Touch Me When We’re Dancing
by
Suzanne Jenkins
Copyright © 2018 by
Suzanne Jenkins. All rights reserved.
Created in digital format in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations in blog posts and articles and in reviews.
Touch Me When We’re Dancing: Pam of Babylon #17 is a complete and total work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Where familiar places in New York, Greece and Bali are mentioned, it is in a completely fictitious manner. The Village of Babylon in the story is completely fictitious.
Pam and other stories are often available free to subscribers of the author’s newsletter. Go to http://suzannejenkins.com for more information.
New Characters
George Crier—Video Solutions, the company who produces Randy’s TV show
Richard O’Dell—Two Bridges developer
Jeffery Goldman—WZYX, TV show producer
Carolyn Davis Jeffery Goldman’s assistant
Adele Romaine—Office manager for Sandra’s new company
Laura Long—Randy’s daughter
Dr. Marian Cooper—Ted’s tenant, Pam’s new neighbor, childhood friend of Jack’s
Will Carlson—Marian’s BF
Steve Lafferty—Lisa’s OB doc
Alexandra and Morgan Bennett—Michael Bennett’s daughters
Alan Stone—Dan’s cop friend
Prologue
A week after his wife, Jenna’s accidental death, New York Medical Center’s CEO Michael Bennett finally allowed himself to grieve. He’d committed several precipitous acts: he’d moved out of the Morningside Heights brownstone he’d bought with Jenna and her baby in mind and back into his penthouse in SoHo, he’d returned to work right away, and he’d slept with Jenna’s rival, Sandra Benson.
The move had proved to be positive for his well-being, but the other two actions he regretted. He remedied it by taking a bereavement leave and breaking it off, albeit temporarily, with Sandra. With the help of his driver, he’d packed up all her belongings and moved them back uptown while Sandra was doing a short stint in jail for the murder of Jenna. Once that charge was dismissed and she was at home in her apartment, he asked her to wait.
“I need some time to myself,” he said. “Not a lot, just a few days, maybe a week. Can you manage that?”
“I suppose so,” she said, resigned. “You sure left me with a mess here.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he replied. “Hire someone to help you. In the meantime, if things work out for us, you can come back downtown. I just need to be alone right now.”
It was always so easy for men, who were used to allowing others to take care of their personal business. But Sandra squelched her annoyance. This wasn’t the time for petty arguments.
“You believe me when I say I didn’t kill Jenna, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he answered. “I never thought you did.”
“Goodbye, Michael. Stay in touch.”
“I will,” he said, and then he hung up.
She looked around the mess of her apartment, which reflected the mess of her life. She’d been happily, she thought, married to Tim Hornby. Together, they were raising her son, Brent. She’d recently got a substantial buyout from Jack’s company, freeing her to start her own. Then, in the middle of the mess of Jenna’s death, Tim went on a book-signing tour to Paris, and during a lapse of morals, she’d gotten into bed with Michael. The cops staked out at her apartment during the murder investigation saw Michael leave her apartment at dawn, and didn’t waste any time telling Tim.
By the time she was released from jail, Tim had taken her son and disappeared with him. For a brief time while she was recovering from the shock of the arrest, she was almost willing to let it go, to let Tim have Brent. It would have given her the freedom to start her new business and to start a relationship with Michael. But she knew that down the line she would regret it. Even though it didn’t look good on her record to have been arrested, the charges had been dropped, so she hoped that meant her record would be expunged. Her goal that first day—to contact a private eye and find out where that fucker Tim was.
She was coming up against blockades in her quest to hire a PI. Everyone knew about her and wasn’t willing to intervene on her behalf. The world was against Sandra, it would seem. However, her luck would get better with time.
Low-lying clouds in a dark gray sky gave Pam Braddock shivers as she opened the door to take her beloved dogs, Margaret and Peter, out for their morning walk. Her husband, Randy, had just left to go into Manhattan for a meeting, and it felt odd saying goodbye to him, a wife sending her husband off to his nine-to-five job.
