She stiffened. By “bring me with you,” she knew that Eric expected her to pay his way.
“How much that trip cost, anyway?”
“What difference does it make?”
“Whoa! You sound a little sharp there, Grace.”
She knew he was right and tried to soften her tone. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Hey, I know I got a rich old lady. I got no problem with it.”
“Eric, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop calling me old. Fifty is the new forty, remember?”
He shrugged. “You’re just being overly sensitive. So while you’re on this Carnival cruise, you want me to take care of your car and your place?”
She didn’t bother to point out that she wasn’t sailing on the cruise line he named. “I’ve already told my neighbors that I’m going away. They’ll keep an eye on my place for me.”
“What about your car?”
“I always park it at one of the lots outside O’Hare. There’s someone on duty twenty-four hours a day, so it’s safe.”
“I’ll bet that costs a pretty penny, especially with you gone so long.”
“Pat splits it with me, so it’s not bad.” If he thought she was going to give him free rein of her condo and her Mercedes while she was out of the country, he had another thing coming. He couldn’t even hide the hopefulness in his voice. “But I appreciate your offer just the same.”
He shrugged, then grabbed her left breast, squeezing it through her blouse. Then he undid the buttons, revealing a floral-print bra trimmed in beige lace. “I’ll bet your panties match,” he said softly. “You wear some pretty underwear. I like how everything matches. I never seen that before.”
Grace was tempted to ask what kind of women he’d been dating over the years. A visual memory of Eric talking with Stacey Noe at Junior’s flashed before her eyes. The guys used to say that “Stacey Noe never says no.” Things like matching underwear probably meant little to somebody like Stacey, whom Grace was certain had had an affair with Eric at one point, and probably whenever Eric wanted some from her. Did she and the other women he’d been involved with wear plain white underwear? Or did they pair pink bras with yellow panties? She couldn’t imagine wearing mismatched underwear. Even if no one would see what she wore beneath her clothes, she wanted to feel pretty, inside and out.
Eric’s hands were roaming over her body, and his breathing had become audible. Grace knew he enjoyed her body as much as she enjoyed his. She suspected that she had a better figure than other women he’d known, at least since he’d gotten older and women in his age group were inclined to be heavier.
He started pulling at her clothes. “Get ’em off,” he ordered as he moved away to undress himself.
Grace’s excitement rose as she stripped, throwing her clothes on the floor. They’d had sex on his brown leather-like couch before, and it looked like they were about to do it again. The two matching hassocks gave them the extra width they needed to be comfortable. Eric might have some uncultured ways about him, but he did know how to get her motor running.
The moment she had her underwear off he pushed her back onto the sofa and dove between her thighs. She moaned, then reached down to cradle his head with her palms and pull him closer. Her left foot couldn’t quite reach the edge of the cushion, but she didn’t care. She could cope with a little discomfort in her thigh muscle as she held her leg in midair. She knew that he’d be anxious to get inside her before too long.
He slid back. “Turn over,” he whispered.
She knew how he wanted it. She flipped over on her stomach and held her hips in the air, backing up so that her knees were close to the edge of the hassock. They both gasped when Eric slid his rigid penis into her, and he began pumping furiously, with Grace meeting him thrust for thrust. The level of excitement was too high, and they both reached climax quickly.
In Grace’s opinion, love was the best thing that could happen to a person.
But good sex was the next-best thing.
Chapter 40
Late July
Chicago
Pat tried to calm herself as she entered Nirvana with Andy, Lauren, and Kaitlyn, but her stomach suddenly decided it wanted to be a gymnast. It was Saturday night, the busiest of the week in the hospitality business, so she had little doubt Ricky would be on the premises. By showing up at his place of business with Andy, Ricky would probably think she was trying to get back at him for bringing his wife to the reunion luncheon, which of course wasn’t the case. She knew she shouldn’t care, but she did. It mattered terribly, and that was why her stomach wouldn’t relax.
The restaurant was bustling with activity, so she began to feel better. If Ricky was here—and she felt certain he was—maybe he wouldn’t even see her.
The maître d’ showed them to their reserved table. Pat found it amusing that Lauren nearly fell off her chair as she leaned to the side to watch trays holding plates of hors d’oeuvres and entrees go by. She knew how the seventeen-year-old felt. She hadn’t been particularly hungry when they left Andy’s, but now she was ravenous.
“I think I’ll have something with shrimp in it,” Pat said.
“Me, too,” Andy echoed. “Those things look huge, don’t they?”
They had placed their orders and were munching on an appetizer sampler when someone approached them from behind. “Hello, I’m Ricky Suárez, the owner. Just checking to make sure you’re pleased with our service and our food.”
He smiled at the group, and his expression changed from jovial to quizzical in an almost-humorous manner when he recognized Pat. The shock on his face was comical—he clearly was taken off guard by the race of her companions—and Pat had to hold back a laugh.
He recovered quickly and spoke in a gracious tone. “Pat! I didn’t know you were coming down tonight. You should have called me. I would have given you a better table.” He bent to give her a friendly embrace as a stunned Andy looked on.
“You two know each other?” he asked.
