by Sally Quinn
“Well, I, it…”
“Is this your first time at La Samanna, Mrs. Grey?” said Judy Sokolow, changing the subject. Sadie detected a reproving look to Lanzer.
“Sadie, please.”
“Sadie. Have you been here before?”
“Yes, but not for a long time. Not since my husband was governor. We tried to get here a couple of times after we came to Washington but we just never seemed to make it. And it’s such a big deal to travel as President. It’s almost not worth it.”
There was a sympathetic silence and she realized everyone was thinking of the safety factor involved in a presidential trip.
“Before that,” she hurriedly continued, “we tried a whole series of Caribbean resorts. None of them was what we were looking for until we found this place. They all seemed to be filled with people who speak in Long Island Lockjaw.”
Lanzer laughed appreciatively, more than a little surprised.
She found herself flustered again.
The wine steward brought another bottle, which, when she tasted it, mercifully was fine.
“We found La Samanna through the Lanzers,” said Judy Sokolow. “Dr. Lanzer’s wife is French. They’ve been coming to the island for years.”
“Never here though,” said Lanzer. “I’ve never been able to afford it. Giselle’s parents are giving us this trip.”
“You seem to fit right in,” said Sadie. “Nobody would ever guess that you were just a poor doctor.”
She said it with a perfectly straight face. Judy and Sid Sokolow burst out laughing. After a moment so did Lanzer.
“Oh, all right,” he said slowly with an amused grin. “So that’s the way it’s going to be.”
* * *
Sadie wasn’t tired when she returned to her villa. She had actually had the first meal in six months without talking about Rosey, or death, or anything depressing. Judy Sokolow had made sure the conversation stayed light. Sid was protective and sympathetic. He knew. He had been there. But it was Michael Lanzer with his slightly flirtatious razzing that had made the evening. He had bordered on the irreverent the whole time. It had made Judy a nervous wreck.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Michael Lanzer. She had never met anyone quite like him.
Who was this man and why was she reacting to him this way? She needed a cigarette. She got one off her bedside table, lit up, and tried to decide what to do with all her energy. It was only eleven. The kids wouldn’t be home for hours. She would try not to worry about them.
What she really felt like doing was dancing. She would have killed to go out to some discotheque and dance her head off all night long. That, of course, was impossible. Lanzer had walked her back to her villa after dinner. As they had passed the Moroccan bar on the way down the path she had heard the sounds of disco music and had seen people dancing as they did every night after dinner. It made her itch to break out of her prison.
She paced around puffing on cigarettes. She felt as though she were going to jump out of her skin. She hadn’t had sex for over six months. She hadn’t really missed it all that much either. The sex anyway. Not with Rosey. What she did miss was being loved.
This evening, though, she really wanted, she really needed a man. And there wasn’t one available.
She decided to take a walk on the beach. At least that would make her tired. Then maybe she’d be able to sleep. It was a lot better than reading. She kicked off her sandals, put out her cigarette, and opened the sliding doors. The moon was almost full. It lit up the beach so that she could see practically to the end. She didn’t want her agents to follow her so she crept out around the bushes. Then she began to run.
It wasn’t until she had nearly reached the point that she noticed him sitting near the rocks, his arms on his knees. He was wearing an open-necked shirt and his white pants were rolled up. Frightened, she hesitated, not knowing what to do. Before she could decide, he turned toward her. The moon was so bright that she could distinguish his features right away.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
Why did she feel so nervous?
“How did you know I’d be here?” he asked.
“I didn’t. I just decided to take a walk and…” She was flustered. Only then did she realize that he was putting her on.
He patted the ground next to him. She sat down.
“You’re really terrible, you know,” she said. She was partially amused, partially irritated, partially impressed.
“I was just pulling your chain.”
“Are you always this fresh, Dr. Lanzer?”
“Mike.”
“You’re not a Mike. I’m sorry. You’re a Michael. Are you always this fresh, Michael?”
“Only with really beautiful women.”
“Why is that?”
“To hide my insecurity. I like to make them think I’m not impressed. They have so many men falling all over them. They don’t need me. Besides,” he grinned, “it works.”
“Are you always this arrogant, Michael?”
“Only with shiksas.”
“What’s a shiksa?”
“God,” he said, “I’ve got a real live one.”
“What is it?”
“A female goy. The blond, blue-eyed—only in your case, auburn-haired—Christian. The one who went out with the captain of the football team and never looked at the kid in the thick glasses with the slide rule who got all the grades.”
“Are you always this honest?”
“No,” he said. His face was serious for the first time.
“I didn’t know you were Jewish.”
“Most people don’t. I don’t talk about it.”
“So why are you talking to me about it now?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s being away on an island. On a deserted beach at night. After a few drinks with a beautiful woman. Or maybe it’s just being lonely.”
She leaned back on her elbows.
“How’s your wife feeling?” she asked after a slight pause.
