Tess sat rigid with fury. “I still want to kill him. He’s going to hurt her. I don’t care about his damn backbone. I still want to kill him.”
“Well, you can’t,” Nick said. “You’re in a public place. Control yourself. People are watching.” He met her eyes and relented. “He didn’t call her, did he?” he asked gently. “She called him. I’m not saying that makes it right, but Gina got the job and called him and said let’s celebrate and he said sure.”
“Oh, damn it.” Tess blinked back tears. “I knew she shouldn’t have called him. She’s just so crazy about him she’s transparent with it. She just couldn’t wait.” She pushed Nick away gently and stood up. “All right, I won’t kill him in public. I’ll call Gina tomorrow and see what I can do. Maybe if I introduce her to one of the guys from the Foundation…”
“Tess, you can’t fix everything for everybody,” Nick said, but his voice was sympathetic as he put his arm around her. “And this is between Park and Gina. It’s none of your—our—business. Come on, we’ll make this short so you don’t have to look at him for very long.”
“I want him dead,” Tess said.
“I know,” Nick said. “Try not to act on that.”
The high point of drinks with Park and Corinne the brunette came for Tess when Corinne mentioned the amusing little gallery they’d had coffee in the night before. The night Park had told Gina they’d go out to celebrate her new job. Going out two nights in a row, Gina had marveled. Poor Gina. Stood up two nights in a row. All the lousy things Tess had ever said about Park came back to haunt her because they weren’t lousy enough.
She glared at Park, who looked at her with equal parts of fear and confusion and immediately suggested to Corinne that they’d better be going.
“I want him dead,” Tess repeated to Nick when they were alone, and Nick said, “I know. I know.”
Dinner with the Siglers was only a slight improvement, although Tess was so despondent over Gina that she was actually polite and nonconfrontational.
“You behaved very well tonight,” Nick said to her when they were on their way home. “The Siglers were impressed. I think Tricia is ready to forgive you for the roll fight.” When Tess didn’t answer, he glanced over at her. “Are you all right?”
“Gina,” Tess said. “She’s probably sobbing into her pillow right now.”
“Do you want to drop by?” Nick said. “I’ll wait if you need to be with her.”
“No,” Tess said. “Gina doesn’t like crying in front of people. I’ll wait until tomorrow when she’s cried out, and then I’ll do something.” God knows what, she thought and slumped back into the leather of Nick’s car seat while he drove her home in quiet, secure luxury.
THE NEXT DAY, Tess bought a five-pound box of hand-dipped chocolates and went to see Gina at work. She asked for Gina at the receptionist’s desk, a walnut edifice that went well with the grimy marble floors and wainscoted walls and the wooden receptionist, who looked upholstered in her tapestry suit.
“Would this be theater-related?” the woman asked, staring suspiciously at Tess through horn-rimmed glasses. Tess was obviously not the sort of clientele she was looking for.
“It definitely has dramatic potential,” Tess replied, and the receptionist waved her to a door down the hall, craning her neck to watch her go.
At Gina’s door, Tess took a deep breath and then went in, smiling, determined to raise Gina from the pit of despair.
“Tess!” Gina beamed and leapt to her feet and came tripping out to greet Tess, throwing her arms around her and hugging tight. “This is my office! Isn’t it great? Isn’t life wonderful?”
“Absolutely,” Tess said, refiguring the pit-of-despair part of her plan.
“Candy?” Gina said, spotting the huge box.
“Uh, it’s an office-warming gift.”
“Just like Park,” Gina said happily. “He sent flowers. Look!”
Park had indeed sent flowers. A dozen red roses bloomed on the desk, a dozen pink roses glowed on the filing cabinet, a dozen white roses and a dozen yellow roses crowded the worktable, and a dozen peach roses graced the bookcase, each in its own crystal vase.
“He said he didn’t know my favorite color, so he sent them all. He said I could just throw out the ones I didn’t like,” Gina said, surveying her luxurious garden with pleasure. “I told him I loved everything he gave me.”
