Dennis served the dinner. Tina had prepared a seared rib-eye on a bed of arugula and roasted peppers with roasted Russian fingerling potatoes. In a separate dish on the side was roasted asparagus with a light balsamic sauce. As usual, Tina had outdone herself. The meal was elegant. Charles and Lauren were still sipping the new Italian red wine when Dennis served the tiramisu for dessert.
Lauren laughed as she picked up her silver dessert fork. “Oh, Dennis! Tell Tina this is fantastic! Charles, this is just decadent!”
“Maybe we should have skipped the main course and gone straight for dessert,” Charles said jovially. “Let’s take it out onto the balcony and enjoy the night air.”
Lauren followed Charles through the living room, out the regal French windows, and onto the rooftop garden. They sat in the comfortable garden chairs and looked out over the city. It was nearly nine o’clock. The well-appointed outdoor lighting, automatically set to turn on at dusk, suddenly flooded the rooftop with soft light. Lauren looked up at the sky. She could not see the stars. Her brow furrowed, and she set her tiramisu down on the little wrought iron table beside her chair. She stood up and wandered over to lean on the garden wall. She could see the traffic below, the lights on the yellow cabs. Sirens blared from different places around the city, and the night was punctuated with occasional shouts and music. The air was slightly pungent with the odor of carbon emissions and something sour. Lauren could not help but focus on just last night, when she and Caleb had sat on the steps of the porch. In her mind, she could smell the roses and newly mown grass. She could hear the bullfrogs. She could taste the heady, grain flavor of the cold beer.
“Something wrong, darling?” she heard Charles say. She turned around. He was lounging in the chaise. He had taken off his jacket and tie, rolled up his sleeves, and opened the collar of his shirt. He was the picture of wealthy sophistication. Nothing could touch him. He commanded respect. No event that was in any way important took place without his receiving an invitation, from long-standing charity dinners to presidential inaugurations. And he had picked her, Lauren Smith, with no background whatsoever, except an old house in New England. She smiled fondly at him.
“Oh, no, Charles,” she said, walking over and taking a seat on the edge of his chaise. She played with the gold band of his watch. “Explain to me about your business again. I feel I don’t fully understand that part of you, and since I’m going to be your wife, I guess I better understand all of you.”
Charles gave a little chuckle and squeezed Lauren’s hand. “Don’t worry yourself about it, Lauren.”
“No, really, Charles, I need to understand your business. Tell me again.”
Charles sat up in the chaise and set his drink down. He took both of Lauren’s hand in his own. “Nice ring,” he said humorously. “Your boyfriend must be rich.”
“He is,” said Lauren flippantly. “Now you tell me how he got that way.”
“Okay,” sighed Charles, giving in at last. “As I’ve explained to you before, I own Beckinsale Industries. Beckinsale is a holding company, meaning that it is the parent company of several smaller companies. This makes it much easier to work internationally, worldwide.”
“How many smaller companies is Beckinsale the parent of?”
“That varies depending on what type of business we’re involved with at the time, or whoever we’re doing business with at the time. We can change our companies to fit a country’s specific laws or needs depending on which product or service they buy from Beckinsale.”
“What is the product you sell?”
“We sell various products directly, and our brokered sales exceed our direct sales. Some companies sell the actual product, and some companies are brokerages and arrange deals. Their income is based on percentages of sales. Right now we’re negotiating a merger between Beckinsale and Chong Industries in Singapore.”
“What products do you sell?” Lauren rephrased her question.
Charles let go of her hands and adjusted his watch on his wrist. He stood up, picked up his drink, and walked the length of the rooftop garden and back. Lauren sat still, watching him, waiting.
“Well, we broker currency, for instance, all over the world. One of our companies sells bridges.”
“Bridges?”
“Yes, actual bridges. All the steel parts you need to build a bridge across any chasm you want.”
“And?”
“We sell arms. We broker arms, too.”
“Arms? Like guns?”
“Well, yes, American-made arms to foreign markets.”
“Is that legal?”
Charles laughed harshly. “Of course it’s legal. It’s one of the largest industries in the world. Beckinsale owns two arms-manufacturing companies.”
Lauren was silent. Money and guns. Finally she said, “I guess I didn’t realize I was so close to such a sordid subject.” She stood up and gazed off over Central Park.
Charles came up behind her and put his arm around her. “Oh, I wouldn’t call it sordid. True, people don’t like to discuss money a lot of the time. It’s considered, well, gauche, but it is a fact that currency trading and arms sales are two huge businesses. The world is not always a pretty place, but what do you think bought you that ring?” Lauren stared down at her finger. Charles continued, “Look, darling, you’ve got an American Express card. You can buy anything you want. You’ve got a great car and a man who thinks you’re beautiful.” He put his arms out. “You live here — will live here — with me. Let’s leave my business interests out of our personal lives, shall we? You know what I want to talk about?”
