Chrissie grabbed a small bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator, took Robbie by the hand and headed to the garage. Craig had already searched the garage and had found no liquor. He was confused. Rita said Chrissie was drinking first thing in the morning. So far, she hasn’t had one that I’ve seen.
Chrissie knew Craig and Rita were watching her. She believed her drinking was her business and no one else’s. They are both acting strange this morning, she thought, as she backed out of the garage. Watching me like a pair of hawks. Luckily, I always have a back-up plan.
Chrissie also had a back-up plan for her back-up plan. She would never be far away from a drink—when she needed one. All it takes is a little forward thinking. She looked in the rearview mirror at Robbie in the backseat. Like the collection of miniatures hidden in my lingerie drawer. Sure came in handy this morning. I’d better find a couple more hiding spots—just in case.
As she turned off their street onto busy 16th Avenue, Chrissie emptied a miniature of vodka into her orange juice. She merged into traffic and reached for the plastic juice bottle. The first sip did nothing. No warm feeling, no relief. She added another shot of vodka. A big swallow and her world was okay—once again. Chrissie finished her first double of the day before she arrived at Robbie’s playschool.
Meanwhile, Craig was convinced Chrissie had not had a drink that morning. He checked all the bottles he had marked and found no liquor missing. Another thorough search of the garage produced nothing. She’s either more devious than I thought or she’s not hiding booze. Maybe Rita is mistaken. Maybe Chrissie is not an alcoholic.
Sometimes, our judgment is clouded by hope.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hunting
Chrissie was late that evening, later than normal. Craig called Towercrest, but the answering machine was on. He decided not to leave a message. The staff would hear it the next morning. He was worried about Chrissie. He wished she would either come home or call.
Rita had the evening off, so Craig ran the bath for the kids. He always liked to put the kids to bed even when Rita was working. He loved spending time with Robbie and Heather. He missed it on the evenings he had to work.
Robbie liked sports, riding his bike and spending time with his dad. Craig was teaching him about the world. Robbie knew how to throw and catch a baseball, ride a bike and fish for bass. They had wonderful times together. They did all the things a father and son should do.
Heather wanted to go everywhere with her older brother. Craig explained she was too young to follow Robbie and his friends on her tricycle, and she couldn’t reach the pedals on a Big Wheel. He also told her it’s a drag for a boy to have his little sister tagging along all the time. She listened, but Craig thought it went in one ear and out the other. He felt, at the same time he was explaining to her why she couldn’t do something, Heather was busy trying to figure out a way to do it. She had a mind of her own and learned her lessons the hard way. She needed lots of discipline, but Craig worried about being too strict. Heather loved her dad, and Craig loved his little girl. She was the apple of his eye.
After their bath, Craig read to Robbie and Heather. He gave them a choice of bedtime stories. They invariably picked the same one. Their favorite story was about a nice monster everyone was afraid of. A boy befriends the monster, and everyone lives happily ever after. Heather was always afraid at the beginning of the story. Robbie would say she was just being a baby.
Bedtimes spent with Heather and Robbie would be some of Craig’s favorite recollections after the divorce. These memories would sustain him through some long, lonely nights.
When the story was over, Craig sent Robbie off to his room while he tucked Heather into bed. She was so cute in her flannel p.j.’s. She smelled of gentle soap and baby shampoo. She had her mother’s brown eyes and thick hair. Heather had an effervescent laugh and a never-ending supply of love, which she gave away free of charge. Craig kissed her on the forehead. “G’night, Heather. Never forget—I love you.”
Heather wrapped her arms around his neck for a good night hug. “I love you too, Dad—lots and lots. Oh … and Dad … don’t forget to leave the hall light on and my door open a bit.”
“Sure, honey, see you in the morning.” Heather was already drifting off to sleep.
Craig opened Robbie’s door. “G’night, Rob. See you in the morning.”
“G’night, Dad. Hey Dad—ya know what?”
“What?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, big guy. G’night.”
