Talk of the Town

by Sherrill Bodine

  Knowing she needed more time, hoping he wouldn’t throw in his hand, Rebecca made the call to Charlie.

  “I’ve been expectin’ to hear from you, Rebecca.” She could hear assurance in his voice.

  “Charlie, I want to thank you and Martha for a lovely dinner Saturday night.” She’d carefully planned her words. “I so appreciated shooting the breeze with such dear, generous friends. I’d like to do it again. But I need a little more time to fulfill my obligations here.”

  His silence was mercifully brief and ended with his rumbling laughter. “It was an interestin’ night. We’d like to do it again real soon. I believe we still have a great deal to discuss. You give me a call when you’re ready and willin’ for another go at it.”

  Relief warmed her skin. Charlie was leaving the offer on the table, just as she’d hoped. “Thank you, Charlie. I’ll be in touch.” She hung up the phone and stared into space. If only she could see into the future and know where her choices, reckless and not, were leading her.

  DAILY MAIL WEDNESDAY FOOD

  SAUSAGE SURPRISE

  3 tablespoons oil

  ¾ pound fully cooked pork, chicken, or turkey sausages, thickly sliced into rounds

  1 pound fresh wild mushrooms (such as crimini or stemmed shiitake), thickly sliced

  4 garlic cloves, minced

  ½ teaspoon dried crushed red pepper

  1 10-ounce package ready-to-use spinach leaves

  1½ cups canned low-salt chicken broth

  ¾ pound penne pasta, freshly cooked

  2 cups (about 8 ounces) grated Romano cheese

  Heat oil in heavy large pot over medium-high heat. Add sausages, mushrooms, garlic, and crushed red pepper. Sauté until mushrooms begin to brown, about 10 minutes. Add spinach and broth; toss until spinach wilts, about 2 minutes. Add pasta and cheese; toss until cheese melts and sauce coats pasta, about 3 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Serves 4.

  A Note from Rebecca Covington

  We all know about the megarich group of bachelors who invite wealthy, attractive, foxy, sexy single and married women to their Annual Mingle Party given in the most chic locales on Earth, including Chicago. Of course our fair city is chic—the rest of the world just hasn’t accepted the fact yet!

  One of the fascinating bachelors’ claim to fame is that he once danced with Princess Di. Don’t you love it? We adore this group of handsome hunks.

  Alas, there is another subset of randy bachelors who are not so divine. They have their own party, called “Nooky Nourishment for Passionate Cannibals.” I know, darlings, the title alone should have warned off the lovelies who chose to attend.

  Absolutely every dish was a phallic symbol. A sausage with whole figs as testicles and bleu cheese sauce as . . . (shudder) . . . elicited a few nervous chuckles.

  The next course, a pancake shaped like a woman’s womb, with lobster thermidor spilling out, drove most of the ladies from the room, never to return.

  The lesson for these clueless men—if they want to set the proper scene for seduction—is quite simple. Most women have not seen the “food as a sex toy” film 9½ Weeks, while all have watched and sighed over the elegant, sublimely sexy Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

  Yes, gentlemen, class counts.

  Because I care so much, I changed Sausage Surprise from an X rating to a P. Perfectly Palatable.

  Enjoy!

  Xo Rebecca

  Chapter 16

  Wednesday morning, still wearing her bathrobe, Rebecca waited for Harry in her doorway. It reminded her of waiting for David, except her emotions had been charged in a completely different way. She loved Harry like the brother she’d never had. David, on the other hand . . . a little pleasure shiver ran along her skin.

  How should I label what I feel for David?

  “Happy birthday, sweet pea!” Harry called from the open elevator.

  He was dressed in an impeccably tailored, subtle, pinstriped suit, his hair slicked back very Rupert-like. He couldn’t have looked more debonair gently swinging the open picnic basket holding champagne, strawberries, and croissants. His annual early morning offering to Rebecca on her birthday.

  “Harry, you’re an angel, but I told you not to fuss this year.” She tried to scold him, but her stomach growled at the aroma of warm, buttery croissants, overriding her feeble protests.