She had watched the car pull away from the curb, a shiny black Town Car driven by Randy’s bodyguard, Frank. It looked like Clint, Randy’s business manager, was there for the duration, too. Secretly, Pam thought of him as a goon, that foreign word tickling her tongue so that she laughed when she said it out loud. Frank would see to it that Randy got where he needed to go and that no one would interrupt his timeline. Clint sat in the backseat of the limo, his laptop and papers spread out, while Randy sat in front.
Pam’s bodyguard, Leslie, was also back temporarily. In a week, she’d leave for a job guarding a famous actress in Los Angeles, but until then, she’d relax at the beach, watching over her favorite employee’s wife. Leslie insisted on driving Pam everywhere, including the gym where Randy paid for her membership, and she’d often pop up on the next treadmill, surprising Pam.
“Yikes! You scared the heck out of me,” Pam yelped. “Don’t you have anything better to do than follow me around?”
“No, actually, I don’t,” Leslie replied. “You won’t even know I’m here.”
“Ha! Try again,” she said. “I couldn’t be more self-conscious if I was naked.”
Leslie giggled, turning up the speed on her treadmill, and waved as she ran.
Living full time with Randy now that he’d retired from his travels was taking some adjustment that Pam hadn’t anticipated. It was nice having him home, but she quickly learned two valuable lessons: don’t wear anything provocative when he was around if she planned on getting any work done, and always have food prepared that she could microwave. The man was starving all the time, and since she’d refused to allow him to hire a full-time chef, it became her job to feed the man.
Sending him off that morning even though the project didn’t really begin for several weeks gave her a sense of relief. She’d insist Leslie leave her alone while she beachcombed, and she might even slip by Alison’s house just to hide out for a while.
Thirty miles away from the beach, Pam’s daughter Lisa was busy packing up cardboard boxes. She’d listed her house in Smithtown for sale considerably higher than the agent’s suggestion, and it had sold right away, catching her off guard. Although the goal was to buy at the beach, she couldn’t find anything big enough for her family right on the water, so she was going to rent temporarily.
The rental house had an in-law suite over the garage that Sandra’s soon-to-be ex-husband, Tim, and son, Brent, could live in until he found something on his own. In the meantime, Lisa liked having him around even though he was already dating his literary agent, Elizabeth. Lisa was okay with the relationship, as annoying as she found Elizabeth. Now that Lisa was pregnant with Ryan Maddox’s baby, her tolerance seemed to have disappeared with her menses.
The entire beachfront real estate situation was in flux; Charlie Monroe, former US senator and old flame of
Pam’s, and her neighbor, Ted Dale, were debating whose house they should rent out because they’d made the decision to move in together. After Randy left for the city that day, Ted called Pam, temporarily thwarting her beachcombing plans.
“I saw your husband drive off, so I figured I could sneak over now,” he whispered.
Laughing, Pam told him to come for coffee. “Then you can join me on the beach if you’d like. These hounds of mine are itching for a long walk.”
“I’ll be right over,” Ted replied.
Back in the kitchen, Pam put fresh coffee on. From the pantry, she took a box of donuts and pastries from Organic Bonanza, her favorite grocery store. Although they were from the previous day, there was nothing like a chocolate-frosted fried donut, even if it was a day old.
“Knock, knock,” he called from the veranda.
“Come in! You’re just in time to save me from the last cream-filled pastry.”
“I’m trying to diet,” he said. “You didn’t tell me Charlie liked videotaping his romantic interludes. I look like a pig on tape, too.”
Nostrils flaring, Pam suddenly lost her taste for fried dough. “Gee, thanks,” she said, pushing the plate over to him. “Confidentially, we only did it once. I don’t think he had time to tape it, he was so eager to get it over with and leave me.”
“Yikes, I’m sorry,” Ted said. “I didn’t mean to drag up bad feelings.”
