The Apartment

by Danielle Steel

  “You know, you need to think a little more about getting out too.” They both knew what she meant, but Claire always said she wasn’t ready. It had been six months since George had spun her around and dumped her, and she hadn’t recovered yet. Her mother thought she should try. All Claire wanted to do was work, which had been her style before George too, and now even more so. But if her father could change, Claire wondered if she should too. It was a thought.

  Claire and Sarah went to bed that night, in the bed that they shared, and it made Claire sad to think about her mother leaving. She turned over on her side in the dark and saw that Sarah was awake. “I’m going to miss you, Mom,” she said softly. “Thank you for everything you did. I couldn’t have done it without you. Everything had gone so wrong, and then you fixed it with the biggest gift of my life.”

  “That’s what mothers are for,” Sarah answered, and kissed her daughter’s cheek, and they fell asleep holding hands. It was like being a little girl again, and she felt safe.

  Chapter 23

  The day of the rehearsal dinner, Sasha and her bridesmaids all went to get manicures and pedicures at a place Valentina recommended. Sasha had gotten her hair cut in a stylish bob for the wedding the day before, and it was all blond now. She couldn’t wait to wear her new short sexy black dress that night. The girls were all laughing and talking at the nail salon when her father called her. They had arrived from Atlanta that morning, with the children and their nanny. Muriel was due in that afternoon, and the Scotts had arrived the night before. Alex and Sasha had stopped by the hotel to give them a hug. They were staying at the Plaza, and Ben went out with them afterward, and they stayed out too late, but had fun.

  “What’s up, Dad?” Sasha saw his name come up on her cell phone. She was off call, and officially on vacation since the day before, and had two weeks off for a honeymoon in Paris. She couldn’t think of anything more romantic than Paris in June, with Alex.

  “We have a little problem,” he said to Sasha in a falsely calm voice.

  “What’s wrong?” Sasha was instantly on alert.

  “Charlotte’s having contractions, some pretty strong ones, and she’s only seven months pregnant. This shouldn’t be happening. She thinks she’s in labor.”

  “Did she call her doctor?” Sasha asked in her professional voice.

  “Yes, but she can’t evaluate her over the phone. She thinks she should be seen. And to be honest, so do I. The pains are pretty powerful, and they’re five minutes apart.”

  “Do you want me to recommend someone?” Sasha was instantly the doctor, and no longer the daughter.

  “Would you take a look at her?”

  “Does Charlotte want me to?” Sasha asked fairly.

  “Yes, she does. We both do. Are you busy?” Sasha was stunned. Me? Getting married tomorrow? With a rehearsal dinner for a hundred people tonight? Of course not. Just sitting here eating bonbons waiting for you to call.

  “That’s fine. I can meet you at the hospital in twenty minutes,” she recovered. Her nails were dry, and she was wearing sandals so she didn’t mess up the polish on her toes, which was a pale shell pink, called Ballerina, by Chanel. When she told the others she had to leave, they pleaded with her to stick around—they were going back to the apartment to drink champagne.

  “Charlotte has a problem. I promised my father I’d see her.” She looked serious as she said it.

  “Is she pregnant?” Morgan asked her, surprised.

  “Seven months.”

  Claire rolled her eyes. “Your mother will love that.”

  “Won’t she ever,” Sasha agreed with her, and she left the nail salon and found a cab. She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and she got to the hospital ten minutes later and put on scrubs. Her father and Charlotte were right behind her. She was in a wheelchair and hunched over in pain. She looked like a woman in labor. At seven months, that was not good.

  Sasha took them to an examining room in labor and delivery, and told the nurses she was there.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be getting married?” one of them asked her.

  “Not till tomorrow. I was bored at home. Nothing good on TV,” she said, and went to join her father and his wife. Charlotte was crying and scared.

  “Were the girls early?” Sasha asked her calmly.

  “No, they were late,” she answered through another pain.

  “What did you do today? Did you lift anything heavy? Your suitcase? The kids?”