  Bending, kissing her cheek, he smiled when he heard the rumbling. “Thou protest too much. Let us partake of this feast before we must face the real world.”

  Over her mimosa and Harry’s straight orange juice, Rebecca picked up the thread of a nagging thought from yesterday. Had she made the right choice by staying for Kate’s sake? “Harry, do you think I smother people with my need to fix things for them?”

  He blinked his ridiculously long lashes. “You’re pensive this morning. Is it about your age? Haven’t you heard, our forties are the new twenties?”

  “Harry, I’m serious.”

  “I can see that.” He reached across the small table to hold her hand. “You’re the best friend anyone could have, and we love you for it. Pauline and the girls have baked a cake for tonight. Kate and I are bringing the champagne and chocolate. Today you will be celebrated in the way you deserve.” His smile was so warm and kind, she actually could feel his love in the air around her. “You want the world to always be just to everyone in the same way. You particularly want it to be fair to those of us you love. When you perceive the world as being unjust, you shore it up until it equals out again. My only concern is that you are not always fair to yourself.”

  “So if I wasn’t . . . say . . . here. Or at the Daily Mail office, you all would carry on quite well without me.”

  His grip tightened on her hand and his eyes bore into her. “Is there something wrong? A health issue I need to know about?”

  She laughed to reassure him. “Heavens, no. I’m wonderfully healthy. Maybe it is my age. I just need a reality check to make sure I don’t think I’m so important the world can’t spin properly without my hand on the rim.”

  She could see the relief in his eyes. He kissed her hand. “Yes, sweet pea. We could carry on without you, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. Speaking of fun. I have two rhinoplasty surgeries to perform this morning. The real world beckons.”

  For a very long time, Rebecca’s world had been the Daily Mail. She’d hidden behind the Rebecca Covington persona for so long it had become the biggest part of her. That’s why she’d been so desperate to get it back. Now her view of the world had shifted because of David, and she’d gotten a part of herself back she had believed long gone.

  Slightly dizzy from one and a half mimosas so early in the morning, coupled with serious soul-searching, Rebecca was already feeling a little surreal when she walked through the doors into the Daily Mail.

  She gasped at the lobby transformed into a garden by dozens of red roses in vases placed on every flat surface, except Pauline’s desk, where there was a perfect white rose in a crystal bud vase.

  “There are forty-five long-stem roses,” Pauline whispered, as if everyone in town didn’t already know Rebecca’s age thanks to Shannon’s spiteful exposé.

  Rebecca’s fingers trembled slightly as she tore open the card.

  They must be from David.

  She recognized George’s bold, black writing immediately and tried to disguise her disappointment. “The flowers are from George, reminding me that weeks ago I promised to have dinner with him Saturday night.”

  Pauline’s mouth curled into a big “oh” of surprise. “You’re dating . . . both of them?”

  “No, I’m not dating either one. Well, not exactly,” Rebecca amended. “Keep a vase of flowers and take another for the girls.”

  Kate walked into the lobby, and Rebecca handed her a dozen roses. “For your office.”

  Kate shook her head. “What are you doing? It’s your birthday we’re celebrating today.”

  Swinging a brown alligator briefcase, David strolled down from th
e executive hallway. His gaze stopped on Rebecca and then moved to the bouquets of roses. “What are we celebrating?” he asked in a friendly way.

  “Today is Rebecca’s birthday,” Pauline exclaimed with her usual enthusiasm.

  Again David’s eyes met Rebecca’s. “From an admirer?”

  His voice held not a note of intimacy, but his gaze brought a flush to her cheeks. They might have been the only people in the room. Or maybe it’s the effects of champagne before nine in the morning.

  Believing discretion was the better part of valor, particularly in front of a rapt audience of her friends, Rebecca did her best to ignore the heat between them.

  “Yes, they are from an admirer. But I’m sharing. Would you like some flowers for your office?”

  His lips twitched in apparent amusement. “No, thank you, Rebecca. I’ll be at the television station for the rest of the week. Have a good day, ladies.”

  The lobby seemed strangely empty after he was gone. And strangely silent.