“There’re only good,” Pam said. “I would never have met Randy if it wasn’t for Charlie. And I’m happy you’ve got someone again, even though he is a cast-off of mine. You deserve it after all you’ve been through.
“So what’s the decision? Are you renting out your place or Charlie’s?”
“Mine, and I’ve already got a tenant. You might know of her,” Ted said. “She’s a doctor, a psychiatrist.”
“Why would I know of her?” Pam asked, frowning. “I’ve never gone to a psychiatrist in my life.”
“Only because she’s from the Upper West Side. You lived up there, correct? Wasn’t your mother-in-law up there forever?”
“A lot of people are from the Upper West Side, Ted,” Pam said, feeling sweat forming under her arms.
“That’s true. But she knew Ashton,” Ted said. “She grew up with Ashton. I’m going to assume that means she knew your—”
Here, Ted paused. Pam felt her stomach tumble, like she was on a fast-moving elevator going down.
“—mother-in-law,” he continued.
“She knew Ashton? How’d that conversation start?”
“She mentioned the Quaker high school she went to. Let’s see if I can remember exactly what was said. She went to undergrad at Boston University, but graduated from NYU Medical School. But then she proceeded to say she went to school in the Village even though she lived uptown. Yes, that’s the way the conversation started. I remember now. Ashton went to the high school downtown, too, even though his family lived on the Upper East Side.”
Pam quickly stood up and got busy with the coffee pot, emptying the grounds, replacing the filter. Taking the pot over to the table, she heated hers up again even though it didn’t need it. Anything to be busy. She nodded to Ted’s cup, and he pushed it over. The chances were great that whoever this doctor was who was moving into Ted’s house also knew Jack.
Her poker face being firmly in place was not enough; Ted saw her hands trembling, a hint of horror in her voice. The new tenant might be a problem for Pam.
“I can see I’ve upset you,” he said gently.
“Think nothing of it. I meet someone from Jack’s past on a fairly regular basis, Ted. It’s a small world.” Realizing she’d just made a contradiction, Pam shook her head, trying to pull it together.
“Her name is Marian Cooper. Does that ring a bell?”
“No.”
“No way, the Coopers don’t ring a bell?”
Pam put the pot on the table with a whack. “So they’re rich people,” she sneered. “Big friggin’ deal.”
Sputtering, Ted reached for a paper napkin and hooted out loud, the sound of Pam using that word as foreign as anything he could imagine.
“I’m from Brooklyn, remember? I’m sure Jack went to school with the most fabulous people, but that means nothing to me now.”
She put the coffee pot back on the counter, wishing she hadn’t invited him in.
“Look, Pam, I didn’t come here to upset you.”
“Whatever gives you the idea I’m upset? It figures someone wealthy would rent it. Now let me ask you a question. Did you reveal to Marian Cooper that Jack Smith’s widow lived next door?”
Seething, she knew his answer before he spoke. Ted was as big a gossip as his late second husband, Jeff Babcock, had been.
“I might have. I didn’t realize it was something you wanted kept secret.” Now it was Ted’s turn to be annoyed.
“It’s irrelevant, Ted. It’s gossip. Jack’s dead; I’m remarried. Telling your tenant my personal business was wrong.”
“Let’s clear it up now, okay? I don’t want bad blood between us.”
Pam looked at him, at his pale, watery blue eyes and bald head. He was really repugnant. Why on earth had she allowed him to get to her?
“It’s too late,” she said. “There’s not bad blood, but we can’t clear it up because the words are already out there. What’s so compelling about Marian Cooper?”
“She’s charming,” Ted said. “For a shrink, anyway. You’ll see.”
“I’m not certain I need to meet her, so don’t go out of your way.”
“By the way, where is everyone?” Ted asked.
“My sister and her husband went back to their apartment. My mother is in Staten Island, visiting Violet and Dale, and Bernice and Oscar went down to Rehoboth Beach to check on the summer house.”
