Sins of Omission

by Fern Michaels

  Grinning to himself, Reuben started the car. Just wait till Max saw him when he walked into the Lily Garden with Rosemary on his arm! The old gangster would approve of her. So, for that matter, would Daniel. He himself approved, 100 percent.

  Max was every inch the suave host as he personally escorted the couple to Reuben’s reserved table. He allowed himself a slight but serious wink in Reuben’s direction, then sidled away. But Reuben knew: Max approved.

  Twenty minutes after they’d been seated Rosemary decided Reuben Tarz didn’t smile often enough. He was so handsome when his eyes grew warm and his features softened. Something deep inside told her she was responsible for his present comfortable and happy disposition. In the office his voice was never this deep and husky, caring and warm. She liked it. And she was liking him more with each passing moment.

  “Do you like the wine? Max and I have been discussing importing wine from Bordeaux. What do you think of the Lily Garden?” Reuben asked anxiously.

  Rosemary picked up the anxiousness in his voice. “I don’t know too much about wine, but I know what I like, and I like this. Wine goes right to my head if I have even one glass on an empty stomach,” she confided. Reuben thought of his wife’s incredible ability to consume wine. “And I think this is one of the loveliest restaurants I’ve ever seen. It’s so…glamourous, and the lily murals are breathtaking. The sound of the water from the fountains is so soothing. It’s…pleasant and comfortable for a night spot. I wouldn’t think movie stars would frequent such a…What I mean is, usually they’re said to frequent bistros that are loud and crazy. I’m glad you brought me here.” Shut up! she told herself.

  Reuben leaned across the table. “A lot of Hollywood stars have been given a bad image by the press. In more ways than you know, they are simply ordinary people. They like to come here to unwind, and you’re right, this is one of the most comfortable, the most fashionable places to dine in all of Hollywood. Max is very select with his reservation list. Do you see that balcony over there? A little beyond it are private rooms for private parties for up to thirty people. And the stage show is a knockout.”

  “Where is the stage?” Rosemary asked, looking around them. They were seated on the first tier of tables, and below them on the main floor were other tables grouped around a highly polished dance floor. At the edge of the dance floor and directly opposite them, a twenty-piece orchestra grouped on a semicircular platform played soft dinner music. Behind them was a white satin silver-edged drape that carried the Lily Garden insignia, three water lilies in moss green with pale pink blossoms.

  Reuben grinned. “This is Hollywood! When the show starts the curtain opens and that platform,” he said, pointing in the orchestra’s direction, “moves out over the dance floor and revolves, exposing the rest of the stage. Hot stuff, eh?” He chuckled at the look in her wide eyes. “And wait till you taste the food!”

  They spent the next few minutes going over the elegant French menu, and when Rosemary couldn’t recognize anything but snails and sweetbreads, she suggested that Reuben order for her. She watched, astonished, as he ordered in perfect French: Potage aux concombres, artichauts vinaigrette, lobster thermidor, and for dessert, crepes suzette.

  The meal was magnificent, the service superb, and every once in a while Max put in an appearance to make sure they were being treated properly. Reuben and Rosemary chatted as if they were old friends all through dinner, and although they had second thoughts about dessert, the crepes suzette were made to order with a flourish by Armand, the maître d’, and set flaming in front of them.

  By now Rosemary felt comfortable enough to ask Reuben the one thing that had been bothering her for days. “Mr…. Reuben? I’ve been wondering…All those letters I’ve typed for you…there’ve been no responses, and I was…I sit possible I did something wrong? They all sounded so important. I’d feel just terrible if I somehow—”

  “No, no, no, everything is just fine,” Reuben said, chuckling. “I followed most of them up with a phone call. There were so many because Margaret was preoccupied and I didn’t feel it necessary to heap them on her. I’m sorry I did it to you, though.” He took a deep breath and dug into the plate in front of him to hide his face.

  Rosemary smiled. “That makes me feel better. These crepes are heavenly, but I’m afraid I can’t take another bite!” She jogged her brain for interesting conversational tidbits. Obviously Reuben didn’t want to discuss her work or he’d have done so by now. Perhaps this was just a social dinner between a boss and a temporary secretary.

