Suddenly a shriek and a wild burst of laughter erupted over the line.
“Liv? Livvie? You okay?”
Her answer came in breathless spurts, as if she were running an uneven race. “Yes…fine…I see a whole collection of squirt guns, and…I just became…a target. Nicholas, you little rat, you! Wait till I get hold of your bony frame!”
From a thousand miles away, Jeff could only smile in rueful sympathy. “One of the relatives?”
“Definitely one of the relatives, they’re all over the place, like a swarm of ants.”
At the moment, it sounded heavenly. A state to which he could only dream of attaining.
“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll let you go, then, so you can head over and wring the kid’s neck.”
“Bet on it. Bye, Jeff. Thanks for touching bases with me.”
His third call, built of more substance, was made a couple weeks after that, at ten o’clock on a normal business morning. “Hi, Liv. Am I catching you at a bad time?”
Her voice sounded amused. “No, actually I’m free for a bit. We haven’t had much luck connecting recently, have we?”
“All a matter of scheduling, I suppose. Listen, I’ve been working on your portfolio and would like to propose a few changes, as far as the various funds your money is allotted to. Any chance you and I could get together soon, and go over the figures?”
“Hmmm. How urgent is this?”
“Well, not drop-dead urgent, to where you’ll lose whatever you have invested. But you should consider a date in the next couple of weeks. I’d like to run this by you.”
“And I’d like to have you run this by me,” she countered in tones more flirtatious, more appealing, than anything he’d heard in quite some time. His loins automatically, shamefully, quickened. “Okay, let me look at my calendar, here…” A pause, as she considered and suggested. Then both settled on a date mutually acceptable.
“Good. I have some other clients in the same situation, and when this new option came along, it seemed ideal. See you then, Livvie. Looking forward to it.”
Jeff hung up his phone feeling more complete, more alive, more downright satisfied, than he had in weeks.
What was going on?
For the ten years since his graduation from Harvey Benton College, he had spared no thought whatsoever to the girl he had loved and lusted after and then, once acquired, dumped so unceremoniously. After the holidays, with the arrival of second semester, had come a change of classes, and he had caught only infrequent glimpses of her around campus. Nor, feeling a vague sense of disquiet, had he pursued her. Olivia Bower had become part of his past, and he expected her to remain there.
Yet, now, here she was, appearing back in his life after a long absence, and Jeff was finding himself intrigued. He was remembering their time together, brief though it was, with fondness and regret. How so? Colored, perhaps, by nostalgia? Many other women, more beautiful, more winsome, more endowed, had slipped in and out of his bed since then. One of whom was his wife.
Why, then, this unfamiliar yearning to recreate what was already over and done with? What held this particular girl apart from all the rest?
He wasn’t sure. At the moment, there could be no way to pinpoint the elusive something that had captured his imagination. He knew only that he wanted to see her again.
For some while, he had had little contact with Annajane. Though they occupied the same four walls and the same lavish acreage, each occupied his or her own separate sphere. Jeff’s was, of course, professional, taking him from early morning to late evening, with few breaks in between; Annajane’s encompassed anything and everything that catered to personal comfort: luxurious day spa treatments, leisurely shopping at the finest stores, exquisite dining for lunch and dinner or a midnight soirée. To none of which was her husband invited, since Roger Kendricks, as her current familiar, delighted in providing escort wherever necessary.
Jeff was finding it hard to care. Occasionally a friend would call, to check in and see how he was doing. After all, the Quinleys had been active socially at a host of events, and fellow attendees were anxious to keep in their good graces. Then would come the invitation for a casual get-together—a drink at some favorite pub, perhaps, or an outing with several couples. Depending upon the identity of the caller, Jeff accepted if he were in the mood for companionship. If not, and especially if he were to include Annajane in any plans, he begged off, pleading the pressures of work.
It was becoming a somewhat lonely, almost monastic, yet not altogether unsatisfying, life.
He had taken to staying in town, at his club, a couple nights a week. More convenient, less driving time, and certainly fewer questions from anyone around, especially a curious staff.
