Balancing Act

by Fern Michaels

  “That’s wonderful, Griff.”

  “Nothing like success to make you feel on top of the world. I could slay dragons right now or make love to the most beautiful girl in the world. I think I like girls better than slaying dragons.”

  “I should hope so. What say we shower together? You soap me, I soap you.” Dory grinned devilishly.

  “Now I know that’s the best offer I’ve had in over a week.”

  “Has it been a week?”

  “It has, but that’s only if you’re counting.” It was a week. A week today, as a matter of fact. Dory couldn’t be so caught up in her own world that she didn’t know or care how long it had been. The thought bothered him and took the edge off his excitement. Dory’s sexual appetites were as healthy and lusty as his own.

  Their lovemaking was animal-like in its intensity. As he drifted off to sleep Griff felt vaguely cheated somehow. Dory lay wide awake. Why was it sex put men to sleep and awakened women? She lay quietly trying to decipher how she felt. Certainly not unloved. Griff had said the right words, done the right things, so why did she have to “figure out” how she felt? She should know. She should be feeling something, some afterglow, some invisible high that all lovers felt, that she used to feel. Instead, she felt . . . her mind sought for the right word . . . impatient.

  Dory’s last conscious thought before drifting off to sleep was that she envied Pixie and her free spirit ways.

  Griff roused Dory when he finished showering. “Don’t you have an early morning class today?”

  “Hmmmmmm,” Dory replied.

  “Up and at ’em, tiger, let’s go.” Griff jabbed at her playfully. “We all have to work. Remember that old adage, ‘He who does not contribute does not eat.’ ”

  All semblance of sleep was gone. While his voice might sound playful, Dory caught the nuance that said it just wasn’t so. “All right,” she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her next thought came out of nowhere. “Griff, I’m going to take the shuttle into New York. There’s one that leaves around twelve or so. I’ll try to make it back tonight, but if I get held up, I’ll return first thing in the morning.” It was on the tip of her tongue to say she hoped he didn’t mind. Instead, she left it as the statement of fact she intended.

  Griff paused in the act of tying his dark tie. “Great,” he said. “Have a ball and I think you should stay overnight. Don’t worry about me, I can get something to eat from Ollie’s Trolley on the way home.”

  Dory refused to think about Griff’s exuberance as she showered. She would not think about it. No way was she going to touch that one.

  D-Day. Red X day. Time to keep her word and get in touch with Lizzie. Time to speak to Katy. Time for a trip to Soiree. Time to drag David Harlow out of the dark recesses of her mind.

  Two weeks till New Year’s. Two weeks and one day. The new year, a time to cast the old aside and bring in the new. Decision time.

  An hour later the king-sized bed resembled a harem in disarray. Clothes and shoes were everywhere. Dejectedly, Dory sat on the edge of the bed. Nothing fit. At that moment she would have sold her body for a skirt with an elastic waist. If she started playing with moving buttons or half pulling zippers she would throw the line of the garment off. And her hair, God, what a mess. Freshly shampooed would do nothing for the old luster. How long had it been since she patronized a beauty shop and had a rinse, just for highlights? Ages. Lily’s home barbershop could hardly be called a salon. She was a mess. Lord, even some of her shoes were tight across the instep. That was from running around in scruffy sneakers all day.

  Eyeing the confusion all around her, Dory felt angry . . . and impatient. Angry that she had allowed things to get to this point and impatient to be on her way to the city.

  A curling iron might help. Her fox coat, if she kept it on, would certainly camouflage her weight gain. Makeup would be no problem. She did look a little puffy around the eyes, but by the time she was ready to leave the swelling would be gone.

  Pixie should be halfway to Hong Kong by now. The thought made Dory smile. Go for it, Pix, because if you don’t, there ain’t no one out there gonna do it for you.

  Dory had enjoyed the long talks she’d had with Pixie during her three-day visit. Not once had Pixie even attempted to tell her what to do. She listened and then prattled on about her own adventures and misadventures. Always her piercing gaze would lock with Dory’s to be sure she was getting her subtle messages.

