by Susan Meier
“Bruce is taking me skating at Rockefeller Center today.”
Not wanting to be thought of as that sad girl anymore, Eloise pasted a smile on her face for her roommate. “Cool.”
“I might need to borrow that big navy blue parka of yours.”
“Sure.”
“You won’t be using it?”
“No.” She sighed. “We’re going to another formal party tonight.”
Laura Beth laughed. “Hey, I’d kill to go to even one of those parties. You’ve been to six or seven.”
“Bruce hasn’t asked you to one?”
Laura Beth’s face reddened and she busied herself with tidying the area around the sink. “No.”
Realizing her mistake, Eloise quickly said, “Well, be glad. They sort of get boring after a while. Repetitive.” Plus, when they danced, she wanted to melt in Ricky’s arms, but he held her two feet away.
She wouldn’t tell Laura Beth that, though. She wouldn’t be a “sad girl” with the puppy dog eyes anymore. “Usually, I’d spend the weekends before Christmas window shopping.” With her subway pass, she could get anywhere in the city and see all the decorations. But what she liked best was Central Park. She’d go there to watch the white horses pulling gilded carriages and dream about someday taking a carriage ride. But that was another one of those silly things she didn’t confide to her friends.
“This year, I’m so busy with Ricky and parties and making new gowns out of old ones that I haven’t done any of the things I like to do.”
And, today, the need to do something normal, to be herself, swelled in her like a tidal wave. She was losing herself in a man who didn’t want her. When he was gone, and he would be, she’d be even more alone than she felt now.
Laura Beth shook her head. “Everybody in New York can do what you want to do. This year you get to go to parties. Enjoy it.”
As Laura Beth left the room, Eloise squeezed her eyes shut as the truth bombarded her. The tidal wave that filled her with longing wasn’t to do something normal alone. It was to do something normal with Ricky. To go window shopping with him. To go on that carriage ride with him. To see the tree at Rockefeller Center with him. She wanted to do something normal with him because she wanted him to be normal with her. At the big formal balls, he could dodge her questions. Hell, he could dodge actually spending time with her just by talking to his friends or dancing.
And she was tired of having dinner with people she didn’t really know. Tired of not being allowed to let herself go when they danced. Tired of pretending to be happy.
But, most of all, she was tired of pretending it was okay that the whole world knew his past, his secrets, but she couldn’t know because he didn’t want it to affect how she treated him.
Didn’t he know her well enough yet to understand that she’d always treat him with respect?
Why didn’t he trust her?
That night when he arrived to pick her up, the insult of being the only one in his social circle who didn’t know his tragedy stiffened her muscles and put an icy tone in her voice.
He slid her cape on her shoulders, covering her silver dress. “You look great.”
She faced him and smiled, but her cheeks rebelled at the attempt to lift her mouth, and her smile was barely a curve of her lips. “Thank you.”
He opened the door. She led him into the hall and to the stairway. She said nothing as they walked down the steps, through the lobby and to the car. But she couldn’t very well walk past Norman without a greeting.
“Good evening, Norman.”
He touched the rim of his hat. “Evening, ma’am.”
She slid into the car. Ricky slid in behind her. Neither said a word.
He cleared his throat. “So...difficult day today?”
She continued to look out the window. “No. It was a normal day. A little house cleaning. A little sewing.”
“That’s right. You work on your clothes the day of a party.”
“Yes.”
“Well, that silver thing you’re wearing is really pretty.”
She wanted to tell him that she’d struggled not to make it a dress with a low back. She loved that style. But in the end, she’d decided to give it a full back for him. She knew he didn’t like having to touch her so much.
Her nerve endings caught fire. Two parties ago, he’d held her hand and brought her close, like somebody who liked her. They’d drunk tequila like silly friends, and he’d almost kissed her. Now they were back to being polite strangers.
Every time they took one step forward, he took two steps back. Tonight it cut through her like a knife, shredding her heart, bruising her soul. Even if he didn’t want to love her, he should like her. She’d been nothing but nice to him.
The car stopped at another posh condo building. She faced him. “This is a private residence?”
“Yes. Binnie and Dennis are hosting a small gathering.”
“I’m in a gown.”
He looked at her. His big, beautiful brown eyes were totally clueless.
She threw her hands in the air. “I am not going to a private party in a gown!” Tears pushed behind her eyelids and threatened to show themselves. She’d been so upset with him all day that this little incident was toppling her over the edge. The last thing she wanted was for him to see it.
She glanced around. “Look, just go alone. You’ll be fine. And I’ll be fine. I can get myself home. I’m not sure where the subway is, but I can find it.”
Before either Norman or Ricky could react, she shoved open her car door and jumped out.
He scrambled out after her. “Whoa! Whoa! Wait!”
“Forget it.”
The whole situation closed in on her. Smiling for people she didn’t know. Spending time with a guy who clearly didn’t like her back. And missed opportunities. Obvious times he could have kissed her or been kind to her that he’d backed away from. She’d poured her heart out to him, not just because the conversation lent itself to her being honest, but because she wanted him to know her.