Craig smiled as he went down the hallway. He cherished these times. Those kids are the best. I’m a lucky dad. I wonder where their mother is.
* * *
Chrissie was on her way home. While stopped at a red light, she used breath spray, applied lipstick and fixed a stray strand of hair with her fingers. She caught a glimpse of her eyes in the rear view mirror. She looked away feeling guilty. Looking into the mirror again, she smiled and then noticed a new wrinkle. I don’t remember seeing that before. Boy, does that make me feel old.
Chrissie knew she was awfully late and hoped Craig wouldn’t be upset. I should have called, but I really didn’t have a chance. He’ll understand. He knows this business. The client comes first.
In Chrissie’s mind, she had a perfectly legitimate excuse for working late. She and Eric Millard, one of the star realtors at Towercrest, had a late showing with some buyers who had flown in from Houston. Eric was an excellent realtor and mature beyond his years. He was a quick study and had a charming way with clients. He had the highest sales at Towercrest, two months out of the past six. He was destined to be their top salesperson in no time. This deal, however, was Chrissie’s. Eric was along for the ride.
Eric and his wife Vikki had been to Craig and Chrissie’s house on several occasions for Towercrest staff functions. They had been married for three years and had no children. The relationship between Chrissie and Eric was strictly businesslike. That suited Chrissie just fine. She believed sex had no place in a business relationship, at any time, for any reason. Eric respected her and had never shown any interest in pursuing a personal relationship. That all changed tonight.
Waiting for their clients’ flight to arrive, Chrissie and Eric waited in a bar on the arrivals level. They enjoyed spending time together. Chrissie had become his mentor, and Eric was her star pupil. They loved discussing business and real estate deals; past, present and future. But what Chrissie liked best about Eric was—he could match her drink for drink. Eric will learn a lot tonight, she thought.
Paul and Lauren Beaumont exited the baggage claim area and saw their names on the sign Eric was holding. After introductions, Chrissie asked if they wanted to eat before or after they saw the properties.
“We had chicken parmesan on the flight.” Paul had a broad drawl and an even broader smile. “At least, that’s what the airline told us it was. Let’s look at some real estate.”
“Great,” Chrissie said. “It’s best to see them in the daylight.”
Paul and Lauren were interested in purchasing investment properties. They liked the real estate in this area of the country because properties were priced below market value. Paul thought the area had amazing potential and was ready to boom. He was right. Many choice apartment buildings and townhouse complexes were on the market, and Towercrest had secured the listings. It was a perfect match, Chrissie’s listings and Paul’s money. And Paul had lots of it. He was in the oil and gas business—and business had been very good.
Chrissie quickly warmed to the Beaumont’s. She appreciated Lauren’s southern belle charm and Paul’s bottom line reasoning and acute business sense. This guy knows exactly what he’s doing. No wonder he’s a jillionaire.
She was excited about this deal. The commission would be nice, but doing the deal was what she craved. She loved the hunt
more than the kill.
Paul decided on a high-rise apartment building near Lewis Park. It was prime property, and his offer was right on the money. He had an eye for the right property in the right area, which came as no surprise to Chrissie. He also expressed an interest in the undeveloped land adjacent to the building.
Chrissie realized he was way ahead of her. She wondered what he was contemplating. Paul never said, and she was smart enough not to ask. Paul Beaumont is one smart cookie. He only wanted to see the so-so properties for market research. He knew exactly what he wanted to buy and where. It’s like he grew up here.
They had dinner at Leap, a trendy fusion bistro where Chrissie often entertained clients. The chef was well known for his innovative and exquisite cuisine. Tonight was no exception. Bottles of fine wine appeared at the table, as if by magic. The sommelier and his wine stewards never allowed Paul out of their sight. A wink from Paul and another bottle would appear. Needless to say, all were well lubricated by the time dessert and liqueurs were served.
Chrissie stopped at the waiter station to sign the bill to the Towercrest account. Their waiter informed her the bill had mysteriously disappeared. Her friend Philippe, the Maitre’d, happened by and advised all had been taken care of. Chrissie was certain Paul was responsible, and she appealed to Philippe to confirm it. He winked and put his index finger up to his lips. Paul laughed and would admit to nothing.
