Regrets Only

by Sally Quinn

  Sadie told Worth Elgin that the View section was the first thing she turned to Sunday mornings. She mentioned a particular column. She had heard about Claire’s singing. Sadie had seen Jane Fletcher on TV and had enjoyed a recent piece she had done; she was looking forward to seeing Craig Marsden’s column; she had seen Helene Corwin in Fashion; she had read and liked Lawrence’s novel.

  Lorraine took Sadie over to June Levitas and Allison and Chessy. “You know,” said June, “I had been assigned to do a magazine piece about you during the campaign. But when you got pneumonia your press person canceled it. I’m pleased to see you have recovered.”

  She was referring subtly to an incident at an Oregon airport in September. It had been cold and rainy, Sadie was coming down with a cold, and a refueling vehicle had splashed mud all over her suit.

  “Oh, fuck,” she had said.

  The press had played it big; Roger Kimball had expressed his disapproval to Rosey; and Sadie had taken to her sickbed, not to emerge until election night.

  “Probably just as well we couldn’t do the interview,” Sadie said, laughing. “I’m sure my husband was not heartsick at the thought of canceling my interviews. In fact, I think if I hadn’t gotten sick he would have chained me to my bed for the rest of the campaign and told the world I was dying of some rare and mysterious disease.” She drawled out the last words.

  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” said June. “We need a woman in your position who says what she thinks and feels.”

  Sadie beamed.

  Allison, who had not yet been introduced to Sadie, remembered being a little shocked when she’d first heard the story although she certainly wasn’t morally opposed to politicians’ wives swearing.

  “Sonny Sterling,” she said now, holding out her hand.

  “Yes, we met at the convention. I’m glad to see you again. I didn’t know at the time that you were Governor Kimball’s goddaughter.”

  “I’m afraid I’m as sensitive about being Roger Kimball’s goddaughter as you are about that story, Mrs. Grey.”

  Only afterward did Allison realize she might have sounded unfriendly.

  Sadie blushed. Chessy coughed. June looked surprised.

  Lorraine, usually vigilant, had slipped off to check on the Vice President and make sure the waiters had the drink situation under control. Jerry Mendelsohn sociably came to the rescue.

  “Mrs. Grey,” he said. “As one outsider to another, what is your impression of Washington?”

  “Well,” said Sadie. She was relieved to be drawn out of this tension. She felt depressed by what had just happened. It shouldn’t have happened. She remembered liking Allison at the convention, though she thought Allison had been a bit cool then as well. She had talked about adversary relationships between press and politicians as though she were warning Sadie they could never be friends.

  “It’s all so new, there are so many people to meet, so much to learn,” said Sadie. “I imagine it will be somewhat more exciting than Richmond. Not to denigrate my home state, of course,” she added with a laugh. “This is my first unofficial Washington party.”

  “Actually it’s mine too,” said Chessy, pleased to be able to have something in common with this lovely person. She had felt uneasy about the way Allison had jumped on Sadie. She wanted to be on Sadie’s side. “I always thought of Washington as formal dinners and political receptions.”

  Lorraine was sweeping over, and before they had a chance to continue the conversation she was telling Sadie that dinner was being served. Off they went.

  “Sadie dear, you are such a hit,” confided Lorraine as they were walking across the room. “Everybody is talking about how glorious you are. You do look heavenly. You may become more popular than the Vice President.” She squeezed Sadie’s hand delightedly.

  “Now, I’ve asked Desmond Shaw to take you in to dinner, so you two can get a place and find a cozy spot in the living room to chat.”

  “Did I meet him?”

  “No, darling, the rogue was off in the corner talking to some of the ladies. You met Chessy, his wife. He is the one man in this town who doesn’t automatically end up talking politics with the men. He’s the new Weekly Bureau Chief. He’s divine. Or at least, he would be if we could find him.” Lorraine had spotted Des in the central hallway behind a staircase where she had set up a bar. He was pouring a glass of wine for Claire Elgin.

