She struck just as he was signing the check. “David . . . what is this thing with you and Karla?”
He kept his hand steady as he continued to write. (Two dollars for the captain . . . four dollars for the waiter.) He felt a pulse beat in his neck and wondered if she could see it. He took longer than was necessary to put away his pen, and when he spoke he hoped his voice sounded casual and light.
“I think she’s great fun to be with . . . we have a lot of laughs.”
“Oh, come off it, dear boy. Karla is anything but a bundle of laughs. In fact she can be quite dreary.” She shook her head. “I can understand that thing you had with that divine Dutch girl—Kim something or other—even if she does walk into Raffles with a see-through blouse. At least she has something to show. But when a young man is seen tagging around after an older woman . . . people do talk.”
“Oh . . . what do they say?”
“That she’s giving him money, that he’s impotent and is just her escort—or that he’s gay.” Dee’s smile was almost melancholy. “I don’t have to tell you, because we’ve all said the same thing about others.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he said.
“You know it’s ridiculous and I know it’s ridiculous. But people do talk.”
“We just have fun together, that’s all. She likes being with me,” he said doggedly.
Dee’s laugh was merry, but her eyes were cold. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s not capable of enjoying anyone’s company. But she just might be interested in a young man who she thinks will wind up with a big inheritance.” She opened her cigarette case and waited while David fumbled for a match. She exhaled the smoke slowly and stared at the cigarette. “I really should give these things up . . . I hear Nina Creopopolis has emphysema . . . which reminds me . . . what do you think of Becker, Neiman and Boyd?”
“They’re a pretty fair law firm. Why?”
“I’m thinking of using them. I want to draw up a new will.”
“Why? I mean, I thought Dad handled everything like that for you. Look, not just because he’s my father . . . but you can’t compare Becker, Neiman and Boyd to Dad’s firm.”
“You’re prejudiced, darling.” She patted his hand. “But I like that. God knows, no one is more family-oriented than I. But I should get an outside opinion. This change in my will isn’t like the others. I need some very sophisticated advice. After all, I have a husband and a stepdaughter. I care about them, David. I really do. I must see that they are provided for.”
“Of course.” (Oh God, his voice had cracked. Now she knew he was scared. He turned to her with his best “young and earnest” look.) “Dee, you know it would break Dad’s heart if you switched to another firm.”
“And would it break your heart if I switched to another brokerage house?”
He didn’t even try to answer. His hand shook as he lit his own cigarette. No more playing cat and mouse. The mouse was caught and the cat was beginning the game of teasing it to death.
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Well, so far I’m just thinking. That’s all. Just thinking.”
He walked her to her car, and she pretended not to notice the photographer from Women’s Wear who snapped her. She held her cheek for him to kiss and said, “I’ve enjoyed our lunch, David. It’s good to keep in touch like this. I like to keep my family happy . . . and together.”
He stared after her until her car disappeared into traffic. Then he went to the nearest phone booth and called January.
Eight
MIKE WAS MIXING Bloody Marys when January arrived at the Pierre for Sunday brunch. She had seen Mike, but this was the first time she had seen Dee since her return from London. Dee put down the Times crossword puzzle and held her cheek to January. “I don’t know why I bother with this damn thing,” she said. “I started it last night, and I actually lose sleep over it. And really there’s no great achievement in getting it done. I know some of the dreariest people who whizz through it. Of course, most of them use a dictionary. But that’s cheating. Now . . . sit down, and tell us all about the job. Is it fun?”
“Yes, they accepted my article. I’m really excited about it. Of course, it has to be edited—I don’t punctuate too well—but Linda and the whole staff said it was really good. I hope you both like it.”
Dee smiled. “I hope you aren’t taking this job so seriously that you’re neglecting your social life.”
“Well, I do get up every morning at seven. And I rarely leave the office before seven at night.”
“Why, that’s slave labor,” Dee said.
“You’re much too skinny,” Mike said as he handed her the drink. “I bet you’re skipping meals.”