As Chrissie pulled up in front their hotel, the Beaumont's invited her and Eric to join them for a nightcap. Chrissie thanked them but declined, saying she really had to get home. Eric echoed her reply. Chrissie felt like she was saying good-bye to old friends. Paul and Lauren said they would be back in town often and looked forward to seeing them again. After handshakes and goodbyes, Chrissie was ready to drive Eric back to Towercrest to pick up his car.
“You okay to drive, Chrissie?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good,” Eric said. “Because I’m not.” They laughed at that. Chrissie couldn’t remember having so much fun with anyone other than Craig. Eric had a great sense of humor. He was also charming, handsome and the perfect gentleman.
On the way, they discussed the Beaumont deal. Chrissie explained to Eric what would happen in the next few weeks, once the offer to purchase was accepted. Eric asked all the right questions. He wanted to learn the ins and outs of commercial real estate, as quickly as possible. He was looking to leave Towercrest, once he had learned all he could from Chrissie. Eric believed you get what you can and move on to something better. Loyalty is for losers.
Eric listened intently as Chrissie talked. She felt him staring at her mouth. He seemed enchanted by her voice. Normally, Chrissie liked the way Eric listened, but now he was making her uneasy. He’s a handsome devil though, she thought. He’s lucky I’m married, or I’d take a run at him. Oh yeah—like he’d be interested in an old broad like me. Turns out he was.
They parked beside Eric’s car in the Towercrest lot. Chrissie was surprised when Eric leaned over from the passenger seat and put his left hand behind her neck. He turned her head and gently pulled her towards him. Chrissie offered no resistance. The evening, the deal and the wine all swirled in her head. She wanted him to kiss her. She needed passion—and she needed it now.
Eric’s kiss was passionate and urgent. He pulled her closer. His right hand cradled her jaw. He looked into her eyes before he kissed her again. Chrissie began a deep-throated purr and pressed her breast into his ribs. She felt his hand cup her other breast and then search for the buttons on her blouse. She felt the warm wetness between her legs and the excitement in her stomach. She wanted him. She ached for him. Suddenly, reality hit her. “Stop!” She pulled away from him. “Eric, please stop! I can’t!”
Eric was puzzled by her reluctance. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this I’m sorry I just can’t do this.”
“Is it me?” He hoped the answer wasn’t yes.
“Oh no, it’s not you, Eric. Honest—it’s me. I can’t do this to Craig. Not now not ever. I’m married.”
“I am too. But let’s face it, we are obviously attracted to each other.”
Chrissie stopped him. She explained she’d simply had too much to drink. She had no intention of ever having an affair. He apologized and asked her to forget this had ever happened. Chrissie said the incident was closed and would never be mentioned again. In her heart, she knew this evening had fatally damaged their ability to work together. It was only a matter of time. Eric left Towercrest a month later to work for another firm. She was glad.
Chrissie pulled into the garage. She checked her hair and the buttons on her blouse before she went into the house. Craig was in the kitchen putting some ice into a glass of diet pop.
“Hi, sweetheart. Sorry I’m so late.” She talked fast, hoping to cover all the bases before he had a chance to say anything. “Closed a great deal for a big fat commission.”
Craig was livid. “Don’t you ‘hi sweetheart’ me! Where the hell were you? And you reek of booze! I can smell it from here! No bloody way you should be driving!”
“We closed the deal over a drink.” Chrissie was calmly trying to diffuse the situation. “I was fine to drive. I should’ve called, Craigie. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“I was worried about you.”
“I know you were, baby,” Chrissie said. “I’m sorry.”
She kissed Craig. He tried to stay angry, but she knew how to manipulate him. His anger waned. She pressed her body against him in her way that said: “I want you.” And Craig wanted her. She was beautiful and sensuous. She still turned him on. They undressed on their way across the bedroom. The bathroom light cast a glow across the bed. Chrissie was beautiful lying naked with her black hair cascading over a white pillow.
