by Dee Davis
“Bethany since college days. Stephen shortly after that. And I’ve known Vanessa in some capacity since I was a kid, and through her, Cybil.”
“What about Cassie? I know she’s your producer. But did you know her before that?”
“We moved in some of the same circles. But our business relationship has really cemented our friendship.”
“She’s certainly a character.”
“And then some,” I said, checking to make certain he wasn’t being derisive, but his face only reflected curiosity. “But she’s got a huge heart. And she’s smarter than anyone I know. She’s already made a huge success of her career, but I know she’s going to achieve even more. I’m lucky to have her on my team.”
“I can see that.” He reached over to squeeze my hand. “But she’s not the only one who’s lucky. You’re a good friend, too.”
“You could tell that just from tonight?”
“I could tell that standing in the bottom of the cellar.”
I ducked my head, concentrating on Bentley, embarrassed at his praise, but delighted nevertheless.
“So how about Clinton?” he asked. “How did you meet him?”
“At his restaurant,” I said, walking over to look down at the traffic below, “over pasta.”
“Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” His laugh was warm and inviting. “The agnolotti was great, by the way. You were right about the sweet potato.”
“I told you it was good,” I said, turning to face him, leaning back against the wall. “And I finally got the right balance of garlic and pecans for the sauce.”
“Has it ever occurred to you to just ask for the recipe? I mean, considering you’re a television celebrity, I’d think most chefs in town would be glad to oblige.”
“I’m not that much of a celebrity. And anyway, figuring out the recipe is half the game. I told you it started with Bernie. And I just never really let it go. I love trying to suss out what’s what.”
“And then we get to reap the benefits,” he said, sipping his wine. “She’s really great, you know. Bernie. And she was full of stories about you.”
“Most of them probably things I’d just as soon not have had her share.”
“Only a few,” he laughed, coming to stand beside me.
“You’ll have to introduce me to your family,” I said. “Then they can return the favor.”
“Perish the thought,” he said with a faux shudder. “But seriously, I would like you to meet them. Particularly my grandfather. You’ll like him, I think.”
“If he’s anything like you ...” I broke off, embarrassed again, and Ethan reached over to take my hand, pulling me so close I could feel his breath on my cheeks.
“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he whispered. “You’re so strong and yet so vulnerable.” He shook his head, and I waited, letting myself get lost in his eyes.
And then he kissed me, and it was perfect. Amazingly, wonderfully, fabulously perfect. Like we fit together, his breathing became my breathing and, if you go in for all that romantic claptrap, I could have sworn our hearts were literally beating in tandem.
Honest to God.
Time passed and, well, you get the idea.
Finally, a bit breathlessly, we pulled apart.
“I should probably go,” he said. “It’s late.”
“You don’t have to,” I said, not sure exactly what I wanted him to do, but quite certain that I didn’t want him to leave. “I mean, you could stay, if you want to.”
“You’re sure?” he whispered.
“Positive.” I nodded, my heart hammering as he leaned in to kiss me again.
Sometimes, it seems, in order to move forward, you have to jump off a cliff. But then nothing’s ever gained without a little risk. Right?
Chapter 15
My first thought the next morning was that a bed is ever so much nicer with two warm bodies—or in our case, three, since Bentley had managed to leverage his furry little body between us sometime during the middle of the night.
My second thought was that the phone was ringing. And since it was on Ethan’s side I was going to have to roll across him to retrieve it. How very morning-after awkward can you get? Not that I was having regrets, mind you—
And my third thought was that, contrary to thought number one, the right side of the bed was actually empty.
Very bad sign.
“Hello,” I said, picking up the phone, my heart sinking at the sound of the voice at the other end of the receiver.
“Good morning, darling,” Althea crowed.
I grimaced, trying to listen and search for signs of Ethan at the same time. “What do you want?” I asked, cutting right to the chase.
“Is that any way to talk to your aunt?”
“I’m sorry, Althea,” I said on a sigh. “But you woke me up.” From a very nice dream about a very missing man. “And you know I’m never pleasant in the morning.” Especially after what was apparently a one-night stand.
“True enough. I remember—”
“That I was a real problem child. I know. Same song, different verse,” I said, frantically searching for a wallet, or keys, or pants, or something to verify that Ethan was still on the premises. “But I don’t think you called just so that we could take a trip down memory lane.”
“True enough,” she sniffed. “I called to remind you that you’re coming for brunch.”
My heart sank. As if the morning hadn’t started off badly enough. “Look, I had a really late night last night, and—”
“Your grandmother is so looking forward to seeing you.”
“Harriet is probably already on martini number three—and it’s only,” I glanced over at the luminance dial of my clock radio, “eleven.” So I’d managed to sleep in.
“Andrea, that was totally uncalled for.” But totally true. Still, I loved my grandmother. And, martinis or no, she was my last real link to my mother.
“I’ll be there in an hour or so. I promise.” As soon as I sorted out what happened to my missing paramour.
“Good. We’ll see you then.”
I hung up the phone and sat up, accepting the sad truth that Ethan was gone.
