgusted, Ariel turned her attention to the man standing next to Michele. “Hi, I’m Ariel Vaughn.” She extended her hand.

  He shook her hand in his. “I know,” said the handsome stranger.

  “What?” She looked confused.

  “Don’t you remember Preston III?” her fiancé asked.

  She gave him a long hard look, and suddenly felt a familiarity that she couldn’t explain. “I haven’t seen you in . . .” She paused trying to think of their last encounter.

  “I saw you at the town house a few weeks ago. You were rushing out as I was coming in,” he interjected in a rich baritone voice.

  “That was you?” Now she understood why he seemed familiar. “And I was thinking that I hadn’t seen you since your graduation from college. So, what are you doing now?”

  Preston affectionately slapped his son on the back. “He’s a businessman.”

  “Oh, really? What type of business are you in?” Ariel asked, wanting to know more about her future stepson.

  Michele possessively looped her arm through his and beamed proudly. “He’s an investment banker and a real-estate mogul.”

  He blushed. “I’m not an investment banker yet. I just passed the Series Seven. And as for real estate, I only own one property,” he said, correcting her.

  “Stop being so modest. It’s only a matter of time before you’re a mogul, and I’m going to be right by your side.” She was clinging onto him like an insecure girlfriend afraid of loosing her man to another woman. Then, as if on cue, the man-eater of the evening approached, brandishing two lethal weapons perched high on her chest.

  “Weell, heelloo, daarliing,” Meri purred, seductively stretching out each syllable, looking directly at Preston’s handsome son and ignoring everyone else. She extended the back of her hand in his direction as if she expected him to fall down on one knee and kiss it. “I’m Meri Renick, the hostess of this fabulous soiree.” She beamed.

  Preston III slowly scanned her from head to toe, and back again, took her hand in his, held it for a few seconds, and then asked with a questioning look on his face, “You’re Meri Renick?”

  “The one and only.” She smiled proudly.

  “Oh,” he simply said, and let go of her hand.

  “And I’m Michele Richards, his girlfriend and Preston’s personal assistant,” she interrupted, breaking the vibe between her man and Meri.

  “I’m sure,” Meri commented, barely glancing in the girl’s direction.

  Sensing a catfight brewing, Ariel said, “Come on, let’s get you guys a glass of champagne. This is a celebration after all.”

  Once everyone had a flute of bubbly, Preston III raised his glass. “To my father and Ariel. May you guys have a life filled with much happiness!”

  “To happiness,” they all sang in unison.

  After the toast, Michele wasted no time ushering her date away from Meri’s clutches. Preston and Ariel mingled and were all smiles as they strolled through the party hand-in-hand greeting their guests, which were an intimate combination of
relatives, coworkers, and a few former colleagues.

  Now that Preston was by her side, Ariel relaxed and began to enjoy the party. She was drifting on cloud ninety-nine as Preston affectionately clenched her hand and proudly introduced her to the judges who laid down the law in New York and beyond. Ariel knew most of the Manhattan clergy, but the ones from the outer boroughs, she had only read about in the trades. Preston, however, was on a first-name basis with every attorney in the room. She watched as he engaged each of them with personal stories; he even knew the names of their spouses and children. Preston was in the zone, schmoozing and shaking hands as if he were campaigning for office. He was a natural politician. Watching him in action, she finally understood why being a Supreme Court justice was so important to him. It was in his blood. Ariel vowed right then and there that she would support him in achieving his dream, as long as he didn’t spend every waking moment obsessing over his impending appointment. Though she hated to admit the truth, she’d come to the realization that she was the type of woman who needed daily affection (something she seldom received as a child). And when Preston threw himself into his work, she felt like a neglected afterthought.

  “Mike, you remember Ariel?” he asked Michele’s father.

  “Of course, how could I forget the smartest and prettiest clerk that ever roamed our halls?” he replied, kissing her on the cheek.

  Ariel couldn’t believe how much she admired Judge Richards and at the same time despised his daughter. The admiration she felt for Mike certainly hadn’t spilled over to Michele. He was a hardworking dedicated judge, while she on the other hand only seemed to be dedicated to finding a man. Initially Ariel thought the young vixen had her sights set on Preston, but the way she was fawning all over his son, Ariel rightfully assumed that Michele had zeroed in on his offspring instead.

  “So, Preston tells me my little girl is doing a great job.” He smiled proudly, directing his comment to Ariel.

  If you call prancing around in see-through tops and skintight dresses doing a great job, then I guess you could say that she’s working overtime! Ariel thought, as she eyed Michele pressing her boobs against her date’s arm.

  Knowing how Ariel felt about Michele, Preston knew that she wasn’t about to give the girl any kudos, so he quickly spoke up. “Yes, she’s efficient and extremely resourceful to say the least, and I’m sure you know that she and my son have started dating.” He looked over at them, drinking champagne. “Who knows, Alike, we might be in-laws one day” Preston chuckled.

  “Now wouldn’t that be ironic; after all the years we’ve known each other, we might actually become family,” he said, warming up to the idea.

  “Well, let’s mingle,” Preston said, grabbing Ariel’s hand.

  “Oh, sure. I’m happy for you two, and let me just say congratulations again.”

  As they walked away, Preston stopped a passing waiter and took two flutes. He handed one to Ariel, looked deeply into her eyes, and said, “I feel like the luckiest man alive to have you in my life.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Thank you for agreeing to be my wife. I promise you a life of happiness, and—”

  His declaration of love was cut short by the nagging ring of his cell phone. He tried to ignore the interruption coming from his breast pocket, but the phone just kept ringing, and when it stopped and went into voice mail, the incessant ringing would start all over again. He finally took the ringing phone out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I have to get this. It’s the senator.”

