He sat up. “I won’t take all the blame for this, Kit. You’re the one who came knocking on my door in the middle of the night. You got into my bed, and you rubbed my arm. I didn’t lay a hand on you. And when I finally did, I don’t remember hearing any protest. As a matter of fact, you seemed to enjoy it.”
She looked down at the sheet, glad of the darkness so he couldn’t see the color in her face. Was he right? Had she been asking for it?
“If I expected anything, it was to be made love to, not to get laid,” she said. “I doubt you’re usually such a lousy lover.”
She braced herself for whatever he might do or say. But he turned and got up, walking slowly to the French doors that led out to his balcony. She lifted the quilt around her shoulders and watched him pull aside the curtain with one finger to look outside. A sliver of moonlight ran down his body. It was minutes before he spoke.
“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined making love to you?” he said without looking at her. “It was nothing like this. You said once that it would be a mistake for us to do it and I guess you were right. Too many things come into play.” He turned toward her. “Maybe it will be out of our systems now. That would make it almost worth it.”
Why was it so wrong for them to want each other? Because she wasn’t his type? An embarrassment to his good taste that he occasionally considered making love to her? There was a pocket of hurt in her chest that would never go away.
He was still holding the curtain aside and the thread of moonlight lit the tight line of his jaw and arced over his penis. “Could we please forget this happened, Kit?”
She got up and walked to the door. “There’s not much else we can do, is there?”
She avoided him the next day. He called her office a few times but she told them not to put the calls through. She couldn’t have put a label on her emotions. She snapped at her secretary for a typographical error, and started crying when a coworker complimented her on a job she’d done.
She didn’t see him again until that evening. She was alone in the living room waiting for Sandy when Cole walked in. He had a glass of milk in his hand and he sat on the arm of the blue sofa.
“You didn’t take my calls,” he said. There was a little line of milk above his upper lip and he licked it off with a flick of his tongue.
“I was busy.”
“I wanted to make sure you were all right after last night.”
“I thought we were pretending last night didn’t . . .” She let her voice trail off as Estelle came in the front door.
“Whew!” Estelle took off her scarf and blue fox jacket and hung them on the coat rack. “It’s going to snow any second.” She walked to Cole’s side and kissed his temple, and he circled her waist with his arm. They had obviously made up sometime during the day.
Kit looked out the window into the dark night, feeling the soup she’d forced down at dinner at the back of her throat.
Sandy arrived around seven. She’d been looking forward to having his company to concentrate on, but his mood was worse than her own.
“Today’s been pure shit.” He stretched out on her bed. “I got busted.”
“Oh, Sandy.” She sat down on the window seat. It was hard to feel any sympathy for him.
“Cop stopped me for going ten miles over the limit and he searched my car. Smelled the weed, I guess. I spent a couple of hours locked up.”
“They locked you up for marijuana?”
“I had a little coke, too. I don’t do the stuff,” he said quickly. “I was just transporting it for a friend.”
She was too disgusted to speak. What if she’d been with him? She never should have let herself get so involved.
She ended it with Sandy the next day, over lunch in the hospital cafeteria. She was tired of his drug use, she told him, and of his irresponsible lifestyle. He looked hurt and she felt guilty. Her anger wasn’t meant for Sandy.
She met with Cole after lunch. There was no way out of it—he had to see the article she’d written for the Communicator before it went to press.
He was contrite. “I don’t want this to hurt our friendship,” he said.
She wished she had the decision to make over again. She liked to think she would walk out of his room the second he touched her. But as she sat in his office, listening to his apology, all she could think about was the warmth of his hands on her skin.
19.
“Dr. Jansen’s office.” The voice was cold.
“This is Cole Perelle. I’d like to speak with Estelle Lauren, please. She’s there for a four o’clock appointment.”
He’d been busy at the hospital the past few days and hadn’t had much time for Estelle. Tonight they could get back to normal. He’d have her meet him at Pierre’s after her appointment and then let her talk him into the condo for the night.
But there was silence on the other end of the phone.
“Hello?” Cole said.
“Mr. Perelle, Ms. Lauren hasn’t been to this office since her first appointment.”
“I don’t understand. You mean she’s at some other office?”
“No, I mean she hasn’t seen Dr. Jansen since the appointment she had here with you.”
He couldn’t speak. His mind raced with the lies she’d told him. “Therapy’s going fine, darling. I’m so glad you talked me into it.”
He hung up his office phone without saying good-bye. Maybe there was some explanation he was missing. Maybe she’d found a different therapist somewhere else.
Stop kidding yourself, he thought. You’ve been duped.
No wonder she seemed to be getting worse. She’d been deceiving him week after week. But then he hadn’t exactly been honest with her lately either, had he?
He needed to talk with someone. Kit would have left for home by now, but Jay was probably still in his office. He took the elevator up to the fourth floor, his body nearly shaking with anger.