He looked over at her and saw that she had brought up his wife deliberately.
“Not great. I probably should get back and check on her. He looked at his watch. I’ve been out here more than an hour.”
“Oh, no, is it that late? I’m going to have to try and sneak back without the agents finding out that I’ve flown the coop.”
She stood up quickly and brushed the sand from her skirt. He jumped up, too, rubbing the sand from his hands.
“Are they always around?”
She felt as though his question was not just idle.
“Always.”
“That must be intrusive.”
They had begun walking back to the villas. She was walking on the edge of the water, letting it wash up over her feet. It felt cool and refreshing.
“Terribly.”
“How can you have any life?”
“It was easier in the White House.”
Her words were loaded. Why did she have the sudden, crazy impulse to tell him about Des?
“Oh?”
She resisted. “And since Rosey died I haven’t really had any life. My life belongs to the country, for the time being anyway. I know that sounds grandiose and preposterous, but then so is my life.”
They walked in silence the rest of the way back, a totally comfortable silence. When they reached the edge of her villa, where she would have to make a run for it, they stopped, facing each other.
“I enjoyed our talk,” she said. “Despite the fact that you are utterly impossible, Michael Lanzer.”
She looked up at him directly and he met her gaze. She had the desperate urge to fling herself into his arms. Did he want to do the same? They stood there smiling at each other in the moonlight.
“So did I, Sadie Grey.”
“I do hope we can be friends.”
“We will be.”
“See you tomorrow,” she said quickly and turned to run up to her villa, afraid that if she didn’t she might well
have done or said something she would be sorry for.
* * *
The next day she took her walk early in the morning so as not to run into him. Then she stayed away from the beach most of the day, sitting on her private patio. When she wanted to swim she ran down to the edge of the water, unwrapped the towel from around her waist, and quickly went in, not lingering when she came out of the water.
It wasn’t so much to avoid seeing Michael as it was to avoid having him see her. In a bathing suit.
She and the kids had a late lunch. The kids had been off snorkeling all morning. As they walked out onto the dining terrace, she noticed the Sokolows and Michael getting up from their table. As soon as he spotted her he walked over. She was surprised at her nervous reaction.
“Would you care to join us for dinner tonight?” he asked.
Judy Sokolow was directly behind him.
“Oh, please do,” said Judy. “Giselle is still sick. It would be so much more fun.”
“Well, I, uh, the kids…”
“Oh, do, Mom. We were sort of thinking of going out, if that’s okay with you.”
“I guess I have no choice.” She laughed, trying not to show her excitement. “I’d be delighted.”
“Good. We’ll see you at eight-thirty. Perhaps you’d care to join us in the bar at seven-thirty?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“I’ll come to get you,” said Michael.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” she said quickly. She was afraid of looking too obvious. “The agents will walk me up.”
“See you then,” said Judy.
The dinner that night was long with good wine and lots of relaxed conversation. At one point Sadie got a cigarette from her purse and put it in her mouth. Michael reached over and took it away as she was about to light it.
Sadie was shocked. So were the Sokolows. Nobody said a word until Michael spoke up.
“I don’t want you to smoke. When we get back to Washington I’d like you to come out to the NIH for a tour of the cancer ward. I don’t want to watch you kill yourself.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, giving him a little salute. She feigned annoyance but was secretly pleased that he seemed to care about her.
Later, on the path, as he was escorting her back to her villa, she turned to him.
“I must say. That was pretty cheeky of you, taking my cigarette away from me and lecturing me in front of the Sokolows.”
“You call me cheeky,” he said with a grin. “After you sent back the wine the other night. I’ve never seen anybody actually do that before in my life. I bet it was just fine, too.”
“What are you talking about? It was terrible. It had gone bad. It was undrinkable.”
“I would rather have drunk it and been sick all night than send it back,” he said.
“That’s perfectly ridiculous.”
They stopped on the path, out of breath, and giddy with their own mutual audacity. They looked at each other in amazement and burst out laughing.
“So,” she said, smiling. “We’re even.”
She wondered if he was resisting putting his arm around her. She distanced her body from him so that they didn’t accidentally touch. She hoped he realized it was a gesture of affection. Why was she so afraid to touch him? If she hadn’t cared she wouldn’t have had to move away. They didn’t speak the rest of the way down the path.
It wasn’t until they reached her villa that he said, rather matter-of-factly, “See you on the beach in an hour.”
Before she had a chance to protest he turned and left, disappearing up the path behind the bougainvillea and palm trees.
She didn’t quite know how to react. She wanted nothing more than to join him. Yet she was annoyed that he would take for granted that she would come. And she was intrigued. She was also fearful of getting caught. She knew how angry her agents would be if they knew she was sneaking out. It was stupid and dangerous. She was a great kidnap target. Toby Waselewski, her favorite agent, had been with her ever since Rosey was Vice President. He knew she was mischief. He knew about her affair with Des. She could trust him. Unfortunately Toby was on day duty.