As a change of routine, he decided to return to the house, after all, one Friday night late in July. His stopover at a posh bar and grill had left him, after several malt whiskeys and a steak dinner, feeling oddly at loose ends and craving the comfort of home.
And, if it weren’t too much to ask, the comfort of a woman’s loving touch. He and Annajane had been out of sync for so long; perhaps she was finally ready for both to make amends and take up marriage again as a serious effort. The situation they were presently enduring was for the birds, and he was tired of it. He wanted his castle, he wanted his wife, and, by God, he wanted a baby.
That was reasonable enough, wasn’t it? Maybe they could patch things up tonight, and then get started on that last item right away. Or could the hope of a child be just another pipe dream, incited by someone still gullible enough to fall for the possibility?
No matter. It was worth a try. Anything worth doing was worth a try.
Solid food and coffee had worked enough magic to ease the slight buzz of too much liquor, and he felt perfectly safe climbing into his Jaguar to the hour’s drive out to the suburbs. At eleven o’clock, it was late enough for the heavier traffic to have thinned, and most of the area cops would be policing roads closer to the city instead of his own quiet neighborhood.
Or, so he told himself, just before the blinding lights and a siren’s wail from behind pulled him off to the side of the street, a mere few blocks from his destination.
One expensive ticket for excessive speed and a stern warning later, he grumbled his way around the circular driveway of his well-lighted house and into the garage. Sure, sure, he should be thanking his lucky stars that the officer hadn’t performed a breathalyzer test. Or allowed him to speak out in protest. Otherwise, given his increasingly foul mood, he might be spending the rest of his night in the local calaboose.
Jeff paused in the library only long enough to pour another helping of his favorite spirits. This was the smoothest of Kentucky bourbons, that slid like warm silk from its decanter down into the glass. Then, dumping his suit coat onto a nearby chair and jerking free the polka dot tie that had been strangling him since early morning, he headed up the stairs.
Only a single small chandelier burned in the hall outside the master suite he so seldom shared with Annajane.
Inside the room, however, plenty of lights blazed, from doorway to marble bath to window seat and back. Enough for anyone of even fading vision or doubting eyes to see the golden form of his wife, luscious and naked and slumbering away in dreamland, sprawled next to the equally naked but hardly so luscious hairy form of Roger Kendricks.
For a strained, painful moment Jeff was aware only of incidentals as his brain processed what his heart had refused to believe. The tap of a wayward maple branch against a shutter. The soft, reassuring whoosh of cooled air issuing forth from the vent. The distant boom-boom of car speakers turned up to full blast as the car’s owner cruised past.
Worse, the subtle reek of drink and drugs that hung in the air like a miasma.
Then he moved, with the speed and force of a rampaging tiger.
Overtaken from inside out by sickening, pulsating rage, he let out a roar, crossed the room in a few furious strides, and grabbed his rival by one bare arm to haul him flat
out of bed and onto the floor. There the man lay, still groggily coming awake from torpor, until Jeff raised one foot to plant a size eleven oxford hard and squarely on his unappealing bare backside.
“Get out, you filthy whoring son of a bitch!” he snarled in a terrible voice that even he could not recognize as his own. “Get the hell away from my wife and out of my house!”
For emphasis, the foot gave an ungentle thrust that sent the scrambling Kendricks forward and once again flat on his face.
By now Annajane, too, had roused, languidly, and with the sort of glazed expression that gave no hint of lucidity. “Jefferson? Jeff, what—what on earth are—you—doing here—?”
He turned himself and his wrath upon her. “I live here, remember? God damn you, I live here!”
All remained still and silent for a timeless pause, like three figures captured in a bell jar. Then, almost comically, Kendricks crawled away to fumble with clothing while Jeff, breathing fast, watched as impassively as possible. Annajane, as an apparently disaffected observer, simply chose to draw an Egyptian cotton sheet up over her nakedness.
“Bye, Roger,” she chirped, when her lover had finally put himself together and begun to limp away.
