Not even her doorman, who opened the door as she exited the cab and didn’t show any expression as she walked through the door. She headed straight for the elevator, but before she got there, a man stood up from one of the reception chairs.
“Jerome,” she screamed and ran toward him. She grasped his arms with her hands, and the two nearly toppled over. Jerome stepped back to keep them balanced. Tears sprang to her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
Jerome pushed her back, but held on to her arms. “I’m sure there’s a story about this dress and why you’re arriving home at ten o’clock, in the clothes from the night before.”
“There is, and maybe I’ll tell you about it later.”
Together, they went to the elevator while Susan apologized for forgetting he was coming to New York and staying in her guest room.
“All right,” Jerome said after he’d settled in and Susan had showered and changed clothes. “What’s the story? Those tears in the lobby weren’t because you were so glad to see me.”
Susan’s hair was wet and slicked back, off her face. She took the cup of coffee Jerome had made for her and sat at the end of the sofa. Jerome knew some of what she’d done since coming to New York. He had kept in touch with her by phone and email. He knew she had gotten a job working in the furniture department of a store, but he didn’t know about André.
“You must be tired. You just flew all night.”
“Jet lag is less of an issue when you travel west,” he reminded her. “I’ll probably go to bed early, but I’ll be up long before the sun. Besides, I got some sleep on the plane.”
Susan stood up and went to the kitchen. The open concept of her apartment allowed them to see each other and talk. She opened the freezer door of her refrigerator, pulled out a large container of ice cream and proceeded to fill a bowl with it.
Jerome sighed when she resumed her seat. “I’ve seen enough scenes like this to know there’s a broken heart, either in the making or completely torn apart.”
Susan waited a moment, spooning ice cream into her mouth. “His name is André Thorn.”
“Thorn?” Jerome’s brows rose. “Thorn, as in the House of Thorn?”
“You know it?” Jerome wasn’t a retail guru like André. Jerome dealt in paint and canvases. He worked with light and shadow.
“I’ve shopped there a time or two.”
“For whom?” she teased, as a smile tinged her mouth. “Some Italian lady?”
“We’re talking about you, not me.” He diverted her attention back to her own problems. “What happened with André?”
“I should have known better,” she said. “He had a reputation for only dating a woman three or four times.”
“What?”
She hunched her shoulders. “He denies it, but his reputation is that when a woman becomes serious—”
“He breaks it off,” Jerome finished for her. “And you got to date number four?”
“Last night.”
“I’m sorry.”
Susan knew there was nothing he could say to ease how she felt. Truthfully, she didn’t know how she felt. She was still numb from his abruptness this morning. When they had made love last night, it had been life altering. Yet this morning he had become a completely different person. And she didn’t know what had happened.
She hadn’t given him a chance to explain, not that an explanation had seemed to be forthcoming. Had he only told her there would be a fifth date to get into bed with her? Anger swarmed inside her.
“Does he know who you are?” Jerome asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t think that would make a difference. At least the money wouldn’t. The deception is a different story.”
“I’m sure he’d understand if you told him.”
“He might, but that’s not the issue between us. André isn’t a man to make a commitment. He’d proven that time and again. And I was the idiot who thought he was changing for me.”
“You’re not an idiot.”
“Do you mind if we change the subject?” she asked.
“Not at all. In fact, I have an idea. I want to see the gallery. So go get dressed, comb you hair, do your makeup and let’s go. You’ve got fifteen minutes.”
Susan didn’t want to go, but after a moment she thought going out would be better than being alone with her thoughts, in the apartment.
The gallery was a beautiful white brick building that had windows everywhere. Inside, the walls were white, but the lighting could change them to any color an artist might want. While Jerome found the director, Susan walked through the rooms, admiring the arrangements.
She’d come here with Minette before the photos had been hung. Susan recognized some of the photos from her time in Verona. There were some new ones depicting places she had been when she’d lived there. She rounded a corner and was stopped when she saw two photos on the facing wall. One was of Minette as a child. See looked about ten years old. She stared directly at the camera. The light behind her made a halo of her hair.
The second photo was of her. Susan knew exactly what she’d been thinking when that photo had been snapped. She’d been sitting on the stone seats in the arena, trying to imagine gladiators and lions. Her brow was furrowed, and she was concentrating hard in the harsh afternoon sunlight.
“Like it?” Jerome asked from behind her.
“It surprised me.”
“It’s one of my favorites,” Jerome said. “It shows mood, contemplation and humanity. Anyone who looks at this wants to know what is so profound that you’re giving it all your attention.”
“Speaking of attention, I have something to show you.”
Susan led him to a newly renovated room in the gallery. She stood to the side as he followed her in.
Jerome didn’t speak. He stared from one wall to another, taking in the photos. Then he walked toward one wall and stood several feet from it.
“What do you think?” Susan asked.
“Are these yours?”