  It was another hour before Dory returned all the clothes to their scented hangers and piled the shoes back in their marked boxes. She made the bed and straightened the bathroom. Makeup was applied swiftly and deftly; the curling iron whizzed through her hair to create a slight curl, which she misted with hairspray. She wasn’t exactly like the old Dory but she could pass a quick muster.

  Dory checked her purse for her checkbook, her wallet, and an ample supply of tissues. She wouldn’t take an overnight bag. If she decided to stay in New York she would take a quick run to Saks and pick up a few things. The Christmas-gift check from Pixie, which was almost sufficient for a down payment on a house, was folded carefully. Citibank would applaud her when she deposited the check. Pixie’s brand of security.

  The thermostat was adjusted, all the lights off, the garage door open, the car warming up, the coffeepot unplugged. She felt an unexpected exhilaration as she closed the door behind her. Mechanically, she tried the knob to be certain it was locked.

  Dory drove to the airport and parked the car, pocketed the parking stub and walked to the entrance. Standing in line at the ticket counter, she impatiently watched the round clock high on the wall tick off the minutes. If things didn’t speed up, she would miss the flight that was due to take off for New York in less than twenty minutes.

  As the ticket agent completed arrangements with a traveler and the line moved forward, Dory suddenly became aware of someone watching her. Turning to her left, she focused on a tall, well-dressed gentleman, who was brazenly focusing on her. Dory felt a surge of sudden confidence. She knew the soft grays and silvers of the natural fox coat did wonders for her pale blond hair, and the bright raspberry silk blouse with its complementary wool tweed skirt offset the pink of her cheeks. Although her black Etienne Aigner boots were still feeling tight across the instep, they were the finishing touch to her outfit.

  The man, dressed in a dark brown suit, with a luxurious overcoat of brushed suede, continued to stare approvingly in Dory’s direction. It felt good to be admired and she warmed to a flush in spite of herself. She knew she would only have to give him a glance of encouragement and he would approach her. Not in the habit of picking up men in airports, Dory forced herself to look away. Was she so desperate for approval that she would resort to flirting with total strangers? Still, there was something about this man she recognized; she had seen him somewhere before; she knew she had. Where? Through the advertising department at Soiree? At Lincoln Center? Skating in Rockefeller Center? A touch on her arm.

  “Excuse me,” a deep masculine voice was saying, “I believe you dropped this.” He held up one of her slim leather gloves.

  Searching through her pockets, Dory realized he was correct. “Thank you. I’m always losing gloves. I suppose I should pin them to my sleeves the way Mother did when I was a little girl.” Looking into his startlingly clear blue eyes, Dory felt her smile deepen. She realized with a certain alarm that this stranger was still holding the hand into which he had pressed her glove. He was tall, good-looking, and his obvious interest in her was flattering.

  “By any chance do you have a few minutes for a cup of coffee? I feel as though I’ve been struck by Kismet.” The blue eyes captured hers, making her heart race with excitement. There was a certain confidence about this man, as though he could instantly recognize what he wanted and could unerringly set his course for it. The words “charisma” and “power” kept bouncing through Dory’s brain.

  “I would like that,” she told him honestly, “however, my plane lea
ves in a very few minutes. I’m going to New York.” Now why had she told him that?

  His disappointment was obvious. “Perhaps when you return to the capital then?” he asked, reaching into his inside jacket pocket to give her his card. “Please, call me. I’ve only just found you and you’re flying away.”

  The ticket agent interrupted, “Can I help you? Miss? Did you wish to purchase a ticket?”

  Flustered, Dory stepped up to the counter. “I’m sorry . . . I mean . . . I must go.”

  “You have my card, call, won’t you?” A small salute and he was gone.

  The ticket agent smiled warmly, noticing the situation between Dory and the handsome man who was now walking out of the terminal. In purchasing her ticket and rummaging through her purse for her American Express card, Dory never noticed that the business card he had given her had fallen to the floor.