Jeff glared at her.
With a shamefaced glance thrown back over his shoulder, Kendricks still had the audacity to flip a casual hand in her direction. “We’ll talk, Annie,” he promised.
“Over my dead body,” growled Jeff.
Chuckling, Annajane settled herself more comfortably against the pillows. “Oh, Jefferson, poor benighted soul. Have you forgotten the rules?”
Downstairs, the front door slammed shut; they two were alone now, in this magnificent room still odorous of spilled booze and raunchy sex. Somewhere outside, an owl hooted. Fitting.
Jeff, suddenly too exhausted even to stand, collapsed onto a crepe de chine slipper chair and leaned forward with his head in his hands. He ached all over, as if with a bad case of flu, and queasiness roiled his insides to the point of actual sickness.
Yet, while he fought to recover equilibrium, one part of him fervently wished he had laid out a few roundhouse punches onto his unsuspecting rival, given him a black eye and a fat lip and a good strong blow to the gut.
Shock, he realized dazedly. Buzzing in his ears, nerve ends tingling, blood running like frozen fire through his veins: all the symptoms of shock.
Almost from some mountain top miles away, where he could look down upon these poor paltry humans, he was dimly aware that Annajane was speaking. There was the soft thunk of a cigarette box being opened, the flick and sizzle of a lighter being struck, the inhalation and long slow exhalation of smoke.
“Well, that was a pretty scene,” she finally said with amusement.
Astounded, he managed to glance up. Surely even she could not take this so lightly!
“Really, Jeff,” the pause for another leisurely drag, “how could you embarrass me like that?”
“Embarrass you. Embarrass you!”
Her golden hair tumbled enticingly down over her golden shoulders. A harlot’s pose. Slowly she shook her head back and forth, as if in wonderment for his naiveté. “Dear me. Did you really think my pathetic Roger was the only one?”
A burn like battery acid had begun eating away at the pit of the stomach. Abruptly he felt very old, and very tired, and utterly without purpose.
With the movements of a man far past his prime, Jeff rose to his feet. “I can’t talk to you anymore right now,” he told her quietly. “I’ll call you—later. Sometime—later. For tonight and—I don’t know, for a while—I’ll be at—my club…”
As he dragged himself toward the doorway, her mocking laughter followed his every step.
*
“Good afternoon, Miss Bower.”
“Oh, Patty, just Livvie, please.” Olivia, greeting the secretary at her desk, laughed comfortably as she repeated her own firm’s title. “I feel as if we should be on a first-name basis, for as often as I’m in and out of this place.”
The admin chuckled. “I know, but, honestly, it’s no more often than many of Jeff’s clients. Some of them who have been really worried about their investments show up here at least once a week. And call even more often. Love the new hat, by the way.”
Mid-August called for a cute and casual straw boater, decked out in patriotic striped ribbon with a garnish of cheerful red poppies. All of which matched the saucy navy and white patterned top and full knee-length skirt. Summer wear: fun, cool, and flirty.
“Thanks, I appreciate any and all compliments! This is a new little number, and I decided to test-drive it today.”
Smiling, Patty deliberately looked her up and down. “Well, I’d say it’s a smashing success. If it’s listed at your online shop, I’ll order one for myself. You can go on inside—uh—Livvie. Jeff is waiting for you.”
He rose politely, as always, upon her entrance. But there was no lighting of the somber blue eyes at the outfit she’d chosen especially for this meeting; and there was no show of dimples in the smile he offered. Nor, more peculiarly yet, any compliment on the becoming hat that he would have previously taken pride in noticing.
Only formality. With an almost stern, detached expression.
“Liv,” he said. “Good to see you. Thanks for coming in today. Please—have a seat.”
It was Friday afternoon. Again. But this time he couldn’t be blamed for falling back on this particular day or time, as he had in the past, since Olivia herself had suggested it.