  She glanced around at Kate and Pauline. Questions burned from their eyes. Especially from Pauline, who was pressing her lips together to keep from speaking.

  “I have to know,” she burst out in a gasp. “Why do you think he didn’t even wish you a happy birthday?”

  Rebecca shrugged like it was meaningless, when in reality he’d disappointed her way out of proportion to what she should be feeling. Obviously he’d taken a step back from the relationship. Hardly a relationship, she reminded herself, a hot, heavy feeling in her chest. Whatever it was between them, she knew it was dangerous to her peace of mind.

  She mustered a bit of relief that David had wisely decreed a cool-off, and laughed. “Hey, the man has an empire to run.” She swept up another vase of flowers. “I’m taking these to Rose Murphy. I’ll come down later to get the rest. See you.”

  Throughout the day, when she wasn’t fielding birthday greetings from colleagues or taking calls from contacts feeding her juicy gossip, Rebecca was obsessing about David. She was relieved that she could dampen down the little flicker of fear in her heart, but the dull, constant ache of regret wouldn’t go away.

  One minute he’s so hot. The next so cool. Of course, why shouldn’t he be? She’d done the same thing for years. Obviously, they were both commitment-phobic.

  The boardroom at WBS-TV was long, narrow, and stuffy. David loosened his tie and leaned back in the heavy, uncomfortable chair at the head of the table.

  He looked at Tim sitting at his left, talking about his perceptions of business as the liaison between the paper and the station.

  David hadn’t heard a word. He tried to focus on business, usually as natural as breathing to him, and immediately thought of the Daily Mail lobby filled with roses for Rebecca’s birthday.

  No doubt from George, the slack-gutted young guy who rubbed him the wrong way.

  Tim looked at him again and, on instinct, David nodded. Satisfied, Tim continued to speak while David slid back into thoughts of Rebecca.

  He knew it was a waste of time to feel such a tug of regret because he hadn’t known it was her birthday. A savvy man would take action. They could still celebrate tonight.

  Tim turned to him again, and David had had enough. He stood, casting a long look down the table at the expectant faces of his board of directors. “Thank you, Tim. You’ve given us a great deal to think about. That’s it for the day. Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

  David stalked out, fully aware he’d left a room of stunned men. He’d handle the fallout tomorrow. Today he needed to make something happen for Rebecca.

  Restless, he left the studio and walked through Lincoln Park and onto the small streets of the Gold Coast, which reminded him of New York City. Racking his brain for something special for Rebecca, he came up with zero.

  God, he hadn’t bought a woman a gift since Ellen’s last birthday.

  The thought didn’t bring the usual catch of pain.

  He stood, rooted to the sidewalk, letting the feelings settle over him. First guilt stirred, then it receded a bit. But it was still there, only slightly duller than usual. It was all right, he told himself. He had stayed loyal to Ellen’s memory.

  He turned down a street heading back east toward the lake. At the end of the block David saw two guys putting a padlock on a chain-link fence around what looked like a vacant lot. He glanced in and then at their T-shirts emblazoned with “The Farmer’s Market Nursery.”

  “Do you have roses in there?” he asked, disappointed in himself for not coming up with something more original.

  “Nay.” The taller guy shook his head. “Waste of money. Die in a week. We got perennials and annuals.”

  “Forget your wife’s birthday, did ya?” the shorter one laughed.

  “Not exactly.” David relaxed, not minding being the butt of their jokes if they could help him out. “But I need a gift.”

  “We’re closed, but hey, what’s another five minutes.” The short guy shrugged.

  “How about a mum plant? Nice this time of year,” the tall one offered.

  David didn’t know a flower from a weed, but a plant didn’t do it for him. “Something bigger.”

  “How’s about a tree?” the shorter guy said with a laugh, obviously the comedian to the other’s straight guy.

  “Where’s she live? Trees need room to grow.” The tall one looked solemn.

  Remembering Rebecca’s balcony, David became inspired. “How about a rosebush?”

  “Just got a shipment in. Healthy batch. Last a lifetime. Full of blooms, too. Man, you look like a guy in deep trouble.” The short guy smirked. “Better buy two.”