  On the forty-five-minute flight to New York Dory thought about her encounter with the stranger. It felt good to be admired. Just a bit of harmless flirting, she told herself, feeling slightly guilty about Griff, knowing that if she’d had the time she would have joined the stranger for coffee. Harmless flirting, she told herself. It was silly to keep thinking of the man as a stranger; he’d given her his card and his name would be on it. Suddenly, very, very curious about who he was and what he did for a living, she searched the pocket of her coat for his business card. It was gone. Lost. She had lost it, and some niggling fear told her she was losing her grip on more than just a card handed her by a stranger.

  Chapter Ten

  In the Soiree offices Katy welcomed Dory with open arms while the girls in the outer office hovered around, waiting for her to recognize them. She called each by name, pecked some on the cheek, smiled at others as she shook hands. God, it felt wonderful.

  “Anyone water my plants? I’m into plants now.” She grinned to a laughing Katy.

  “Just like a jungle. When you move down the hall I’ll be sure they follow you,” Katy teased.

  When. Not if. When she returned to Soiree was what Katy meant.

  Dory felt smug as she accepted a cup of coffee from one of the secretaries. She smiled and thanked her. “What’s new?”

  “Not a whole hell of a lot. I was going to call you at least a thousand times but Lizzie forbade it. She said she made a bargain with you and that included no phone calls, except for emergencies. I managed. Not well, but I managed.” Katy shrugged. “Your replacement . . . she isn’t you. I want to transfer to your new offices with you. Can you swing it?”

  The smug feeling stayed with Dory as she sipped the coffee. Hell yes, she could swing it. She would be the boss. If she decided to return, that is. Her visit seemed to convince everyone that that was her intention. Maybe she had been too hasty. She could have just picked up the phone instead of making the trip in person. She didn’t want to rain on Katy’s parade.

  Was there such a thing as a creative high? A high brought on by friends and fellow workers. A business . . . a job . . . when had she last felt like this? So long ago she forgot what the feeling was like.

  “How about some pastry?”

  “No thanks. I’m dieting. Look and weep.” Dory laughed as she opened the fox coat.

  “My God,” Katy said.

  “That’s what I said when I read the scale. Salads from now on, that’s it. It really snuck up on me.”

  “Is Lizzie expecting you?”

  “Not in person. A phone call, perhaps. She’s here, isn’t she? What’s new with the adoption?”

  “She’s here. As a matter of fact she’s been coming in at seven every morning to get caught up before she leaves. The baby arrives January first.”

  Dory’s heart started to pound. She could feel the beginnings of an anxiety attack. God, not here, not in front of Katy, she pleaded silently. Relax, get hold of yourself. It’s your choice, your decision. Nothing has to be decided today. “But I thought . . .” Damn, why did she sound like she was whimpering?

  “We all thought it would be another three months. What can I tell you? The mother delivered prematurely. The baby was in an incubator for a while. She may even get it for Christmas. We’re all hoping. It’s a girl, just what she wanted!”

  A vision of her decorated town house flashed before Dory’s eyes. Her first Christmas with Griff. Dinner with his mother. Lily and Rick would stop by. Sylvia would have them over for breakfast or brunch, depending on the condition of her house. Presents. Mistletoe and holly. Carols and church.

  “Dory, this shouldn’t mess up your doctorate. Remember, I checked it out . . . you can continue your studies at night at Columbia. It’ll delay things a bit, but you’re so set on achieving your doctorate, a few more months shouldn’t make all that much difference. How’s it going, anyway?” Katy asked cheerfully, as though it were a foregone conclusion that anything Dory tackled was soon accomplished.

  “Oh, fine, fine!” Dory lied, feeling the old guilt about how she had let herself down.

  Dory set her empty cup on Katy’s desk. “I’ll trundle along now and visit with Lizzie. I want to make the bank and do some shopping. I think I’ll stay over at the Hyatt. Could you book me a room? If you’re free, we could have dinner together. My treat. We have so much catching up to do. Do you think your husband will mind?”