“Oh,” Tess said, sinking into a chair.
“We had dinner at this little Greek place the night before last, to celebrate,” Gina babbled on. “And he held my hand. Can you imagine? It was so romantic.”
“The night before last?” Tess asked in disbelief. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Gina said. “It was late because he had to work late, but that just meant we were the only people there. It was so private and so romantic—”
“Late,” Tess said. “How late?”
“He picked me up at ten-thirty,” Gina said. “And then last night, he didn’t get to my place until eleven, and he wanted to go out, but I talked him into staying in.” Gina got a dreamily lascivious look in her eye.
“Last night?” Tess said, now really confused. Then the look in Gina’s eye hit her. “Oh, no, you didn’t?”
“It was wonderful,” Gina said, dropping into her chair. “He’s an absolute gentleman, even in bed.”
“Great,” Tess said, but she thought, Great, he cheats on her and he’s boring in bed. I am going to kill him.
“He is so sweet to me, Tess,” Gina said. “And he’s so much fun. And I feel so good around him.”
“Great,” Tess said. The correct thing to do was probably tell Gina about Corinne, but she couldn’t do it. Gina was too happy. She was just going to have to kill Park slowly, using her bare hands, and then Gina could mourn her loss without being humiliated by betrayal. “Great,” Tess said again.
The receptionist poked her head in the door, radiating superior disapproval. “You’ve left your intercom off again, Miss DaCosta.”
Much to Tess’s surprise, Gina didn’t cringe. She just leaned over and flipped a switch on the intercom. “There you go, Pamela,” she said.
Pamela sniffed. “Call on three.”
“Who is it?” Gina asked.
“I don’t know,” Pamela said, staring insolently at Gina.
Gina stared her down.
Pamela sniffed again and said, “I’ll ask,” and then slammed the door shut.
“Hello,” Tess said, amazed. “What was that? Gina DaCosta the Terminator?”
“Park taught me that,” Gina said, grinning. “He met her yesterday when he picked me up for lunch, and he told me she was going to make my life hell unless I handled her. Then he spent the lunch coaching me on handling her. You wouldn’t believe what a great impression he does of her.”
“Lunch, too,” Tess said.
“I told you. He’s wonderful.”
Pamela stuck her head back in the door. “It’s Mr. Patterson,” she hissed, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “You’re keeping Mr. Patterson waiting.”
“Thank you, Pamela,” Gina said. “But next time, use the intercom.”
“Oh,” Pamela said. “Right.” She backed out the door, closing it quietly this time.
“You are not a nice person,” Tess told Gina. “Keep up the good work.”
But Gina was already on the phone, beaming as she listened to Park.
“I can’t stand this,” Tess muttered. She waved to Gina as she got up to leave, stopping only to liberate two dark-chocolate turtles from the box of candy as she went.
She left the rest of the five pounds of chocolate for Gina. She was going to need it.
DINNER WITH the Pattersons was not amusing.
Tess had never liked The Levee. She wasn’t sure whether it was because all the waiters looked like Donny Osmond and acted like Prince Philip, or if it was because the decor was faux mint marble and real peach linen, or if it was because the menu read like a bad Martha Stewart spe
cial.
However, all of that paled beside the company she was keeping.
Kent Patterson was well built and graying, a man of distinction who knew he was a man of distinction. Several people genuflected when he walked into the restaurant and not all of them were waiters. The headwaiter called him by name. He returned the favor. The headwaiter swooned.
Melisande Patterson was not well built. She was skeletal and dry, like scorched paper, tanned to the point of leather, lifted and tucked until she looked like a mummy with platinum hair. Her suit was Chanel, and all she was missing was a Just Say No To Everything button. She surveyed Tess through her lashes and then looked away, as if the sight was too painful to bear.
“Get me out of here,” Tess said under her breath, but Nick pressed her forward.
“Kent, Melisande,” he said. “I’d like you to meet Tess Newhart. Tess, this is Kent and Melisande Patterson. The Pattersons have been like parents to me.”