  David smiled back. “Deal. Do you deliver?”

  Both men gave him the once-over. The shorter one smiled. “Sometimes. Depends.”

  David gladly took out his wallet.

  Rebecca waited in the office until after six so she could arrive home at the exact time Pauline had told her everything would be ready for her “surprise.”

  “Happy birthday, Aunt Becky!” Patty and Polly screamed the instant the condo door clicked shut behind her.

  Like they’d done since they were toddlers, the girls grabbed Rebecca’s hands to pull her into the living room. A slightly lopsided two-layer cake, surrounded by colorful happy-birthday napkins and plates, sat squarely in the center of the library table.

  “What a beautiful cake. Did the two of you make it?” she asked as she did each year.

  Both girls nodded and smiled so big their eyes squeezed into slits.

  This is such a happy rut. I’m a fool to think I need more. “Thank you. I love it!” She gathered them both in a hug. “What flavor is it?” she asked, knowing full well it was chocolate.

  “Chocolate!” they said in unison with the ringing phone.

  Harry answered it. “Thanks, Malcolm. Send them up. Delivery!” he called out to the room.

  “It’s more presents!” Polly turned to dash to the door.

  “No, you don’t, young lady.” Pauline caught her, twirling her around. “Let Aunt Becky get her present herself.”

  “Yes, girls. I need help putting the chocolates on a plate.” Kate led them into the kitchen.

  On cue, the bell rang and Rebecca went to open the door.

  David stood flanked by two enormous rosebushes. Behind him the elevator doors were closing on two burly guys wearing “The Farmer’s Market Nursery” T-shirts.

  David stepped into the foyer, pulled her into his arms, tilted her chin up, and gazed down into her eyes. “These rosebushes will last a lifetime. Happy birthday, Rebecca.” His voice husky, he bent, lips parted slightly, to kiss her.

  “Wait,” she squealed, painfully aware others might be watching her melt into a puddle of happiness.

  He stopped and glanced over her head into the mirrors. “You have company. So much for discretion.”

  She twisted in his arms to find everyone grouped together just inside the living room, staring at them. If it were anyone but her most beloved
friends, her family, this would be a disaster.

  “I know you. You’re Mommy and Aunt Becky’s boss.” Polly looked up at her embarrassed mom. “He’s the new boss, right?”

  David straightened and smiled. “Yes, I am the new boss.” He slid Rebecca an apologetic glance out of the corner of his eye before walking into the living room.

  Overcome by David’s incredibly romantic gift, Rebecca waited to control her breathing before she followed him.

  He shook Harry’s hand and greeted Kate and Pauline. “I’m sorry to have crashed your party,” he said to the girls, who continued to stare up at him.

  “We made the cake ourselves. Would you like a piece?” Patty offered politely.

  Rebecca pulled herself together. “Of course, you must join us, David.” His intent expression told her a party of seven was not what he’d planned for this evening. Thoughts of what might have been made her insides tighten in anticipation.

  “It’s chocolate cake,” Patty informed him.

  “That settles it.” He smiled down into her freckled face. “Chocolate is my favorite.”

  “Aunt Becky’s, too. She loves it.” Polly couldn’t be outdone by her older sister. “Mom says she doesn’t know how Aunt Becky keeps that figure with all the chocolate she eats.”

  “I do not say that!” Pauline went scarlet, looking at her youngest in a less than besotted way.

  David’s laughter, along with Harry’s, and Kate’s amused smile, broke apart the tension in Rebecca’s chest. “Sweetheart, you’re absolutely right. There are days I’d rather eat chocolate than real food. Like tonight.”

  “Then I believe it’s time to sing ‘Happy Birthday,’” Kate said, shepherding everyone into the living room.

  Rebecca sat on the couch, dutifully waiting as she did every year for the candles to be lit and the cake carried over to her.

  David settled down beside her, changing the whole dynamic of the party. Just as he’d changed everything else in her life. Before, she was always lazily relaxed, but tonight every muscle in her body quivered in anticipation.