Fringe Benefits

by Christine Pope

  I gave him a shaky smile. “Are we going to go through that again?”

  “I think not. But you should sit down.”

  I did as he requested and watched as he pulled a slim phone out of his breast pocket and called for a cab. For the first time I noticed that he no longer wore the shirt he had smudged in the warehouse. The business suit had been replaced by a pale gray dress shirt and charcoal slacks. So he must have made it home to check on his house and get a change of clothing.

  He closed the phone and replaced it in his pocket. “They should be here in five minutes. Not much call for taxis today. Is there anything else you need before I go?”

  Well, you could get down on this couch with me and hold me for about the next twelve hours, I thought. I guessed he probably wouldn’t agree to that request, however. Instead, I just said, “No, I’m fine. Thank you again for bringing the car. That was—well, that was really going above and beyond.”

  He made a dismissive gesture. “I must wait outside. This cab company does not offer door-to-door service. But you are sure you are all right?”

  Good question. The flow of rage had ebbed as quickly as it had come, and now I felt drained and empty, like a shell with the snail pulled out of it. With the emptiness had come an odd sort of Zen peace. I still had about ten thousand issues with Pieter that needed to be worked out, but at least I’d accomplished one thing today.

  Jonah Freeman was permanently out of my life.

  I smiled. “I’m fine.”

  Leslie finally made it back to the apartment complex around six-thirty. “Damn boss wouldn’t let me go, and I still have to be back there tomorrow at nine to keep cleaning up that goddamn storeroom. There is no justice in the world.” She paused and took a long, hard look at my face. “You all right?”

  Why did everyone keep asking me that? Did I wear the various shocks I had suffered right on my features? “I threw a bag of ice at Jonah Freeman’s head.”

  Her eyes widened. They looked larger and darker than normal; all her exertions in the back room of the plumbing supply company must have made her mascara run. “Not that he probably didn’t deserve it, but can I ask why?”

  “He was being a putz.”

  She laughed. “Well, how can I argue with that?”

  To my relief, she didn’t ask any more questions. For Leslie she was being awfully diplomatic. Maybe I really did look like hell, and she didn’t want to push it. She only made a few remarks to the effect that she would gladly sic her brothers on Jonah if he ever did come nosing around again and left it at that. Still, it was good to know that she had my back, no matter what happened.

  The weekend moved past quickly enough. I tried to stay off my knee as much as possible (God bless pizza delivery and Chinese takeout), and spent most of my time reading and watching TV. By the time Monday rolled around I felt almost back to normal. Of course I had to face Pieter, but I felt as if I were getting better at that. Somehow I’d managed to get through the whole earthquake experience without committing any heinous gaffes. And I had to believe that Pieter’s extreme solicitude stemmed from something more than mere altruism. Maybe that was just me being girlishly optimistic, but really, he had expended more effort than anyone in his position absolutely needed to. All his attentions after the earthquake meant something. They just had to.

  So I was feeling pretty cheerful when I pulled up to Pyramid Imports at five minutes until nine on Monday morning. I didn’t see Pieter’s car, but I had the keys and the alarm codes to let myself in. Maybe he’d stopped at the antique store to handle things there before heading over to the office.

  He must have been here over the weekend. I saw no sign of the disarray the earthquake had caused. Just as well, because although my knee had improved considerably, I didn’t think I was up to much more than sitting at the desk and occasionally going to the door to take care of deliveries.

  I had just turned on my computer when the front door opened and Pieter entered.

  “Is something wrong?” I blurted. He looked tense and unsmiling, his jaw set and mouth tight.

  At once his expression relaxed somewhat. “No—it is nothing. Some damage at the antique store. The insurance will handle it.”

  And with that he moved on through the reception area and back to his own office. I watched him go. It seemed as if something else must have upset him, but I supposed even a loss covered by insurance could be painful. After all, it wasn’t as if the items that had been damaged were the kind you could just replace at the local mall. No, each piece was unique and beautiful. Of course it must hurt.

  I wished I could offer some comfort, but I couldn’t think of a way to do that without seeming heavy-handed. Probably it would be best if I just went about my day as if everything were fine. If Pieter wanted to talk about it, he knew where to find me.

  At least he had left some letters for me to type. I picked up the first one and got to work. It helped; I could concentrate on the task at hand and not the deafening silence that seemed to fill the building.

  A little after ten the intercom buzzed. “Katherine, if you would come in here, please.”

  Thank God. Maybe he wanted to talk to me about what had happened at the antique shop. Then again, it was distinctly possible that all he wanted was for me to do some filing.

  Pieter stood in front of his desk, arms crossed. His expression was almost grim, and despite myself I felt a little flutter of worry in my midsection. Had I done something wrong?

  “Yes?” I asked. I wished I didn’t sound so much like a schoolgirl called up on the carpet, but the look on his face had unnerved me.

  He moved so swiftly that at first my brain didn’t quite register what was going on. Was it supposed to happen like this—for him to cross the room in a few long strides and pull me against him, his mouth coming down on mine with all the force of a river in flood?