  “No…well…kind of. I picked Lizzie up for a minute, but I’ve done that before. And she’s pretty light.” Sasha nodded. Normally that shouldn’t have done it, unless she had a predisposition for preterm labor, which she didn’t, and she was young.

  “Did you have sex? Any fooling around?” she asked them, pretending to herself that he wasn’t her father, and he looked sheepish, and Charlotte giggled. Oh Christ.

  “Could that do it?” Charlotte appeared instantly guilty, and Sasha’s father cleared his throat.

  “It could. Orgasms can set off labor. Let’s check things out.” She smiled easily at both of them, as she would any patient, and Steve stood next to his wife’s head as Sasha examined Charlotte. There was definitely some bloody show, but her waters were still intact, and her cervix was closed, so nothing major had happened yet. She reported her findings to them, and they were both relieved.

  “But we’re not in the clear yet. Those contractions will get things going if we don’t stop them. If you don’t mind, I’d like to give you a shot and see if that will stop the contractions. And I want you on bed rest for a few days.”

  “But I’ll miss the wedding,” she said, crushed.

  “What would you rather have?” Sasha asked her gently. “Wedding cake and a baby born two months premature tonight or tomorrow, or a nice healthy baby in two months?”

  “A baby in two months,” Charlotte said sadly, and Steve leaned down and kissed her. “But I bought such a pretty pink dress for tonight, and a gorgeous red one for tomorrow.”

  “I’d feel a lot safer with you in bed, with no contractions,” Sasha said honestly.

  “Me too,” Steve said in a firm voice as he held his wife’s hand. “Can you give her the shot?” he asked, trusting his daughter and grateful for her help. She had been wonderful about it. She went to get it and came back a few minutes later, and Charlotte didn’t even feel it. Sasha had a nurse hook up a fetal monitor, and everything was looking good. She noticed that the baby was big, but they said it wasn’t twins and it didn’t feel like it, just a big baby.

  Sasha went back to the nurses’ station then to see what was going on.

  “You just can’t stay away from this place, can you?” the nurses teased her, and Sasha noticed that it was five o’clock, and she called Alex to tell him where she was, and promised she’d make it to the dinner on time. She still had plenty of time to dress. And then she went back to check her stepmother again. The contractions were persistent, but slowing down a little. She waited two hours and gave her another shot, and sedated her, which she thought would help. By then it was seven, and she was going to be late for the dinner. She still had to bathe and dress.

  The contractions stopped almost completely at eight after the second shot, and by then Charlotte was dozing, and Sasha told her father she should spend the night at the hospital. She could go back to their hotel the next day, but for now Sasha wanted the nurses to keep an eye on her and the monitor, and her father agreed.

  “I think I should stay with her tonight,” he said in a whisper, and Sasha nodded. His two daughters were at the hotel with the nanny. He was going to miss the Scotts’ rehearsal dinner, but hopefully he’d be there tomorrow to walk her down the aisle, and she said as much to him.

  “Of course.” It was eight-thirty by then, and there was no way she could go home to dress. Alex had been texting her for the last hour, and she kept promising him she’d be there and not to worry. She couldn’t miss her own rehearsal dinner the night before her wedding,
and she couldn’t get home to change. She only had one choice, to go as she was. It was better than missing it entirely, and she knew they weren’t sitting down to dinner till nine.

  She took a last look at Charlotte sleeping, and told her father to call if they needed her, and she told the nurses the same thing. And then she flew into the elevator in her scrubs, hailed a cab on the street, gave him the address, and told him she was in a huge hurry. And as they drove there, she realized that Charlotte had just solved a major problem. She couldn’t come to the dinner or the wedding, and Muriel would never see that she was pregnant or have to deal with her looking young and beautiful. And her mother would only have to put up with her father for one night, not two, since he was staying with Charlotte tonight. Yes! she thought to herself, as they pulled up in front of the Metropolitan Club, and she paid and jumped out, and ran through the door. She was tempted to say to the liveried doorman as she ran by, “Did someone call a doctor?” but she decided to behave, and walked into the beautiful room filled with flowers at the dinner organized by her soon-to-be in-laws, in scrubs and sandals. It was either that, or arrive at ten, when they finished dinner. She saw Alex’s look of surprise out of the corner of her eye, and her roommates’ as she went to find Helen to apologize.

