Rogue

by Danielle Steel

  “Sure. Sometime we can all go to Marrakech together. The construction isn't finished yet, but when it is, I'll take all three of you over with me.” He thought that they should see it. It was a far cry from their safe, happy little world, and he felt it would do them good.

  Blake told them then how terrific their mom had been when she came to Morocco to help him. He explained about what they did, and what they'd seen, and the children listened with interest. And then, out of the blue, Daphne asked him what had happened to Arabella.

  “I fired her,” he said simply. They didn't need to know the rest.

  “Just like that?” Jack asked, and Blake nodded and snapped his fingers.

  “Just like that. I said, Out with you, Evil Spot! And off she went. Like magic. She disappeared.” He looked mysterious about it, and they all laughed, including Blake. Maxine could tell he was feeling better about it. He had recovered quickly. He always did. His feelings for the women in his life never ran too deep, although Maxine knew they had run deeper for Arabella than for most. But it had been a pretty nasty ending, given the scene he had described in his bed. She knew he wouldn't tell the children about it, nor should he. She approved of how he had handled it with them.

  “I'm glad,” Daphne said with conviction.

  “I'll bet you are,” her father said. “You were a little monster to her in Aspen.”

  “No, I wasn't,” Daphne defended herself hotly.

  “Yes, you were,” Sam, Jack, and Blake said in unison, and everyone at the table laughed, including Daphne.

  “Maybe I was, but I didn't like her.”

  “I don't know why,” Blake commented. “She was nice to you.”

  “It was fake. Just like when Charles is nice to us. He doesn't mean it.” Maxine looked shocked at her comment.

  “How can you say a thing like that, Daffy? He's not fake, he's reserved,” she protested.

  “He's fake. He hates us. He wants to be alone with you.”

  “Well, that's reasonable,” Blake stepped in. “He's in love with your mother. He doesn't always want you kids around.”

  “He never wants us around,” Daphne said glumly. “You can tell.” Maxine couldn't help thinking about his comments in praise of boarding school. It was amazing the instincts kids had, and she didn't comment further. “Arabella didn't want us around either. I don't know why you and Mom don't just get married again. You're both nicer than anyone you go out with. You go out with such yick people, both of you.”

  “Thank you, Daphne,” Blake answered for both of them with a grin. “I happen to go out with some very nice people.”

  “No, you don't. They're all bimbos,” Daphne announced, and they all laughed again. “And Mom goes out with these boring, uptight, stuffy guys.”

  “That's a reaction to me,” Blake volunteered with glee. “She didn't think I was grown-up enough, so she goes out with very grown-up men, who are nothing like me. Right, Max?” She looked embarrassed by what he said, and didn't comment. “Besides, your mom and I like it like this. We're good friends now. We don't fight. We can hang out with all of you. And I have my bimbos and she has her stuffed shirts. What could be better?”

  “You two married again,” Daphne answered.

  “That's not going to happen,” her mother said quietly. “I'm marrying Charles next week.”

  “And I'm giving the rehearsal dinner,” Blake added, to change the subject. The conversation was getting a little heavy for them, although Maxine knew it was normal for children to want their parents to get back together, and marrying someone else would end that hope forever. “The rehearsal dinner should be a lot of fun,” Blake went on, to cover the awkward silence after Daphne's comments and Maxine's response. “I have a surprise planned for that evening.”

  “You're going to jump out of a cake naked?” Sam asked with delight, and everyone lightened up immediately as they squealed with laughter.

  “Charles would really love that!” Maxine said, holding her stomach as she laughed.

  “It really is a thought. I hadn't considered it,” Blake said with a grin, and then suggested they go over to his rented house and swim after dinner. It sounded like a great idea to all of them. They picked up their bathing suits at Maxine's, and then they went to swim at his. They had a great time, and the kids decided to spend the night with him. He invited Maxine to stay too.