But he didn’t want her to know him, and he certainly didn’t want to know her. He’d listened to her story with bare minimum curiosity, and when she was done talking he hadn’t consoled her. Leaving her empty. Feeling like no one. Nothing.
Who’d have thought going out with someone could make her so lonely?
Her arm suddenly jerked back and she was spun around.
“I made a mistake by not calling today to tell you what to wear. I’m sorry. We’ll go home. You can change.”
Her ridiculous tears spilled over. “It’s too late now. By the time we’d get back, they’d be halfway through dinner.” She swiped at her tears. “Just go. Go see your friends. Have fun.”
He tugged her arm to bring her closer. “At least let Norman take you home.”
Fresh tears flooded her eyes. Somewhere deep inside her, she’d hoped he’d take her home. Ignore what she said about going to the party without her and comfort her instead.
But that was stupid. He didn’t like her. He didn’t want to like her. She was a hired date. It was okay to be upset that she was in the wrong outfit, but she couldn’t be upset that he wasn’t giving something that wasn’t part of their deal.
Once again, she probably looked insane to him.
They walked to the car in silence, across the shiny rain-wet pavement. White Christmas lights adorned the trees lining the exclusive street. Huge evergreen wreaths with red and green plaid ribbons and shiny red Christmas balls decorated the double-door front entrance of Binnie and Dennis’s building.
When they reached the car, Ricky opened the door for her. She slid inside and he closed the door behind her.
The sound was so final that her heart beat out a fearful tattoo. What had she done? By not going to this dinner party with him, she
was proving he didn’t need her anymore. He could go alone.
She groaned. She needed the job going out with him could provide. She needed his connections. And now she was throwing it all away because she’d worn the wrong dress?
She leaned back on the seat. That wasn’t it. His not telling her about the party was a symptom of the bigger thing he wouldn’t tell her. His tragedy.
He’d called her a friend.
But he didn’t share his secrets.
And she liked him.
But most days he was only nice to her because he had to be. And he hadn’t cared when she’d told him her secrets.
Yet she liked him.
A lot.
Felt some kind of soul connection that he obviously didn’t feel.
That was the real humiliation. Longing for something that he didn’t see.
The limo door suddenly opened. Ricky slid inside.
She sat up. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking you home. I called Binnie and explained you weren’t feeling well and bowed out.”
“What?”
“I bowed out.” He studied her face. “I can see something’s really wrong.”
And he cared?
She sniffed. Hope tried to nudge in, but she reminded herself of the truth and quashed it. If he didn’t care that her husband had died and her parents had disowned her, he certainly wouldn’t want to know that she felt left out, rejected, because he wouldn’t confide in her. And she absolutely wouldn’t tell him that she was falling for him. That would be the ultimate humiliation.
Wiping her eyes, she stuck with the convenient. “It’s pretty bad to be the only woman in a gown at a dinner party. It would make me look stupid...clueless about social conventions.”
He winced. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine.”
Norman started the car and pulled out into the street.
Ricky settled back on the seat. “It feels weird to be going home.”
It didn’t to her. The sooner she got away from him, the sooner she could cry, call herself every kind of fool and splurge by drinking one of the precious cups of hot cocoa she’d squirreled away for nights like this.
“I mean, I’m dressed and you’re dressed.” He turned and caught her gaze. He smiled slightly. “Seems like a waste.”
“I can wear this dress tomorrow.” She glanced out the window, then faced him again. The crying might have been her fault. Might have been an overreaction. Might have made her look even more foolish than she already did to him. But forgetting to tell her how to dress? That was his fault. “Unless we’re going to a dinner party tomorrow.”
“I’ll check the invitation when I get home and call you.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
He cleared his throat. “I still don’t think we should just go home.”
“The deal was twelve parties.”
“I know. But missing one is sort of reneging on the deal.” He glanced at her. “If you enjoy them.”
She picked at her cape. “Sometimes I do.” When he was himself. A normal guy. Which, lately, wasn’t often.
“At least let me buy you dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
But even as she said the words her stomach growled.
“I think you are hungry.”
“Stop feeling sorry for me!” The shout was out before she could stop it. “For Pete’s sake! You hate people feeling sorry for you, so you should damn well understand I hate people feeling sorry for me!”
He grimaced. “Got it.”
Shame filled her again. She didn’t know why she was so emotional tonight, but she was. And she needed to get away from him.
She turned to the window and looked out at the city decorated for the holidays, the festive lights that seemed to be mocking her.
“So if you could go anywhere you wanted to tonight, where would it be?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”
“I always try to make up for my mistakes.”
So now she was a mistake? “Terrific.”
“Where would you want to go...if you could go anywhere you wanted?”