  “I’m so sorry. My father’s wife went into preterm labor, and I’ve been at the hospital with them till now. I couldn’t get home to change.” Helen smiled broadly, and gave her a warm hug.

  “Don’t even think about it. You look adorable. I love your hair. How is she?” She was an amazing woman, and Sasha hugged her again as Alex joined them.

  “I think she’ll be fine. I admitted her for tonight.”

  “What happened?” Alex asked her, jangled and shocked at what she was wearing.

  “It was either this or my cut-off shorts. I went with this. Or come after dinner. Charlotte went into preterm labor.”

  “And they called you?” He was stunned, although he knew nothing should surprise him anymore—her mother, her sister, bad divorces, or preterm labor.

  “Who else would they call in New York?”

  “They could have gone to the ER. It’s our rehearsal dinner.” He seemed a little put out, but his mother was fine about it.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I love you. But look at it this way, she’s not here tonight, and she can’t come tomorrow. I put her on bed rest. And now my mother won’t go nuts.” He laughed at the silver lining. And then after asking Helen’s permission, she went up to the podium, from where Alex’s father and some of the guests would be making speeches after dinner. And Sasha picked up the mike and spoke to the room.

  “Good evening, everyone. I’m the bride. Until tomorrow, my name is Dr. Hartman. And I wanted you to know that, as my close friends and family know, these are the only clothes I own,” she said, pointing to her scrubs, and everyone laughed. “But please don’t worry. My sister is lending me a dress for tomorrow. And thank you to the Scotts for this wonderful dinner.” She put down the mike then and ran to her table to take her place next to Alex.

  “I hope that’s not true,” he said, serious for a minute.

  “What?”

  “That your sister is lending you a dress for tomorrow.”

  She laughed. “Wait and see.”

  Valentina was wearing a spectacular, very short gold dress that night, and was there with Bert. He was proud to be at her side.

  Helen had done the seating and had put Muriel at their table, and she made a point to spend time talking to her. Muriel looked like she was having a wonderful time. She caught up with Sasha later with a disapproving frown.

  “Why didn’t you wear a dress?”

  “I got stuck at the hospital on an emergency,” she said blandly, and her mother walked away shaking her head.

  The speeches went smoothly, and were very touching, particularly by her roommates, and Alex’s father. Her father was going to speak at the wedding, and Ben, the best man.

  She and Alex parted company after the evening, so she wouldn’t see him until the wedding. She was spending the night at the loft with the girls. And she called the hospital on the way home to check on Charlotte. They said she was sleeping soundly, the contractions had stopped, and they had rolled a cot in for Sasha’s father. All was peaceful.

  And Sasha went back to the apartment in Hell’s Kitchen for her last night as a single woman, with her best friends.

  Chapter 24

  The big day dawned blue and gold and sunny on the fourteenth of June. It wasn’t too hot or too cool, and Sasha was nervous all day. Her father and Charlotte had gone back to the hotel, and her father said she was resting and propped up in bed.

  The hairdresser came at three o’clock to blow-dry Sasha’s hair, and do the others. And she got her makeup done at four. She had bathed before they arrived. Sarah had made sandwiches for everyone, and Sasha couldn’t eat. She was too excited. Her mother had offered to come downtown to help her, but Sasha didn’t need her or want her, and she discouraged her. But Valentina was there, looking fabulous. Bert was going to meet them at the church. Amazingly, she was still seeing him three months after they had gotten back from Arizona, and Valentina insisted it was “the real deal.” At least he kept her out of trouble. She’d been taking him to events and parties with her, and he was having fun. He was still with the NYPD, and the talk of his unit, with his supermodel girlfriend, and they were in the press a lot. Valentina seemed a little more normal now, and didn’t seem as hell-bent on shocking everyone. He toned her down a little, and she had put some jazz and glamour into Bert’s life. They had been mentioned on Page Six several times. They referred to him as supermodel Valentina’s drop-dead gorgeous bodyguard. They were a striking pair.