“Oh, I eat a lot. Last night I had a fabulous meal . . . even cherries jubilee. I was with David.”
Dee’s reaction was merely polite interest. “And how is my handsome young cousin?”
“Fine. We went to the St. Regis to see Veronique.”
“Veronique? Is she still around doing her third-rate Edith Piaf act?” Dee asked.
January shrugged. “I never saw her before. But she has a great act. She has three Russian dancers with her. Young men. And one of them had the sex change operation . . . in reverse. I mean, he was a girl—now she’s a man.”
“Now, January—” Dee’s tone was a gentle reprimand. “One mustn’t give lip service to dirty little rumors like that. I know they’re the kind of stories your magazine likes to play up, but—”
“You’re so right. I wish I could get a story on ‘Nina into Nicholas.’ I tried my damnedest last night!”
“Don’t tell me you actually talked to this creature.”
“Of course. Upstairs in Veronique’s suite.”
Dee put down her drink. “But how did you get to her suite? Is Veronique a friend of David’s?”
“No . . . Karla’s.”
“Karla!” Dee’s voice went up an octave.
“Yes. You see, David had a reservation for a table for two and when we got there they had us stuck behind a post. Then this young Greek man came over and introduced himself and said he and his friend were with Karla and that Karla would like us to join them. She had a wonderful table in a secluded alcove but with a perfect view of the floor. And she is so beautiful. In fact I was so busy staring at her that I almost missed seeing Nina-Nicholas. Then after the show Karla took us up to Veronique’s suite and Nina-Nicholas was there. She . . . or he . . . talks about it openly. Linda says she’ll raise my salary if I can get an interview for Gloss. But Nina-Nicholas says all the magazines have asked her . . . even offered to pay for her story.”
“I think vanity might be the key,” Mike said. “Tell him or her that you’ll do a color photo layout by a top man and give him the pictures and the color plates. And maybe spring for some wardrobe like a Cardin outfit . . . there are a lot of ways to soften someone.”
January sighed. “That’s just it—we haven’t got that kind of a budget.”
“January,” Dee cut in. “Tell me—what happened after the show?”
“Well . . . we had a drink in Veronique’s suite and—”
Sadie came in and announced that brunch was served. They went into the dining room. Mario served them, and Mike insisted January take some sausage. “You can use it. I don’t like you this thin.”
Dee smiled with a show of good nature. Then she said, “You were telling us about Veronique.”
“Oh . . . well.” January swallowed the sausage. “It was as if we were suddenly transported into a foreign country. Everyone had a different accent. Veronique is French, Karla’s accent is sort of Middle-European, the two Greek boys had accents, and Nina-Nicholas is Russian. So everyone used French as the common denominator, which was fine for me. Only poor David didn’t understand a word.”
“Where did you go after that?” Dee asked.
“Nowhere. Karla went off with the Greek boys and David took me home because he’s playing squash this morning at nine.”
Dee wa
s silent for a moment. She stabbed at her eggs, then put down her fork. “I’m so furious I can’t eat.”
“What’s wrong?” Mike went on buttering his toast.
“Your daughter being dumped before midnight so David could go off to Westport with Karla.”
“What makes you say that?” Mike asked.
“I talked to Karla yesterday. She told me she was leaving for Westport last night for one last weekend in the country before it gets too cold. Don’t you see . . . this was all planned. Karla never goes to a supper club. She never goes anywhere. Sure, she knows Veronique . . . but she refused to go to a party honoring Nureyev, whom she really admires, because of her fetish about crowds. But because David obviously felt he had to see January, they decided this whole thing between them—a lovely way to kill two birds with one stone. Karla would see Veronique for old times’ sake, and at the same time David could take January on a date. Then January would be dumped . . . and the two of them drive off to Westport.”
Mike’s jaw tightened but he continued to eat. “If David wants to go off for a weekend, I think that’s his business.”
“And make a fool of your daughter for a woman more than twice her age.”
Mike stopped eating and pushed his plate away. His voice was quiet and even. “Dee, I think you ought to let people make their own decisions and live their own lives.”