Their lovemaking was violent, animal and more aggressive than ever before. Chrissie clawed at his back and whispered things in Craig’s ear that turned him into a wild man. He was lost in her. He tried things he had never thought of and positions that should have been impossible.
When they slid off the bed down onto the carpet, neither one of them noticed nor cared. Chrissie had more orgasms than she could count. She didn’t think the last one would stop. She felt Craig come with her.
Afterwards, as they tried to catch their breath, they laughed at the trail of discarded clothing strewn across the bedroom floor. The lust of that night would light a fire in their minds—forever.
Chrissie thought about Eric Millard the whole time.
CHAPTER NINE
Priorities
Sunday dinner at Joe and Olivia’s was something Craig and Chrissie always looked forward to. Joe and Olivia had a lust for life and were tons of fun. They loved each other, their family and their hobby farm Olivia called: “a little slice of heaven.” Joe had a huge workshop in the old stone barn where he was restoring a Stearman bi-plane. He also made replica antique wooden toys for his grandchildren. Olivia was a relaxed and gracious hostess.
The kids were treated like royalty and were secure in the knowledge Grandma Olivia and Grandpa Joe loved them to pieces. Robbie, Heather and Stella wore themselves out roaming all over the property, exploring and playing. The grandkids were always welcome to help Olivia in the kitchen or Joe in the workshop or the yard.
Craig loved his in-laws. He and Olivia had grown close over the years. Joe and Craig shared a passion for sports, especially football. They were always glued to the television watching the games on what Joe called the “high holidays” like Thanksgiving, New Years Day and, of course, Super Bowl Sunday.
Although the farm was about a forty-minute drive from home, Craig often dropped by to check on Olivia when Joe was away flying. He was a senior 747 captain with Worldwide Air, and seniority allowed him to bid for the best flights every month. Flying long haul at night paid the highest wages,
so Joe usually chose the international flights. He was away about ten days a month and appreciated Craig keeping an eye on Olivia. Olivia was entirely capable of looking after herself, but it was pleasing to know the men in her life cared about her.
Craig, Chrissie and the kids pulled into the driveway. Olivia was waiting on the porch. Stella was out of the car in a flash and after giving Olivia a tail-wagging hello, was off to explore. Heather and Robbie ran to her for hugs. Joe emerged from his workshop, and the kids hurried to him for more hugs and candy. Grandpa Joe always had candy. He said it was a rule in The Grandpa’s Handbook.
Later, Craig and Joe were putting the finishing touches on a six-pack of beer while they watched the N.F.L. Neither one of them had a favorite pro team, but college football was different. Everyone in the family remembered that fateful New Year’s Day when their respective alma maters met in a bowl game. For years, Olivia would say the Army-Navy game had less tension and rivalry. Joe and Craig never admitted to anyone they didn’t honestly care who won, but it was fun pretending they did.
Olivia rang the dinner bell on the back porch to announce the coming feast. Chrissie had spent most of the afternoon on the phone with clients but helped her mother dish up the food at dinnertime. She was purposely avoiding personal conversations with her mother these days. Olivia knew too much about drinking problems. She had been down that path herself. Chrissie couldn’t fool her. Damn my mother, Chrissie thought. I don’t know why she has to talk so much about alcoholism. She goes on and on about it. And she’s responsible for Craig’s suspicions. She taught him all about A.A. No need. I am absolutely totally in control of my drinking.
Olivia knew if Chrissie continued to drink, her life was going to become increasingly unmanageable. She suspected Chrissie had already passed point “x” and now needed a hangover-easing belt in the morning, a few drinks at lunch, as well as cocktails after work. She would appear to be a social drinker in public while secretly consuming enough alcohol to satisfy her craving. Craig and Olivia often discussed Chrissie’s drinking. Today was no exception. Chrissie was outside with Heather and Robbie. Craig came into the kitchen to talk to Olivia. He was comfortable talking to her. As a recovering alcoholic, she understood the mentality.