“It’s been our pleasure, son,” Kent said heartily. He took Tess’s hand. “So here’s the little woman we’ve been hearing about.”
“I’m five nine,” Tess said, and Nick kicked her on the ankle.
“How amusing,” Melisande said, obviously not amused, and before Tess could retort, Park joined them with his date and they all sat down.
Corinne, of course, not Gina.
Tess drew a breath before she spoke to him, and it sounded like a hiss.
“Park!” Nick said hastily. “Great to see you. You’re looking lovely, Corinne.”
“Corinne always looks lovely,” Kent said. “Always has.” He beamed at her and patted her hand, and Corinne smiled wanly back, too reserved for emotion. “I remember when you were just a little slip of a thing, going to Miss Windesham’s with Park. Couldn’t have been more than five or six.” Kent fawned over her paternally. “Always wanted a daughter just like you. Of course it’s not too late to have a granddaughter just like you, is it, Park?”
“No,” Park said miserably.
“But there’s no need to rush into anything, either, is there, Park?” Melisande said evenly.
“No,” Park said, even more miserably.
Corinne seemed oblivious to the byplay but Tess was appalled. She turned questioning eyes on Nick, but he just shrugged. Evidently this was business as usual for the Pattersons. If Park hadn’t been such a son of a bitch, she’d have felt sorry for him.
“Corinne went to Radcliffe,” Melisande said to Tess, turning her fire to a new opponent now that Park was cowed. “We’re both alumnae. Where did you matriculate, Miss Newhart?”
Tess fought back the impulse to ask incredulously, “Somebody gave you a degree?” and smiled, instead. “Ohio State,” she said. “Liberal arts major.”
“Oh, a state school.” Melisande smiled archly and then looked at Nick, raising her eyebrows at him.
“Yes, a state school,” Tess said. “That’s why they call it Ohio State, instead of Ohio Overpriced and Pretentious.” She moved her ankle before Nick could find it with his foot.
Melisande blinked, and then Nick said, “Tess is a teacher. She’s thinking about joining the Decker Academy.”
“Teacher?” Corinne blinked at Tess. “You’re a teacher?”
“Yes,” Tess said gently, having nothing against Corinne except the fact that she existed. “What do you do?”
“Do?” Corinne repeated, confused, and Tess let it drop. The sad fact was that Corinne was perfect for Park. Neither one of them had ever had a coherent thought in their lives. And there was Kent, campaigning for incoherent grandchildren. It would be interesting to see who was going to win, Melisande or Kent. Whoever it was, it wasn’t going to be Park, and Tess felt a stab of sympathy for him. He was a rat, but he was a trapped rat.
Poor Gina.
“So you work for a living,” Melisande said. “How amusing.”
Tess opened her mouth to say something rude and then glanced at Nick. He sat beside her, his face resigned to having his career skewered, and she suddenly felt guilty. It wouldn’t kill her to behave, to help him out. He’d not only helped her out, he’d saved Gina, the other tenants and Angela. Stop being such a pain, she told herself. Then she turned to Melisande and smiled. “Yes. It’s very amusing. Almost like volunteer work. Do you volunteer, Mrs. Patterson?”
“Why, yes.” Melisande blinked in surprise and then happily went into a lengthy discussion of the tribulations of organizing the annual Opera Guild open house. Tess nodded appreciatively at appropriate moments, and then, as the waiter brought the first course, Nick leaned forward.
“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear, and she shuddered with pleasure at the warmth of his breath.
“You deserve this,” she said. “Thank you. For Gina’s job and Angela and everything.”
“My pleasure,” he whispered back, and then he turned his wholehearted fawning attention to Melisande.
Oh, hell, Tess thought, and then she, too, smiled back at Park’s mother.
It was only for one night. What could it hurt?
BY FRIDAY of the following week, Nick was feeling fairly confident. Tess had adapted amazingly well to his social life, he loved coming home to her at night, and Welch was giving every indication he was ready to sign the contract. Tess still wanted to kill Park, and Park knew it—her palpable animosity toward him every time he showed up with Corinne was making him a nervous wreck—but she was managing not to physically harm him. For Tess, that was a major move toward maturity. Nick had even managed to talk her out of telling Gina about Corinne. At the rate he was going, Tess would be civilized in no time.