January wished she could suddenly vanish. Dee was actually angry, and Mike’s jaw was getting that clenched look. In an effort to break the mood, she said lightly, “Listen, both of you . . . I had a marvelous time . . . really. David and I got on just fine and—”
“Then why did you let that Polack walk off with him?” Dee demanded.
January held on to the table until her knuckles went white. She had enjoyed the evening with David . . . he had been warm and attentive. And now Dee was ruining it. It had never entered her mind that the Karla thing had been prearranged. David had seemed genuinely surprised to see her, and Karla had gone out of her way to be gracious and warm to her. She had asked about her job and given her permission to quote her as saying she ate oatmeal every morning for breakfast.
Now she suddenly had doubts. Had it all been arranged? Was David really in love with Karla? All this flashed through her mind as she watched the tension between Mike and Dee. Suddenly she knew she had to get out of there. It was dreadful enough to learn that she had been a “mercy date” with David. But to have Mike and Dee fight . . . over her! Talking about her as if she wasn’t there. And how must she look to Mike? A real zero!
Her father’s anger made Dee suddenly back down. Her lips trembled and she tried to manage a smile. A pleading tone crept into her voice. “Mike . . . I’m only trying to do things for her sake. Wasn’t that your main concern when we got married? Didn’t you tell me you wanted to be sure January had everything because of what she had gone through? All the good times she had missed?”
“That doesn’t mean you have the right to run her life—to force her to date a man who obviously has other inclinations.”
“Oh, good Lord. David told me that January was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen.” She sighed. “Maybe I’ve tried too hard, because nothing seems to have worked. I planned that beautiful bedroom for January and she walked out on it. I had planned we’d all spend the holidays together in Palm Beach. I thought I’d send the plane for January and David and we’d have a family thing there on Thanksgiving. And then on Christmas I want to give a big ball, as I did a few years ago. Fly in someone like Peter Duchin. Invite Mayor Lindsay, Lenny, Rex . . . all the fun people. And I had hoped that January and David would announce their engagement by then—”
“That’s all very nice,” Mike said. “But maybe it’s not what January wants.”
“How can she know what she wants?” Dee’s voice went cold. “She’s got to be taught to want the right things.”
“For three years she had to be taught just to walk and talk,” Mike shouted. “From now on it’s her ballgame.”
Dee’s eyes narrowed. “All right! Let her work at that dingy magazine. Let her live in that third-rate apartment house. I’m not going to try anymore. Why should I knock myself out when you’re both such ingrates? Neither of you even knows how to enjoy the nice things in life. Let her freeze in New York this winter. I’m not going to beg her to come to Palm Beach.”
“Maybe I won’t go to Palm Beach either,” Mike said.
“Oh really?” Dee said softly. “Tell me, Mike, what will you do? Move out of here? Find a big apartment for yourself and your daughter. Produce a hit Broadway show. Amass a fortune to leave her from all your hits! Go ahead. Why should I even bother to try to get her married. You can give her the world. Go on! Produce a show . . . a picture . . . give her back her dreams.”
January saw the color drain from her father’s face. She stood up. “Mike . . . you’ve made all my dreams come true. You don’t have to do another thing. I’m a big girl now. I love my work on the magazine. And from now on, I have to make my dreams come true on my own. I’d love to come to Palm Beach on Thanksgiving. Really, I’m looking forward to it. And Dee . . . honest . . . I appreciate all you’ve done. I loved the room you offered me. It’s just that—well—I have to be on my own now. And David is very nice. In fact, he’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met . . . and you both mustn’t quarrel over me.” She stopped. They were sitting, stiff and motionless, staring at each other. She backed away from the table. “Look, I have to run. I promised Linda I’d help on the planning of some new articles for the magazine.” She kissed her father. His cheek felt as if it had turned to stone. Then she dashed out of the apartment.
Mike never looked after her. He stared at Dee, frozen with rage. When he spoke his voice was low and controlled. “You just cut off my balls in front of my daughter.”
Dee laughed nervously. “Oh, stop it, Mike . . . let’s not fight. We never have before.”