They had arranged with the St. Martin police force to guard her at night. It was a matter of courtesy and protocol to allow the local government to perform some service. Sadie knew that local police were never as vigilant.
What the hell. Nothing was going to happen. He was married. She was who she was. They were just going to talk. It was perfectly innocent. She would go. But why did she feel so guilty? she wondered, as she squirted cologne on the backs of her wrists and the nape of her neck.
He was waiting for her at the same place as the night before.
“You’re late.”
“You said an hour.”
She was already on the defensive.
“It’s been an hour and eleven minutes.”
“I’m terribly sorry.” She was amused. “But I did have to escape from half of the St. Martin police force.”
“I had to get out without my wife seeing me, and believe me that takes a lot more ingenuity.”
“How so?”
“The level of surveillance in my family is very intense.”
“You are awful.”
“So you keep telling me. It’s not good for my ego.”
“I don’t think your ego needs any encouragement at all, if you want the truth, Dr. Lanzer.”
“You’re wrong about that,” he said, turning serious.
She couldn’t think of anything to say so they sat in silence for a while, listening to the waves lap up against the sand.
“Tell me about Giselle,” she said finally.
“She’s French. You know that already. She’s what the French call gamine. She’s brilliant. She’s a wonderful and very Jewish mother.” She wanted to ask what that meant but didn’t.
“How long have you been married?”
“Twenty years.”
“How old are you anyway?”
“Forty-one. I got married the year I graduated from college.”
“That makes me feel like an old hag.”
“That’s how I would have described you.”
“What made you fall in love with her?”
“I don’t know. I thought I was in love. Maybe she reminded me of my mother. Maybe I thought I was going to escape my destiny by studying in France for a year before medical school; by marrying a Frenchwoman. She was attractive, exotic, different, interesting, smart—really smart. She was everything I had ever wanted. Maybe I thought she was the closest thing I was going to get to a shiksa with big tits.”
Sadie burst out laughing.
“What! Is that the ultimate fantasy?”
“Of course.”
“So why didn’t you just marry one and be done with it?”
“Because that would have meant going over the wall and I was unsure of what I’d find. I was afraid that I might be alone with a bunch of vacuous, shallow, paper-thin WASPs.”
“How flattering.”
He paused for a moment, then looked at her questioningly.
“It’s not so unusual, is it? We just turned out differently for each other than we had expected. It’s no more her fault than mine. I thought I was getting one thing and I got something else. It was my fantasy that I put off on her. But this is mishegoss.”
“What’s mishegoss?”
“Insanity,” he said. “It means sitting on a beach spilling my guts to you.
“You sound like a man who is contemplating an affair.”
She couldn’t believe she had said this.
“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I would never survive the guilt.”
Sadie was giggling so hard she was breathless.
“You are so funny,” she said, gasping.
He stopped for a moment and stared at her intensely.
“You are so beautiful.”
She met his eyes and the two of them sat there for a long time, looking at each other. She
had never wanted to kiss anyone as much as she wanted to kiss him that minute. She couldn’t imagine him not wanting to kiss her. Yet he didn’t make a move and neither did she.
Finally she found the strength to look down.
“I’m enjoying your company too much,” he said quietly.
She stood up. So did he.
Again they walked in silence until they neared her villa.
“We’re going to St. Bart’s tomorrow,” she said. “Some friends have lent me their yacht. We’ll be gone for a few days.”
“When will you be back?” he asked, his tone much too casual.
“Monday.”
“Tuesday is New Year’s Eve. Will you be here for that?”
Again his voice was studiedly casual.
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“See you,” she said.
This time it was he who turned away first.
* * *
She remembered nothing of the trip to St. Bart’s. She was in a dream world the entire time. All she could think about was Michael. She woke up thinking about him. She lay in her bed on the yacht for hours fantasizing about him. She dreamed about what it would be like to make love to him. Who would make the first move? She knew he wanted her. Or at least she thought he did.
He was so different, so hard to read. If he didn’t want to make love to her, then what was going on between them? She had never felt so drawn to anyone; her feelings for him were so complicated, she didn’t quite understand them.
For one thing, she was drawn to him intellectually. He was smart, sensitive, so perceptive about her, about who she was. He seemed to sense her need. That was it. She needed Michael. She wanted him, too, but it was need that was drawing her to him. That thought frightened her. She had never thought of herself as a needy person. Yet if anyone was or should be, it was she.
Michael was striking the most intense chord in her. He was playing to her almost instinctively and she was responding in kind. Whether it was real or not didn’t matter. It was there, he was there, and she needed him and wanted him.
* * *
The three days away from La Samanna seemed like months. They returned after lunch on Monday. By then she was so frantic to see him that she took a walk up the beach hoping to bump into him, but he was nowhere in sight.