I sighed and got out of bed, pulling on some sweats as I replayed the evening in my head. It had been a wonderful night. That much I was sure of. There’d been none of that first-time fumbling. Just the perfect coming together of his body and mine. Okay, I know—TMI. But I was trying to justify my apparently incongruous memories with the fact that the man in question was seriously MIA. And he just hadn’t seemed like the “love ’em and run” type.
But then, considering my recent track record, maybe I wasn’t the best judge of character.
The living room was equally devoid of the man or any sign of him.
I walked over to the breakfast bar and plugged in the teapot. A little caffeine would go a long way toward making everything make sense. And if not, it would at least jump-start my day. I was due at Althea’s, after all.
I called for Bentley and was rewarded by a yap from the top of the stairs. In our enthusiasm to end the evening (or start it, depending on how you want to look at it) Ethan and I had apparently left the door to the roof open.
Good way to wind up in the police blotter in the Post.
I walked up the stairs, past my yappy dog, and was starting to close the door, when Bentley dashed past me out into the sunshine. Maybe he had the right idea. Nothing like a little blue sky to lighten a mood.
The rooftops of Manhattan are amazing things. Adorned with chimney stacks, water towers, faded copper cupolas, secret gardens, and the occasional helicopter, they’re an unheralded architectural wonderland. When I was a little girl, I used to sit in my bedroom and gaze out my nineteenth-floor window at the myriad of terraces and gardens that stretched before me and try to imagine the people who lived there.
And now I was one of them.
It was a glorious day. The kind where there are no clouds. Just endless blue
(well, as close as you can get in a city full of skyscrapers). At least SoHo provides more sky than most parts of the city. And believe me, sky is as much of a commodity in real estate here as closets and extra bathrooms.
I stood in the doorway, drinking in the morning, watching Bentley as he snuffled his way across the garden.
“Gorgeous day.”
I spun around, clutching my chest, to glare at Ethan. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry.” He grinned. “I’m an early riser so I came up here to enjoy the morning.”
Okay, so he hadn’t jumped ship. But he had just scared ten years off my life.
“I thought you’d gone.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he asked.
“Bad,” I replied, the word slipping out. “I thought maybe you’d left.”
“You haven’t got a very high opinion of me, have you?”
“More of myself, I think. Anyway, I was wrong.”
He closed the distance between us, leaning in for a kiss. “Well, I’m sorry I scared you. But, believe me, after last night, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
I felt my face flame red, which was becoming the norm with Ethan in the vicinity.
“So who was on the phone?” he asked, stepping back, realizing perhaps that I needed the space in order to breathe.
“Althea,” I said, my mouth on overdrive—again. “I’m supposed to go to brunch today. And I kind of overslept.”
“Can’t you just give them a rain check?” he asked, his eyes signaling that eating wasn’t what he had in mind.
“There’s nothing I’d love more,” I said. “But my grandmother’s here. She flew in just to make sure I’m all right. Dillon and the cellar and all. So I really have to go.”
“I won’t pretend that I’m not disappointed, but I do understand,” he said with a shrug. “Want company?”
“Yes,” I said, the idea of reinforcements momentarily overcoming my reticence to subject Ethan to my family. “I mean, no. I have to go. You definitely don’t.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.” I sighed, immediately regretting dissing my family. “Look, maybe they aren’t that awful. But they can be a bit overwhelming. And besides, Althea practically begged me to bring you, which means that if you come, she wins.”
“And with the two of you everything is a competition,” he said, the words a statement, not a question.
“Sort of. I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“Welcome to life,” he said with a smile. And suddenly my fears disappeared. With Ethan at my side surely I could handle whatever Althea could dish out. Faulty logic, most likely, but standing there looking up at his crooked grin I wasn’t exactly at my cranial best.
“Okay.” I shrugged. “If you really want to come, I’d love for you to be there. I just want to be sure you understand what you’ll be walking into.”
“It’ll be fine,” he assured me. “Besides, I’ve met your aunt, remember?”
I felt a shiver of something I couldn’t quite identify. But it wasn’t good. “You know Althea. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You always jump to conclusions,” he said, shaking his head. “I met her at the hospital, remember?”
“Right. Of course.” I blew out a breath, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. Althea just has a way of getting to me. Even when there isn’t a good reason.”
“It’ll be fine,” he promised. “And if she gives you a hard time, she’ll have to deal with me. How’s that?”
“Comforting in a completely ridiculous kind of way.” And just like that the had feelings were gone, the day seeming full of possibility.
Two hours later, after a brief stop at Ethan’s apartment, we were standing in the elevator up to Althea’s apartment.
“My grandmother’s name is Harriet. She’s been on holiday in Cabo San Lucas. And there’s a good possibility that she’ll be tipsy. But in a good way. I hope. Anyway, there’s no telling who else might be there. Althea’s brunches sometimes take on a life of their own. Bernie will be there. And you might meet Wilson, Bernie’s husband, although it’s not likely. He doesn’t usually work Sundays unless Althea has somewhere particular to go. He’s the chauffeur. Did I mention that?”
