“I was?”
“Yes. You must have been dreaming about a man. Perhaps it was Sam?”
“Don’t be silly.” She brushed the idea off.
“Then what were you dreaming about?”
“I don’t remember my dreams.” She yawned. “What time is it, anyway?”
“It’s ten o’clock.”
“Oh, did you just finish the day?”
“No. I finished earlier. I’ve been on the phone with Raymond.”
“I see.” Abby smiled mischievously. “What did you and Mr. Hanson talk about?”
“Valentine’s Day,” her face lit up. “He’s picking me up early Friday for a special evening.”
“That sounds promising. Did he give you any hints?”
“He told me to pack a toothbrush and a smile.”
She and Abby laughed.
“I still wish you were doing something for Valentine’s Day.”
“I’m heading up to Choate on Friday to meet with the headmaster. After that I’m going to relax so I’ll be fresh when I see Justin first thing Saturday morning.”
“I still don’t see why you don’t spend the day with Justin. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
“Justin has a dance that night and I don’t want to cramp his style. There’s nothing worse than having your mother hovering over you all night like a helicopter.”
“If you say so,” Shana said with her arms folded.
“I do.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I managed to get the Brae Cottage at the High Meadow Bed & Breakfast.”
The High Meadow Bed and Breakfast was originally constructed in Branford in 1742 as the Jonathan Towner Half Way Tavern. It served as a travelers’ stop halfway between New York and Boston. In the mid-seventies it was moved to High Meadows Farm. It was a charming place with several rooms, but the Brae Cottage was the most coveted to Abby. It had a large living room with cathedral ceilings, fireplace, a large bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. It was also separate from the inn and sat in an open field next to the woods and overlooked a pond.
“How did you manage that?”
“I booked it last year. I love Choate, but some of the parents are a little too amped up for me. You know what I mean?”
“I don’t have children, so I know exactly what you mean. If I had a dime for every picture or story I’ve listened to, I’d be independently wealthy.” She said half smiling.
Though Shana’s life was filled with professional and personal success, she had one personal disappointment. She didn’t have children. She had suffered for years with endometriosis and had undergone several surgeries in the hopes of being able to conceive one day. Until she met Raymond, she’d given up on finding a man that she wanted to be with let alone have children with.
“It will be your turn soon. You’ll see. You and Raymond will get married and you’ll hear the pitter-patter of little feet before you know it,” Abby said reassuringly.
“We have to figure out our living situation before we can think about tying the knot.”
“Washington D.C. isn’t exactly the other side of the world. Besides, a lot of people have commuter marriages from New York to D.C. We could even open an office in D.C.”
“I know we could open an office, but fashion is here in New York. I need to be here.”
“Have you told him how you feel?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you haven’t just talked around it?”
Shana thought for a moment. “Maybe I have talked around it.” She sighed. “How do you tell the man you love that you want him to move the career and business he’s spent years building?”
“You tell him. He loves you.”
“I wish it was that easy.”
“I seem to remember a wise person told me that sometimes love doesn’t come in the way we expect it to. Maybe it doesn’t happen where we expect it to, either.”
“Touché,” Shana said.
“Seriously, Shana I’m sure things are going to work out. You need to trust that.”
“I hope so.” She sighed. “Okay. I’m going to head back downstairs and call it a night.”
“All right,” Abby said as she got up and stretched. “I think I’m going to do the same thing.”
Shana pressed the elevator button. “Maybe you’ll continue your dream about Sam.” She winked.
“I told you. I don’t remember what I was dreaming about.”
“Okay, fine. You can be in denial if you want. But I know what the afterglow of a sex dream looks like.” She stepped into the elevator. “Good night.” She waved as the doors closed.
“Good night.” Abby waited a few moments and then bolted for the window.
She opened the window. “Whew,” she said as the cool air rushed over her. “I haven’t had a hot sex dream in forever. I only dreamed about kissing Sam and I’ve practically broken out into a flop sweat. If I go back to sleep and the dream picks up where it left off, I’m going to wake up in a pool tomorrow.