  I didn’t know. After a second of shock I realized that Pieter held me in his arms, that his lips met mine in the insistent, demanding culmination of a thousand dreams. The world roared in my ears. That was his tongue, and his heart beating so hard I could feel it as he pressed up against me. A wave of heat washed over me, sweet and tingling at the same time. There couldn’t be anything more than this, anything more than the feel of Pieter’s arms around me, the taste of his mouth against mine. Dreams were dust compared to the reality of his body, his lips.

  Then he pushed away, leaving me standing there to stare at him. I heard a hoarse gasping sound and realized I was making it. With shaking fingers I reached up to push back my hair, then looked across the few feet that separated us.

  The silence pounded against my ears. Was he expecting me to say something? Was he searching for the right words?

  For one long hideous moment we remained that way, eyes locked. He was flushed beneath his tan. His tie had come loose.

  Then his mouth hardened. He muttered something under his breath, but I couldn’t understand the words. Maybe they were Dutch. His back stiffened, and he reached up to straighten his tie. I could see him take a breath. Then he spoke.

  “If you will excuse me.”

  And he was gone, brushing past me and on to the outer office. A few seconds later I heard the door slam.

  I could only remain where I was, the heat in my blood ebbing, replaced by a sick, cold feeling. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, listening to the shocked pounding of my heart. The earth had shaken again, but this was one aftermath I could never have envisioned.

  I didn’t know what else to do, so I burst into tears.

  Sixteen

  I wanted to run. I wanted to get in my car and drive—where didn’t matter. Just as long as it was far away from here.

  I bent down and yanked my purse out of the desk drawer where I’d stored it. Then I stopped, bag still dangling from my fingers by its strap. Pieter was gone—fleeing whatever had driven him to kiss me in the first place. Had his emotions finally overcome him? Maybe seeing Jonah at my apartment had caused some
ember of jealousy to flare into outright passion.

  No way to know for sure. All I did know was that I’d been left alone at Pyramid Imports. And it was part of my job to hold down the fort in Pieter’s absence.

  But how could I remain here knowing he hadn’t the nerve to stay and face me, face the consequences of what he’d done?

  For a second I hated him, hated his cowardice. That didn’t last very long. Maybe this was actually a good sign. Would he have reacted the same way if he didn’t care? He’d acted fairly casual about the parade of secretaries who had filled this spot before me. There had been nothing casual about that kiss, however.

  I wavered, then, slowly, I replaced my purse in the desk drawer and went into the bathroom and repaired the damage as best I could. My eyes and nose were still red, but at least I didn’t have mascara tracks running down my cheeks.

  Of course the FedEx guy chose that moment to show up. He stared down at me for a few seconds after I opened the door. “Everything okay?”

  “Hay fever,” I said shortly.

  An eyebrow went up, but then he shrugged. He’d done his best to carry on a casual flirtation the last few weeks. I sort of doubted that he really wanted me to tell him the truth behind my bloodshot eyes. “Sign here.”

  I took the packet from him and shut the door. At the sight of Pieter’s name in the address field my vision blurred again, but I blinked furiously and forced myself to return to my desk and open the package the way I always did. Inside was another sealed letter. I took it out and went into Pieter’s office to put it in his inbox.

  He kissed you right there.

  Again the world wavered. I pulled in a deep breath, then another. So it had been a kiss that had pretty much wiped out the memory of every other kiss I’d ever received. Big damn deal. At the moment it looked as if it was the only one I’d ever get.

  Somehow I managed to stay. I don’t know how I did it. Every time the phone rang—which wasn’t often—I’d jump, thinking it was Pieter, but it never was. Someone from the Simon Wiesenthal Center confirming his tickets for a fundraising dinner next week. The shipping company, calling to say they’d been delayed and wouldn’t make a delivery until tomorrow afternoon. Rafael Santiago, letting me know that Chrysalis was dropping the case now that reparations had been made. I tried to sound thankful and relieved, but I don’t know how successful I was. Luckily he didn’t push it.

  Then Max, late in the day, sounding exasperated and wondering where Pieter was.

  “I don’t know,” I said carefully. “He left late this morning and hasn’t been back since.”

  “Well, Mrs. DeLacey has been calling and calling about that pair of Louis Quatorze chairs he was supposed to get her, and I can’t reach him at all. His cell phone is off. His cell phone is never off.” Max’s voice sharpened with suspicion. “Did something happen?”

  I had to answer past the growing thickness in my throat. “No.”

  A very long pause. “You didn’t—”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I cut in.

  I heard what sounded like a sigh. “Okay, maybe you didn’t, but I’m guessing he did. Shit.”

  And he hung up.

  I replaced the handset in the cradle very carefully, almost as if it was one of Pieter’s priceless antiques instead of an ordinary piece of modern technology. Then I glanced at the time readout on my computer. Four forty-five. Close enough. By the time I closed down all my open programs and shut off my computer, it would be almost five.

  All I wanted was to get home. What I’d do then, I didn’t know. Maybe drink the rest of that bottle of plum wine. That sounded pretty appealing. I’d never been a huge drinker—I didn’t think the buzz was worth the inevitable aftermath—but at the moment getting blind stinking drunk sounded like a damn good idea.

  Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do when your life has fallen apart around you?

  Unfortunately, Leslie kept me from killing off too many brain cells that night.

  I did pour myself a glass when I got home, right after I’d kicked off my high heels and gotten out of my work clothes. And I continued to take sips of the plum wine while I threw on my rattiest sweats and a faded puke-green tank that was probably one of the most comfortable things I owned. What the hell difference did it make what I looked like? I was planning to get drunk, not enter a beauty pageant.

  My knee started to ache again, but I didn’t feel motivated to pack more ice on it. Instead, I just settled down on the couch with my feet up and the television on. Of course, I’d barely been in that position for two minutes before Leslie arrived.

  I let out an exasperated sigh and pushed myself off the couch so I could answer the door. Leslie strode in, opened her mouth, then took a good look at my face and said, “Jesus Christ. What the hell happened to you?”

  “You’re Jewish,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, well, Jesus doesn’t mind me borrowing his name from time to time.” Her gaze moved from me to the half-drunk glass of wine sitting on the coffee table. “Bad day?”

  I mumbled something noncommittal and sat back down.

  She moved so she was standing in front of the TV and stared down at me, arms crossed. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re blocking the news.”

  “Fuck the news.” She turned around and jabbed her finger at the power button for the television. The screen went dark. “What happened to you?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Too bad. Something at work?”

  I thought I’d gotten myself together. But her question brought everything back. The feel of Pieter’s mouth on mine. The way he’d pushed me from him. How he’d stayed away the rest of the day.

  It all came bubbling up to the surface, and the next thing I knew I was crying stormily, and Leslie was there on the couch next to me, hugging me, not bothering to say anything, just letting me get it all out.

  After my sobs died off into some serious sniffling, she got up and retrieved the box of tissues from the bathroom, then handed one to me. “You want to talk about it now?”

  I blew my nose. “It’s not going to change anything.”

  “No,” she agreed. “But you might feel better.”

  “He kissed me.”

  She didn’t pretend to misunderstand me. “Van Rijn?”

  I nodded.

  “Did you want him to?”

  Did I want him to? There was an understatement. I nodded.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “He took off right afterward. Just left me there. Wouldn’t talk to me—wouldn’t look at me—” Tears began to run down my cheeks again, and I reached up angrily to blot them away.

  At first Leslie didn’t say anything. She frowned and tapped her fingers against the leg of her jeans. “He kissed you first.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you didn’t mind.”

  “Mind? No.” I made a hoarse half-chuckle, half-sob.

  Her voice had never sounded so gentle. “When did you fall in love with him?”

  There wasn’t any point in denying it. “I don’t know. It just sort of—happened.”

  Leslie ran a hand through her hair, which only made its messy layers stick out even more. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

  Did I ever. I’d tried to make myself think it was just an attraction, but it had turned out to be far more than that. I wanted him in every way—in my life, in my bed. I wanted to be the woman he woke up next to, the woman he told his secrets to and laughed with. I wanted to travel to Europe with him and be the one at his side as he chose all those lovely, historic pieces for his shop. In short, I wanted to be all the things I currently wasn’t.

  “Yeah,” I said, and reached up to wipe my eyes. “Yeah, I guess I do. I really didn’t mean to. I thought I could just work for him. But no, stupid Katherine has to fall for the one guy who would never want her.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that’s exactly true. He did kiss you, right?”
/>
  “And took off like a stag who’s been winged by a .22.”

  “Careful, Kat—your Montana is showing.”

  Her remark made me laugh, as I supposed she’d meant it to.

  “Anyway,” she went on. “You want to know what I think?”

  “What?” I asked, since I knew she was going to tell me whether I wanted to hear it or not.

  “I think he really does care about you. And he just can’t handle it. That’s why he took off. So all you need to do is be cool when he reappears. Don’t let him know he rattled you—it’ll just freak him out more. Maybe then he’ll calm down enough to talk to you rationally about this whole thing.”

  “You seem to know a lot about it.”

  She shrugged. “Two older brothers, remember? Okay, they’re not exactly worldly antiques dealers with money coming out their ass, but they are guys. And most guys I’ve known are so scared of real emotion they’ll split like cockroaches with the lights flipped on at the first sign of it.”

  I had to ask. “What about Joe?’

  “Joe?” Leslie rolled her eyes. “Joe’s the worst of the lot. Yeah, we have fun. Yeah, he’s great in the sack. But I’m not keeping him around for the long haul. I always promised myself I wouldn’t get married before I was thirty anyway, so why not mess around a little before I get serious?”

  I couldn’t quite understand her reasoning. Then again, I’d always had a hard time figuring out the girls who fooled around without being too emotionally involved. I was no shrinking virgin, but at least I’d always thought I was in love with the guys I’d slept with.

  “If you’re not going to keep him, why do you keep getting back together with him when you two break up?”

  “Masochistic streak?” She shrugged. “Probably because nothing better has come along yet. Anyway,” she added, giving me a mock-severe look, “this isn’t about me. It’s about you and Pieter Van Rijn.”