“I don’t regret our time together,” she said slowly, “but I’m sorry that we were so stupid as to think it could be long-term. And I suppose I should really ask you — have you done anything about a divorce yet?” She was astonished at how together she was managing to remain.
“I got some information sorted,” said Ben, “but I haven’t followed it through. I was side-tracked by the whole shop disaster.”
“Do you want me to deal with it instead?” asked Carey.
“I thought you had a solicitor on the case already,” said Ben.
“I haven’t quite got round to the solicitor part,” she told him. “To be honest, I just wanted it all to go away and pretend it never happened. But I’ll get on with it soon.”
“You know it takes four years,” he said.
“What!” She looked at him in shock. “Four years! We weren’t even together four weeks!”
“I know. I know. But you can do a package in the Dominican Republic — a one-night stay and home you go again. I checked it out on the net. Apparently Sylvester Stallone, Michael Jackson, and Jane Fonda have all done it. So we’d be in good celebrity company.”
“Is it legal?”
“Probably as legal as our marriage.”
She laughed suddenly. “We built things up out of all proportion. Just because it was great sex…”
He laughed too. “Yes, I know. Hormones got in the way of judgment.”
“So.” She exhaled slowly. “I’d better get going.”
“Are you going to buy it?”
“What?”
“The lamp. You were looking at it for ages.”
“You were watching me!”
“I couldn’t help noticing you,” said Ben. “You’re a noticeable woman.”
She made a face at him. “I don’t think so. And I don’t know about the lamp. What d’you think?”
“I like it,” he said. “What’s your apartment like?”
“Nothing special,” she told him. “I bought a show apartment, which meant that it was already decorated, and you know how that is. Modern but fairly neutral.”
“Convenient,” he said.
“Yes.” She grinned suddenly. “Except that having bought a place with a perfectly good three-piece suite, I then went out and bought a leather sofa too.”
“Ouch.” Ben winced. “So what are you doing with the suite?”
“Dunno,” she said. “I suppose I could put an ad in Buy & Sell or something.”
“How much?” he asked.
“What?”
“Are you asking for it?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t a clue.”
“I’ll buy it,” said Ben.
“What?”
“You know what my furniture situation is like. You were always complaining about the uncomfortable armchairs. I’ll buy it.”
“But you haven’t even seen it.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. I just want something I can sit in and not feel as though my back is going to break.”
“Well…”
“Name your price.”
“Ben, you can have it,” said Carey.
“Oh, no.”
“Please.” She pulled at one of her curls. “Take it. You’d be doing me a favor anyway.”
“I really think…”
“Please,” she said again, more forcefully. “Think of it as my divorce present to you.”
“OK,” said Ben after a pause. “D’you think it’ll fit in the Herbal Matters van?”
Carey scrunched up her face. “Yeah, I think so.”
“OK,” he repeated. “Give me a call when you want me to pick it up.”
“Sure.” The unreality of the situation was making her head buzz. Of all the things she’d imagined she’d talk to Ben about if they ever met again, collecting sofas wasn’t one of them. “I kind of dreaded ever having to talk to you again, but it wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“No,” said Ben.
“So maybe we’re not complete fools after all.”
“Maybe not.”
“Give my — well, give my regards to Freya.”
“I will,” said Ben.
“Though she never liked me, did she?”
Ben shrugged. “She never got to know you. That’s different.”
“You didn’t get to know me but you liked me,” said Carey. “Or more accurately, you liked me at the start.”
“I still like you,” said Ben. “If things had been different…”
“They were different enough as it was,” she said quickly.
“You still like buying shoes?” He nodded at the Carl Scarpa carrier bag to break the sudden, uncomfortable silence between them.
“A bit of a weakness,” she admitted.
“I was surprised you left some behind,” said Ben.
“Out of fashion ones only,” she told him.
“Ah.”
“Give my regards to Brian too,” said Carey. “If you meet him soon.”
“They’re getting married,” said Ben. “Freya and Brian.”
Carey smiled. “I’m glad,” she said, “but surprised. I didn’t think your sister was the marrying type.”
“I don’t think she did either,” said Ben. “Maybe we changed her mind.”
“God only knows why,” said Carey. “I’d’ve thought that seeing us would’ve put even the most dedicated wedding-goer off.”
“Maybe they’re looking at it as a triumph of hope over experience.”
“Maybe. At least we’ve got over the hating each other part.”
“I never hated you,” said Ben.
Carey felt a lump in her throat again. “No. I never hated you either.”
“We should’ve been honest with each other from the start.”
“Don’t go down that road again,” she said. “It’s over. Forget it.”
“Yes. Sure.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d better go.”
“Meeting people?”
“Leah,” he said uncomfortably. “For brunch.”
“Have a good one.”
“You too,” said Ben.
For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but he simply smiled shortly and walked away. She stood there for a moment, then brought the orange light and the stainless steel lamp to the cash desk, paid for them, and left the store.
Leah was already sitting at the window table of South Anne Street’s Gotham Café when Ben arrived.
“Sorry,” he said as he sat down beside her. “Got delayed.”