She heard the awe in his voice.
“They’re mine,” a voice behind them said.
Both Susan and Jerome turned around. Minette stood in the doorway, exactly where her father had paused a moment ago.
“Minette,” Jerome said, with a smile on his face.
He moved toward his daughter and hugged her. Susan noticed the hug was a little awkward. Minette had agreed to see him. It was a first step.
“I’m sure you two need to talk,” Susan said. “I’ll see you back at the apartment,” she told Jerome. Then she signaled Minette as a reminder of her promise to listen and talk to her father with an open mind. Minette nodded.
Susan looked for a taxi, but as usual when she really wanted one, there was none available. She began walking and soon was standing across the street from the House of Thorn. She wanted to go inside. She wanted to see André again. She wanted to understand what his reasons were for ending their relationship.
Two days later she still hadn’t heard from André. She also had not been in the store. She and Jerome talked a lot. Minette joined them a few times. They went to dinner together and talked about being in Italy together, about cameras and composing photos, about the upcoming show.
What Jerome and Minette talked about without Susan was their past. The two seemed to be getting better and better acquainted as the days went by. Right now they were out, leaving Susan alone in the apartment.
After an hour, Susan grabbed her camera and headed for someplace she had yet to visit in the city. She got on the first subway that came along and rode it to the end of the line. She got off at Forest Hills and wandered around the small town. It took her mind off everything except the beauty of the land, the century-old buildings and the stadium that was once the home of the US Open Tennis Championships.
It was a city about the past, even though the p
resent ran through it with fast cars and boutiques. Susan thought of her own past. She’d made the decision to return to the United States. She could have gone back to Mountainview, but after Paris and Verona, she had wanted a place that was more anonymous, where no one would recognize her and she had the freedom to be herself.
Now she looked at where that had led her.
Chapter 9
Routine was routine, André thought as he made his way through the store. His heart was no longer in it. The House of Thorn had always been there for him. It was his rock, his anchor that made everything all right. So why had it deserted him? He no longer got the satisfaction he had in knowing the store was running like clockwork. It was, yet he almost wished for something to go wrong so he would have something to focus his mind on.
As it was, his focus was on a dark-haired beauty who’d wormed her way into his heart. Her reasons, however, were not true, and he’d classed her in the group with all the other gold diggers.
“André?”
He stopped at the sound of his name. He was in the furniture department, yet he had no memory of walking there.
“Jessica,” he said.
“Did you get an invitation?”
Jessica always whispered in the store. André often thought it funny that she made everything sound like a conspiracy, when there was none. Susan had said she was speaking in her confidential voice so that customers wouldn’t think she was allowing anyone else to overhear her.
“Invitation to what?”
“The photo show. The one that her friend from Italy is having?”
André knew exactly what she meant. He did have an invitation.
“I got one.”
“But you’re not going?” Jessica had asked a question, but she’d voiced it as a statement.
“I have another obligation.”
“I see,” Jessica said. “Not a problem.”
In his mind, André was immediately transported back to his apartment. Those were the exact words Susan had used just before she’d walked out of his life. Just before he’d driven her out of his life. He couldn’t go to that opening. He didn’t even know why he had received an invitation.
Someone cleared his throat behind André. Both he and Jessica turned. A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair stood before them. André recognized him, but his attention was on Jessica.
“You must be Jessica,” he said.
“May I help you?” she answered, thinking he was a potential customer. “Are you looking for something for your home?”
“Not exactly.”
Jessica looked at André. “Excuse me, this is—”
“Jerome Marchand.” André spoke the man’s name. “I’m André Thorn.”
“Good. I have you both here. I hope you can come to the show tonight.”
“I got Susan’s invitation. I wouldn’t miss it,” Jessica said, smiling as if the latest rock star had just introduced himself.
“I got an invite also, but I won’t be able to come,” André told him.
“That’s why I’m here. I specifically invited you.”
“The invitation...it’s from you?” he asked in disbelief.
“I had it delivered. Susan doesn’t know anything about it.”
“I don’t know what Susan has told you, but—”
“Nothing,” Jerome interrupted. “Well, that’s not totally true. She’s told me how you met and that she worked in the furniture department, here in the store.”
André looked around the furniture department. Jessica was called away by a customer, leaving the two of them alone.
“She did work here, but she quit a few weeks ago.”
“I know. The invitation is for you. No strings.”
“Will Susan be there?” André asked, but he was sure he already knew the answer. Susan had spoken of the art show and Jerome several times.
“She will,” Jerome said.
“Thank you, but don’t expect me.”
“Think about it. If there is no reason for the two of you not to be in the same room, then there’s no reason for a refusal.”
But there was a reason, André thought. Rumpled sheets, the smell of the best sex he’d ever had and the stunned look on her face when he’d told her that date number four was it.
