by Jean Joachim
"I checked my phone while you were in the bathroom."
"Any important calls you missed while we were making love?" He whispered, kissing her shoulder.
"A text."
"Oh?" He asked, sitting up and looking at her.
"From Paul Marcel. He wants to publish my book."
"That's fantastic! Congratulations, Carrie," He said, leaning down to kiss her.
"You didn't have anything to do with it, did you?" She asked, rolling over to face him.
"Me? No way. It's business. No matter how much I like you, I can't influence editorial choices, which books to publish. Those decisions are strictly Paul's. He wouldn't offer a contract unless he thinks the book will sell well...I'm proud of you."
She smiled at him. He resumed his position cuddled up against her. She turned to kiss him goodnight, then he wrapped his arms around her and they drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Ten
They were inseparable from the first night they slept together. He stayed the next day and they made love three more times. By the next weekend, they had been together three out of five nights. Grey settled his own toothbrush in Carrie's bathroom and she came home from working late to a hot meal, his warm companionship and one of Grey's expert foot massages.
It was a Tuesday, a slow day for Grey. He stopped at Zabar's on the way to Carrie's apartment. A pleasant day, he took his time walking, passing the quirky second-hand, hard-to-find books, Filene's Basement and several small shops plus a deli on his way to 78th Street.
He rounded the corner to her apartment, his arms loaded down with goodies from Zabar's, cold poached salmon, huge cooked gulf shrimp with cocktail sauce, grilled vegetables and a small David's cheesecake for dessert. He climbed the stairs whistling "I Can't Smile Without You", a big grin on his face. When he put the groceries down and put his hand on the knob, the door swung part-way open. Startled, Grey stepped back, dropped his packages and prepared to do battle with an intruder.
When he didn't hear anything, he poked at the door with his finger, standing back alert and ready to have someone lunge at him when a voice came out of the apartment. A female voice.
"Put your hands above your head or I'll shoot!"
Grey did as the voice commanded and stepped slowly over the threshold, his eyes scanning the room. In the corner by the open window facing on the fire escape, poised for a quick exit was an attractive woman in her mid-fifties. She had dark auburn hair in a short stylish hairdo. Artfully applied make-up made her appear about five years younger. She was dressed expensively and in excellent taste, wearing an Armani silk dress in a light chocolate brown print, complimenting her fair complexion. Her long fingernails were painted a dark pink and her high heels were deep brown snakeskin. She held a can of mace trained on Grey. Though her hand shook slightly, she stood firmly rooted to her spot.
"I mean it!" She straightened out her arm, directing the sprayer at his eyes.
"I don't doubt you. I'm terrified. Do I look like a burglar?" Grey tried to keep the smirk off his face.
"Most of the men I know who wear Brooks Brothers don't break into apartments, but you never know," she said, not moving from her spot.
"May I ask who you are?" He asked, lowering his arms until she motioned for him to raise them again waving the can of mace at him.
"I'm Delia Tucker, Carrie's aunt. But the question is who are you?"
"I'm Grey Andrews, her…ah…uh…boyfriend," he said, grimacing at the inadequate word.
"You're her new lover, aren't you?" A slow smile swept over Delia's face.
Grey blushed at the intimate term and nodded. Delia lowered her weapon.
"I guess you're okay," she said, capping the small can of mace and returning it to her Gucci handbag.
Grey returned to the hall to retrieve the bags of food then walked back into the apartment and closed the door. When he turned around, Delia was staring at him.
"Hmmm, Brooks Brothers jacket and pants, maybe L.L. Bean shirt? Gucci loafers, I'd know those anywhere," she said, moving to one of the love seats and sitting down.
"Excuse me a moment," Grey said, retreating to the kitchen to unpack the food and put it away.
Delia sauntered up to the kitchen counter.
"While you're there, do you know how to make a Cosmo?" she asked, lifting her heavily-mascara'd eyelashes up to widen her eyes.