Nick was pleased.
Of course, not everything was perfect. They’d been out every night for the past week—including two dinners with Norbert Welch—not getting home until after midnight, and while Nick was making social points and solidifying his career with an amazing amount of help from the reserved, newly well-dressed Tess, he was also too tired to make love. The good news was so was Tess—the strain of being calm and polite night after night took its toll—but somehow, that wasn’t a comfort. Nick was grateful for her transformation into a dutiful wife-type person, but he was beginning to feel he might have lost something important.
And tonight, the one night they didn’t have a dinner date, they were stuck touring an old house for the benefit of the Opera Guild. All he really wanted to do was stay home and have Tess rub his neck, but the Opera Guild open house was important to Melisande Patterson, so they had to go.
Then Tess was late getting home from tutoring at the Foundation, which infuriated him. She changed into a black mini and a white shirt topped with a black vest. It wasn’t until he helped her out of the car at the showcase house that he realized the vest was one of his Armani suit vests. He was fairly sure the shirt was his, too.
“You look very nice,” he said tightly. “Feel free to wear anything in my closet.”
“I do,” Tess said. “Look, are you going to be mad at me for long? Because you knew I had to tutor, and I even left early to get to this stupid house thing so—”
“Don’t start,” Nick said grimly, and steered her to the door.
“Mr. Jamieson, how nice!” The starched matron at the door held out her hand graciously. “We were beginning to think you wouldn’t make it.”
“I wouldn’t miss it, Mrs. Tate,” Nick said. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Tess Newhart. Tess, Mrs. Tate practically runs the Opera Guild single-handedly.”
“Oh, nonsense.” Mrs. Tate waved her hand and blushed and melted into a perfectly nice woman charmed by a perfectly nice man. Nick heard Tess sigh and looked over to see her smiling at him, acknowledging another snake-oil conquest, and he felt his own anger start to dissolve.
“It’s my fault,” Tess said to Mrs. Tate. “I was late getting home from work. Can we still see the house?”
“Oh, of course,” Mrs. Tate said, beaming at her. “In fact, this is a good time. There’s practically no one here now. You can take a n
ice leisurely tour.”
“Oh, good.” Tess leaned on Nick’s arm and smiled up at him. “Let’s see everything.”
His heart warmed at her smile, and he thought about what life was like with her and what it had been like without her. And then he thought about how he was growing surer and surer that he never wanted to be without her again—no matter how exasperating she could be. Hell, he probably exasperated her some of the time, too. Lighten up, he told himself. There’s such a thing as taking yourself too seriously.
“You look a lot better in that vest than I do,” he told her, and her smile widened and washed over him.
“Well, that’s what I thought,” she said.
The last of his anger disappeared, and he followed her lead as they toured, helping her make lavishly demented plans for redecorating his house in green velvet, pink faux marble and purple gauze. She laughed and darted from room to room, and by the time they reached the fourth floor, the week they’d been celibate loomed large in his mind, and he wanted her so much he wasn’t sure he’d make it home.
“I definitely think we should drape the bathroom in green velvet,” Tess said at the top of the staircase. “It holds in the moisture so nicely.” She leaned against him, and he put his arm around her and kissed her hair, and she laughed up at him, her eyes half-closed.
“Atmospheric,” Nick agreed absently. If they left immediately, he could have her in his bedroom in twenty minutes. “Well, I think we’ve seen…” he began but Tess was pulling him along to the next door.
“Oh, Nick,” she said, and he followed her in.
“Drapes again.” He surveyed the walls that this time were swathed in thick white satin. “What is it with these people and drapery?”
“This looks like your place.” Tess stood beside the black grand piano sitting solitary in the middle of the black-and-white-tiled floor and slowly turned around. The laughter was gone from her voice, and she seemed suddenly forlorn. “All black and white and empty.”
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