  And then the big moment came, and Sasha’s friends lifted her wedding dress over her head, with Sarah’s help. Abby stood on a chair to assist, and they were careful not to mess up her hair or makeup. The hairdresser attached the long lace veil to her short hair. As soon as Sasha was dressed, Alex called to tell her how much he loved her, and they talked for a few minutes.

  The girls had covered the something old, something new department too. She had wrapped a lace handkerchief of her grandmother’s around her bouquet, the dress was new, Valentina had given her a pale blue lace thong, and Sarah had lent her a string of pearls. It seemed sad to her for a moment that she had Claire’s mother there to help dress her, and not her own, but she didn’t want Muriel to spoil it, and she would have. Sasha didn’t want to take the chance.

  Her father was meeting her at the church, and she rode uptown alone in the limousine he had rented for her. And the girls rode in a second one, right behind her. She could feel them near her, cheering her on. And Prunella was waiting for them at the church in the rectory where they gathered, while Alex’s groomsmen ushered people to their seats in the church, which the florist had filled with white flowers. Prunella immediately took charge when they arrived. She lined everyone up, in the proper order, with Valentina last in line, and Sasha’s roommates ahead of her in order of height, Abby, Claire, and Morgan. And the moment her mother and the Scotts sat down in their pews, the procession began. There was a brief pause after the girls took their places at the altar with Alex’s groomsmen, all friends from medical school, with his brother at his side as best man. And then Sasha and her father came down the aisle in stately elegance, and she could see Alex catch his breath as she walked toward him. It was the most perfect moment of her life.

  They exchanged their vows and their rings, were declared husband and wife, Alex kissed her, and everything was a blur after that until the reception and her first dance with Alex and then her father. And then she nearly fainted when she saw her father ask her mother to dance, and Muriel smiled at him, and they danced and actually looked like they were enjoying each other.

  Jim had flown in from San Francisco to escort Sarah to the wedding. And Josh was there with Abby in a real tuxedo, not a camouflage jacket, and they were smiling and holding hands. Abby�
�s parents, Joan and Harvey, had flown in. And Max stood proudly beside Morgan. And Bert stood right next to Valentina the entire time and seemed more like a bodyguard than a boyfriend, but there was no denying he was gorgeous, and Sasha noticed later he was a great dancer, and her sister gazed at him adoringly and did nothing scandalous at the wedding or reception, and was surprisingly well behaved.

  The penthouse location was perfect, and the night was warm and balmy. Everything was candlelit, and they had seated Ben Scott next to Claire, since they were both alone, and didn’t have dates. Sasha wasn’t sure she’d like him, but she saw them talking and laughing through most of the evening, and they danced several times.

  “So what made you move to Hell’s Kitchen?” he asked her when they first sat down, and she laughed.

  “It was cheap and I was poor. I’m still poor, but not as poor as I used to be. And I still love it.” He asked what she did, and she said she was a shoe designer and had just started her own business. It sounded interesting and fun to him, and she told him about the factory in Italy and the trade show in Las Vegas, and he seemed to enjoy hearing about it.

  “It’s going to be strange at the apartment now,” she said wistfully during dinner. “I’ve lived there for nine years with roommates. One left in March, and the other two are moving out this summer.”

  “You’re not ready to be alone there?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “I’ve never tried it. I don’t know if I’m that grown-up yet,” she said, looking hesitant.

  “Have you ever been to Chicago?” he asked her.

  “No, I haven’t.” But she was planning to visit once Sasha and Alex moved there.

  “You should come out sometime. Do you like to sail?”