Friends Forever

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Friends Forever Page 22

by Danielle Steel


  Tony took her to two wineries that were very beautiful, and drove her through the Napa Valley, under handsome old trees that lined the road. Then he took her to the Auberge du Soleil, a hotel and restaurant perched on a hill with a breathtaking view of the valley, with its rolling hills and meticulous vineyards. They ate lunch on a balcony, and when they left that afternoon, Izzie was enthralled. He was interesting to talk to, fun to be with, considerate and thoughtful, and they drove part of the way home with the top down on his convertible, on picturesque back roads.

  He told her about the film business and the new movie he was producing. He said he had never been married, but had had several long relationships.

  “Why do you think you never married?” she asked him, aware that it was a somewhat intrusive question, but she felt surprisingly comfortable with him by the end of the day. He seemed like a very open person, and had been very free in talking about himself and some of the mistakes he’d made in his business and personal life. He wasn’t arrogant or pompous, and she liked that about him, in spite of his obvious success in his industry. He had done very well.

  “Scared, I guess,” he said honestly. “A lot of things. I was having too much fun when I got out of college, then I got too busy building up my business. I was always putting together the next movie. I’m fairly obsessive about my work,” he said honestly, “and then you get those kickers in life, those blows to the gut that make you decide to play it safe. I was very much in love with a girl when I was in college, my childhood sweetheart. We were sure we were going to get married—in fact I bought a ring and was about to ask her, when she died in a head-on collision. She was driving down to L.A. to meet me when she got killed. It was raining, and her car skidded out of control. I didn’t think I’d survive it, but I did. I don’t think I ever put my heart out there like that again. I was too afraid to get hurt. I keep just enough distance to avoid any future pain. Maybe you only love like that once in your lifetime, when you’re very young.” He smiled at her as he said it, and what he had shared resonated with her, more than he knew.

  She took a breath before she said anything to him, but she was comfortable with it. “I lost two good friends in the last five years, people I grew up with. Not anyone I was in love with, but it kind of had the same effect on me. I feel like I’ve kept everything at a distance, because I didn’t want anything to ever hurt that much again.”

  “Love is messy,” Tony said quietly. “I think if you really love someone, even a friend, you can’t avoid the pain. People die, people leave, things change. But sometimes,” he said, smiling at her, “it all works. I’ve just never had the guts to try it seriously again.”

  “I think I kind of sealed myself off too. I’m not very close to my mother, but I had dinner with her last year, and she kind of woke me up. She said I was letting life pass me by, and it was never going to get any better than it is right now. Because of that, I took a trip to Argentina last summer, and I’m thinking of going to Japan sometime this year. Just getting out of my own little world changed everything. I feel alive again. I think part of me died when my best friends in the world died. It’s hard to risk caring that much again.”

  “It is,” he agreed, as he got back on the highway, and they drove through Marin. “But it’s worth it, Izzie. Take it from me. It’s been eighteen years since that girl died, and life has never been quite the same. I’ve watched a lot of my friends get married and have kids, and I know it’s not for me. I’ll probably never take that risk. But you’re young enough to do it differently. I’m not sure I am.” It seemed sad to her, but at least he knew himself. It felt like he’d been put on her path to give her a warning. And somewhere in her heart of hearts, she knew she didn’t want to be like him. She wasn’t Marilyn, or Connie, or Judy, she hadn’t lost a child. Or even a love, like Tony. She had lost friends. It was different. She couldn’t shut everyone out, or stop taking risks in her life, because of it. He was right, he was a good lesson to her.

  And as much as he seemed to be enjoying his life, she felt sorry for him. If he couldn’t let himself love someone, he wasn’t fully alive. She wasn’t sure she was either. She had never been in love in her entire life. But she was young enough to change it. At thirty-nine, it was going to be a lot harder for him to open up again, especially after being hermetically sealed for eighteen years. But he was nice to go out with. She had had a very good time. And when he drove up to her apartment, he asked when he could see her again.