“It’s freezing in Maryland,” Ted said, pushing his plate away.
“Well, that’s their problem, isn’t it? Look, Ted, I’m really annoyed with you right now. I can’t seem to shake it. Do I just forget what’s happened? Or should I hold a grudge? Now you’re going to live with Charlie. How is that any less of a smack in my face than Jeanie living with John?”
Pam’s former best friend Jeanie had lived with Ted during a brief heterosexual phase he went through, and now she was living with Pam’s ex-husband, John, who was also Violet’s father, destroying Pam’s relationship with Jeanie.
Ted had had enough, standing up quickly; the chair almost fell over. “Pam, first of all, if you sleep with enough people, it won’t be long before your friends are sleeping with them, too.”
She gasped and pushed away from the table. “Oh my God, you should talk! You’re the whore of men!”
Now her turn to sputter, she burst out laughing, and it didn’t take much for Ted to howl as well, reaching for her. Bending over, hysterically laughing, her faux pas was the perfect antidote to anger.
“I’m sorry,” Ted mumbled, hugging her.
She reached for a paper napkin and wiped her tears of laughter, smearing her mascara. “I’m sorry, too. I guess I have to meet Marian Cooper when she moves in next door. What does she look like?”
Ted thought a moment, reaching for the cup and plate to take to the sink. “She’s handsome. I thought for a moment she might be a lesbian, but she mentioned a partner, and his name is Will.”
“Oh, so there will be a couple next door,” Pam said.
“It sounds to me like he’ll be there part time. Like they have places in the city and she’s retiring and wants to try the beach.”
“Oh, okay, makes sense.” Distracted now, the dogs were up and walking around, their toenails clicking on the marble. “I’d better take the hounds for their walk.”
“Are we okay?” Ted asked, switching his finger between them.
“Yes. You and your big mouth.”
“Sorry,” he said again, putting his coat on.
After she put their little quilted coats back on, Pam got the dogs’ leashes attached and then bun
dled herself up. Grabbing the ever-present trash bag, she was going to beachcomb one last time before snow started to fall.
“You don’t need to say sorry again. I’ll try to keep my insults to myself. I need to get out and burn that donut off. You’re a bad influence on me.”
“I am? You brought the damn things out,” he said, opening the door. “Have a nice walk.”
He trudged off over the dunes without saying goodbye. From past experience, Pam knew he’d forget about it in a day or two. Angry at herself for getting involved with Charlie in the first place, she hoped he wasn’t going to betray her with Ted. Ted was right; she’d spread herself a little thin by dating so many men.
“Come on, dogs, let’s run!”
The wind whipped around, pinging them with sand and sea spray. She headed south, toward Alison Case’s house. It was really Dave from Organic Bonanza’s house, but Alison was living with him now. “Shacking up,” she said.
When she reached the house, she realized it was a little early to be popping in, so she’d beachcomb for real. Staring at the sand as she walked was mesmerizing, and before long, she forgot about Ted and Marian Cooper. The beach worked its magic, and soon Pam was back to her old, content and happy self.
Chapter 1
Stuffing his billfold and money clip in his back pocket, Michael Bennett could think of only one thing that morning—getting into work and tying up the loose ends that had dangled for weeks.
“I’ll call you when I get in,” he said, bending over to kiss Sandra. “Don’t forget, the window washers are coming today.”
“Yuck, I hate it when they’re here,” she said. “Can I cancel?”
“No. They’re so dirty, they look muddy.”
“Whatever,” she said, pulling the covers up to her chin. “I have a meeting downtown at two, so I might be late tonight.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
He left the bedroom, walking down the long dark hallway. It was so dreary out, gray light on the gray carpet and gray walls. Everything looked dated, cold and uncomfortable. It might be time for a change. Pouring coffee into a thermos, he thought he’d keep his plans to himself. Sandra’s apartment was the most uninspired space. He wouldn’t ask for her decorating advice.
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