"I do. Does Carrie have the fixin's?"
"Probably not, this cabinet is too small to hold much," Delia said, rummaging through Carrie's liquor supply.
"Can I make you something else?" Grey asked, pulling down two highball glasses.
"It's warm…how about a vodka and tonic. Does she have lime?"
"She does. Bought it yesterday. Vodka and tonic is my poison, too." Grey opened the refrigerator and plucked out a lime.
Delia stepped back to allow Grey access. He pulled out the necessary bottles and cracked some ice from a tray. In five minutes, he handed Delia a frosty glass and motioned her back to the living room.
"Delia… Carrie has mentioned you but hasn't told me much…"
"Maybe that's because you two don't spend much time talking," she smirked.
Grey looked at his drink as warmth crept up his neck.
"Come on…family here. Just teasing! She's told me a lot about you. I'm her aunt, was married to her uncle, the late Jackson Tucker for twenty-two years. I've been a widow for five years." Delia's eyes misted and she directed her gaze out the window.
"I'm sorry."
"I've been in the fashion business all my life. Had a wonderful marriage but never had kids. Now I have Carrie. She may be my niece, but she's more like a daughter to me…especially since her parents are so far away."
"I'm glad she has some family close by…"
"And I want to tell you…if you break her heart…if you mess with her, you mess with me, too," Delia said, her eyes flashed at him.
Grey laughed so hard he almost dropped his drink.
"What makes you think I'm going to break her heart?"
"You're a man, aren't you?" Delia narrowed her eyes.
"Ouch!"
"Maybe that was a tad extreme but I'm very fond of Carrie. She's quite a gal."
"She is. She's amazing!" He took another sip of his drink, keeping his eyes on Delia.
"So why are you here at this hour and what did you bring her?" she asked, crossing her long legs.
"I brought food like I do most nights these days. You're welcome to stay and join us…do you like cold salmon and shrimp?"
"Yum, I certainly do! I saw the Zabar's bag. Do you always bring her food?"
"She's working extra hard on a special project at the agency. I get out early unless I have a deal pending…so I'm feeding her," he explained, finishing his drink.
"Isn't she lucky to have you! I'd love to stay and share dinner, but then I'm off. I have an art gallery opening to attend. I was going to try to take Carrie with me…she's been working too hard. But I'm sure she'd much rather stay here with you."
"Maybe she should go…" he began, trying to be diplomatic.
"Nonsense. She'll have a better time here with you. I hear you give one helluva foot massage," Delia said, opening her eyes fully to stare at him.
Grey covered his embarrassment by rising up to take his glass to the sink.
"Another drink?" he asked her, purposely ignoring her remark.
"There'll be alcohol at the opening. One's enough," she said, downing the rest and leaning over to hand him the glass.
Grey looked at his watch.
"Carrie should be home in half an hour. Just enough time to clean up and get everything set," he said, pulling down some plates from the cabinet and bringing them to Carrie's tiny dining table.
"You really do have dinner ready for her, don't you?"
"Yup."
Delia got up and moved toward the kitchen.
"Let me get the placemats down," she said.
****
At eight fifteen, Car
rie turned the knob on her apartment door and walked in to a surprise, seeing her aunt and Grey talking and laughing like old friends.
"I must be going…" Delia said, looking at her Movado watch.
"I thought you were staying. We set the table for three." Grey put his hand on her arm.
"Three's a crowd."
"Stay, Delia. I never get to see you," Carrie said, stealing a glance at Grey.
"Please do. Come on. I mean it." Grey insisted, pulling her back into the apartment by her elbow.
"Well, you twisted my arm," Delia said grinning broadly as she headed for the loveseat. "And there might be time for one more itty bitty drink."