“Punctuality was never your strongest point,” she said. “I always allow you an extra ten minutes.”
“Do you?” He looked surprised.
“Of course.”
“I’m not always late.”
“Ninety percent of the time,” she said.
“Have you ordered?”
She nodded. “Pizza. Pepperoni for you, vegetarian for me. Deep pan,” she added as she saw him about to speak again.
“You know me too well,” he said.
“Years of experience.”
A waitress put two large glasses of Coke in front of them.
“Far too well,” he amended.
He leaned back in his chair. He was still shocked at having bumped into Carey in Habitat and surprised at how civil they’d been to each other. Not just civil, friendly, he thought. He’d imagined that if he ever met her again there’d be more heated words and snarled accusations, but she seemed to have got over it. His first instinct when he’d seen her gazing at the stainless steel lamp had been to leave the store at once, but he hadn’t been able to do that. Instead he’d watched her critically, wondering what it had been about her that had made him act so out of character and wondering why she’d married him in the first place.
“Ben, you’re not listening to me!”
He blinked out of his daydream and looked at Leah, who was frowning at him. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I was wondering if you’d like to stay in
town, do some shopping, and go to a movie later,” she asked.
He shook his head. “I told Freya I’d get back to Rathmines and check things out with her. There’s still a heap of work to be done if we want to open on schedule.”
“I thought you were going in tomorrow?”
“Yes, but I need to make sure that everything the shopfitters are doing is OK. They won’t be round on Sunday,” he explained.
“You love that shop, don’t you?”
“Of course,” he said. “It’s something that Freya and I did for ourselves. It means a lot.”
“I have an opportunity to do something that means a lot to me too,” said Leah.
“Oh?”
“Karen and Juliette have asked me to go into partnership with them.”
“Really?” Ben looked at her with interest. “Where?”
“A new salon,” she said. “In the Rathmines town center. A unit has come up for lease there and it’s ideal.”
“And do you want to go ahead?” asked Ben.
“I think so.” She tore off a piece of the pizza which the waitress had just put in front of her. “I like working at Eden, but I’m only an employee there. A partner would be much better.”
“More stressful,” remarked Ben.
“I’m good with stress,” she reminded him.
“Clearly.” He grinned. “That was stupid of me.”
“Anyway, we have to come up with three months’ rent in advance, plus there’s all the outfitting costs.”
“You should set up a company,” said Ben.
“I think that’s what we’ll do all right,” agreed Leah. “Juliette is the brains behind it, she knows the business stuff. Thing is, we all have to put in some money of our own. About ten grand each.”
“Wow.” He made a face. “Aren’t you borrowing?”
“Some. But let’s face it, as Juliette says, we probably won’t get as much as we want.”
“True.”
“And if it’s our own money we’ll have to work hard.”
“Equally true.”
“So it’s just a matter of getting it.”
“You don’t have a spare ten grand lying around then?”
She made a face at him. “Give me a break! If I had ten grand lying around I probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now. I’d be off on a Pacific Coast cruise or something.”
“Probably.”
“I went in to see my bank manager, but the most he’ll lend me is five thousand,” said Leah.
“Ah.”
“I wondered whether you and Freya would like to make an investment of five thousand?” She popped another piece of pizza into her mouth and looked at him earnestly.
Ben ate a slice of pizza himself while he mulled over her proposal. It wasn’t a huge amount of money, but given what had happened at Rathmines and the current cash-flow situation in the chain, it was probably the wrong time for her to ask.
She didn’t look at him while he thought, but busied herself with picking the zucchini slices from her pizza and laying them down on the side of her plate.
“Let me have a word with Freya,” said Ben. “See what she thinks.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t have to ask Freya,” said Leah, turning her chocolate-brown eyes on him. “I don’t think she likes me very much at the moment.”
“What? Of course she does. I thought you two were friends. In fact, I’m surprised that you asked me about the investment, not her.”
“Freya’s still mad at me about the party,” said Leah. “I haven’t spoken to her in ages.”
“Call her,” said Ben. “She’s over it.”
“That’s just it,” Leah said. “She doesn’t even return my calls.”
“Doesn’t she?” Ben looked surprised.
Leah shook her head. “Well, last time she did, but I was out. She left a really terse message saying she was busy.”
“Then that’s exactly what she was,” said Ben. “You’re reading the situation all wrong. Anyway, if she was mad at anyone it was me, not you.”
“Poor Ben.” Leah smiled sympathetically. “All these women being mad at you.”
“Oh, I’ve got used to it.”
“Anyway, let me tell you about our plans.”
He listened as Leah spoke, but he didn’t really hear what she was saying. He didn’t really see her in front of him either; the image that filled his head was Carey. Carey as he’d seen her today in Habitat. Standing with her weight slightly on one leg. Long knitted coat almost to her ankles. Hair billowing out around her face, black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. No matter how he felt about her as a person, he still thought she was one of the sexiest women he’d ever met. Not beautiful, like Leah. Just sexy.
“You’re not listening,” Leah accused him again.
“I am,” he said. “Really. And I think you’ll make a great success of it.”