She was halfway tempted to tell him Paris just to shut him up. But what if he actually took her there? She wasn’t risking that. Imagine how much she could embarrass herself across the pond? No, thanks. Enough New Yorkers thought she was a sad girl with puppy dog eyes. She didn’t need to add Europeans to the list.
She scoured her brain for somewhere reasonable to tell him but somewhere he’d nonetheless refuse.
When it came to her, she smiled.
“What I’d really like is a carriage ride in Central Park.”
He sniffed. “It’s raining.”
“I know. Drat. Stupid suggestion.” She sighed. “Might as well just go home.”
He pulled out his cell phone. “Now, hold on. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He hit a button. “David? Can you do me a favor and arrange a carriage ride?” He paused, then laughed. “Right now, actually.” He paused again, waiting a minute or two before he said, “South entrance? Great. Thanks.”
“So it looks like we have a carriage.”
She gaped at him. “It’s raining!”
“It’s also what you want.”
She sighed. The one time she really and truly didn’t want him to be nice to her, when she wanted him to be his usual self-absorbed self so she could just go home and wallow in her own misery, he decided to be nice.
“I want the carriage ride on a sunny day or a warm night.” Now she sounded like a spoiled child. “Not a night when it’s raining.”
“We got a carriage with a roof. And they have blankets.”
He seemed so happily proud of himself that she had to fight not to roll her eyes. She wouldn’t talk him out of this, and she had always wanted to go for a carriage ride through Central Park. Might as well just enjoy it. She’d have plenty of time to wallow in misery on Christmas day.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He tapped the window to give Norman instructions. In ten minutes, the limo stopped.
The entire street sparkled with raindrops. Although there were no stars, the moon hung overhead, a bright round ball. White clouds rolled by, sometimes hiding it, but eventually it would appear again, as if smiling at her, telling her to relax, everything would be okay.
After a short chat with Norman, Ricky helped her onto the red seat of a white carriage, sat beside her and tucked the covers around her.
“You’re going to be cold in that cape.”
“I don’t care.” And suddenly she didn’t. She’d wanted one of these rides since she was a little girl. She would listen to the moon and not miss a minute of it.
As the horse-driven carriage clomped its way into Central Park, she huddled tightly under the blanket.
“So of all the places to go, things to do, why this?”
“Once when we drove past as kids, I almost had my dad talked into a ride. But my mother vetoed it at the last minute.”
“Oh. Sorry about that.”
“Not your fault.” She laughed. The brisk air filled her lungs. The shiny wet path sparkled like the road to a fairy-tale castle. “Besides, I’m here now.” She cuddled into the covers, leaned back and took a long drink of the fresh air again.
He pulled a bit of the blanket onto his lap. It wasn’t cold enough to snow, but it was wet, the kind of damp cold that seeped into bones. She didn’t blame him for wanting to cover up.
“I’ve never done this either.”
She peeked at him. The steady clip-clop of the horse’s hooves filled the dark, wet air. “Really?”
“Though I did bring my son here
...to Central Park.”
Ricky’s tongue tripped over the awkward words. He shouldn’t have mentioned Blake. All that did was open floodgates for questions. But tonight’s mistake had been big enough that she’d cried. She’d tried to hide it or stop it, but she’d lost the battle and he’d lost all control. He’d have given her every cent of his fortune to get her to stop.
A carriage ride was a small price to pay.
Before she could ask questions that would lead to answers he wasn’t ready to give, he added, “Blake loved it. It was summer.” He huddled more deeply under the blanket, bringing them closer together as they passed bare trees, shiny with cold rain that might turn to ice. “I took him to the carousel, but there are a bunch of baseball fields near there, and he went nuts when he saw them.” He laughed and shook his head. “It’s hard to tell an eighteen-month-old that he can’t play with the big kids.”
Her gaze stayed on his face, her expression curious but tempered. She’d wanted to know about his circumstances and he’d refused to tell her. She would recognize this was a huge concession.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’d thought about taking him on a carriage ride, but, luckily, he got tired and we went home.”
“You have a son?”
He shrugged, not able to tell her Blake had died, if only because he knew he couldn’t handle the pain remembering his son’s death would bring.
But he also felt oddly free that he’d spoken about his little boy. Because everyone was so silent about him, sometimes it felt as if he’d never existed. “Yeah.”
She caught his gaze, examined his face and said, “You and his mother aren’t together?”
He shook his head. “No. We were essentially strangers who created a child.” He winced. “We sound like terrible people. We weren’t.”
She put her hand on his sleeve. “I get it. No need to explain.”
He suddenly wished with all his heart that he could explain, that he could talk about his son, his baby. He longed to reminisce about good times. To remember his little boy fondly. To laugh.
But all those things did was remind him that, in the end, he hadn’t had what it took to be a father.
He shook that off. He’d have plenty of time for guilt on Christmas morning. “So, anyway, she’s part of the reason the search engine I created is so thorough. The system was already in beta testing when she told me she was pregnant. Her pregnancy caused me to add a few more rules to an already elaborate algorithm.”