  “Mind? He’ll be delighted. Tonight is his bowling night anyway. I’ll stay late and catch up on some of my own work. Meet you in the lobby at seven. Is that okay with you?”

  “Fine.” Dory hugged her friend and waved to her coworkers. She was stifling in the fox coat, but she refused to take it off. If she was stupid enough to gain so much weight, then she would suffer for it. Wearing the heavy fur in the office was punishment enough.

  Lizzie greeted her warmly, her shrewd eyes assessing Dory. “I would have settled for a call,” she said softly.

  “You look positively radiant, Lizzie. Katy told me the news. I’m so happy for you.”

  “I feel radiant. Hell, I am radiant, you’re right. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy. Sit down, let’s talk.”

  Dory let the fox slip from her shoulders. She waited for Lizzie to take the initiative.

  “As I said, I would have settled for a phone call. But, don’t misunderstand, I’m glad you came. Wanted a look-see, huh? Did you miss it?”

  “Yes, I did miss it. Yes, I wanted a look-see, as you put it. And yes, I put on some weight. I’m dieting now. Nothing fits.” Lizzie said nothing, her gaze sharp and pointed as she assessed Dory.

  “I’m going to need an answer by Monday, Dory. I wish I could give you longer but I can’t. I hope you understand.”

  “I do. I’ll call you Monday morning,” Dory said quietly. If there was ever a time for an anxiety attack, this was it, Dory thought. She waited. Nothing happened. She grinned at Lizzie.

  Lizzie grinned back. “Bought any nice shoes lately?”

  “I’m on my way to Saks right now.”

  “Dory, whatever you decide, it’s all right with me. I want us to remain friends. I know you’ll do what’s right for you.”

  “Count on it. Make sure you send pictures of the baby.”

  “Count on it.” Lizzie laughed.

  “I’ll talk to you on Monday.”

  Dory’s first stop was Citibank. She cashed an astronomical check, deposited Pixie’s check, and started out for Saks. She treated herself to a haircut, a manicure, and pedicure. Her next stop was the shoe department, where she bought four pairs of shoes and two pairs of boots. At the last minute she picked up a pair of naughty, feathery slippers. I don’t need them but I want them. That’s reason enough, she told herself as she got into the elevator.

  Dory shopped till the store closed. She waited patiently for the doorman to get her a taxi. She could have walked; everyone in New York walked. But this was a day to pamper herself. A taxi ride was no big deal. She was all grown up now and could make her own decisions. About time, she thought.

  Dinner with Katy was a pleasure. They sat for hours o
ver wine spritzers and salad. They talked about everything and nothing but mostly about Katy’s work and Lizzie’s new baby. Eating was a time for relaxing, Katy said, and they could get down to the nitty-gritty when they got back to Dory’s room at the Hyatt.

  It was after ten when both women kicked off their shoes in the hotel suite. Dory ordered espresso and Amaretto from room service. It arrived within minutes. Dory added a generous tip to the waiter. Settled comfortably in the armchair, she faced Katy. “You’re dying to know, I can tell. I don’t know where to start. Everything is so mixed up. I’m so confused, I don’t know which way to turn anymore.”

  Katy’s friendly face showed concern for her friend. “A relationship is no different than a marriage. You have to work at it. Both of you. As far as I can see the only difference is that you can walk out without going to a lawyer.”

  Dory sipped at her drink. “It’s not one of those he did this, he didn’t do that, I did it all, things. It wasn’t anything like that. I really think it’s me, not Griff. I got off the track. My God, it got to the point where I was having anxiety attacks and I wasn’t me anymore. I even went so far as to think I should have a baby. Thank God I had enough sense to know that was a mistake. A baby would only compound the problem.”

  “At least you’re thinking clearly.”

  “Now, yes. And even now I’m not sure. I could have called Lizzie today the way I said I would, but at the eleventh hour I decided to come in. I needed to come here today. I haven’t really made a decision. I have to talk to Griff.”