Chapter Eleven
Grey got into his office early to go through his mail. He hadn't been working very hard. Tomorrow was November first and they wouldn't be deciding on new ventures until January. So research continued but he could slack off some. His partner, John Whitaker, and John's wife, Renee, always went to the Caribbean for the month of December anyway. Then the first two weeks of January were frantic with Max and Susan presenting their research, John and Grey digesting it all and making decisions on which companies to approach.
But now, now he had time for Carrie. So he enjoyed himself, taking care of her and his spirits soared. He sat back in his chair. Opened his Starbucks coffee and perused the mail piled up on his desk. One envelope he picked up was thick and heavy. An invitation.
He ripped it open to discover his annual invitation to a fund-raising event at the American Museum of Natural History. Grey was on the board of a charitable foundation he started with his three college best friends. They called it The Four Horseman Foundation. Each member had to kick in $100,000 when he became a trustee. Then every year a donation of $20,000 to the foundation was expected. Grey invested the money and each year they paid out $40,000 to various charities. So all the non-profits invited them to their fund-raisers.
The one at the Natural History Museum was his favorite and the only one all four horsemen always attended. He slapped the invitation against his hand, lost in thought. What a perfect place for Carrie to meet his friends without it being formal. He smiled at his plan. Perfect. When Susan came in, he called her into his office.
"I want to RSVP to this invite from the Museum. I know it's after the deadline but…"
"I already did, Mr. Andrews."
"You did?"
"You always go to that event, so I naturally assumed you would this year, too. Since you're been so…uh…preoccupied with other things, I took it upon myself to sign you up...with a guest. I assume you're taking Ms. Tucker?"
"That's the plan. Such foresight should earn you a raise, Susan," Grey commented, chuckling.
"Can I quote you on that?" she retorted, smiling.
Susan left his office and Grey picked up the phone to dial Carrie.
"There's a great party at the Museum of Natural History tomorrow night. It's a fund-raiser they have every year. Do you think you can make it?"
"Tomorrow, Wednesday, huh? Let me see."
There was silence on the phone for a few minutes.
"Is it okay if I don't get there until eight o'clock or so?"
"Sure. Tell me when you can come and I'll send a car for you. You can meet me there."
"Works for me. Let me go and see if I can sweet-talk, Dennis. Later, babe."
Grey pushed back in his chair, put his feet on his desk and stared out the window. Does life get any better than this?
****
Grey was walking on air. Carrie hungered for him as much as he did for her, making her mastery of his list complete. He couldn't get enough of her. Waiting so long to find the right woman had been agony and now he had her, he wanted to be with her every night. Evenings during the week, he'd leave work at six to go to her apartment and make dinner, or bring food in. When Carrie returned much later in the evening, he was there to massage her feet, feed her and make love to her. His heart leapt every time the weary expression on her face changed to a warm smile when she opened the door and was greeted by his kiss.
Grey was in love, head over heels in love and planning to take Carrie to the mountains to see the colors change over Columbus Day weekend with Jenna and Bill in a rented cabin Grey. He picked up his phone and dialed Jenna. He needed to speak with her to confirm their weekend plans and to confide in her his plan for Thanksgiving.
"Jenna, ready for our trip to the mountains?" Grey asked when she picked up the phone.
"Why did you have to wait until it's going to be cold?" Jenna grumbled.
"It will be perfect. Great weather for snuggling…or don't you and Bill do that anymore now that you're married?"
"None of your business! So how's the third item on your list going with Carrie?"
"Do you really want to know, because I'll tell you. Carrie is…"
"That's enough! Stop. TMI, Grey, TMI…"
He laughed into the phone.
"So how is it going? The whole thing with her?" Jenna asked.
"I'm inviting her for Thanksgiving," Grey tossed off.
"What?"
"That's right. She'll be joining us…I hope."
"You've never invited any woman to Thanksgiving before. She must be pretty hot on the third item on the marriage list, eh?"
"I offered to tell you but you didn't want to know…"
"Still don't. You're actually going to bring her to Thanksgiving?"
