Four days later, Aaron returned home in the afternoon. He wasn’t in the best of moods because even though the deal had been successful, it had required a lot of unnecessary negotiations. There were few things more wearisome to him than having to socialize and lay on the false charm. He detested that aspect of business—absolutely loathed being in the company of wealthy, high-minded despots, who traveled about in limousines and Lear jets and turned their noses up at the very people whose burdened backs allowed them to be in their lofty positions.
In truth, Avian International didn’t need the contract at all. The small islands scattered between Mozambique and Madagascar were just a tiny feather in their huge cap, but the territory was strategically significant to Avian’s covert operations division. The more access Global Defense Forces had to foreign airspace and shipping lanes, the better. And this was the last and final one sought.
Desiring to find privacy at home, Aaron touched the doorknob and heard the sound of voices inside. Valerie had company. Frowning, he fought the instinct to turn around and go straight to his much more spacious Manhattan apartment, but he realized that he was going to have to start thinking more as a couple than as an individual. He fumbled in his pocket for the key, couldn’t find the right one, and knocked instead.
“Aaron!” Valerie exclaimed, opening the door and enfolding him in a welcoming embrace as they stood in the tiny foyer. “I was worried about you.”
“That wasn’t necessary.” He held her close, breathing in her subtly citrus scent of hair shampoo and exotic perfume.
“But I was expecting you yesterday.”
“The business took longer than planned.”
“You didn’t even call. And you know I can’t reach you.”
“Valerie,” he said tersely.
He felt that she was crossing the line and being way too intrusive.
As they stepped into the living room, Aaron saw that the visitors were not strangers but Noah’s wife Jasmine and their obnoxious younger kid.
“It’s good to see you, Aaron,” Jasmine said with a genuine smile. “Major lifestyle change since we last talked, huh?”
Aaron nodded wryly. “I suppose you could say that.”
“Well, I’m not about to interfere with newlyweds. We’re getting ready to leave soon.”
“Don’t rush on my account.”
“No…seriously. I have to pick up my daughter from school in about an hour anyway.”
He nodded and then smirked as the brat, Diego, who had been lying on the floor noisily flinging toy cars all over the living room, literally froze in position and then started to tremble. In his peripheral vision, he saw the kid stand shakily and back away from him, creeping cautiously to the couch where he sat down quietly and hid his face. Aaron ignored him, said a few more words to Jasmine, and then vanished down the hall to the bedroom.
He yanked off his tie and tossed it on the bed. Even temporarily living here was not going to work. The room seemed claustrophobic, which was odd because he felt none of that when he was in the cramped quarters of Saniyah II. Of course, there was the knowledge that the vastness of the sea surrounded him, whereas here the walls were so thin, he could hear voices—not only Jasmine and Valerie’s from the living room, but conversations and music from neighboring tenants as well. And now he could hear the resumed shrieks of Noah’s brat, who had recovered from his trauma and was laughing and running amuck.
He changed into casual clothes, emptied the contents of his briefcase on the bed, and began to sort through the pages of a portfolio, but he couldn’t concentrate. All he could hear was Jasmine saying over and over again, “Don’t do that, Diego. Stop it, Diego. Sit down, Diego.” The kid would be quiet for two seconds and then resume his annoying behavior. Aaron slammed the briefcase shut and looked at his watch. A mere fifteen minutes had passed. He stalked back into the living room and nearly collided with the tiny culprit, who had both arms extended, and was spinning wildly around. The child gasped in alarm upon seeing him, stopped in mid-spin, and staggered dizzily, nearly toppling to the floor. Aaron caught him, steadied him, and then lifted him and plunked him down none too gently on the couch beside Jasmine. “Stay!” he commanded fiercely.
Valerie stared at him in mortified surprise and Jasmine blinked, indicating slight embarrassment, but she didn’t jump to the defense of her stepson, who sat rigid with his lip trembling and his eyes squeezed shut, tears dribbling from the slits. Aaron went to the kitchen without saying anything else.