  “Do you like the ballet?” he asked her, with a wide, easy smile.

  “I’ve only been to two in my life. The Nutcracker and Swan Lake.” But she had liked them both. Tony was a man of the world. No one she knew would have invited her to the ballet, although she knew Andy’s parents went regularly, but it would never have occurred to anyone to invite her. The boys she dated went out for hamburgers and pizza, and to movies, not to the ballet. It sounded very adult to her.

  “Would you like to go to the opening of the ballet with me next week?” he suggested, and Izzie smiled. He really was fun to be with, and she could easily imagine taking tango lessons with him, although he probably knew how to tango anyway. “There’s a dinner afterward,” he explained.

  “I’d like that very much.”

  “You’ll have to wear a cocktail dress. It’s black tie for me. But with your looks”—he smiled at her—“you can get away with something short.”

  “That sounds like fun. Thank you, Tony.” She smiled at him, and he laughed and kissed her cheek, barely touching it with his lips.

  “Stick with me, baby, and we’ll have fun.” She was sure that was true, but with a sudden flash of insight, she suspected that they’d have fun but not depth. He had avoided that in all his relationships for too long. He was a practiced bachelor, and a generous person, but the one thing he no longer gave was his heart. He wasn’t like her father and Jennifer after all, who were crazy about each other and madly in love and had adopted Ping. Her father had married the wrong woman, and then found the right one. She didn’t think Tony was willing to take that chance. It didn’t really matter to Izzie, she wasn’t in love with him, but she hoped she would fall in love one day. Tony was still working hard to avoid it and swimming the other way. And she wondered if one of the reasons he liked her and was taking her out was that she was too young to expect anything serious from him, unlike women his own age, who wanted the whole shebang, kids and marriage and a commitment he was no longer willing to give. At least he’d been honest with her, so she wouldn’t get hurt. They were just passing through each other’s lives, like her trip to Argentina. He made no pretense of anything else.

  When she went back to her apartment and he drove away, she thought of Gabby with a sharp ache. If she’d still been alive, she could have called her for a consultation about what to wear to the ballet, or borrowed something from her. Izzie called Jennifer instead.

  Her stepmother said she should wear something sexy, dressy, and short. She was so much taller than Izzie that she couldn’t lend her a dress, but she offered to go shopping with her, which they did the next day. Jennifer left Ping with her father, so they had a real girls’ day out. It was the kind of day Izzie had never spent with her mother, but Katherine had given her good advice and trips to Europe and Argentina instead. There was room for both of them in Izzie’s life.

  They found the perfect dress at Neiman Marcus, it was short and strappy, black chiffon with little black beads on the straps, and they found shoes to go with it. Izzie looked fabulous in it, and very sophisticated. She looked like a woman in the dress, not a girl or a kindergarten teacher. “You look hot,” Jennifer said with a grin, and Izzie laughed.

  “So what’s this guy like?” Jennifer asked her when they went upstairs to the restaurant for a bite to eat. “He must be pretty special if you’re shopping for him.”

  “I just don’t have clothes for the kind of stuff he goes to,” Izzie said, feeling like Cinderella after the ball once she took off the new dress. Sh
e was wearing jeans, a pink sweatshirt, and sneakers with holes in them—her standard Sunday-afternoon garb. “He’s very smooth, and kind of sexy. He’s a movie producer from L.A., he’s making a movie here for a year.”

  Jennifer looked impressed and intrigued. “How old?”

  “Thirty-nine.” Jennifer frowned at the answer.

  “Isn’t that a little old for you, Iz?” They had sat down and ordered salads by then, and Izzie looked pensive. Jennifer and Jeff were seventeen years apart but had gotten involved when they were older, not twenty-three.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t think he’s someone who gets too attached to anyone. He had a heartbreak when he was young. He’s more about having fun.”