“What’s that?” said Lauren, trying to focus on the here and now of the city rooftop and not think about business. The nature of true love and marriage, so clear a few days ago, seemed to be eluding her. And then there was that business of the prenuptial agreement. She had accepted the process, even when it seemed so demeaning to her. She had accepted it because she assumed that was how sophisticated, successful people managed their lives and assets. Then she’d had that unfortunate discussion with Caleb in the pub, and all of a sudden, she almost felt she’d been duped. She banished the thought from her mind along with the uneasy feeling that went with it.
“I want to talk about how gorgeous you are going to look at the New Yorkers Against Hunger Benefit Ball next week in your Oscar de la Renta and how proud I’ll be to have you on my arm! How’s that?” He kissed her on the forehead.
“Am I not to be involved in that part of your life, then?” Lauren could not let it drop.
Charles drained his glass. He looked at her, and Lauren was aware that his eyes had changed, becoming somehow shrouded, distant. He answered her question in a voice she hadn’t heard him use before, a hard voice. “That’s correct. There is no need for you to be involved in that part of my life. In fact, I’ll tell you straight up, I don’t want you in that part of my life. That’s my business. It’s difficult enough to keep on top of it without having it spill over into our personal life here. Everything else I’m happy to share.” Then, the strange look on his face passed. He smiled his old relaxed smile. “I’m going in to bed. It’s getting late. I haven’t heard yet when I have to leave, so I need to be ready early in the morning. Come to bed, darling. I’ll make you happy to be here.”
Lauren knew there was a choice to be made. She could persist and tell Charles she considered it part of a sound marriage for each spouse to be familiar with the other’s business interests or jobs. She could tell him it was of the utmost importance that he consider her intelligent enough to know what he did when he flew to Singapore or Johannesburg or anywhere else. And yet she could not bring herself to enter into an argument. After all, she thought as she followed him back inside the penthouse, what he said was correct. Everything was provided for her. Why should she rock the boat? The intricacies of how that provision came about was Charles’s game, not hers. In fact, she thought as she struggled to bury that conversation with Caleb she remembered so vividly, that a sh
are-everything, hand-in-hand attitude about marriage was colloquial, provincial at best. Sophisticated couples had a true division of labor, a true separation of business and home life, and kept it that way. It simplified things.
She was lost. That she knew. She had no idea which way to go. All around her was a forest of some kind, an unfamiliar landscape. She knew she was a prisoner and that she had to escape. There were people everywhere, but no one would talk to her.
“Please,” she entreated them desperately. “Please, which way do I go?” And they all walked around her. Some looked at her with disdain. She forged on, her feet leaden.
Then, in the very far distance, she saw him. Caleb was standing there, beckoning her. He was smiling, his face alive, his eyes sparkling. She ran, even though it seemed to take every ounce of energy she had. And then she was in his arms. “I love you, I love you,” she heard herself saying.
He didn’t answer, but bent his mouth to hers. Lauren felt the heat grow between her thighs as his kisses traveled down her neck to her breasts. It was then she realized she was naked and his lips were gently pulling at her nipples. She moaned.
Suddenly, she fell backward, in a sickening spiral. He was yanked away. She tried to get up, but she could not. She looked up to see him dragged away by men. The men had big guns. They were pointing the guns at her.
“Caleb!” she screamed. “Caleb! No! No!” She couldn’t see his face anymore, just the men with the guns, dragging him away. She began to scream uncontrollably.
“Lauren!” She was being shaken. “Lauren!” She opened her eyes. It had only been a nightmare. Charles was shaking her shoulders. “Wake up. You were dreaming.” His cell phone, always beside the bed, was ringing. Lauren dragged herself up through her unconscious. She heard Charles’s conversation as she awoke.
“Yes. Yes. Okay. I’m packed. Call Bob and tell him to get over there. I’ll be there in three quarters of an hour… Okay. Thanks… Yes, give them the bonus… See you there.”
“Charles?”
“That was Nicholas Jorgenson. The jet is ready to go. I’ve got to leave now. We want to be in Singapore for a morning meeting. Got to strike while the iron is hot.” He was climbing out of bed, shedding his white linen pajamas.
Lauren struggled to sit up. “Charles! You’re leaving now? In the middle of the night? It’s two a.m.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Yes. That’s what we wanted. This way we’ll get there before this rival conglomerate can get organized against us.” He smiled at her. “See why I like to keep business out of the bedroom?”
“Oh. Well. You could have told me before we went to bed,” Lauren replied, still fighting the terror of her nightmare.
“Now, now,” he chided, smiling at her fondly. “No sulking. Remember what we talked about. Remember what we agreed upon.”
Lauren said nothing. She couldn’t remember agreeing to anything, she thought a little bitterly.
“Are you all right, darling?” Charles asked as he dressed. “You cried out. Just before my phone rang.”
“Oh, I — I had a nightmare.” She could still see Caleb’s face in her mind’s eye.
“Well, it was just a dream.” Charles was now dressed immaculately in a crisp white shirt, blue silk tie, and gray suit. He sat on the bed and pulled on his shoes. “You just lie back down and get some sleep. Are you working tomorrow?”
“Yes. I have to go in,” she said. “Charles, when will you be back?”
“I’m not sure, darling. We’ll be stopping to refuel in London. I’ll call you from there.”
“Okay,” she murmured.