  Des had found a haven in Claire. He was so absorbed by his predicament that he could hardly concentrate on anything. Claire would natter on about sex and music and relationships and he could let his mind wander, occasionally giving her one of his knockout sexy looks just to keep her interested.

  “Claire, my dear, I’m going to have to break up this romantic little scene,” said Lorraine, realizing too late there was acid in her voice. Des was attractive to women. Sadie would adore him, and Des would not be bored. If he got bored he might leave. It would also annoy Chessy, who was not making an effort tonight. One always made an effort at one’s friends’ parties. This would serve her right. And Lorraine had not missed the look on Allison’s face when Sadie walked in the door with Rosey. She would not forgive Allison for not confiding in her about Des. She was positive now there was something between them. They had been avoiding each other all evening. She would smoke Allison out.

  Claire looked ready to kill, but before she could get in a word Lorraine had deftly moved her toward the dining room and turned to Des.

  “Des, I want you to meet—”

  “I know who you are,” said Des, ignoring Lorraine. “You’re much more beautiful than your pictures.”

  “Ahhhh,” Lorraine sighed the hostess’ contented sigh as she swept off to find the Vice President.

  Sadie focused on Des for the first time. She was captivated at once. He was wearing a tweed sports jacket and open-necked shirt. His hands, she noticed, were still clutching the wine bottle. He gazed directly at her.

  “What do I have to do to get some service?” she challenged, holding out her glass.

  Her breath became short; she felt embarrassed, as if she had been caught daydreaming.

  “You’ve already done it,” he said, smiling at her. He began to pour wine into her glass. She looked down at the glass and watched it fill slowly with the pale liquid.

  “I thought you drank champagne.”

  “How did you know?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

  He laughed. He knew he had made an impression on her. Bastard. He was playing with her.

  “Oh, I read it somewhere. You love champagne, you smoke only occasionally when you get angry or nervous, you prefer informal dinners to formal seated things, your favorite color is coral, you have trouble making decisions, you like John Cheever’s short stories, you speak French with a Southern accent, and”—he paused for effect—“when the going gets rough, you say ‘fuck.’ ”

  She just looked at him.

  “I thought it was terrific,” he said quickly. “I thought, ‘What a sensational dame!’ I’ve been wanting to meet you ever since.”

  “You and about four hundred other journalists. I was forced to take to my deathbed to get away from them. Tonight is the first time I’ve been out in real company, and everyone here seems to think it was amusing.”

  “Then let’s say it’s a plus for candor and openness, a sorely missed trait in this town.”

  “Not anymore,” she said, and she giggled. She was having too much wine. She had better hold it down.

  “That’s the spirit,” said Des. “Now, may I escort the lady to dinner?”

  Many of the guests had begun to serve themselves as they entered the room. Lorraine had paired Rosey with Amy Warburg—small, delicate, and gentle, the opposite of her editor husband. She was asking him all sorts of questions as she led him around the table, and he seemed more relaxed than Sadie had seen him in months.

  Des saw Allison sitting on the sofa next to the fireplace with Worth Elgin. She never stopped working. Sadie was halfway ther
e when Des took her arm and steered her to a smaller sofa on the other side of the room, where they were immediately joined by Jerry and Senator and Mrs. Corwin.

  “I thought that by taking you all the way over here,” he said, “I wouldn’t have to share you.”

  Jerry, in fact, after chatting politely with Sadie for a few moments, immediately engaged Des in a discussion about office politics. Des apologized to Sadie every five minutes; he’d been away so much during the campaign, he had lost touch with what was going on.

  At first Sadie was having a perfectly good time talking to the others, though most politicians, she had long since decided, were bloody bores. She kept forgetting she was married to one.

  She talked to Helene Corwin about her job at Fashion. That distracted her for a time. How could she get Des’s attention again?

