A Perfect Day

by Richard Paul Evans

  “That and help him save his job. Sterling Call wanted him to get me to come to their annual Christmas party.”

  “Are you going?”

  “Are you kidding? After what he did to us?”

  Allyson was quiet for a moment. “Maybe you should turn the other cheek.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who got slapped. I say let him get what he deserves.”

  Allyson frowned. “By the way, Camille called while you were signing.”

  “What did she want?”

  “She said to tell you that the Today show wants you on next Monday.”

  I raised a fist in triumph. “Yeah, baby. the Today show. This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

  Allyson didn’t even smile. “Will they film you here?”

  “No. It’s in New York.”

  “I thought so. That means not only do I not have you today, but you’re leaving again.”

  I turned angrily. “Enough of this, Al. All you’ve done since I got home is complain. You’re mad because I’ve been gone. You’re mad because I want to buy you and Carson a nicer house. You’re mad because I didn’t embrace the guy who stabbed us in the back. You’re mad because I made us late for the dinner appointment you set up without checking with me. And now you’re mad because the best possible thing that could happen to my book just happened. Can you just relax and enjoy some of this? Or at least fake it so that I can?”

  She looked down but said nothing.

  “Allyson, I’m not in control of my life right now. But good things are happening. Things I’ve hoped my entire life for. And I’m here in part because you encouraged me to chase this dream. What did you think this dream would look like? Did you think success would just happen without any sacrifice?”

  I went back to my driving. She touched the corner of her eye. A mile from the restaurant she said, “I’m sorry, Rob. I guess that I’m just afraid of losing you.”

  I said in a gentler voice, “I love you, honey. You’re not going to lose me. This isn’t going to be forever. In fact, why don’t you come to New York with me for the show? It will be our second honeymoon. And when it’s over we’ll come home and have a nice, calm holiday without a care in the world.”

  She looked pleased by this. “I’m sure Nancy would take Carson for a few days.”

  “Great. I’ll have Heather arrange the flight.”

  “When we get back, can you stay with Carson while I visit Aunt Denise?”

  “I’d love to. Now can we be nice to each other? Please.”

  “I’ll be good,” she said.

  “I’ll be good too.”

  Nancy and her date were gone by the time we arrived at the restaurant. We stopped at a Wendy’s on the way home.

  Chapter 29

  Allyson had never been to New York, and as the limo crossed the George Washington Bridge, she seemed as full of awe as a child. “Where’s the Statue of Liberty?”

  “You can’t see it from here.” I pointed south toward the Battery. “Camille lives down that way.”

  “Do you think I should call Nancy?”

  “Why?”

  “Make sure Carson’s being good?”

  “Carson’s always good,” I said.

  “I miss her.”

  It was a forty-five-minute drive into the city, and it was nearly six o’clock when the limousine stopped at the front curb of the hotel. The Today show had put us up at the Essex House, directly across from Central Park. Our suite was bigger than the upstairs of our home. At least it had more bathrooms.

  I put my arm around Allyson as we stood at the registration desk. “You have no idea how nice it is checking into a hotel and not being alone.”

  “I haven’t been in a hotel since our honeymoon,” she said.

  “You’ve got to get out more.”

  The clerk handed me a piece of paper. “You have a message, sir.”

  I read it.

  “Who’s that from?” Allyson asked.

  “It’s from Heather. It just says that a car from NBC will be out front at five-thirty tomorrow.”

  “Five-thirty. What time are you on?”

  “I don’t know. Sometime before nine. Then we’ll have breakfast and afterward Arcadia is hosting a toast to yours truly.” I took the key and then Allyson’s hand. “So we have the night to ourselves. What do you want to do?”

  She smiled. “Are you serious?”

  Early the next morning a stretch limousine was waiting for us out front of the hotel. We climbed in back and drove to the NBC studios near Radio City Music Hall. A hostess led us to the greenroom. There were others in the room waiting for their segments. I was taken to the makeup room and returned to find Allyson engaged in a discussion with Deepak Chopra, whom she had never heard of and afterward felt stupid that she hadn’t. My interview took less than five minutes, and when it was done, I returned to makeup to have my face removed. Camille met us outside the studio. “You were great,” she said to me. “I was having my hair cut, and everyone in the salon was saying how cute you are.”

  “Cute, huh?” Allyson said.

  Camille put her arm around Allyson. “Cute is good, Ally. Cute sells books.” She looked at her watch. “We have four hours before the champagne toast, so I thought you’d probably want to get some breakfast and then you have time to go back to your room and rest or go shopping, whatever you want. There’s a great little place up here, the Stardust Diner. The decor is New York subway. They have great oatmeal and breakfast shakes. Or there’s Sarabeth’s up on Madison Avenue.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “What do you want, Ally?”

  Allyson was captivated by it all. “Whichever is more New York-ish.”

  “Stardust it is,” Camille said, grinning.