  “I would,” Maxine said honestly, “but if Charles found out, he'd kill me. I'd better go home.” So she drove the short distance to her house, and left the children with Blake. It had been a lovely evening, and his announcement about his orphans had gone very well. Maxine was looking forward to meeting them, and checking them for the effects of the trauma they'd endured.

  Blake came and went back and forth to her house for the rest of the week. And Maxine realized it was easier not having Charles there. He hardly called her all week from Vermont, and she didn't call him. She figured it was best to let him cool down, and he'd show up again sooner or later. The wedding was only days away.

  The day of the rehearsal dinner, Charles returned. He just walked in, as though he'd gone to the store for a loaf of bread. He kissed Maxine, walked into their room, and put down his things. And when he saw Blake at the house that afternoon, he was actually civil, much to Maxine's surprise and relief. Charles was much more relaxed than when he left. As Daphne put it very elegantly to her father in a whispered aside, Charles looked like he'd gotten the broomstick out of his butt. Blake looked at her in astonishment and suggested she might not want to say that to her mother. Blake laughed to himself about it as he drove to the club to check on the details for the rehearsal dinner that night. What Daphne said was true. Charles did look a lot better. All Blake could hope was that Maxine would be happy with Charles. He wished her well.

  Chapter 23

  Maxine had bought a new dress for the rehearsal dinner too, and when Charles saw her in it, he whistled. It was a pale gold filmy strapless evening gown that wrapped around her like a sarong. She looked like a young Grace Kelly. She was wearing it with high-heeled gold sandals. Blake had decided to make the rehearsal dinner black tie.

  Charles looked very proper in a single-breasted black dinner jacket. And when they got to the party, Blake was wearing a double-breasted white one, with black tuxedo trousers, his proper black bow tie, and patent leather pumps. Maxine noticed immediately that Blake wasn't wearing socks. She knew him well, and it didn't surprise her. A lot of the men in Southampton did it. It was kind of a trendy preppy thing, although Charles made a comment about it and had worn his. Blake looked incredibly handsome with his black hair and deep tan, but so did Charles. They were both good-looking men. And with her long blond hair and pale gold dress, Maxine looked like an angel. Blake said all she needed was wings.

  Blake had invited a hundred people from Max's list, and another dozen or so of his own. There was a ten-piece band playing everything from Motown to big band music to swing. And everyone was in great spirits. The champagne flowed like water, and Maxine saw Daphne take a glass, and signaled to her “just one,” and Daphne nodded agreement. But Maxine was going to keep an eye on her anyway.

  It was fun seeing all her friends, and introducing Charles to the ones he didn't know. Her parents were there, her mother in a pale blue evening dress with a jacket, and her father in a white dinner jacket like Blake's. They were a handsome group.

  Maxine's father stopped to talk to Charles for a few minutes before dinner, and asked him how the boat trip had been. He hadn't seen him since. “That's quite a boat, isn't it?” he said jovially, and Charles agreed that it was and said he'd had a very good time. It would have been hard not to.

  Charles started the evening off by dancing with Maxine, and they looked happy and relaxed, and at ease in each other's arms. They made a very attractive couple. And it was a beautiful party. Blake had had the club decorated with thousands of white roses and delicate paper lanterns brushed with gold.

  He made a witty speech before dinne
r, and told some very funny stories about Maxine that had everyone in hysterics, including Max. Charles looked a little pained, but he got through them. He didn't like the idea that Blake knew her better than he did, and had history with her. Blake wished them both well then, and said that he hoped Charles did a much better job of making her happy than he did. It was a moving moment, and brought tears to Max's eyes. And afterward, Charles stood up and toasted their very generous host, and promised to see to it that Maxine was blissful forever. Everyone was touched.

  Blake asked Maxine to dance afterward, between courses at dinner, and they whirled around the dance floor looking like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. They had always danced well together.

  “That was sweet of you to say,” she corrected him, “but you made me happy. I was always happy with you, Blake. I just didn't see enough of you, and I never knew where you were. You outgrew me after you made all that money.”