  Allison Sterling kept glancing in her direction. That scene earlier had puzzled and depressed Sadie a little. It had been the only bad note of the evening. Everyone said Allison Sterling could be scathing. If Allison was going to be around and if she was going to be writing about them, Sadie wanted to make friends. She would have to talk to Lorraine about that. Perhaps they could all have lunch. Maybe she ought to try to talk to Allison again this evening.

  She saw Edwina Abel-Smith coming toward her group and watched almost helplessly as Edwina plunked herself down between Des and Jerry. “It is an absolute travesty,” she said in mocking accusation, “that you two delectable creatures have been sitting here talking to each other all evening.” Then, gesturing toward Sadie: “My dears, it wouldn’t be so bad if you had a plain Jane next to you. But with this ravishing lady sitting here it really is inexcusable.”

  “I just couldn’t get them interested in decorating,” Sadie teased. “Or flirting, for that matter.” She had had just enough wine.

  “All Washington men should be sent to the stocks,” said Edwina. “Mrs. Grey, you are only getting the first bitter taste of life on the Washington social scene. I haven’t had a single proposal since I’ve been here. But I’m about to change all that,” she said, and squeezed Des’s shoulder with her hand which she had conveniently rested there. For a second Sadie felt proprietary about Des, then realized how ridiculous that was. Des seemed to be responding rather favorably to Edwina’s approach. He was laughing with delight.

  “Well, I can see it’s time to leave you two lovebirds alone,” said Sadie, trying to act like a good sport.

  Des looked genuinely upset. “Please don’t leave,” he said. “I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you.” For a moment Sadie saw him lose his bravado, but then he turned on his winning grin.

  Edwina looked at both of them for a moment, then laughed a bit too merrily.

  “Well, I can see I’m too late,” she said, cocking a mischievous eyebrow at Sadie. “I think I’ll do my magic on this delicious morsel.” And much to Jerry’s surprise she turned her full attention on him and within seconds had involved him in a conversation about his love life.

  Embarrassed, Sadie looked down at her plate and pushed her food around, trying to think of something to say.

  “Edwina’s right, you know.”

  “About what?”

  “We’re much too preoccupied with politics in Washington. We don’t ever really talk about—”

  “Sex?”

  She hadn’t meant to say it, and she could feel her face heat up.

  “That and the fact that we don’t really know each other, any of us. I could ask you about the campaign. But I know about the campaign. I don’t know about you.”

  “You know enough to make me uncomfortable,” she said, laughing.

  “But not enough. For instance, why—”

  “Help, Des, get me out of this; I’m being eaten alive!” Jerry had interrupted and was laughing, a slightly desperate look on his face. “The lady wants to know about the women in my life. I told her you were a much more interesting subject.”

  Des looked helpless.

  Sadie was relieved. “I think,” she said to Jerry, “I’d like to go over and join your friend Allison. They seem to be having a rather spirited conversation over there.

  “I enjoyed our talk,” she said, not looking directly at Des, and made her way across the room to Allison and Worth Elgin and Warburg. Harry Saks had joined them, and Allison and Harry were arguing.

  When Saks noticed Sadie coming toward them, he waved her over and pulled up a chair. “Mrs. Grey,” he called, “come over here and join us. We are always privileged to have another lovely lady in our midst.”

  That irritated Allison. She knew exactly what Saks was doing. He was trying to put her in Sadie’s category: another pretty lady.

  They all turned to Sadie as though Allison had disappeared. Sadie was not displeased. She was never one to let another woman intimidate her. Allison Sterling was an accomplished professional. She had an identity. She was respected for her opinions; the men treated her as an equal. Sadie wanted to make her pay, and the only way she knew was to take the men away. That was her only weapon, and it was not beneath her to use it.

  Allison was annoyed that a woman like Sadie would use her sex. Here was this woman, with just a little bit too much wine, playing on the men’s egos, and they were eating it up.