  After breakfast the women elected to go shopping so we walked over to Saks Fifth Avenue. Allyson walked through the store but didn’t buy anything, suffering from a sort of sticker shock. We walked farther up Fifth and the women talked and laughed, and Camille and I finally convinced Allyson that it would be all right to spend some money. She bought a Chanel purse, which she confessed she had secretly coveted. At a quarter of noon we took a cab downtown to the Arcadia Publishing building.

  In the back of the cab Allyson said, “Tell me about this toast.”

  “It’s a champagne toast to celebrate the success of my book.”

  “Who will be there?”

  “Everyone at Arcadia who has worked on the book.”

  Camille said, “This will be your first time meeting Sandra. She’s the head of Arcadia.”

  Allyson asked, “Am I dressed okay?”

  “Yes. It’s casual,” Camille said, “and everyone’s really nice.”

  “Besides, we’re the guests of honor,” I said. “They have to be. Then afterwards we’ll go to the Metropolitan Museum, where you can see the Monets and van Goghs you’ve been dying to see.”

  Allyson looked as happy as a schoolgirl on a field trip. “This is such an amazing town.”

  “And there’s more,” I said. “Camille has a surprise.”

  “I had to pull some strings,” Camille said, “but we have dinner reservations at the Four Seasons.”

  Allyson said, “Sounds wonderful.” Then she laid her head on my shoulder. “It’s just so good to be with you.”

  The Arcadia conference room was noisy and crowded: filled with employees from different divisions of the publishing house, some I had met, more that I had not. The chairs had all been pushed under the table, and the tabletop was bare except for four bottles of champagne, plastic champagne glasses and three large stacks of my book. I could tell that Allyson felt a little intimidated by it all. Camille sensed Allyson’s anxiety and stayed close to her. I was glad for Camille’s presence.

  Sandra noticed us as we entered the room and plowed through the crowd to greet us.

  “Welcome, welcome, Robert.” She kissed my cheek then turned to Allyson. “You must be Allyson. I’m Sandra.”


  “Sandra is the boss around here,” I said.

  Allyson smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “It’s my pleasure. I’ve looked forward to meeting you since I first read the book. I’m an Oregon girl myself. I was born in Lake Oswego, just outside of Portland.”

  “Really? I have a second cousin who lives in Lake Oswego.”

  “It’s a beautiful part of the world,” Sandra said.

  “Hi, Sandra,” Camille said.

  Sandra nodded. “Ms. Bailey, I’d say we’ve done well with your author.”

  “Yes we have,” Camille said sparingly.

  Sandra turned to an employee who was standing nearby waiting to meet us. “Kim, we need some champagne for the Harlans.”

  “Of course.” Kim took two glasses from the table. As she handed me my glass, Sandra said, “Kim is the graphic designer who designed the cover for A Perfect Day.”

  Kim said to me, “It’s good to finally meet you. Congratulations.”

  “Congratulations to you as well. Everyone loves the cover. Especially Allyson.”

  “You did a beautiful job,” Allyson said.

  “Thank you. You’re Rob’s wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Sandra walked to the center of the room. “Your attention please. Your attention please.” The room settled at the sound of her voice. “I would like to propose a toast.” She waited until the last of the rumblings had died then raised her glass. “First, Robert, you did a magnificent job on the Today show this morning. We are all very proud to be associated with you. So here’s your toast. To Robert Harlan, our newest number one best-selling author. May it be the first of many. And may there be many, many more perfect days.”

  “Here, here,” Camille said.

  Everyone applauded.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  A moment later Sandra took me aside. “I understand that the tour has gone well.”

  “It gained momentum.”

  “Amen to that. Your sales are increasing nicely moving into the holidays. Which is good since there are a few big authors about to release. It’s a tough fall lineup. But it’s always tough. There are some things we want to do to keep you on top of the heap. Heather will get with you before you leave.”

  I looked around the room. “In the meantime,” I said, “we’re going to find someplace to sit.”

  Sandra put her hand on my back. “Don’t get too comfortable, you have books to sign.”

  I rejoined Allyson and Camille, and we sat down near the back of the room. Ten minutes later Heather walked up to me. I stood and gave her a hug. “Welcome back, world traveler. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  “We tried to lose you out there but you just kept coming back.”

  I laughed. “I thought so. Heather, this is my wife, Allyson. Heather’s the one you can blame for taking me from home.”

  “Thank you, Rob,” Heather said sarcastically. “Now that she hates me.” She turned to Allyson.

  “We’ve talked on the phone a dozen times, but it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Robert has told us so much about you.”

  “Thank you for taking such good care of him. He says you treat him like a VIP.”

  “Around here he is a VIP.” She said to me, “We need to talk before you leave. I’ve scheduled some phone interviews for you this afternoon if you don’t mind. Both Time and Newsweek are doing stories. Time wants to send a photographer to the lobby of your hotel in an hour.”

  I looked over at Allyson. “Looks like I have to work.”

  “I’m sorry,” Heather said. “Did you have plans?”

  Camille stepped in. “It’s okay, Ally. We’ll go to the Met without him. Then we’ll go shopping for you and Carson and spend all the money Rob just made.”

  Allyson smiled. “Serves him right.”

  “If Carson likes Barbies, there’s an FAO Schwarz that has an entire floor of Barbies. We’ll go crazy.”