“And never will again!”
She came to him and put her arms around him. Her voice was silky but her eyes were frightened. “Mike, you know I love you . . .”
He shoved her away and left the table. She ran after him as he headed for the bedroom. “I’ll be packed and out in an hour.”
“Mike!” She grabbed his arm as he pulled a suitcase from the closet. But he shook her off. “Mike—” she pleaded. “Forgive me . . . please . . . please forgive me . . . don’t go. Please don’t go!”
He stopped and looked at her curiously. “Tell me something, Dee . . . why did you marry me?”
“Because I love you.” She wound her arms around his neck. “Oh, Mike . . . our first quarrel and it’s my fault. Forgive me. Please, angel. It’s not right for us to fight. It’s because of your daughter.” He pulled away but she ran after him. “Mike, I never had a child . . . I’m probably stepping out of line because of my eagerness to treat January like a daughter. I’m probably going about it all wrong . . . saying all the wrong things . . . being overbearing . . . overprotective . . . as I am with David. I never had a brother or sister . . . he’s been like a son to me. And now with January . . . I guess I pushed too hard. It’s just that I want her to be happy. And for us to fight is ridiculous. We both say things we don’t mean. It’s David and Karla I’m angry at . . . not you.” Her panic mounted as he continued to throw things into his bag. “Mike . . . don’t . . . please! I love you. How can I prove it? I’ll call January and apologize. I’ll do anything!”
He stopped and looked at her. “Anything?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I never asked you for a thing, did I? I even signed a premarital agreement that if I divorced you I wouldn’t get a dime. Right?”
“I’ll tear it up,” she said.
“No, keep it. I don’t want a cent. But from now on—cut all this talk about how you love January and how concerned you are about her future. Put your money where your mouth is!”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to know that if some
day I drop dead watching you play backgammon, my daughter is going to be a rich young lady.”
“I promise. I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll leave her a million dollars in trust.”
He stared at her and his eyes were hard. “That’s chicken shit.”
“What do you want?”
“Ten million.”
She hesitated a moment, then nodded slowly. “All right . . . I promise. Ten million.”
He smiled slightly. “And from now on, cool it on David. That’s an order. If he has a thing for Karla, it will have to burn out on its own and not because you demand it. But in any event, I’m not having January shoved at him. Remember that!”
“I promise.”
“And I don’t want any cracks about her job. Goddammit, she’s trying. She’s got ambition, and when you lose that, baby, you’ve really cashed in your chips.”
“I promise, Mike.” She put her arms around him and kissed his neck. “Now come on . . . smile. Don’t be angry.”
“You gonna stay out of her life and not butt in?”
“I’ll never mention her name to David again.”
“And the ten million you promised to lay on her is also a deal.”
She nodded.
He stared at her for a moment, then he swept her up and tossed her on the bed. “Okay. Now that we’ve had our first fight . . . let’s fuck and make up.”
David arrived at the Racquet Club five minutes early. His father’s voice had sounded urgent. That meant trouble. Just when everything was going so great. Usually he hated Mondays, but he had awakened this morning feeling he owned the world. His date with January at the St. Regis had gone off without a hitch. She had bought the idea that running into Karla was an accident. She was even pleased about it . . . like a fan. And she certainly had no inkling that at midnight he and Karla had driven to Westport. Even now, he felt light-headed just thinking about it. It was the first time he had ever spent an entire night with her. He’d never get over the unbelievable sight of Karla in the kitchen the following morning, making him bacon and eggs. It had been the greatest twenty-four hours of his life. She had borrowed the country place from a friend and their privacy was perfect. The house was set back in the midst of six acres of its own property. Even the weather had cooperated. Sunday had been one of those rare days when autumn lives up to all of its poetic descriptions. To him autumn had always meant the beginning of winter. Early dusk; a gray rainy day on Wall Street; a dusty wind and no taxis. But autumn on a country road in Westport was an explosion of colored leaves that crunched underfoot, clear air and the feeling of complete isolation from the world.