“Andi,” Ethan said, taking both of my hands, “deep breath. It’s going to be fine.”
I nodded, sucking in the suggested air. “You’re right. I’m just nervous. I haven’t brought someone to Althea’s with me in a really long time.”
“What about Dillon?”
I frowned, wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut. “He and Althea didn’t really see eye to eye. So we kept contact to a bare minimum. And before that, well, there just weren’t that many people I wanted to bring home.”
“So I should either be really honored, or very worried.”
“Both, probably.”
The elevator doors slid open and we walked toward the apartment, Ethan’s hand reassuringly on my elbow.
Althea opened the door before we even made it down the hallway. Thanks no doubt to her building’s state-of-the-art security and a certain nosy doorman named Dan.
“Andrea, darling, you’re here. And you’ve brought Ethan.” She gave me a hug and surprisingly had one for Ethan, too. Which was weird, since my aunt wasn’t exactly the demonstrative type. Especially with people she didn’t know. But then, what the hell, nothing seemed to be playing out in a normal fashion these days. “Come in. Come in,” she positively gushed. “Everyone else is already here.”
The “everyone” turned out to be my grandmother, Althea, and Vanessa. Which was a good thing. Since this was likely to be a minefield of a meal, I was glad to only have Vanessa as an observer.
She was practically family, after all.
My grandmother, who had been sitting on the sofa, stood up as we walked into the room.
“Ethan McCay,” she said, waving her omnipresent martini, “I’d have known you anywhere. You look just like Walter.”
“So I’ve been told,” Ethan said with a smile. “I understand you and my grandfather are old friends.”
“I knew him when he was still wearing knee pants. Our fathers were friends.” She sat back down on the sofa. “In fact, your grandfather took me to my first dance. Gave me a gardenia. It’s still my favorite flower. After Niko died we sort of lost touch, but I’ve always carried a soft spot in my heart for Walter. And for your grandmother. I was sorry to hear she’d died.”
“Thank you,” Ethan said, perching on the arm of the chair I’d sat in. “We miss her. But she had a great life.”
“That’s all you can ask for,” my grandmother agreed. “I’ve always subscribed to the theory that life is to be lived. Anything else is just a waste of time.” She shot a significant look at Althea, who shrugged.
“We’ll just have to agree to disagree, Mother.”
“I’m sorry to have crashed the party,” Vanessa said in an aside to me. “I just came by to share my news with Althea. I didn’t want her to hear it from anywhere else.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “The more the merrier. And you always seem to be able to manage Althea.”
“I don’t know, now that she’s won the bet, I suspect she’ll be insufferable. Not that I’m complaining. No matter what the papers say, I know I’m the real winner. I’ve got Mark.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” Althea asked Ethan. “Vanessa and I are having mimosas. A little champagne to celebrate.”
“Or if you prefer something with a little more bite,” Harriet said, “there’s a pitcher of martinis. Vodka. Can’t abide gin.”
“A mimosa’s fine.” Ethan smiled, standing up.
“Andrea,” Althea prompted.
Straight vodka had its appeal. “I’ll just have some champagne. But let me do it. I know where everything is.”
“Lightweights,” Harriet chided, brandishing her now empty glass. “But while you’re up, I’l
l take a refill.”
Althea’s mouth tightened but she held her tongue. My grandmother’s drinking was an ongoing battle between the two of them. Harriet usually holding sway. Since my grandfather’s death, and my mother’s defection, she preferred looking at life through a bit of a haze. And though at times it could be a bit trying, she never actually crossed the line from cheerful distraction to out-and-out drunk.
And in truth, she missed my grandfather more than she’d ever admit. Theirs had been a true love match. The kind that comes along only once in a blue moon—whatever the hell that actually means. And to make matters worse, she and my mother had always been very close. Cut from the same cloth, as it were. So my mother running away only exacerbated my grandmother’s grief.
For a while, she’d sunk into a dark place, but then with typical aplomb she’d packed her Gucci bags and her Reed &. Barton pitcher and never looked back. Anyway, all I’m saying is that I’ve always thought that a person has the right to choose their own escape. And for my grandmother, it’s travel and martinis.
I mixed Ethan’s mimosa, poured myself some champagne, and refilled Harriet’s glass, adding a toothpick-skewered olive.
“Ethan,” Bernie said, appearing in the doorway. “Nice to see you here. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I didn’t know I was, either.” Ethan smiled.
“You know Bernie?” Althea said, her brows drawing together in confusion.
“Bernie had dinner with us last night,” he explained. “She brought her famous crab puffs.”
“I think I ate most of them myself,” Vanessa said.
“Bernie was at your dinner party?”
“Yes.” I nodded, enjoying Althea’s flummoxed expression. “She was kind enough to fill in as Clinton’s date.”
“But. . .”
“It was a lovely party,” Bernie said with a grin. “I was honored to be included.”
“Times today are so much more open,” Harriet said. “In my day, employees would never have been allowed at an employer’s function.”
“Well, Bernie’s a lot more than just an employee,” I protested.