  Reuben, too, was searching for something to say, something light and amusing, something he wouldn’t be afraid to remember later. This pretty woman seated so near him—he wanted to know all about her. Ask, urged a voice inside him. She seems forthright. It’s the only way you will find out. An employment application contained little personal information. He knew she could type and take shorthand, and answer the phone in a professional manner. He knew her age and where she lived and that she had two cats. But he wanted to know everything about her. And he loved how she flushed with pleasure when she spoke with him directly, then demurely cast her eyes away to hide it.

  “Have you lived in the valley long?” he asked.

  “All my life. I’m very comfortable there. Somehow I can’t picture living anywhere else. My house must seem tiny compared with your mansion. I’ve seen photos of it in the pictorial section of the Sunday papers.” She flushed again. Was she being too forward?

  “What did you think of it?” Suddenly it was important to know what she thought. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she spoke.

  “Pictures are sometimes…deceiving,” she said gently. She appeared flustered. “It looked…grand, very grand, but…”

  “But?” Reuben smiled through his curiosity. “Don’t be shy, tell me what you think.”

  “I think it might be hard to take such a big house and make it in to a…a home. By that…what I mean is…it looked like no one really lived in it.” She let out her breath in a whoosh. “Are you happy there, Mr…. Reuben?”

  Reuben’s expression changed, drew inward, but he spoke without hesitation. “No, I’m not. I think of it as shelter and an investment. I have this friend, Daniel, who once gave his opinion of what a home should be like, and I agree with him. It should be filled with wonderful smells—and not just cooking. I mean people smells, something to indicate real people live inside. Daniel even wanted a pet that crapped on the carpet.” He laughed then, a deep, warm sound that wrapped itself around Rosemary like a breath of fresh air. “I could do without that, but if it happened, it wouldn’t bother me. Lived-in rooms, furniture and carpets that show life, pictures that are important to the people who live there, memories and big beds with soft sheets and fluffy blankets. Sunshine in every room and all sorts of flowers in every shade of the rainbow…What do you think of that?” he said, returning his gaze to her.

  Rosemary blinked at the look of sadness in Reuben’s eyes. She felt confused. What he wanted was just the opposite of what he had. It didn’t make sense. “I think it sounds wonderful. I think my own ideas are the same, and your friend Daniel must be a wonderful person. It all comes down to comfort and a sort of peace that’s within ourselves. But if that’s what you want, why don’t you have it?” she asked without thinking.

  Reuben debated only a moment before answering her. This quiet, serenely beautiful woman would understand, he just knew it. So he told her then about his life with Bebe, everything but his time in France with Mickey. By the time he’d brought his story to a close, the waiters were clearing the table. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, that’s not why I told you about my…home life. You’re very easy to talk to, Rosemary.”

  “Thank you, Reuben, I consider that a compliment. I wish there were something I could do to make…to help you…what I mean is, if there’s anything I can…”

  “There is something you can do. You can see me again. I find myself very…I want to see you ag
ain,” he said firmly. His heart fluttered; she looked so devastated, so wary, and, yes, frightened at his words. He smiled and reached across the table for her hand. She was trembling, and he was almost sorry he’d spoken. Almost.

  Rosemary cleared her throat. “I would like that, but you don’t…perhaps it’s this beautiful place…you don’t know anything about me. People might talk…they will talk.” Reluctantly she drew her hand away from his. “I can’t…I’m not the type of woman who can…I wouldn’t be able to sneak around…You’re a married man,” she said finally. “What you do and where you go is always news. Even tonight.” She thought of the number of people who had waved at them; some had even sent over drinks during dinner. “Seeing me, being friends, might cause problems for you.”

  Reuben leaned back in his chair, eyes twinkling behind his shell-rimmed glasses. Jesus, she was beautiful! He wished then that there were a beach nearby so he could walk with her, holding her hand. The thought made his smile wider. “I was never one to worry about what other people said or didn’t say about me, but I wouldn’t be very good at sneaking around, either—nor would I ask that of you. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt or embarrass you, Rosemary.”