  “Just make sure he doesn’t break your heart,” Jennifer warned her wisely. “Guys like that are easy to get hooked on. They’re very charming, and always just out of reach. I went out with someone like that before your dad. I went out with him for six months, and it took me three years to get over him. But I’m a slow learner. You’re probably smarter than I am.”

  “I don’t think I’m liable to get too attached either,” Izzie said softly. “People die, Jen,” she said as she looked at her with eyes that ripped her stepmother’s heart out. She had already seen too much at her age, and had paid a high price for it.

  “Not everyone dies young, Izzie,” Jennifer said kindly, and touched her hand to reassure her.

  “No, but a lot of people seem to at my age.”

  “Why do you think that is?” Jennifer asked quietly. She had thought about it a lot herself. As a social worker, she saw too many tragedies among people Izzie’s age, and even younger. Some were accidents, some products of the environments they lived in, but others just seemed to be a sign of the times. She had never seen a group of young people so at risk.

  “I don’t know,” Izzie answered. “Maybe we’re stupid, or too brave, or we watched too much TV when we were little or something. You watch people get killed every day on the news, and no one thinks about it. And then it happens to someone you know, and it almost kills you. Maybe we’re careless or take bigger risks. Like Billy,” she said sadly, and Kevin. All Gabby had done was hail a cab, but the boy who had killed her had been careless and foolish enough to drink and drive. She had heard that he’d gotten out of prison the year before, after three and a half years. She couldn’t even imagine what that had been like and didn’t want to. And the deaths Jennifer hated most among the young were the suicides, which in her line of work she saw more than most people. It was the second biggest cause of death among youth, after car accidents, and so many parents were unaware of what was happening in their children’s lives, or were in denial about it. It broke Jennifer’s heart every time it happened to one of her clients. At least none of Izzie’s friends seemed to be suffering from depression. Jennifer was always watchful for signs of it in Izzie, after losing her friends. But she seemed to be recovering well, and her mother’s gift of the trip to Argentina had benefited her immensely. And now she had a new romance, which was all good, and a hopeful sign, even if it went nowhere. At least it was fun for her, which was how Izzie viewed it. She seemed to have a very sensible outlook about it, and Jennifer was reassured.

  “How are Sean and Andy, by the way? You haven’t said much about them lately,” Jennifer inquired as they finished lunch.

  “There’s nothing to say,” Izzie said, shrugging her shoulders. “Andy’s buried at med school, and so is his girlfriend. He couldn’t even come home for Christmas. And Sean is crazy. He thinks he’s going to catch all the drug dealers in the world. He did an undercover assignment in South America for most of last year. He can’t call anyone or have any contact when he’s undercover. It’s really hard on his parents. He came home for a week, and now he’s doing it again. No one will hear from him for a year, or longer. Except if he dies, I guess.” She looked angry as she said it. She was tired of her friends dying, and he could easily get himself killed. “I think that’s what you meant. Maybe my generation takes bigger risks. Kevin, Billy, Sean. They think they’re immortal.”

  “All young people think that. Maybe the difference is that your generation acts on it, which is dangerous. That sounds like an extremely risky line of work,” Jennifer said, pained at the look in Izzie’s eyes. And she suddenly had the same impression that Katherine had about her daughter the year before. There was no passion there, just pain. Izzie was not willing to throw her heart over the wall for anyone or anything, or care deeply anymore. She knew how high the chances were of getting burned. She had a fireproof wall around her heart. But at least she’d have fun with her movie producer from L.A. for a while. Jennifer could tell from what Izzie said that he was no more willing to risk his heart than she was, which was unconsciously why Izzie liked him.

  Izzie promised to let Jennifer know how the opening of the ballet was when they left each other that afternoon, and Izzie went home with her new dress and new shoes in a bag. She could hardly wait to wear them.

  They were a big success when she did. Tony went crazy when he saw her. And her face and her figure made the dress look even better. She had a great time with him, and enjoyed the opening of the ballet and the dinner after. They had a very elegant evening, and she felt like a fairy princess. He kissed her good night at her door, but didn’t ask to come in, and she didn’t invite him to. She wasn’t ready to, and he was mature enough, and experienced enough, to sense that. But he said he enjoyed her company immensely, and he looked as though he meant it. He smiled at her and kissed her again before he left her.