“All our lives. Our families were neighbors growing up.” Ricky made no mention of Dreiser, purposely, Pat thought. He couldn’t know whether or not she’d told Andy about having grown up in the projects and didn’t want to give anything away that might embarrass her. How considerate . . .
Ricky held out his hand, and Andy shook it while remaining seated. “Andy Keindl. Pat and I went to law school together.”
Pat suppressed a smile. Had this chance meeting—at least she knew it was purely accidental, even if Ricky didn’t—evolved into a turf war? First Ricky told Andy that they grew up together, and now Andy told Ricky that they, too, went back a long way. She wondered if Andy had guessed Ricky was the Mexican her parents forbade her to marry.
“My daughters, Lauren and Kaitlyn,” Andy continued.
“So where’s the better table?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Kaitlyn, I think this table is just fine,” Pat said hastily.
“No point in moving now,” Andy agreed. “But thanks.”
“You folks enjoy your meal.” Ricky placed his palm on Pat’s shoulder for what felt like an eternity before moving on.
Feeling strangely ill at ease, she nervously reached for a mozzarella stick and dipped it in the marinara sauce, conscious of Andy’s eagle eyes on her. He was a criminal attorney and a damn good one; he made excellent observations and understood body language.
Suddenly Pat could stand it no longer. She felt like her entire body was trembling. Why did Ricky still affect her this way? Any psychiatrist would tell her she needed to move on. She swallowed the last of the appetizer, wiped her hands on her napkin, and announced that she was going to the ladies’ room. She needed to splash some cold water on her face, wash her hands, anything to steady herself.
To her dismay, Kaitlyn said she would go with her.
Once inside the lounge, Pat went directly to the sink, and Kaitlyn made no move to use a stall, either. “Pat, I was hoping you’d be able to help me with something.”
&nb
sp; “If I can. What is it, Kaitlyn?”
The teen spoke in a low voice. “Well, there’s this boy at school. Giles Henry.”
“Giles? Is he British?”
“No. He’s black.”
Pat’s curiosity soared. She knew that a handful of well-off blacks lived in the monied suburbs of Cook and Lake counties, and if this kid’s name was any clue, his family had a few bucks . . . unless he came from a line of butlers. Her curiosity stemmed from Kaitlyn’s connection to him. Lord, please don’t let her ask if I know his family, like every black person in the country is supposed to know each other. Then again, Kaitlyn was fifteen years old and lived in a wealthy suburb. Pat had seen enough legal cases stemming from improperly supervised teenagers getting into trouble to know that it wasn’t uncommon among the affluent. What if she’d slept with him already, willingly? Good grief, what if she was pregnant by him and afraid to tell her parents?
“He’s really cute. All the girls like him. He’s on the basketball team, and he plays baseball, and he’s real smart, too. So many of the girls want to take Melanie’s place. That’s his old girlfriend,” Kaitlyn explained. “I was hoping you might be able to help me stand out. Give me some pointers on how to catch his eye.”
It relieved Pat to know Kaitlyn’s issue was a mere crush rather than something more serious, but she still didn’t know how to proceed. She had little experience with young people. Helping high school kids decide on careers was one thing. Helping them in the social graces was something else. This Giles seemed like a heck of a good catch for any girl, but the racial issue made it even more complicated. Just because Andy was dating her didn’t mean he wouldn’t object to Kaitlyn dating a black student, and, of course, she didn’t know Kaitlyn’s mother at all. She could hear Andy’s ex telling him, “This is all your fault. Kaitlyn sees you with a black girlfriend, and now she wants to start dating a black kid.”
“Um . . . Kaitlyn, this brings back memories of when I was in high school. Of course, it was a hundred years ago,” she said with a laugh. “I’m afraid I can’t really make any suggestions other than to just be yourself. Uh . . . Do you think that Giles being black might . . .” No, that wasn’t how she wanted to say it. “I would suggest that you make sure that . . . that your parents won’t object to your dating Giles, if everything works out for you.”
“You mean because he’s African-American?”
God, she hated that expression. Everybody was a damn hyphenate these days. Andy was considered a German-American, Ricky a Mexican-American, and they hadn’t been born in Germany or Mexico any more than she had been born in Africa. Why did social culture insist on all these stupid labels?
“I’m just asking that you think about it,” Pat said, trying to tread delicately.
“But you’re Pop’s girlfriend. Why would he be upset if I start going out with Giles?”
Pat chose her words diplomatically. “When I was growing up, my mother used to tell me, ‘Don’t do as I do, do as I tell you to do.’ In other words, parents don’t always want their children to emulate them.” She patted Kaitlyn’s arm. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She turned on the tap and splashed cool water on her eyes. “I’m feeling a little tired. This should be a nice pick-me-up.”
“Pat, did Mr. Suárez used to be your boyfriend?”
Her hand, reaching for a paper towel, froze. “What makes you ask that?”
“You had a weird look on your face when he was talking to us, and you’ve seemed kind of nervous ever since.”
“Did I? I think you were imagining things, Kaitlyn.” Pat grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and dabbed at her eyes, feeling more edgy than ever.
