by Sandra Brown
Having put off for as long as possible the unpleasant chore of alerting him to her arrival, she dialed the number that had appeared on her caller ID machine that morning. The telephone rang four times before it was answered.
“Yeah?”
“This is Maris Matherly-Reed.”
“Jesus.”
“No, Maris Matherly-Reed.”
He said nothing to that, not even a cranky What do you want? although his hostile silence spoke volumes.
“I was thinking…” She halted. Wrong tack. Give him no outs, Maris, not even wiggle room. “I’m coming to St. Anne Island to see you,” she declared.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I was speaking English, wasn’t I? Which part didn’t you understand?”
After a moment, he made a gruff sound that could have passed for a laugh. “That’s two. You’re on a roll tonight.”
“Well, I try.”
“So you’re coming to St. Anne.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I gotta warn you, it’s different from what you’re used to. Folks like you—”
“Folks like me?”
“—usually vacation on the more developed islands. Hilton Head. St. Simons. Amelia.”
“This isn’t a vacation trip.”
“No?”
“I’m coming to talk to you.”
“We’ve talked.”
“Not face-to-face.”
“What’ve we got to talk about? The flora and fauna of Georgia’s sea islands?”
“Your book.”
“I’ve already told you that my book isn’t for sale.”
“You also told me that there is no book. Which is it?” She had trapped him. His stony silence indicated that he knew it. “I’ll be arriving tomorrow evening.”
“It’s your money.”
“Could you recommend a—” She was talking to a dead line. He’d hung up on her. Stubbornly she dialed him back.
“Yeah?”
“I was asking if you could recommend a hotel in Savannah?”
When he hung up on her again, Maris laughed. As her father had said, he was protesting too loudly and too much. Little did Mr. P.M.E. know that the more he balked, the more determined she became.
She had just slid her suitcase from beneath the bed to begin packing when the telephone rang. She expected it to be the author. He’d probably invented some very good reasons why it was inconvenient or impossible for him to see her when she arrived tomorrow.
Bracing herself for a barrage of excuses, she answered with a cheerful, “Hello.” To her surprise, a man with a broad Brooklyn accent asked to speak with Noah. “I’m sorry, he isn’t here.”
“Well, I gotta know what to do with this key.”
“Key?”
“We don’t make house calls after hours, ya know. Only, see, Mr. Reed give me twenty extra bucks to get it here tonight. You his ol’ lady?”
“Are you sure you have the right Noah Reed?”
“Deals with books or something?”
“Yes, that’s my husband.”
“Well, he give me this address in Chelsea, said—”
“What address?”
He recited an address on West Twenty-second. “Apartment three B. He axed me to change out the lock yesterday, on account of he’d already moved some stuff in there and didn’t want old keys floating ’round, ya know? Only I didn’t bring an extra key yesterday, and he said he needed at least one extra. So I tole him he’d have it tonight.
“I’m here with the key, but the super’s out for the evening. There’s a note on his door, says call, but a call ain’t gonna help me, is it? I don’t trust leaving a key to Mr. Reed’s apartment with the neighbors. You never know about people, am I right?”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Huh?”
“You said some stuff had already been moved into the apartment.”
“Stuff. Furniture. You know, the kinda stuff rich folks have in their places. Rugs and pictures and shit. Could I afford nice stuff like that? Forget about it. All I know is, I’m ready to get my butt home and in my lounger on account of the Mets game. Only I don’ wanna offend Mr. Reed. He give me twenty extra—”
“Bucks. So you said. I’ll give you twenty more if you’ll wait for me. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Maris left her building and practically ran the two blocks to the subway station at Seventy-second and Broadway. A taxi would take too long to get downtown. She wanted to see sooner rather than later the nice stuff that Noah had moved into an apartment in Chelsea that she knew nothing about. She wanted to learn sooner rather than later why he needed an extra apartment. And she wanted to know for whom he was having an extra key made.
* * *
Ivy clung to the old brick, contributing warmth and charm to the building’s exterior. Flowers bloomed in window boxes on either side of the narrow stoop, which was separated from street level by eight steps. The block was lined with similar buildings that had been quaintly refurbished by urbanites trying to create a neighborhood feel and recapture the spirit of a kinder, gentler, bygone New York.
The leaded glass entrance door was unlocked. The locksmith was waiting for Maris in the foyer. Somehow he had managed to zip a khaki jumpsuit over a belly that extended a good two feet beyond his chest. “Who buzzed you in?” she asked him after introducing herself.
“I ain’t a locksmith for nothin’,” he said with a snort. “Only, truth be told, it wasn’t locked. Too hot to wait outside. I was sweating like a pig.”
The air-conditioning was cooling her own damp skin, a dampness she attributed to being in close confines with other sticky passengers on the subway train. The stations were notorious for being drafty and frigid in the winter and completely airless in the summer. But she was also sweating anxiously over what she would find on the third floor in Apartment B.
“You wanna settle up with me?”
She looked at him quizzically, then remembered the promised twenty dollars. After paying him, she asked for the key.