***
Once Sam had taken a shower and relaxed he dialed Reggie to update him on the latest development.
Not expecting Reggie to answer, he was surprised to hear his voice.
“Hello?”
“Reggie?”
“Hey, Sam.”
“Hi. I wasn’t expecting you to answer. I was going to leave a message. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“I stayed up to finish up some paperwork. What’s up?”
“I broke off my engagement,” he blurted out.
“I knew things weren’t going that well between you two, but I didn’t think you would…” He stopped. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” He sighed. “I know there are things I need to know to handle this, but I’d rather talk about it tomorrow. If that’s okay with you,” he added.
“I understand.”
Sam yawned. “Maybe we can meet for breakfast. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“All right, Sam. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Sam fell back onto the bed and drifted off to sleep.
When Sam opened the door on Wednesday morning he found a gift bag next to the morning papers. That was fast. He thought as he picked everything up and closed the door. He tossed the newspapers on the table before he sat down on the bed and opened the bag. “Cassie didn’t waste any time.” He pulled a red Cartier box and opened it. “Perfect,” he grinned.
***
As Abby placed the last paper on Candy’s desk, her Blackberry rang.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Abby.” Her mother said cheerfully.
Though Abby was her only daughter, Phyllis Carey was never the kind of mother who wanted them to dress alike. She was a pragmatic woman who was more concerned with her daughter’s intellect. Growing up, Abby always looked preppy. She never wore the latest teen fashions clothes. It was a style she maintained until she met the fashion-savvy Shana and stepped up her wardrobe.
“Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“I’m good. Your dad just went to the course and I’m about to head to my pottery class. I’m going to glaze the plate I made earlier this week.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“I think so, too.” She paused. “Although I should probably take some time to straighten this place up before I do anything. But you know I’ve slacked off when it comes to housekeeping.”
Abby laughed to herself. When most people lived with the five-second rule, it was a thirty-minute rule in the Carey house. And despite her mother’s claims of laziness, she was sure the rule had dwindled to a mere twenty-eight minutes. “So what else is going on, Mom?”
“Nothing really,” she said. “I really called to see how Justin’s doing.”
“Justin’s fine. I’m going up there for parents’ weekend on Friday.”
“I saw the magazine.”
Ab
by sighed. “I talked to Justin about it before it hit the stands, Mom.”
When Abby brought J.J. home, her parents were less than thrilled. NBA or not, he wasn’t the man they pictured for their only daughter.
“That man… I told you athletes think with the wrong head.”
“Not all athletes are like J.J.”
“He certainly doesn’t make a case for putting a positive spin on them.”
“I know, Mom.” She sighed. “What can I say? He’s Justin’s father.”
“You’re right. Anyway how is Justin taking the news? Is he okay?”
“He seemed to take it in stride. It was like it didn’t faze him at all.”
“That could be an act.”
“I realize that, Mom. That’s why I’m heading up to Choate on Friday to get a report from the headmaster and teachers about him.”
“Good. They’ll give you an objective look at how he’s really doing.” She paused. “Oh, would you look at the time. I’ve got to get to class soon.”
“All right, Mom. You have a good time.”
“I will. Be sure to give Justin our love and tell him to call us.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Abby.”
“Bye, Mom.”
No sooner did Abby hang up her phone, it rang again.
“Did you forget to tell me something, Mom?”
“Abby?”
A cold feeling ran down her spine. “Beebe?”
“Please don’t hang up.”
“What do you want, Beebe?”
“I’m actually calling to see how Justin’s doing.”
“You are?” Abby was shocked.
“I know it might surprise you, but I am concerned with how this is affecting him. How is he?”
“You and J.J. are airing your dirty laundry in public. How do you think he is?”
“I am sorry for that. Justin’s a good kid. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“Then why don’t you and J.J. work whatever out and get on with your lives? It’s not like J.J. hasn’t been through this before. Leave the publicists and lawyers on the sidelines and work through the issues. Once that’s done call the lawyers and send out a press release. It’s that simple.”