"That's what I said. Are you losing your hearing?"
"Do mom and dad know?"
"Not yet. I'd better tell 'em slowly…"
"Are you kidding? This will be too good to miss. I wanna be there when you do."
"Then I'm not going to tell you when I'm making the call."
"Aw, come on, Grey."
"Pouting again? I'm immune," he chuckled.
"Didn't used to be."
"I was naïve then. Now I know you do that to get your way. Not working this time. Butt out, Jenna." Grey started pacing in his office.
"Okay, okay. But you'll tell me what they say, right?"
"They'll say, 'how nice, Grey. We'd love to meet her'," he said, imitating his mother's voice.
"Yeah but you know she'll be dying. The minute you're out of the room she'll probably do a back flip…as will dad. 'it's about time our son settled down'…I can hear him now."
Grey laughed.
"I want to see you tear up your marriage list, Grey, then I want to shop for a dress to wear to your wedding."
"I'm getting there, don't rush me."
"Bill's home. Gotta go."
"Oh? Time for that third item on my list?" He snickered.
"You're impossible. Good bye," Jenna said and hung up the phone.
****
Carrie grabbed her purse and coat and ran to the elevator. Grey's car would be waiting outside. She got in and called him. The noise of the party in the background made it hard to hear so he walked outside.
"You're in the car?"
"Yes, see you soon."
"Good. The three other horsemen are here and I want you to meet them."
"Oh, no! The four horsemen together?"
"We always meet at this party. I want them to meet you."
"Then I have to change. I'll have the driver stop at my apartment. It won't take me long. I can't meet them looking like this."
"But, Carrie, I'm sure you're…"
She clicked off her phone and leaned forward from the backseat.
"Driver. We have to make one stop before the museum."
She gave him the address then sat back making a mental inventory of what she had to wear that was clean and pressed.
The dark limousine pulled onto the cobblestone drive leading under the giant pink stone arch of the American Museum of Natural History. A rotunda before the arch was filled with perfectly trimmed tiny hedges and clusters of marigolds and zinnias in fall colors of orange and gold.
Grey was pacing out in front of the museum's side entrance on 77th Street when the car drove up.
He walked up and opened the door.
"Carrie, I thought I…" then he stopped and simply stared at her.
She wore a fine-gauge cream-colored lined cashmere knit dress. The dress had short sleeves and was low-cut, revealing plenty of cleavage and clung to her like a second skin. Around her neck was a chunky gold link necklace. The matching bracelet clinked with another on her wrist. Small gold hoop earrings were visible when she brushed back her luxurious hair. Burnt orange leather spiked heels brought her closer to Grey's height, though he still had six inches on her. Her lashes, thick with mascara, a touch of blush and coral lipstick were all the cosmetics she needed. A tiny burnt orange clutch bag and a dark, chocolate brown taffeta coat completed the picture. Grey's mouth hung open. Carrie smiled at him and closed the car door.
"Am I late?" She asked, her eyes dancing.
"Oh my God," he muttered when he caught his breath.
"What?" She asked, pretending not to know what he was talking about.
"You look…you look…amazing. Amazing, Carrie."
She gave him a peck on the cheek then folded her arm through his and turned him towards the door. They walked into the large entry way decorated with bronze busts of the founders of the museum. They could hear the far-away laughter and clinking of glasses from an exhibit hall where the party was being held.
"This way to the party?" She asked, following the festive sounds.
He gave a nod and moved forward, his gaze glued to her.
"Amazing," he repeated while she laughed.
****
The museum usually held their parties in the large exhibit hall on the first floor. The exhibits, mostly in glass cases, lined the walls, leaving a long center hall completely free. Food and drink stations at either end allowed people to mingle and wander through the exhibits, chatting, looking at the items on display and replenish their drinks and reload their plates on the other side. Often they show a movie of their progress on new exhibits in their IMAX theater so these big contributors could see where their money is going.