  “I’m going to L.A. next week, by the way. I’ll be back on Friday. Saturday night dinner?” She nodded with a shy smile. It had been a perfect evening. “We’ll do something fun,” he promised, and she knew they would. Tony would see to that, just as he had so far. He hurried down the stairs then with a smile and a wave, and Izzie drifted into her apartment on a cloud, feeling just like Cinderella, before she lost the glass slipper.

  Chapter 21

  As promised, Izzie called Jennifer the next day to report on the opening of the ballet and tell her how the dress looked. “It was perfect!” Izzie said, sounding delighted, and grateful that her stepmother had dropped everything to go shopping with her. She had turned out to be a wonderful friend, and never tried to be a mother to her. She was more like a big sister or an aunt. “Some of the women wore long dresses, but I would have felt silly wearing one.”

  “You’re young enough to wear a short one, even to a black-tie event,” Jennifer confirmed, which Izzie had concluded the night before too. The dress they had chosen had been totally appropriate, and Tony had said she looked gorgeous. “And how was Tony?”

  “Handsome and charming.” Izzie giggled. “I had a great time.” Jennifer was happy to hear it. Izzie gave her all the details of the evening, of the ballet and the dinner after, and as soon as she hung up, Andy called her from Cambridge. She hadn’t talked to him since Christmas. She had called him on Christmas Day—he had been working and feeling sorry for himself. He was trying to figure out what to specialize in and was currently considering pediatrics.

  “So how are you?” He tried to check in with her as often as he thought of it and had time. They were the only two left in the group now, since Sean was incommunicado in his undercover life for the FBI for a year. And Andy loved talking to her, it was a breath of home for him.

  “I’m great!” Izzie said happily. “I went to the opening of the ballet last night. I didn’t see your parents, though. Were they there?”

  “Probably, unless my mom was on call last night. My dad usually doesn’t go without her. She likes the ballet more than he does. It sounds like you’re getting pretty fancy. New guy in your life?”

  “Sort of,” she admitted.

  “You’re holding out on me,” he scolded her.

  “I met him on New Year’s Eve. He took me to Napa for lunch the next day, and the ballet last night. He’s pretty cool.”

  “What does he do? I ho
pe he’s not a doctor, you’ll never see him. Nancy and I haven’t spent a night together in two weeks. Our schedules are never the same. I think she’s actually getting tired of it. This is really hard,” he confessed to Izzie, sounding discouraged. “I don’t know how my parents kept their marriage together. We fight a lot when we don’t see each other, and we’re sleep deprived all the time, which makes her bitchy and me psychotic,” he said, and Izzie laughed.

  “You’ll get through it. You love each other,” Izzie said, trying to reassure him.

  “I hope so. Sometimes I wonder if that’s enough.” It sounded like he was going through a rough patch. No one had ever said that medical school would be easy, but it was what he had always wanted. Just like Sean and his crazy life for the FBI. It made her realize that her life as a kindergarten teacher was a lot simpler than theirs, even if it was less challenging.

  “So what else is new with you, other than fighting with Nancy and lack of sleep?” She loved talking to him—it was like talking to a brother. It was with Sean too, but he was an invisible brother now, one she could never talk to, and might never again, if something went wrong while he was undercover. She had a constant sense that he might be killed at any moment, and she was sure that Connie did too, her last surviving son. At least Izzie knew that Andy would always be there. Nothing about his chosen profession was high risk. It was safe to love him, and she did, just as she had for eighteen years. They were both twenty-three now.

  “There is no ‘else’ in this business,” Andy complained. “All we ever do is work. Thank God Nancy is going to be a doctor too. No other sane human being would understand it. You were right to bail on me when you did.” They normally never mentioned it, but he felt comfortable with it now, and so did she.

 

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