  “I didn't outgrow you, Max,” he said softly. “I hadn't grown into you yet. I wasn't big enough to reach your boots in those days. I think I knew that, and it scared me. You were so much smarter than I was, and so much wiser about so many things. You always kept your eye on what mattered, like our kids.”

  “So did you,” she said generously. “We just wanted different things. I wanted to work, and you wanted to play.”

  “I think there's a French fable about that. And look where it got me. According to Daphne, I'm surrounded by bimbos.” They were both laughing at the comment, when Charles cut in, and whirled Maxine away in his arms.

  “What were you laughing about?” he asked suspiciously. “You two looked like you were having an awfully good time.”

  “Something Daphne said to him, about his bimbos.”

  “That's quite a comment for her to make to her father,” he said with obvious disapproval.

  “It's true, though,” Maxine said, laughing again. The dance ended, and they went back to their table. She had the feeling that Charles hadn't really wanted to dance with her, he just wanted to get her away from Blake.

  Blake had seated the dinner perfectly. All her favorite people were at her table with Charles, and Blake's good friends were at his. He didn't have a date for the evening, and had seated Maxine's mother beside him, at his right, which was proper. Charles had noticed that too. He saw everything, and watched them both all night. He never took his eyes off Maxine or Blake. He looked like a worried man. The only time he relaxed was when Maxine danced with Jack or Sam.

  Everyone continued dancing till midnight, after the dinner, and at the stroke of midnight, sparklers went off in the sky. Blake had organized a fireworks show for them, and Maxine clapped her hands like a child. She loved fireworks, and Blake knew it. It was a perfect evening, and the last guests straggled home around one A.M. Charles was staying at the hotel that night, as she had insisted he should. In the end, her parents had decided to stay there too instead of with her. She had one last dance with Blake and thanked him for the fireworks show. She had loved it. And she asked him if he'd mind driving the kids and Zellie home. She was going to drop Charles off at the hotel where he was staying so they wouldn't see each other till the wedding. Blake promised to have them home in half an hour.

  And when the dance ended, she went back to Charles and they left.

  The wedding was at noon the next day. But everyone agreed that the rehearsal dinner would be hard to top. She and Charles talked about it on the way to his hotel, which he had complained about. It seemed like a foolish tradition to him. He would have preferred to stay at the house, but Maxine had insisted. Charles kissed her goodnight, which reminded her of why she was marrying him. She loved him, in spite of his being what Daphne called a “stuffed shirt.” They were flying to Paris the following night, and they were going to take a driving trip through the valley of the Loire. It sounded like the perfect honeymoon to her.

  “I'm going to miss you tonight,” he said huskily, and she kissed him again.

  “I'll miss you too,” she whispered, giggling. She had had a reasonable amount of champagne at the party, but she wasn't drunk, and was sure that she was sober. “The next time I see you, about ten minutes after that, I'll be Mrs. West,” she said, beaming at him. It had been a beautiful evening.

  “I can't wait,” he said, kissed her for a last time, and he reluctantly got out of the car, waved, walked into the hotel, and she drove away.

  When she got home, she walked into the living room and poured herself another glass of champagne. A few minutes later, she heard Blake's car drive in with Zellie and the children. Zellie had left Jimmy at the house with a sitter, who left as soon as they returned, and Zelda urged all the children upstairs to bed. They were exhausted and disappeared with mumbled goodnights to their parents, who were sitting on the couch, talking.

  Blake was in good spirits, and Maxine seemed a little tipsy to him, more so than she had at the party. She had been sober then, but was less so now, after two more glasses of champagne. He helped himself to a glass of champagne too. They were having fun talking about the evening. Blake had had a lot to drink that night but was still sober. And he looked like a movie star in his white dinner jacket. They both did, as they toasted each other with the champagne.

  “That was a gorgeous party,” she said, twirling around the living room in her gold dress, and she twirled herself right into his arms. “You give such good parties. It was very glamorous, don't you think?”

  “I think you'd better sit down before you fall down, you lush,” he teased her.