“Sorry about that,” Valerie mouthed, appalled.
Jasmine shrugged. “Don’t apologize. Diego just got his pride wounded, that’s all.”
Diego, still whimpering, burrowed his head against Jasmine’s arm and put his thumb in his mouth.
“It’s okay,” Jasmine whispered to him. “Next time remember to do what I tell you.”
And for the remainder of the visit, Jasmine and Valerie resumed their conversation without a peep from Diego, who remained seated like a perfect little gentleman.
***
“Aaron, do you mind telling me what that was all about with you and Diego?”
“I didn’t hurt him,” Aaron said, seated at the table, focusing on the food in his plate.
“I know you didn’t, but the way you treated him was just so…so harsh.”
“That kid is out of control, and he needs discipline.”
“Well, I agree, but he’s a little boy, not a puppy, and it disturbs me that he’s so terrified of you.”
“So I’ll never make father figure of the year. Is that a problem?”
Valerie shook her head. Diego wasn’t their child. They would never have one, so why did it matter? Jasmine certainly hadn’t seemed upset by what had happened. Yet it bothered her that she was discovering more and more unflattering things about Aaron—things she knew she should have known and worked out before they got married. Was she regretting their decision? No. She still wanted him as badly as she had in the beginning, but she was becoming more nervous about what else was going to come out.
Aaron seemed totally oblivious to her thoughts, and he was also being particularly uncommunicative. He had been gone for four days to a foreign country and one would think he would have a lot to talk about. Why did he always force her to pry everything out of him?
“So how did your business deal go?”
“It went.”
Incredible. Valerie stood up and put her plate in the sink. She left him alone in the kitchen and went out to the living room to sit on the couch. Was she overreacting? Maybe. Was it wrong to want to have a conversation with her husband? No, it definitely was not. Flouncing back into the kitchen, she swiped Aaron’s plate from under him and was rewarded with such a startled, baffled expression that it was hilarious.
“What are you doing?” he asked, fork suspended in mid-air. “I’m not finished.”
Valerie laughed. “Are you going to bite me? Animals have been known to do that when someone gets between them and their meal.”
Aaron sat up straight and folded his arms across his chest. “Would you like me to bite?”
“No. But I would like you to talk. Where I come from, families actually have conversations over meals.” She set the plate back in front of him again.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Things, Aaron. Things.” She sat down at the table again. “I’ve decided what to do with the Allard money, for one.”
Did she see an eye roll then? She continued. “I’m setting up a trust for Gordon Allard’s grandson. I went to visit Martha Cates and…”
“You visited her?”
Yes, she definitely had Aaron’s full attention now. His eyebrows were knitted together in a scowl.
“I went to visit her,” she repeated, “and found out that she’s a perfectly innocent grandmother raising a young boy who’s not a delinquent. He gets good grades in school, enjoys going to church, and, what’s more, he even resembles his grandfather.”
“Sho
uldn’t you be checking out real estate instead of cruising around paying visits to strangers?”
Annoyed by his sarcasm, Valerie glared at him. “You’ve got some nerve. I am checking out real estate with no help from you, thank you. And I just took a few hours out of one day to cruise to Rockland County, which isn’t even that far.”
He stood up, pushed the chair back, and emptied the remains of his plate into the garbage. “We’ll be moving to Manhattan over the weekend,” he said. “This apartment is too small for the both of us, but you should keep it just in case.”
Valerie froze. Move to Manhattan? Keep the apartment? The way he had abruptly switched topics alarmed and confused her. “What are you talking about? Keep the apartment in case of what?”
“In case you have need for it.”
“Why would I have need for it?”
His expression was evasive. “In the event that you don’t want to join me in Manhattan, you’ll have the option of staying here when I’m away.”
Valerie stood up and took hold of his arm. “You’re angry, aren’t you? Angry that I went to see Mrs. Cates.”