  “Where will we meet up?” I asked.

  “Let’s meet back at the hotel at six. Our dinner reservation is for six-thirty.”

  “He should be done by then,” Heather said. “By the way, where would you like us to send your fan mail?”

  “I have fan mail?”

  A subtle smile lit her lips. “A bit.”

  “Just send it to my home.”

  Camille turned to Allyson. “Ready to blow this joint?”

  Allyson nodded then kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you later, honey.”

  The women left, leaving me alone to sign books.

  Chapter 30

  We ate dinner at the Four Seasons, an elegant midtown restaurant and a favorite among publishing’s elite. Allyson commented that it was the nicest restaurant that she had ever been in. Certainly the most expensive. “I could buy a week’s groceries for the cost of our meals,” she said.

  When we got back to the hotel, Allyson went to the phone and called home to check on Carson. From what I understood from the conversation Carson was already asleep and Nancy asked for a blow-by-blow account of the day’s events.

  While they talked on the phone, I undressed and lay back on the bed, surfing through channels on the television. When Allyson hung up the phone, I turned off the TV. “Finally we’re alone. Come here, Al.”

  “Just a minute,” she said, smiling. She went into the bathroom and took out her contacts and undressed. When she emerged, she was wearing one of the hotel’s robes. She ran her hands down the sides of it. “These are comfortable.”

  “Come here, gorgeous.” She kneeled over me on the bed, and I slipped the robe down over her shoulders. We began to kiss. Then she lay on her back and sighed.

  “Tell me I can do this, Rob.”

  “Do what?”

  “Champagne toasts, Time magazine, the Today show.” She let out a small gasp of exasperation. “Your world is so big.”

  “We’re just us. That will never change.”

  Suddenly her eyes moistened and she turned away. I didn’t understand.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  “Promise me that no matter what happens, no matter how big your world gets, you’ll never leave me.”

  I lifted slightly up from her. “Why did you say that?” I asked gently.

  “It’s what always happens when someone gets famous. They move on.”

  “I’m not famous. And nothing’s going to happen.”

  “I already feel like something is happening—like there are forces trying to pull us apart.”

  “I’ll never leave you, Al. I don’t think I could.”

  “Why not?”

  I put my hand on her chin and gently turned her face toward me. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. I brushed them back then said, “Because losing you would be like cutting off my air supply.”

  She smiled at this.

  “My world would be nothing without you, Al. You’re everything.”

  She looked into my eyes. “Promise?”

  “Yes.” I gently caressed her face with my hand. She closed her eyes and I softly drew my finger across her eyelids then down the bridge of her nose to her full lips. I circled her lips with my finger then leaned over and kissed her. We kissed for a long while. Then I said, “I’ll get the lights.”

  I got up and turned off the lights then crawled back into bed. I pulled Allyson to me and she sighed with pleasure.

  “When was the last time I told you how much I love you?” I asked.

  “About thirty seconds ago,” she replied happily.

  “Then I—”

  She stopped me by putting her finger on my lips. “Enough words,” she whispered. “Just love me.”

  I fell into her embrace, dissolving into her warmth and softness, until nothing else in the world existed or mattered but my beautiful wife and the sweetness of her love.

  Chapter 31

  The next morning I woke Allyson with a kiss and a rose, holdi
ng the flower inches from her nose until she woke. She smiled sleepily. “Where did you get that?”

  “From the breakfast tray. I ordered room service.”

  She looked around. “What time is it?”

  “Ten something.”

  “Oh my goodness. I don’t remember the last time I slept in this late.”

  “It’s only eight in Salt Lake.”

  She sighed. “Last night was wonderful.”

  I smiled. “Oh yes.” I kissed her then took her hand. “Come eat before your breakfast gets cold.”

  She climbed out of bed. We sat at a linen-covered table that had been wheeled in. I lifted the silver plate warmers from the food.

  “One Denver omelet, hash browns and English muffins. Your favorites.”

  “Everything looks delicious.” She lifted a knife and spread orange marmalade across her bread. “Did I hear the phone ring?”

  “An hour ago. I got some exciting news,” I said.

  “You get more exciting news than anyone I know.”

  “There’s a literary club in Orange County called Roundtable West. They’ve had everyone from Walter Cronkite to Richard Nixon speak to them. They just invited me to come out and speak. And guess who’s on the program with me?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Senator Dole and Bob Hope.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe your life. When is it?”

  “The day after tomorrow.”

  Her smile fell. “Then you won’t be coming home with me today?”

  “No, I’ll fly direct from here.”

  “And then you’ll be home?”

  “I have that speaking engagement for the National Society of Readers in Sacramento on Friday, so Arcadia plans to just keep me in California.”

  Her frown grew. “And then you’re home?”

  I didn’t answer, and Allyson immediately knew that I was hedging. “What’s up, Rob?”

  “They want me to go back out on the road.”

  Allyson calmly laid down her utensils. “When did you find this out?”

  “Heather told me last night. She says she has a stack of media requests on her desk four inches high.”

  “You’ve already toured.”