“Huh.” She looked unconvinced.
“Actually, I was thinking that I can help you with the money.”
“I thought you were going to ask Freya first.”
“I’ll lend it to you myself,” he said. “Nothing to do with Freya or Herbal Matters. Not an investment, just a loan. From me. Personally.” He took his checkbook out of his pocket and wrote the check straight away. “Repay it when you can,” he said as he handed it to her.
“Really? Can you afford to do this?”
“Yes,” he told her.
“Oh, Ben!” She leaned across the table and kissed him.
It felt good, he thought as he basked in the glow of her approval, to make someone happy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
VIRGINIAN CEDARWOOD
A very soothing tree oil with a dry, woody aroma
Carey stood on the third story of the Dawson Street car park and looked at the spot where her car was supposed to be. The space was occupied by a lime-green Volkswagen Beetle with a bright orange flower in the little chrome vase on its dashbord. She turned round and scanned the row of cars behind her, but she knew that the Audi wouldn’t be among them. She’d parked here, opposite the stairs — she remembered it clearly.
She put her carrier bags and the stainless steel lamp on the ground. Her arms were aching from the weight of her purchases — she’d engaged in some post-traumatic-stress shopping after meeting Ben, which included another two pairs of shoes, a soft red cashmere cardigan, and a pair of rhinestone-studded jeans. It wasn’t really fair to think of the shopping as a post-traumatic-stress event, she told herself as she stared blankly at the rows of cars. Meeting Ben hadn’t been stressful at all. Not in the sense that she might have expected. Talking to him had been easy and spontaneous, and suddenly she’d remembered why she’d fallen for him in the first place. And so, when he’d told her that he was meeting Leah for brunch, she’d experienced a feeling of regret and a totally unexpected burst of jealousy which upset her more than she would’ve imagined. It was to get rid of those feelings that she’d gone shopping. The frenzy of trying on clothes and shoes had pushed all thoughts of Ben and Leah from her mind. But as soon as she’d signed her last credit-card slip, she began to think about them again.
She’d still been thinking about them as she got out of the lift in the car park. She rubbed her arm muscles and forced herself to focus on her parking problem instead. There was no question in her mind but that this was the spot where she’d left her Audi. Someone had clearly stolen her car. She felt a wave of panic rise inside her. She needed her car, it was essential to her. Already her mind was juggling with the hassle of reporting it stolen and waiting round in case it reappeared and of ordering taxis to get to and from work. And then, probably, the police finding it burnt out somewhere. She hated to think of her little Audi burnt out at the side of the road.
She thought evil thoughts about the kind of people who preyed on cars in city center car parks. Then she frowned. If someone had stolen her car, then how had they got it out of the car park? She had the ticket. Surely getting it out woul
d be almost impossible without the ticket?
She looked round her again. She was definitely in the right place, but maybe she was on the wrong level. She’d got out at level three because everyone else in the lift had got out at level three. Now she wasn’t quite sure where she’d left the Audi. Parking the car now seemed to be something that had happened in a different reality. She picked up her bags again and walked up the pedestrian ramp to the next parking area. A navy BMW was parked in the space. Down a level, she thought. Perhaps I’m too high. But on the second story she found a silver-grey Porsche, which, while very desirable, still wasn’t her Audi.
“This is fucking stupid,” she muttered angrily to herself. “It’s not like I’m in the Stephen’s Green car park where you could mislay a bloody bus because the place is so huge. Or an equally awful place like the ILAC Centre. This is an ordinary, straightforward place, and surely I should be able to find my damned car!” She ground her teeth with rage and tears of frustration pricked at her eyes. “I parked it here, I know I did. It can’t have been stolen. I’m just totally thick.” She couldn’t remember how many levels there were in the car park, but the idea of trudging along them all, lugging her bags with her, was almost too much to bear. Plus — the thought suddenly struck her — it would probably take so long to find it that her ticket would elapse and the barrier wouldn’t lift and there’d be some sort of scene…
Then, just as she felt that the tears would spill down her face, she thought of her central locking system. She sniffed, rubbed her hand over the end of her nose, and pressed the button on her key. She heard the beep of the Audi’s alarm system disarming. A beep that definitely came from higher than level two. “Right,” she said aloud, “it’s here somewhere.” She pressed the button on her key again and heard the alarm system reset. Not on level three. Not on level four. Not on level five. But closer, she thought. Her car was here somewhere.
It was on level six. She saw the amber glow of the indicator lights and heard the beeps as she pressed the alarm key again. The car was parked in the bay she’d expected. She sighed with relief as she opened the boot and let down the back seat so that the stainless steel lamp would fit before piling all her bags inside.
She got into the driver’s seat and took a tissue from the box in the door pocket. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and then took out a fresh tissue to clean her glasses. “Stupid, pathetic woman,” she said to her reflection in the rearview mirror. “Stupid, pathetic, loser woman.” She started the engine and took extra care in reversing out of the space. She didn’t trust herself not to smash into one of the concrete pillars and completely ruin her day.
Too Good to Be True Page 31