“I gotta check it out first,” he told her. “It ain’t as easy as people think, making keys. I never leave one with a customer before seeing if it works okay.”
“All right.”
“There ain’t no elevator. We gotta climb.”
She nodded for him to precede her up the staircase. “Why didn’t you just go up, test the key, and then leave it in the apartment? Wouldn’t the door have locked behind you when you left?”
“Not the deadbolt. Besides, that’s all I need,” he said, speaking to her over his shoulder as they rounded the second-floor landing. “Something turns up missing, I’m the first one accused of stealing.”
“I doubt that.”
“I ain’t taking no chances goin’ into a man’s apartment when he ain’t there. Forget about it.”
He was huffing and puffing by the time they reached the third level. As he approached the door, he withdrew the spare key from the pocket of his jumpsuit and slipped it into the lock. “Pouyfect,” he said as he swung open the door. Then he stood aside and motioned for Maris to go in. “The light switch is there on your right.”
She felt for the switch and flipped it on.
“Surprise!”
The shout went up from fifty or so people, all of whom she recognized. Her mouth dropped open like a trapdoor. She pressed a hand to her lurching heart. Everyone was laughing over her dumbfounded expression.
Noah separated himself from the others and came toward her, grinning from ear to ear. He embraced her tightly, then soundly kissed her mouth. “Happy anniversary, darling.”
“B-but our anniversary isn’t until—”
“I know when it is. But you always catch on to my attempted surprises. This year I thought I’d get the jump on you. Judging by your reaction, I’d say I was successful.” He looked beyond her shoulder and addressed the locksmith. “You were terrific.”
As it turned out, he was an actor hired to play the r
ole. “You had me convinced that I was about to catch my cheating husband,” Maris told him.
“Happy anniversary, Mrs. Reed,” he said in a voice that resonated with the Queen’s English. It was explained to her later that his most notable role was Falstaff. Now he reached for her hand and kissed the back of it. “Enjoy your special evening.”
“Don’t go. Stay and enjoy the party.” She prevailed upon him, and he accepted her invitation.
“It’s okay, isn’t it?” she asked Noah when the actor joined the other guests in line at the buffet.
“Whatever makes you happy, darling.”
“Whose apartment is this?”
“That part of his dialogue was true. It’s mine.”
“It really is?”
“Whose did you think it was?”
“I—”
“You need some champagne.”
“But Noah—”
“You’ll get a full explanation later. I promise.”
After seeing to it that she had a brimming flute of bubbly, he maneuvered her through the crowd to greet their guests, which included most of the editorial staff of Matherly Press. Many remarked on how difficult it had been to keep the secret. One confessed to almost asking her what she was going to wear. “Noah would have killed me if I’d spoiled the surprise.”
“And look what I turned out in,” Maris groaned. “A wrinkled business suit and a shiny face. I didn’t know I was coming to a party.”
“I would kill to look like you on your worst day,” the woman said.
Among the guests were also a handful of local authors with whom Maris worked, and friends whose careers were in other areas entirely, including an anesthesiologist and her husband who taught chemistry at NYU, a stockbroker, and a movie producer who had turned one of the books Maris had edited into a gripping feature film.
Then the crowd parted to reveal Daniel. He was seated with one hand resting on the engraved silver head of his cane while the other was saluting her with a glass of champagne.
“Dad!”
“Anniversary wishes a few weeks early, sweetheart.”
“I can’t believe you were in on this!” She bent down to kiss his cheek, which glowed with a champagne flush. “You gave nothing away this morning.”
“Which was hard, considering the topic of our conversation.” His meaningful look reminded her of the marital concerns she had shared with him.
Feeling her own cheeks grow warm with embarrassment, she said softly, “This explains why Noah has been distracted lately. I feel like a fool now.”
“Don’t,” Daniel ordered, his brows lowering sternly. “A fool is someone who ignores warning signs.”
She kissed him again quickly before being pulled away to mingle. Noah had done an outstanding job, not only of putting over the surprise, but of planning a wonderful party. The chef of her favorite restaurant had prepared the food and was on hand to see that it was properly served. Champagne was poured liberally. The music got louder as the evening progressed, and, although it was a weeknight, guests stayed late. Eventually, however, they said their good nights.
Daniel was the last to leave. “Age has its benefits,” he told Maris and Noah at the door. “Not many, mind you, but a few. One is that you can get tipsy on a weeknight and sleep late in the morning because there’s nowhere you absolutely must be.”
Maris hugged him exuberantly. “I love you, Dad. And I learn something new about you every day.”
“For instance?”
“That you’re damn good at keeping secrets.”
“Watch your language, young lady, or I’ll have Maxine wash your mouth out with soap.”
“It wouldn’t be for the first time,” she said with a laugh. After another hug, she asked Daniel if he could manage the stairs all right.
“I got up here, didn’t I?” he growled querulously.
“Sorry I asked.” Even so, she motioned for Noah to accompany Daniel down. “Is a car waiting to take him home?”
“It’s at the curb,” Noah assured her. “I’ve already checked.”