“Are you sick?” Jay asked when Cole walked into his office, and he knew he must look as wretched as he felt. He sat down next to Jay’s desk, arms folded across his chest. The sun was setting over the river outside the office window. His window would have a view of the sun setting over the goddamn parking lot right about now.
“I just found out Estelle hasn’t seen Frank Jansen since the appointment I went to with her.”
“She’s been lying to you all this time?”
He nodded. “She’s crazier than I thought. How can I end it when she’s so sick?” He was remembering his father talking about Corinne. “If she were physically ill, we’d do everything we could to help her,” his father had said. “It’s the same thing.”
And they’d done everything they could, and Corinne, to this day, was still nuts. Did he want to spend the rest of his life this way? Why couldn’t he end it?
“That was the deal, though, wasn’t it?” Jay asked. “She goes to therapy or you split up, right? She knew the rules.”
“But she’s sick. What if Janni was in a car accident and wound up a paraplegic. Would you break up with her?”
“The analogy is very weak.”
“Say she was mentally ill then. I can’t see you pulling out on her.”
Jay smiled. “What do you want to hear, Cole? Do you want to stay as miserable as you’ve been this past year? I didn’t think you were that much of a masochist. You’ve given her every opportunity to change, and you’ve stuck by her through it all.”
“I haven’t been all that noble.” He had to get that out. He was no saint.
Jay looked at him quizzically but said nothing.
“Maybe it would be easier to stay with her,” Cole thought out loud. “Give her one more chance.”
Jay was quiet for a minute. “It’s your life,” he said.
He’d been working out in the Chapel House gym for nearly an hour by the time she arrived. She perched on the edge of one of the benches, her legs crossed and everything about her beige and auburn. She looked out of place.
; He crossed the room to stand in front of her. “How was therapy?” He hadn’t planned on playing that game, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
“Fine.” She smiled at him with her perfect teeth. Where had she been during that hour every week?
“Do you still like Frank?”
“A lot. Jealous?”
“I know you haven’t been seeing him, Estelle.”
She never lost her smile. “That’s ridiculous. I go every week. Sit in that big chair and spill my proverbial guts.”
“Stop lying to me.”
“I’m not lying to you.” How could she look so sincere?
“Look, I called there. They said you haven’t been back.”
“Why were you checking up on me?”
“I wasn’t. I wanted to take you to dinner.”
“Really? I’d love that.” She stood up. “You’ll need to take a shower first.” She ran her fingertips down the damp hair of his chest.
He grabbed her hand. “Estelle, stop it! This is serious. I told you we’d split up. Is that what you want?”
She sobered. “Oh please, Cole, no. I love you so much.” Her arms were around his neck, her perfumed body held a carefully controlled inch from his sweaty chest.
He pulled her arms away from him. “It’s too late for that. I want you to get your things out of my bedroom and leave. Now.”
She stared at him, her mouth open.
“Don’t leave anything behind for me to bring over to you because I won’t. I’ll throw it away first.”
“Oh, Cole, think what you’re doing. Six years, Cole. You can’t toss them away that easily.” There was a catch in her voice that cut into him.
He turned and walked toward the bathroom at the end of the gym. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “I want you gone by the time I get upstairs.”
The following night, he poked at the chicken and rice on his plate while the conversation went on around him. He’d felt sick all day. Twice he thought he would actually vomit. He’d wanted to. He wanted to be cleaned out.
They were eating at the big oak table in the kitchen. Outside it was dark and beginning to snow. He could see the flakes swirling like dust in the light of the terrace. Behind him a fire crackled, the heat burning through his shirt and adding to his irritation.
Janni was talking about the Christmas Open House, worrying about the caterers and the decorations as she did every year. He tried to tune her out, but her voice grated at him.
“I hope the front deck is finished by then,” she said. “It’ll be an eyesore until they get it painted.”
He hated that deck. It was too contemporary, didn’t fit the house at all. “An eyesore?” he said. “It’s an abomination. This beautiful house and you stick that monstrosity—”
“Cole, sweetie, I think you’re exaggerating a bit,” Janni said. “And besides, it’s my house.”
Go to hell, he thought.
“How many people usually come?” Kit changed the subject. He watched her scoop a gluttonous second helping of rice onto her plate.
“Last year there were close to three hundred,” Maris said.
Cole groaned. He’d forgotten the press of people. In five days he’d be expected to play the genial host, the first time without Estelle on his arm. How would he ever tolerate three hundred people when he could barely tolerate his four old friends?
“What’s the matter, sweets?” Janni squeezed his hand. “Are you wishing you didn’t have to be here?”
He shrugged, twirling his milk slowly in his glass. “I don’t know what I’m wishing,” he said gloomily.
“If you want to go to a hotel or something while the preparations are going on . . . I mean if it would help you to have more quiet and privacy while you’re, you know, adjusting . . . I’d understand.”
“I’d like to move out of my life,” he said and then realized how melodramatic that sounded. He smiled at Janni when he saw the serious look in her eyes. “Don’t look so worried,” he said. “I’m okay.”
“I can’t believe she left town that quickly,” said Maris.