“I’m not angry, but you could have given some indication that that’s what you planned to do.”
She stepped away from him and threw up her hands. “I didn’t plan it. Okay? Some things just happen. You can’t plan exactly how you’re going to react in every situation. We’re all human and we’re all individuals. Maybe getting involved with those people wouldn’t have been your decision, but I’m not you.” She took a deep breath. “And as my husband, I don’t recall you ever saying clearly that I shouldn’t.”
She had him there. She knew she did. He hadn’t given her a direct ultimatum. He had merely assumed that she would sense his position and not pursue it.
“And also while we’re on this subject, you had no right to change my phone number without even telling me,” she continued.
Realizing that he had no verbal defense for that remark, either, Aaron concealed an escaping smile with one hand and reached out with the other to pull her close to him. “I apologize,” he said huskily. “And Manhattan’s really not that bad. You might even like it.”
What am I going to do with you? Valerie thought, once again allowing herself to be lulled into his embrace and sated with his kiss. Why is it that even though I might win the battle of words, you somehow always win the war?
***
Valerie’s first encounter with the Manhattan loft left her speechless. The place was beyond spacious, and so expertly appointed and designed that it seemed more for show than habitation. It boasted gleaming hardwood floors, a huge living room with expensive dark leather furnishings, a modern island kitchen with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops, a small library stocked with law books, maps, and atlases, and a beautiful bathroom in onyx and gold, with a sunken-in tub and Jacuzzi. The hallway was lined with well-placed paintings of Central Park scenes in summer and autumn—Aaron’s own works. And the master bedroom was enormous. There were also three additional rooms, one of which he used to store art supplies. Last, but not least, there was a small gym with workout equipment.
To sum it all up, Aaron’s apartment was a man’s place, designed for a man, but not by him. He told her he had neither the time nor the patience to decorate, so he had hired an interior designer. Looking around, Valerie admired the aesthetics and the space, but the clinical, museum-like coldness she absorbed from the atmosphere unsettled her.
When the theatrical curtains were drawn back in the living room, there was an awesome panoramic view of the metropolis, but all she could think about was the view he might have had if he had been home when the planes crashed into the twin towers. She stood near the windows, transfixed by the patch of blue gray from the distant Hudson River.
“Impressive, no?” Aaron said, standing beside her.
“Very.” She stifled an involuntary shudder, knowing instinctively that he had not been home on September 11. Had he been, he probably would have been among the heroes who perished that day.
“What are you thinking?” Aaron asked.
She slipped her arm around his waist. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”
Now she felt an urgency to find a house that would speak of home to both of them.
***
Sunday morning, Valerie went to church in Manhattan, rather than drive across the bridge to her old congregation. Aaron, who actually had nothing important scheduled to do that day, gave her one of his looks and declined when she invited him to accompany her. No surprise there. She left him sprawled out in the living room checking out the real estate section of the New York Times.
When she returned, they visited a realtor and went house shopping. The time spent on grand tours of available homes in the metro area was interesting to her, but unproductive. Aaron found it wearisome. He was bored out of his mind—so bored that she was both amused and irritated by his attitude. He accused her of being too picky.
Of course there were some decadently beautiful houses in their price range, particularly in the Connecticut area. But Valerie did not find McMansions appealing. She was convinced that she would immediately know their house when she saw it, and so far none of them had struck the right chord. The day was a washout and she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to cajole Aaron into accompanying her on such a mission again. She had learned one thing, though. He honestly did not care. The choice was totally up to her.
“I’m sorry for putting you through this, but I just know the right house is out there. We just haven’t seen it yet,” Valerie said as Aaron drove on the Long Island Expressway, heading back home.
“Why does this have to be so difficult?” he asked. “You don’t like anything, and it’s not that we’re on a tight budget.”
She sighed. “You didn’t seem impressed by anything we saw, either.”
“The one in Greenwich was nice.”