  Ariel was livid. “This is our night, Preston. Can’t he wait until tomorrow?” she said, fuming.

  “I know, but it might be important.” Just then the phone stopped. “I need to call him back. I won’t be long, I promise.” He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled back in anger.

  As she watched him retreat into the library, she could feel her body temperature rise and the vein sprout again in the middle of her forehead. Preston was making and breaking promises in the same breath and his wavering enraged her. She wanted to believe that things were going to be different, but her instincts and his actions were telling her that she would always play second string to his demanding career. Ariel dejectedly walked over to the picture window, and with her back to the party, she gazed down at the passing cars and began to silently weep for the life that she would never have. Yes, she would have a husband, but not an attentive lover who doted on her constantly

  “Hey there. Why are you standing here all alone?” asked a voice from behind.

  Ariel quickly wiped her eyes in an effort to hide her pain and then slowly turned around. “Oh, hi,” she said to Preston III, trying to sound cheerful.

  He took one look at her tear-stained face, reached into his breast pocket, removed a freshly starched handkerchief, gingerly dabbed the remaining tears from her cheeks, and said, “I surely hope those are tears of joy”

  She looked into his eyes and could feel his genuine concern as they held each other’s gaze. His eyes were familiar, as if she’d known him in another life; the warm brown sent a chill up her spine. The familiarity she felt probably had to do with the fact that he was the spitting image of his dad.

  “Here take this.” He gave her the starched white handkerchief. “I think you could use it more than me.” He smiled.

  His kindness touched her. Unlike his father, he was caring and concerned. “Thanks.” She wiped her face with the cotton cloth, switched gears, and asked, “So how long have you and Michele been going out?”

  But before he could answer, the lady in question came rushing up to him. “There you are, baby. I’ve been looking all over for you. I want to introduce you to my father,” she said, possessively looping her arm through his.

  He looked at Ariel as if to say, sorry for rushing off, before being led away by his needy girlfriend.

  As Ariel watched them walk away, she admired how he tenderly put his arm around Michele’s shoulder. He seemed to be an attentive partner, and she longed for the same type of relationship.

  With Preston still behind closed doors, she drifted aimlessly from one conversation to the next. Her spirits were dissipating as fast as the bubbles in her champagne. Then, out of the blue, she had an epiphany Her happiness was dependant on one person and one person only: Ariel. She knew instantly what she was going to do to reenergize her soul.

  17

  ARIEL FLIPPED through the fifty-page deposition in her hands, trying to make sense of the transcript. She stared at the paper as if it were written in Japanese; she was having difficulty deciphering the words. Her lack of focus had nothing to do with the language, but with her preoccupation with Preston. She was still seething from his behavior at the engagement party. By the time he finished his conference call with the senator and reemerged from the library, most of the guests were gone and the party was winding down. He tried to smooth things over with Ariel by promising her a long, uninterrupted weekend, but she wasn’t buying any more of his false promises. She was tempted right then and there to break off the engagement, since he seemed to already be married—to the senator—but a cooler head prevailed. She realized that once the nomination process was over, she would have more of Preston’s undivided attention.

  “Ms. Vaughn, Mrs. Renick is on line one,” her assistant said through the intercom, interrupting her reverie.

  “Thanks, Jo Anne,” Ariel answered, and then clicked over to Meri. “I was just thinking about the party. Thanks so much for throwing us such a fabulous affair; everyone seemed to have a good time . . .”

  “Everyone except for you,” Meri said, wasting no time getting right to the point.

  “I-I. . .” Meri’s directness caught Ariel off guard, causing her to stutter. “I did too have a good time.”

  “If having a good time means crying and being consoled by your fiancé’s son, then I guess you had an absolute ball!” Meri said sarcastically.

  “I didn’t know you were playing I Spy last night,” she shot
back. Ariel thought that she had been discreet, and didn’t think that anyone noticed her sobbing over by the window.

  “Ha-ha, not so funny. One minute you and Preston were strolling hand-in-hand, the epitome of happiness, and the next minute he had disappeared and you were near the picture window crying your eyes out. Before I could come over and ask why you were so upset, Preston III was there giving you his white hanky.”

  With so many people milling about, Ariel couldn’t believe that Meri had witnessed the entire incident, and recited every single detail even down to the color of the handkerchief. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

  “Well, if you must know, I wasn’t watching you per se, I was eyeing Preston III.” She did a low whistle. “He is one fine young man!”

  Ariel rolled her eyes and shook her head at Meri’s comment. “ Young being the operative word. Besides—”

  “Young and grown. He must be in his late twenties, nearly thirty, which is old enough for me.”

  “Wait a minute, missy. I thought you were tried of the boy toys and were ready to settle down and get married,” Ariel reminded Meri.

  “Oh, I could so marry young Preston; he’s just my type—tall, muscular, and handsome. And the way he was checking me out when we met, I’d say that I’m his type as well,” Meri said confidently.

  Ariel laughed at Meri’s chutzpa. She was nearly twice his age, and based on his choice in girlfriends (a twenty-something bombshell with real boobs), Meri was nowhere near his type, but that didn’t stop her from lusting after him. “Tell me you’re not serious.”

  “And why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, sounding slightly offended. “Didn’t you see the way he was looking at me? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he wanted a piece of Meri,” she said, regaining her confidence.

  With all of the available men at the party, Ariel couldn’t believe Meri had set her sights on Ariel’s future stepson, and tried to dissuade her from pursuing Preston’s only child. “Even if that was true, there’s no way Michele is going to let him out of her sight long enough for anyone to get their claws into him.”