  Rosemary’s heart raced. All he’d really said was that he wanted to see her again; he hadn’t said anything about sex. If she wanted to, she could find thirty-seven reasons not to start up a friendship with this delightful man. If she wanted to. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she looked down at her wine goblet.

  Suddenly the emcee picked up the microphone and began calling everyone’s attention to the evening’s entertainment.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, good evening…. Tonight we have a special…” Just as Reuben had described, the elegant huge curtain began to rise and the stage before them slowly began to turn. Although everyone grew quiet with anticipation, Reuben and Rosemary felt that they had been intruded upon. Their intimate dinner had become public fare.

  “Look,” Reuben said impulsively, “why don’t we leave here and go for a walk and then back to your house to have some coffee and check on the boys.”

  Rosemary laughed. “That sounds wonderful.”

  “Let’s go,” Reuben said, getting up to hold her chair. Max was at his elbow immediately.

  “Is something wrong, Mr. Tarz?” he asked.

  “Not a thing, Max. It was a wonderful dinner. Wasn’t it a wonderful dinner?” Reuben said boyishly. “We’re just going for a walk.”

  Max had never seen his longtime friend with such a sappy grin on his face. Obviously this one was a lady. Wait until he called Jane. At last, after all these years, Reuben looked happy. It occurred to him that he’d seen something this evening he’d never seen before: he’d seen Reuben Tarz actually smile with his eyes as well as with his mouth. He sighed happily. And to think it had happened in the Lily Garden….

  Rosemary and Reuben walked for hours, up one street and down another. They talked, laughed, whispered to each other like conspirators, their hands and shoulders touching. Reuben couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy, and he told Rosemary so and was rewarded with her gentle smile. How could any man in his right mind divorce this lovely woman?

  They were strolling aimlessly now, their arms swinging between them. “We should be starting back, tomorrow is a workday,” Rosemary said.

  “Hey, I’m the boss,” Reuben teased.

  “So you are, but I can’t and won’t take advantage. After you drive me home you still have to turn around and come all the way back here.” But she didn’t want the evening to end, and obviously Reuben didn’t, either.

  They both laughed. “Okay, Uncle, I’ll get you home,” Reuben conceded.

  On the way back to Rosemary’s they remained silent, just enjoying each other’s company. Reuben grinned from ear to ear as he tried to imagine what Daniel would say if he saw him now. Sappy, ridiculous. He’d even had an urge to pull her over to sit close by his side but hadn’t had the courage to do it.

  When they pulled up in front of her house he was thrilled when she turned to him and said, “Coffee? Still in the mood?”

  They were mock-arguing about whether or not Rosemary would let Reuben help prepare it when they opened the door. Rosemary was the first one to see what lay just beyond. “Oh, no!”

  Reuben looked over her shoulder and was aware instantly of three things: Rosemary’s dismay, the two cats huddled together under a corner table, and a sea of white toilet paper festooned over what looked like the entire house.

  “I can’t believe this! I am so embarrassed. I don’t know what’s gotten into them. How can you get angry at a cat?” she asked helplessly.

  Reuben sat down on a rocking chair, his eyes on the nervous cats. He laughed then, a deep rumble coming from his stomach and echoing through the house. Rosemary dropped to her knees beside him and laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks. “Would you just look at them, they know they did something wrong. See, Bismarck is sitting on his tail and Napoleon’s got his back up. He’s angry. At me, I guess. Or maybe at you. You’re a stranger and they aren’t used to you.” She threw her hands in the air. “They’re really good cats,” she said, giggling. “I’m sorry, Reuben.”

  “Rosemary, you have nothing to apologize for. I had a wonderful evening. I can’t remember when I’ve had such a good time. This,” he said, letting his arms embrace the room, “is sort of the icing on the cake, if you know what I mean. Believe me when I tell you I had a grand evening.”

  Rosemary felt her heart begin to pound. What if he kissed her, now, this very moment? But of course, he wouldn’t. Still, she knew exactly what the kiss would be like, exactly how it would feel, exactly how she would feel at that exquisite moment and afterward. She sighed happily, her eyes tender and giving.