“That was a barn, Aaron.”
“It was a restored carriage house. The place had a lot of land.”
“We’re not going to live on the land, and you never said you wanted to have horses.”
“What’s wrong with horses?”
She laughed in spite of herself and patted him on the shoulder. “Nothing. I love horses, but one thing at a time.”
Snow flurries were tumbling from the sky when they neared a familiar exit sign, and a flash of sentimental nostalgia hit her. She nudged Aaron. “Could you exit here, please?”
He obliged, and they soon found themselves on a local back road entering the seaside town of Lobster Bay. “Where are we going?” he asked warily.
“I know you’re going to think I’m cuckoo, but humor me. I just want to look at Mr. Allard’s house to see what’s going on there.”
Aaron groaned. “Haven’t you had enough of that place?”
“Please. I know it’s crazy.”
“As you like.” He shrugged.
They cruised into the empty circular driveway, which still contained traces of last month’s snowstorm. Valerie stared up at the abandoned house, which managed to maintain its towering elegance despite appearing as gray, depressed, and forlorn as it had the day she and Jasmine had gone by to pick up the books. Only now there was a slight difference. Even though there was no for-sale sign, the house looked wistful, as though waiting for the resurgence of spring and, with the season of rebirth, the hope of a new owner.
Transfixed, she reached out to touch Aaron to make sure he was still there.
“Can we go now?” he asked with boyish urgency.
Valerie laughed as his odd tone of voice shook her out of her trance. Aaron whining? Imagine that.
“I wonder why there’s no for-sale sign?” she said.
He yawned. “Maybe the nephew decided to keep it.”
“Why would he? He’s from England, remember?”
“Probably intends to rent it out.”
“Aaron.” She hesitated for a second. “Do you think we could possibly find
out what’s going on with the house?”
He inhaled deeply and looked her in the eyes. “You really are a crazy woman. You would actually consider living in this house, wouldn’t you?”
Valerie bit her lip. He was right. She was being crazy. But, yes. She had always loved the house, felt drawn to it, and everything about the place spoke to her. In her mind’s eye, she could see the estate restored to its original grandeur.
“Sorry, I forgot to tell you that insanity runs in my family. Yes, I do like this house, and if it’s for sale and it was up to me, I’d buy it in a heartbeat.”
Aaron seemed taken by her enthusiasm. “In that case, I guess we’ll just have to find out what the status is. Tomorrow I’ll check, but don’t get your hopes up.”
Valerie said nothing. She simply turned and kissed him. He smiled and her heart skipped a beat. That tentative slow burn of a grin got her all the time, because it was like a puff of smoke that always vanished so quickly that it left her wondering if it had really been there at all.
“Love you,” she whispered, after he returned her kiss.
“Now let’s get out of here before some neighbor calls the police and we’re accused of trespassing,” he said.
“Imagine that,” Valerie said, as he pulled the car out of the driveway. “Someone might mistake us for teenagers making out near an abandoned house.”
Aaron was not amused.
Chapter 19
Upon consulting with the lawyers, Aaron discovered that Gordon Allard’s nephew, John Larsen, did intend to put the house up for sale, but he had run into problems. The house was a white elephant. It needed a lot of repairs and he had put off his decision until the summer, when he could come back to the U.S. for a longer period of time.
When the information was related to Valerie, she was disappointed that there would be a long delay. Aaron could see that she had her heart set on the house. Personally, he didn’t understand her obsession at all and thought it was bordering on ridiculous, but he wanted her to be happy, so, without telling her, he obtained John Larsen’s phone number and gave him a personal call. Larsen turned out to be a reasonable sort and they discussed the property over the phone. In the end, they negotiated a deal that worked for both of them. John Larsen was overjoyed to unload the house as-is, and was well satisfied with Aaron’s lump sum bid. A team of lawyers handled the paperwork and, in record time, Aaron had the deed and the white elephant belonged to them.
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