  Sadie mentioned Elgin’s column in which he’d said he hoped Kimball would appoint a strong Secretary of State and downplay the National Security Council. Sadie thought it “interesting”—a word she had long ago learned to use when she was unsure of her position or wanted to avoid controversy. She was uneasy with her political opinions.

  This opened the way for the men to get involved in a discussion of U.S. foreign policy.

  Now Sadie cursed herself for bringing it up. She looked around for her husband. Both with Des and now with these men, she had attracted their attention with her looks and her sense of humor. And she was certainly bright enough. But in the long run, these men weren’t interested in flirting.

  Suddenly, she felt alarmed. She didn’t want to become like those political wives. She had no way to be an Allison. But she was not a loser. She would be the wife of the Vice President. Washington would have to pay attention to her. She would make it worth their while.

  Sadie saw Des coming toward their group looking at his watch, but Lorraine stopped him.

  “Just where do you think you’re going?” she crooned. Sadie did think it was quite early. It wasn’t even eleven yet, and people were beginning to get up, mill around, make noises about leaving.

  “Christ, Lorraine,” whispered Des. “I’ve got a cover story. I’ve got to be at the office at the crack of dawn. Besides, I’m half in the bag. If I have another drink you’ll have to roll me out.”

  He was, Sadie noticed, a bit high, but even high, only his smile was a little more crooked.

  Lorraine protested that the Greys hadn’t left, but she got nowhere and Des moved toward Sadie. When he got to her group he looked only at her, reached down, took her hand in both of his. “Mrs. Grey,” he said softly, his Boston Irish accent stronger with a little booze, “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Allison just stared at him.

  For a second Sadie considered the fact that perhaps Allison was interested in Des, then dismissed the thought. Allison was too ambitious to get involved with someone like Desmond Shaw.

  Allison stood up and without a word walked over to Jerry, who was talking to Edwina, took his arm, and announced they had to leave. Immediately. She saw Lorraine by the door, watching Des and Sadie delightedly. Her party was going well.

  “I’ve got to sneak out before the Vice President. Beautiful party,” said Allison as she sailed by.

  “But Allison,” Lorraine called after her, looking worried. The Des thing had gone too far. Allison was obviously upset. That had not been her plan. “Allison?” A placating look on her face, she moved to the door, where Allison was putting on her coat. Allison was stony.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said, and barely giving Jerry a chanc
e to say good night, she was out the door.

  Rosey, seeing Allison and Jerry leave, jumped to his feet. He knew that protocol dictated that no one leave before he did. If someone had left, it meant he was staying too late.

  He walked over to Sadie, who had stood up. The others were already on their feet. “Sadie, I think we are keeping all these nice people; we ought to be going.”

  “Oh, of course. I’m so sorry; I hadn’t realized,” she said, genuinely alarmed that everyone had been waiting for them to leave.

  Elgin and Warburg rushed in to reassure her. At informal parties, people left when they felt like it.

  But the party was clearly over.

  Des quietly took Sadie’s hand, though he didn’t shake it. She was about to say something she might regret when Rosey said they must leave.

  Des straightened up and offered his hand. “Desmond Shaw, sir,” he said, very officially, the way people do when they’re trying to act as though they have not been drinking.

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Shaw,” said Rosey. “We didn’t meet earlier. I trust you have enjoyed talking to Mrs. Grey this evening.”

  Des searched for a trace of sarcasm, a hint of a challenge, but there was none. He was just making polite conversation.

  “How could I not?” he replied. “She is lovely. You are a lucky man.” He felt like an ass. Like somebody trying out for a part in a period movie. Yet something about Rosey compelled him to talk like that.

  Sadie burst out laughing. “Come on,” she said to Rosey, “I think we all need a breath of fresh air,” and she raised one eyebrow. Then she turned and was gone.

  Chessy had had too much to drink. She walked carefully over to Des to get him to go, and he put up little resistance. They both went to Lorraine, who except for Allison’s abrupt departure was ecstatic over the way her party had gone.