“Goodbye, darling,” he said, picking up his bag. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Charles.”
Then he turned, a grin on his face. “Sorry to disappoint last night. I was just exhausted. I’ll make it up to you when I get back. We’ll have some time to ourselves then.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” she said softly. He had fallen asleep before she’d even crawled into bed beside him.
“Goodbye, then,” he said, and he walked out the door. She could hear him saying something to Dennis, who had obviously heard, or been prepared for, this eventuality. There was a familiarity, a communication, between Charles and Dennis that she was not a part of. She had the feeling Dennis knew everything. She had the feeling he knew more than she did about Charles’s life. It made her feel like an outsider sometimes, despite Dennis’s unfailing solicitation of her slightest whim. She heard the big door shut and the snaps and cranks as Dennis locked and bolted it back up.
Lauren rolled over in the bed and buried her face in the pillow, but sleep did not come. The nightmare had upset her. It meant that she had in no way resolved her issues involving her tryst with Caleb Cochran. There, in the dark, Lauren knew she would have to find some way to exorcise the encounter, but it would be difficult. She was glad she and Charles had not made love. She didn’t feel she could carry the faking quite that far yet. The episode with Caleb would need to be buried deeper in the past. Instead, it was fresh in her mind, fresh in her body. She laid still, her eyes closed. Her body ached for him, even if her mind could not comprehend the attraction. Finally, moist with perspiration, Lauren got up and got ready for work.
Chapter Six
ONE, TWO, THREE DAYS passed, and Lauren was beginning to feel better. Charles called her every morning and again every evening before she went to sleep. He insisted that she stay at the penthouse and break the lease on her Murray Hill apartment.
“You’re never there, darling,” he said. “And I feel much better about your safety when I know that you’re in my home with Dennis and Tina. I don’t know why you’ve kept it this long.”
“I guess I just wanted a place that I knew was my own,” she said.
“Well, my home is your home. Do you realize we’ll be married in October?”
“I know, Charles. I know. Don’t remind me. Please try not to schedule any more business trips between now and then, okay? I know you told me to tend to everything, but there are a few things I need to talk to you about. Or, at least it will make me feel better to talk to you about them.”
“Don’t worry, darling, I won’t schedule anything more.”
So, Lauren went about her days finalizing wedding plans, closing out the Murray Hill apartment, and most importantly, putting the finishing touches on several in-progress projects at the museum. It was important that they be completed by the time she stopped working, and her last work day was coming up fast. As the days went by, she found herself only thinking about Caleb on random occasions. When she was alone at night, for instance, or when a handsome young man passed her on the street. Or when she saw a couple embracing or kissing in the park.
That was why, on Friday evening, as she was sitting in the study sipping her gin and tonic and going over the flower arrangements to approve all the changes, Lauren was completely taken by surprise when her iPhone rang. Engrossed as she was with the florist’s album, she didn’t look at the number that popped up on the screen.
“Hello?” she said flatly, taking a sip of her drink.
“Hi.”
Despite the fact that it was full of gin, Lauren’s mouth went instantly dry. She knew his voice at once. Her eyes refused to focus on the page. She swallowed hard and set her drink down on the butler’s table with a shaking hand. She stood up, but then felt weak and sat back down.
“Hi,” said the voice again. “It’s Caleb.”
“Caleb,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “This is a surprise.”
“Well, I didn’t want to give you too much warning. I was afraid maybe you wouldn’t see me.”
“See you? I’m not there. I went back. I’m in New York right now.” Suddenly an unbelievable thought occurred to her. He couldn’t be!
“So am I.”
He was. Caleb Cochran was in New York.
Lauren made an effort to steady her voice. “You’re in New York City? In Manhattan?”
“Frankly, yes. Yes, it is odd. What brings you to New York?”
“I had to see you.” He was nothing if not direct.
Lauren was silent. She could think of nothing to say. Her mind was spinning like dry leaves caught in one of those little whirlwinds. Finally she said, “How did you get my number?” She tried to sound angry.
Caleb gave a little laugh. “That was easy. I went to Rick’s Garage and asked them for it. Of course, they had it written down.”
Hmm, thought Lauren, that’s a small town for you. “What do you want?”
“I came to talk with you. I have to resolve some things for myself. I’m sorry to bother you, but this is important to me.”
“It’s — it’s not really a good time, Caleb,” she said.
“I’m not leaving the city until I see you and talk this through.”
“Well, maybe tomorrow sometime, then.”
“Your boyfriend there?”
“No, no. He’s in Singapore.” Damn! Why had she said that! She could have just said she and Charles were going out for the evening.
“Then meet me for a drink.”
She felt like she was being sucked into a whirlpool, pulled by a magnet against her will, against which there was no defense.
“Oh, I don’t know. I — ”
“Look, I’m sorry I took you by surprise. I don’t mean to upset your applecart, but I need to talk to you. I need to see you. Just for a little while. Just for a drink. It won’t take long. One drink. I’ve been thinking about you. It’s been bothering me, and I don’t like to be bothered. I thought if I saw you, I could make sense of it and put it to rest. Please meet me so we can talk.”
Small Town Girl Page 9