Neither could he. He should have handled it differently. He’d climbed the stairs after his shower the night before hoping she’d still be in his room waiting for one last chance to change his mind. But his room was empty. Every sign of her was gone. The picture of her that he’d kept on his dresser was lying face down on his bed, the glass cracked. He stared down at the dark driveway and thought he could see the reflection of the streetlight on her fender. But his eyes were only seeing what he wanted them to see.
He barely slept. In the middle of the night he changed his sheets to rid the bed of her scent. This morning he’d moved around his office in a fog, confusing one patient with another and thinking of Estelle four floors above him.
At noon he took the elevator up to the Research Department. All eyes were on him as he approached the receptionist. She looked amazed when he asked her to buzz Estelle’s office.
“Dr. Perelle, Estelle quit this morning.”
His heart beat twice and then seemed to stop.
“Oh yes,” he said, as though he’d known all along that had been her plan. He raced downstairs again, anxious to get to the phone in his office.
There was no answer at the condo. He called her brother in Point Pleasant, but he hadn’t heard from her in months. He played with the cord of the phone for a long time and then dialed her mother in Connecticut.
“She called this morning because she wanted the account number for an old trust fund,” her mother said. “She said she’d be moving to New York and that she’d leave the condominium in the hands of a realtor. She didn’t say you two were having problems. I thought you’d be going with her.”
“No. We’re through.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Cole,” she said. “But I know she could be hard to live with. I know that firsthand.”
Everyone else had finished eating, but his plate was still full. It felt as though worms were crawling under his skin. He wanted to clear the table with a sweep of his arm and watch everything go flying. He’d love to see the shock on their faces.
They were beginning to get to him. All of them. Janni with her arrogance, her plans for everyone. Jay who was never bothered by anything. What would it take to get an angry word out of him? Maris and her never-ending neediness. She was sulking across the table from him right at that moment.
And of course, Kit. Every time she looked at him he saw the accusation in her eyes. Or maybe it was his guilt he saw reflected there. She was a constant reminder to him of what he’d done.
“You really don’t look too well, Cole,” she said now.
He stood up and ran both hands through his hair. “I’m going up to my room,” he said.
Silence followed him up the stairs as they waited until he was out of earshot to talk about him. He didn’t care.
Only one other person in the world could be feeling this empty. He dialed Estelle’s mother again.
“Do you know how I can reach her?” he asked when she picked up.
She laughed at him. “She’ll call me when she needs something, Cole, not before. She’s probably in a hotel in New York while she’s looking for a place to live.”
Of course. He tried the two hotels she usually stayed at in the city. She wasn’t at either of them.
He sat on the bed, staring at his hands. He wanted to crawl under the covers and go to sleep. But he was far too edgy, as if he’d been drinking coffee all day long.
He jumped when the phone rang and snatched the receiver from its cradle.
“Hello?”
“Cole, this is Stu Davies.”
“Hello, Stu.” Estelle, where are you?
“We’ve got the contract! Congratulations!”
It took a moment for the words to register, and when they did, he smiled for the first time all day. “That’s fantastic,” he said. “When can we start?”
“It’ll b
e a few months yet. These things take time. But I want you to pick your team and get rolling on the training. Then let’s get together with that PR girl so people will know that Blair’s about to be put on the map.”
20.
She felt like a voyeur. She sat in one of the wing chairs, tucked into the most remote corner of the living room, and watched the party unfold in front of her. She had moved among the guests for a few hours, long enough so that she could withdraw from them now with no pangs of guilt.
She took another swallow of the frothy pink daiquiri Maris had made for her. Her second. Or was it her third? On top of the eggnog and wine. Oh God. Well, it was only once a year.
All these people. They’d have to have the rugs cleaned next week. What a mess. She closed her eyes halfway, letting all the colors fuse together. White, red, silver, and gold. Her own dress was black, cut low in the back and clingy.
She opened her eyes again and spotted Janni in red, moving from group to group, patting arms and overseeing the work of the caterers. Maris looked slinky in silver. She hadn’t stopped dancing for the past hour, except to mix drinks. Or maybe it hadn’t been Maris who’d made her daiquiri. Kit couldn’t remember.
Maris’s dance partner tossed her across his back. Maris might finally have met her match on the dance floor, Kit thought. This guy was good. His name was Sean and he looked like a surfer—long blond hair and a tan that had lasted well into the winter. He couldn’t be more than twenty-five, but what did it matter? It was wonderful to see Maris having fun.
She hadn’t seen Jay in an hour. Maybe more. Who knew what time it was? But there was Cole. He’d been milling all night, not spending too much time with any one person. News of the breakup had spread quickly and the women from the hospital were out in force. There had to be twenty of them here tonight with designs on him. She could tell by the way they eyed him from across the room and squeezed his arm when they got close enough. On the surface he looked good. Gray suit, dark hair, eyes that were liquefying the women around him. But she knew his smile was frozen in place. It hurt to watch him. She remembered too well how it felt to start over.
Secrets at the Beach House Page 13