For a long, drawn-out moment, while he put his papers in order and found a pen, she studied him with concern. What had happened to this man during the past few weeks since their last encounter? New lines had appeared in a formerly youthful face, incoming sunshine picked out a few flecks of silver showing up in his brown hair, and enough pounds had disappeared from his athletic frame to give the effect of gauntness.
Such a drastic change in physical appearance could only mean a drastic change in physical circumstances, as well.
“Jeff,” she said quietly, gaining his attention. “Are you okay?”
His slightly lopsided smile tore straight across her heart. “Sure. Are you?”
“Peachy-keen. But you look—”
A shrug interrupted her. “Just busy, Liv. Here, scoot your chair closer so you can look things over. This is the new program we’re offering that I think will give you a better return on your investment.”
He went on to describe the advantages, as well as the disadvantages, possible percentages involved, and various details pertinent to her particular account. For some brief while he offered charts and diagrams that she could peruse, and pointed out this fund or that fund, whether domestic or overseas, and its rate of growth.
Finished at last, Olivia sat back in her chair with a long indrawn breath and a roll of the eyes. “I’m impressed, Jeff. Definitely impressed. But you must realize I hardly understood a word of what you were telling me.”
“I’m sorry, I tend to get carried away. I guess it just comes down to your gut feeling about all this information. If it makes sense to you, and you feel comfortable, then we can institute some changes. If you feel in over your head, then we’ll definitely wait.”
Perplexed and undecided, she merely bit her lip in thought for a bit before finally admitting, “Frankly, most of this is beyond me. But I think I feel comfortable enough to leave it in your hands, Jeff. So please go ahead and make those adjustments to my accounts.”
“Very good. I appreciate your trust in me, Livvie. Now, if I can just have you sign some paperwork…here, and here…and once more, there. Done.”
“Well, that wasn’t nearly as painful as I was afraid it might be,” she smiled, returning his pen. “Nor as time-consuming, or as involved. I can face the weekend now with a light heart.”
“Face the weekend. Huh.” Briefly he toyed with a paper clip. For Jeff, normally so economical of movement, the fidgeting seemed uncharacteristic. “Special plans?”
&
nbsp; Olivia tilted her head, with its charming little hat, slightly to one side to survey him, crinkling her nose in a spirit of playfulness that, surprisingly, was not shared. “I don’t know yet. Kinda waiting to see if some plans—gel. And you?”
A spasm of something quite painful to watch suddenly crossed his face. “Nothing special.” Without warning he tossed aside the paper clip, that was now bent completely out of its original shape, and rose. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to the door.”
“Oh.” Astonished, disappointed, she came slowly to her feet just as he reached her side. “But, you see, Jeff, I—”
“Don’t!” he ordered fiercely, in a rough voice more like a tiger’s growl than his own. “Whatever you were about to say, stop right there. This is not a good time right now, and I have to—I can’t make—I’ll never be able to—”
“Jeff.” Her tone was reproachful, her touch light but compelling as she placed her hand on his arm. “Whatever is wrong, won’t you tell me? I’m a great listener.”
For the past week, ever since that devastating discovery in his own house—in his own bed!—he had been living under an inordinate amount of strain. Keeping his business together and clients satisfied took top priority at the moment. Still, layered underneath every one of his attempted accomplishments was not the support system he had hoped for, but the crumbling foundation of a marriage that apparently never was.
He had yet to call Annajane to discuss any plans for the future, as promised. Nor, for that matter, had she called him. The whole ugly issue of a sordid affair—one more of many, from what she had inferred—lay festering, needing to be lanced, needing to be cleaned, needing to be disposed of. Was he ready for that final step? Emotionally, financially, was he ready to call it quits and move on?
Not without a lot of turmoil.
One does not easily dissolve a marriage, especially where great wealth and expansive estates are involved. Not to mention five years of a union and what he had once thought to be a common goal.
Jeff’s expressive face might have crumpled with anguish at Olivia’s question. Instead, an almost imperceptible hardening of his features took place, as if to match a hardening of resolve. This far you may go, and no farther, seemed the implied warning. No trespassing on private preserve. Because it hurts.
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