  “I am not drunk,” she insisted, which was a clear sign that she was. He had always liked Maxine when she was a little drunk. She was so funny and so sexy, and it happened so seldom, but this was a special night. “Do you think I'll be happy with Charles?” she asked him with a serious expression. Suddenly, she had to work harder than usual to focus on him.

  “I hope so, Max,” Blake said sincerely. He could have said otherwise, but he didn't.

  “He's so grown up, isn't he? Kind of like my father,” she said, crossing her eyes a little as she looked at Blake, but she still looked prettier than ever, and he had to remind himself not to take advantage of the situation. That wouldn't have been fair. He wouldn't have done anything to harm her, and certainly not tonight. He had missed the boat, and he knew it. He switched from champagne to vodka, and poured her the last of the champagne she'd had in the house.

  “Yes, he is kind of like your father,” Blake replied. “They're both doctors.” He was starting to feel pleasantly drunk too, and he didn't mind it a bit. If he was ever going to get drunk, tonight was it.

  “I'm a doctor too,” she informed him with a loud hiccup. “A shrink. I do trauma. Didn't I meet you recently in Morocco?” She laughed uproariously at her own question, and he did too.

  “You look different in combat boots. I think I like you better in heels.” She held up a shapely leg and looked at her delicate gold sandals and nodded agreement.

  “Me too. The boots gave me blisters.”

  “Wear heels next time,” he advised her, sipping his vodka.

  “I will. I promise. You know,” she said, sipping the champagne, “we have really nice children. I love them very much.”

  “I do too.”

  “I don't think Charles likes them,” she said, frowning.

  “They don't like him either,” Blake said, and they both laughed hard at that too. And then Maxine squinted at him as though from a great distance.

  “Why did we get divorced anyway? Do you remember? I don't. Did you do something bad to me?” She was definitely drunk by then, and so was Blake.

  “I forgot to come home.” He smiled sadly.

  “Oh, that was it. Now I remember. That's too bad. I really like you … actually, I love you,” she said, smiling benignly at him, and hiccuped again.

  “I love you too,” Blake said gently, and then his conscience got the better of him. “Maybe you should go to bed, Max. You're going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow at y
our wedding.” Champagne was always a killer the next day.

  “Are you asking me to go to bed with you?” she asked, looking a little startled.

  “No, I'm not. If I did, Charles would be really pissed tomorrow, and you'd feel really guilty. But I think you should go to bed.” She finished the last of her champagne as she said it, and by then he could see she was really drunk. The final glass had made the difference, and he was feeling very drunk too. The vodka did him in after a long night of drinking, or maybe it was seeing her that way, in her gold dress. She was intoxicating. She always had been for him. He suddenly remembered, and wondered how he could have forgotten.

  “Why do I have to go to bed so early?” she pouted at him.

  “Because, Cinderella,” he said gently, scooping her up in his arms, and lifting her off the couch, “you're going to turn into a pumpkin if you don't. And you're going to marry the handsome prince tomorrow.” He started walking her to her bedroom.

  “No, I'm not. I'm marrying Charles. I remember that. He's not the handsome prince. You are. Why am I marrying him?” She looked suddenly annoyed, and Blake laughed as he staggered and nearly dropped her, and then got a better grip. She was light as a feather.

  “I think you're marrying him because you love him,” he said as he walked into her bedroom, and put her gently on the bed, and then stood looking at her, weaving slightly. They were both as drunk as skunks.

  “Oh, that's nice,” Maxine said pleasantly. “I love him. And I really should marry him. He's a doctor.” And then she looked at Blake. “I think you're too drunk to go home. And I'm too drunk to drive you.” It was a fairly accurate assessment of the situation. “You'd better stay here.” As she said it, the room was reeling around him.

  “I'll just lie down for a minute and sober up, if that's okay with you. And then I'll drive home. You don't mind, do you?” he asked, as he lay down next to her in his dinner jacket and his shoes.

  “I don't mind at all,” she said, as she turned toward him, and put her head on his shoulder. She was still wearing the gold dress and the gold shoes. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.