If Kaitlyn had noticed the change in her demeanor, then Andy certainly had. He was bound to ask her about it. But how could she explain it to him when she didn’t understand it herself?
Chapter 41
Back at Andy’s town house, the girls went upstairs to their room. Andy poured two glasses of wine, and he and Pat went to sit out on the lighted patio.
His movements seemed a little stiff to her, but she wondered if she was imagining it.
“Your daughters are charming, Andy, just like you said,” she said, meaning it. She felt foolish for worrying. She wanted to ask if he’d introduced them to many of the women in his life since his divorce, but she didn’t know how she could phrase the question without sounding nosy. And she wasn’t about to bring up the subject of Kaitlyn’s crush.
“They’re my two sweethearts. I think their mother and I did a great job raising them.”
“You’ve been divorced for a long time, haven’t you?”
“About seven years, which is half of Kaitlyn’s life.”
“How do you feel about your ex’s second husband?”
“Uh, he’s all right.”
He didn’t seem to want to say anything else, so Pat didn’t press the issue. For a few moments they sat companionably, enjoying the lights of the city on this clear summer night. Finally, Andy spoke.
“That was him, wasn’t it?”
Pat decided against pretending she didn’t know what he meant. “Ricky and I used to date back in high school. He wanted to marry me.”
“And your parents broke it up when you were nineteen.”
“Yes.”
“Thirty years ago.”
He had an almost mocking look in his eye that made her uncomfortable. “How did you know it was him?”
“The shock in his eyes when he saw you. The way you got so jumpy. I can understand his being caught off guard at seeing you with me. A long time ago, your parents made it clear to him that they wanted you to settle down with a black man. He probably didn’t think you’d ever go against their wishes and get involved with someone like me. But I don’t understand why you couldn’t carry on a simple conversation without being so nervous. It makes me think it’s not over, at least not for you, even after all this time.”
“That’s ridiculous. It ended years ago, and that was that.” She watched as he took a slug of his wine, not acknowledging her denial, and a sinking stomach told her something was terribly wrong. “Andy?” she prompted. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know, Pat. I saw you react with a lot more feeling than you should have for a love affair that ended such a long time ago.” He drained his glass. “Why don’t I take you home? I know you’ve got a lot to do before your trip. We’ll talk about it when you get back.”
She swallowed hard. When she got back? She wasn’t leaving until Wednesday, and she’d be gone for a week and a half. Did he mean he didn’t intend to have any contact with her until she returned?
Or was he breaking up with her, all because he felt she showed too much emotion when Ricky stopped by their table? How foolish was that? She’d been nervous, that’s all. She feared Ricky would think she was flaunting her relationship with Andy in front of him out of spite.
Her glass was only half empty, but she pushed away from the table and stood up. “I’ll just get my purse,” she said coldly.
She might feel like her life was falling apart, but she’d be damned if she’d let him see her despair.
Chapter 42
Late July
Chicago
Grace woke up early, as she usually did. She felt like she’d been caught in a stampede. Every part of her body ached.
Eric snored beside her, his feet hanging over the queen-sized bed. Sleep, you bastard, she thought as she remembered why her skin felt so tender.
After the short but exciting sex-capade in his living room, they went to his bedroom and started again, but this time Eric had been uncharacteristically rough, slapping her ass with brute force and pushing into her like he expected to strike oil. The little love bites he usually planted on her nipples felt instead like he was tickling them with razor blades, and while she gave him head he grabbed her hair and bobbed her head up and down until his penis practically tickled her tonsils. It was as if he was expressing all his frustrations during sex.
&
nbsp; And she had a good idea of what had him so bothered. Her job. Her car. Her condo. Her travels. And, most of all, her unwillingness to share with him what he perceived as her good fortune, rather than the fruits of years of hard work.
The future for their relationship didn’t look promising.
Grace returned from vacation on Monday and went back to work on Wednesday. She could have used another day off, but she’d already used the bulk of her vacation time for the cruise, which had been every bit as fantastic as she’d hoped. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to deal with anything other than catching up on her e-mail.
As she entered the building she saw a shadow in the glass behind her, and she held the door open. It pleased her to see that the shadow was the muscular form of Calvin Pendleton.
She’d seen him only occasionally since first meeting him two months earlier. Grace usually started coming in to work earlier after Memorial Day so she could wrap up her workday earlier and take advantage of the extended daylight hours. While she would welcome the opportunity to get to know Calvin better—especially now that Eric was losing his luster—she hadn’t been willing to sacrifice the summer season to do it. Summers in Chicago were way too short. She saw no reason why Calvin wouldn’t still be around in the fall.
Seeing him in midsummer was like a gift. “Good morning!” she said cheerfully.
“Morning.” His eyes swept over her body appreciatively. “I haven’t seen you in the gym lately,” he said, “but obviously you’ve been going.”
“Thanks.” Unlike Eric’s first assessment of her at Junior’s Bar, Calvin looked her over in a subtle, complimentary manner that made her feel all warm and tingly, rather than like a stripper. They fell into step together as they both headed for the cafeteria. “I usually try to get in earlier between June and August. I’m late this morning, but I’ve been on vacation the last two weeks and it’s my first day back.”
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