“Well,” Jerome said, offering his hand in farewell. “I have to grab some souvenirs to take back with me. I’m sure there’s a department that has all the New York slogans and memorabilia.”
André shook his hand. “First floor, near the side entrance.”
Jerome turned to the escalator. He waved at Jessica and kept André in view until the moving stairway was too far down for them to see each other.
He would not go, André told himself. He didn’t need to continue seeing a gold digger. And he didn’t know what Susan might say or do. Jerome could come and personally invite him to the program, but he shouldn’t expect André to comply.
He would not go.
André was still telling himself that when he arrived home. He was restless, but he’d been that way since Susan had left. Tonight, however, his impatience seemed more pronounced. Several times, he went to get something to drink only to find nothing satisfying. He paced back and forth, passing the spot on the floor where he’d picked up the purple dress.
He would not go.
The invitation lay on his dresser; it was elegant. André fingered the heavy sparkling gold paper. It had a formal border with a shimmering pearl motif between the edge and a blocked ridge. It would make a brilliant statement for a wedding. An embossed panel framed the black raised lettering that was inviting him to attend the opening of the much-anticipated works of Jerome Marchand.
André had said he would not attend. And right up until he had showered, that had been his plan. The thought of seeing Susan again outweighed his objections. He was sure he could do this without any repercussions. They would be in a room filled with other people. If it was crowded enough, they may only get to see each other across a room. And if he was uncomfortable enough, he would be free to leave.
Yet the moment he stepped through the door of the gallery, he knew he wasn’t free. By any form of the word, he was totally tied to Susan. Their eyes met across the room. Despite the crowds milling about, looking at the photos, he had a clear sight of her.
Thank God she wasn’t wearing purple.
* * *
“What’s he doing here?” Susan’s stomach dropped three stories when André Thorn walked in through the gallery door.
“I invited him,” Jerome said. He smiled at her, and with two wineglasses in his hands, he walked over to give one to André.
Susan felt rooted to the spot. Minette put her hand on Susan’s shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Oh, Minette, I’m sorry. I...” She broke off, not knowing what to say.
“You didn’t tell me he was better looking in person than in any of those online photos.”
“Why would your father invite him?” she asked. “And not tell me?”
“He knew you wouldn’t come if you knew he was going to be here.”
Susan turned and looked at Minette. “You knew?”
“I delivered his invitation.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re in love with him,” Minette said.
“I am not,” Susan denied.
“Then talking to him won’t be a hardship.”
Susan didn’t want to talk to him. He’d said enough in his apartment, nearly a week ago. He wasn’t interested in date number five, and she wasn’t one to run after a man who didn’t want her. Suddenly she was hot. He’d said he wanted her, and he’d done a fine job of proving it throughout the night. But then the sun had risen, and the clear light of day had shone on them both.
André had made a decision, and Susan had
not had an argument against it. Even if she’d had one, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Susan had known that, and it was why she’d accepted his decision and had left.
“He’s coming over,” Minette whispered, dropping her head and taking a sip of the drink she held. “Gotta go. My father is calling me.”
Jerome wasn’t even looking in Minette’s direction, but Susan was aware of what her friend was doing. Susan steeled herself to greet André. If she could have escaped, she would have gathered her things from the back room and slipped into the first taxi she could find.
But that was not to be.
“Hello,” she said weakly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Neither did I. However, I received an invitation that was hard to refuse.”
“Hard to refuse?”
“Jerome came to see me,” he said.
Susan glanced at Jerome. He was speaking with other guests, looking like the ruler of his own kingdom. He was relaxed and confident, while she was edgy and nervous.
“Why?”
“To make sure I came tonight. I wasn’t going to.”
Susan looked up at him. He was as handsome as ever. They stood in the middle of the gallery. People walked around them, but no one tried to join their conversation or stopped to say hello. Susan almost wished someone would.
“Because of me?” She purposely used the same phrase he’d begun a lifetime ago, when she had quit working at the House of Thorn.
“In part,” he acknowledged.
“Well, I’m sure this room is large enough that we can navigate it without bumping into each other. Now, excuse me, I can see someone I need to talk to.”
Getting the barb in didn’t make her feel better, but what happened next did. As she turned, she bumped into a waiter carrying a tray of filled champagne flutes. She upturned the tray and the bubbly gold liquid pitched forward and dumped onto André.
Susan’s eyes opened wide, along with her mouth, which she covered with her hand. The room quieted and all eyes turned to her. Susan looked around, took in the room as if in slow motion and then left the room as fast as her five-inch heels could carry her. Finding herself in the room with her photo hanging on the wall, she barely noticed it. Her stomach felt as if it had knots in it. She turned this way and that before remembering where the door was that held her purse and wrap. After finding it, she gathered it and slipped out a side door. She could explain everything to Jerome when he came in later, or she could throw her shoe at him for doing what he did.
Love in New York ; Cherish My Heart Page 12