  It was the perfect moment to kiss her, Reuben thought, but something in him drew back, some warning that he had to go slowly with this wonderful, lovely woman. Tenderly he touched her cheek, his index finger trailing down her face to her throat. “I’ll help you clean up this mess and then I’ll be on my way.”

  “That isn’t necessary. Oh, Lord, look at those two mischief-makers.”

  Reuben chortled. Both cats had settled down and were fast asleep. “I don’t think they’ll get into any more mischief tonight…. Can I come back tomorrow evening?” he asked suddenly.

  There was nothing coy in Rosemary’s response, nor did she pretend to hesitate before answering. “If you like.”

  He was a whirlwind then, rushing through the house pulling the paper from lamp shades, table legs, and doorknobs. “I didn’t know there was so much paper in a roll. Isn’t it amazing the things you take for granted and never realize? I plan to store this important information, don’t you?”

  Rosemary grinned. “Absolutely.” No doubt about it, it was good to see a man about the house. She held out her arms and Reuben stuffed them with the tissue.

  “Good night, Rosemary, sleep well.”

  “Good night, Reuben, pleasant dreams. Thank you for a lovely evening.”

  Reuben just couldn’t push himself out the door. He hung in the doorway, like a lost puppy, happy to have found a warm spot to rest. “My pleasure. I’ll see you in the office, then?”

  “I’ll be there,” she reassured him, her voice trembling. “Good night.”

  “Good night, then.” Sighing, he pushed himself from the doorway, then stopped to wave back at her halfway to his car. He waved again as he drove away.

  Rosemary didn’t move until she saw the car’s headlights as a dim flicker in the night. Then she carried the wads of tissue paper to the kitchen, reluctant to dispose of them simply because Reuben had given them to her. The scent of his after-shave lingered wherever he’d held them against his body.

  Humming softly to herself, she stuffed the tissue into the trash outside her kitchen door. It had been a delightful evening, and tomorrow was going to be just as delightful, she was sure of it. Her little house seemed to spring to life around h
er as she set about turning out the lights and locking up. The chintz-covered furniture seemed brighter, more vivid, the waxed floors richer, gleaming now in the lamplight, the snoozing cats more endearing somehow. Life, she decided, was wonderful.

  There was a smile on Rosemary’s face as she got ready for bed, taking more time than usual to turn down her bed and wondering if Reuben would ever lie in it. Her cheeks felt hot at the thought. Although she liked sex and had initiated it often with John, he’d been far from a satisfactory lover, content with his own gratification rather than hers. Reuben, she thought, would be a tender yet fierce lover, one who would teach and be open to learning at the same time. Someday…She was tingling from head to toe as she squeezed the toothpaste onto her brush; she was still tingling when she lathered cold cream on her face and then wiped at it with a towel because the toilet paper holder was empty. Suddenly she laughed, uproariously, and the tingly feeling left her. For the next ten minutes she went through her closet, trying to find just the right dress to wear to work the following day. At last she chose a peach-colored silk dress that she’d worn several times already. All it needed was a change of collar and perhaps that wide lace dickey she loved—the one trimmed with tiny seed pearls. It was rich and feminine-looking.

  Rosemary dropped to her knees and said her nightly prayers as she had done ever since childhood. John had laughed at her, ridiculing her until the embarrassment had driven her into the bathroom each night, where she could say her prayers in private. She wondered if Reuben would understand. Did Jewish people pray on their knees? Maybe she could ask him that, too.

  In bed with the light coverlet pulled up to her chin, Rosemary wondered how she compared with Bebe Tarz in Reuben’s eyes. There was probably no comparison, she thought dismally. According to the newspapers, Bebe was beautiful, dressed always in famous designer clothes and jewels that cost a fortune. She was the darling of the press. But Reuben hadn’t said anything about loving her. In fact, the things he had told her over dinner made her feel that he didn’t—couldn’t, even. If she was constantly off, sometimes for months, and without a word, what kind of a home life could they share? He hadn’t said anything about loving his children, either. Yet she could tell by his voice that he loved his friends Max, Daniel, and Jane.