“Good. Dad, remember I’ll have my cell phone with me in Georgia. I told Maxine to call—”
“And she will, the old busybody. Get me out of here, Noah. Please. Before Maris decides I’m ready for adult diapers.”
Noah guided him down the hallway toward the staircase. “I’ll be right back, darling,” he called to Maris. “I haven’t given you your present yet.”
“There’s more?”
“Just wait. And no snooping!”
Now that the apartment was empty of guests, she could see it well for the first time. Tall windows on the far wall of the living room overlooked the rooftop garden on the next building. The “stuff” was nice, but not as pricy as the “locksmith” had implied. There were pictures on the walls, and an area rug beneath the seating arrangement of chairs and sofas, but the emphasis was on functionality and comfort.
The galley kitchen was narrow, even by New York standards. Off the living room, a closed door led to what she assumed was a bedroom. She was making her way toward that door when hands seized her around the waist.
“I thought I told you not to snoop,” Noah said, nuzzling her ear.
“I didn’t know that I was. When are you going to tell me why you leased this apartment?”
“In good time. Be patient.”
“Is my present behind door number one?”
“Let’s take a look.” He walked her toward the door. “You may open it now.”
The room was a small cubicle, but a generous window made it appear larger. It was furnished with a desk, a leather swivel chair, and shelves only partially filled with books. It was further equipped with a telephone, a computer and printer, and a fax machine. A yellow legal tablet lay on the desk beside a metal pencil holder filled with sharpened pencils.
Maris took in every detail, then turned and looked at Noah.
He laid his hands on her shoulders and massaged them gently. “I know you’ve wondered about the late hours I’ve been keeping, as well as the unaccounted-for time I’ve spent away from home and office.”
“I confess.”
“I apologize for causing you to worry. I wanted this place to be completely set up before you saw it. It’s taken me weeks to get it ready. Months, if you factor in the time I spent searching for a suitable space.”
“A suitable space for what?”
“Well, not for conducting the illicit affair you thought I was having.”
She lowered her eyes. “Again, I confess.”
“With Nadia?”
“She topped the list of suspects.”
“Maris,” he said reproachfully.
She tossed her head back and shook out her hair, as though freeing herself of a burden. “God, I’m glad it’s not that.”
“Feel better?”
“Immeasurably. But, if this apartment wasn’t designated as a love nest, what did you lease it for?”
He ducked his head in what could only be described as shyness. “Writing.”
“Writing?” she repeated on a thin breath.
“That’s your anniversary present. I’ve begun writing again.”
For several moments she was too stunned to speak, then she threw herself against him. “Noah! That’s wonderful. When? What made you… You always get so defensive whenever I mention it. Oh, I’m thrilled. Thrilled!”
She rained kisses over his face. He laughed and indulged her enthusiasm. Finally he set her away, keeping her at arm’s length. “Don’t get carried away. I’ll probably fail miserably.”
“You won’t,” she said adamantly. “I don’t believe for a moment that you’re the one-book wonder you fear you are. The author of The Vanquished—”
“Which I wrote years ago, Maris, when I was full of passion, a young man with stars in his eyes.”
“And talent,” she stressed. “Talent like yours isn’t depleted by one book, Noah. It doesn’t simply disappear. On the contrary, I think it
ripens with age and experience.”
“We’ll see.” He glanced at the computer dubiously. “In any case, I’m willing to test your theory. I’m going to give it a shot.”
“You’re not just doing it for me, are you?”
“I couldn’t do it just for you. Writing is damn hard work. It’s borderline masochistic. If your heart’s not in it, you’re doomed before you start.” He rubbed his knuckles against her jaw. “This is something I want to do. Very much. And if it pleases you, that’s a bonus.”
“It pleases me very much. I couldn’t be more pleased.” She hugged him tightly, then kissed him with more heat than she could remember feeling for a long time.
As their lips clung, Noah slipped off his jacket. Her heart quickened. The surroundings were unfamiliar and untried. It would feel a shade illicit if they made love in this new apartment, on the sofa, on the rug. Hell, on the desk. Why not? They were grown-ups.
She slid her hands up his chest and began working on the knot of his necktie. But he moved her aside, sat down at the keyboard, and booted up the computer.
“I’m so anxious to get started.”
“Now?”
He swiveled his chair around and looked up at her, grinning sheepishly. “Do you mind? It’s taken me weeks to set up my new playground, but I haven’t had time to play in it. I barely got the finishing touches put on this afternoon before the chef and waiters arrived. I’d like to install my software and maybe jot down a few notes. I’ve been toying with an idea. I’m afraid if I don’t commit it to paper, it’ll vanish. Do you mind if I work awhile?”
She forced herself to smile. “No. Of course not. Not at all.”
There wasn’t to be a romantic conclusion to the evening, and that was disappointing. But, fairly, she couldn’t complain. This was what she had wanted. This was what she had been encouraging him to do for years.
“I’ll say good-bye and leave you to your work.”
“You don’t have to go, Maris. You can hang around if you like.”