“I wish it was that easy. J.J. is playing hardball with the prenup.”
“What did you expect?”
“I thought he would be fair.”
“If I recall correctly, all is fair in love and war. At least that’s been my experience. Don’t forget I’ve been on the receiving end too.” Abby scoffed.
Beebe didn’t utter a word.
“So do me a favor, don’t ask me how my son is doing, okay? You’re only interested in yourself. Bye, Beebe.” Abby hung up and then sat down at her desk.
This is why I can’t get involved with Sam. After everything that happened with J.J. and Beebe, I would seem like a hypocrite to Justin. He doesn’t need to have two parents splashed across the gossip columns. She shook her head. I don’t want to push my luck. Sam will just have to understand my position. I’m a mother first and a woman second.
Leo walked in. “Good morning, Abby.”
“Hi, Leo. How are you?”
“Good,” he said as he put his bag down. “But you don’t look so good. Is anything wrong?”
“No. I was just thinking about next week’s schedule.”
“That’s right. You’re going to Fashion Week.”
“I’m going to support our clients, check out the fashions and play enforcer for the front-row crashers.”
In their own version of good cop/bad cop, Shana played the role of the welcoming publicist and co-producer for their client’s shows. Unafraid to bark our orders or call people out, Abby checked names against the guest list and worked backstage with the production staff to make sure the show went off without a hitch.
“I still can’t believe people try to steal seats.”
“It’s Fashion Week and everyone wants to be in the front row. So I’ve got to be the bouncer.”
“You’re far too pretty to be a bouncer.”
“Thank you, Leo.” She smiled. “I’ll probably make up some folders with everything that needs to be done next week before I leave for Choate. I’m leaving you and Kelly in charge.”
“Not a problem. We’ll follow our marching orders.”
“Thanks, and please be sure to stay on Candy’s time. I don’t want her to think that since the cat is away, the mice can walk in anytime they want.”
“Don’t worry.” He took out his morning concoction.
“Ugh,” Abby said emphatically. “I’ll be in my office. I cannot bear to watch you drink that thing.”
“It’s better than you think, but it is an acquired taste.”
“I’d rather not acquire it, thanks.” She turned and went into her office.
Chapter 15
Although Maria had agreed to Sam coming over to the apartment, he was still a bit apprehensive as the elevator doors opened up.
Come on, Sam. You can do this. She sounded fine on the phone. He reminded himself as he walked down the hall. Once he was outside the door, he nervously jingled his keys.
Suddenly the door opened. “Just come in already, Sam. I thought it was Christmas with all the jingling out here.” Maria said and then walked toward the living room.
Sam closed the door and followed her. Once Maria sat on the sofa, he stood there like a stranger in his own house.
“Sit down, Sam.”
“Thanks for meeting me. I really wanted to—” he started.
“So who’s the whore?” Maria asked, cutting him off.
“What?” Sam was taken aback.
“I found bank statements, Sam and you’ve had large sums of money going out on a monthly basis. Who’s it for?”
Although Sam had switched to online banking on the advice of his accountant some time ago, he made a beeline for his office. Maria was hot on his heels.
“What the hell?” Sam said as he looked around his disheveled office. There were papers strewn everywhere. It was obvious a category five hurricane named Maria had blown through.
“What did you expect me to do? Did you think I was just going to pack my things and slink away? I wanted to get to the bottom of why my fiancé suddenly announced that he didn’t want to get married without any explanation.”
“That’s not true. I told you why. In fact I came over here so we could talk like two civilized adults. I thought we owed our relationship that much.”
“Oh, the old ‘I love you but I’m not in love with you anymore’ excuse was supposed to be your all-purpose out. Then I found these,” she said holding up a small stack of papers. “This told me all I needed to know.”
“Maria, I’m not supporting a mistress.”
“Then where has this money been going?”
“It was my money to do with as I pleased. I don’t have to render a detailed account for you.”
“Well if that answer doesn’t say it all.”
“Maria, I didn’t come here to fight with you. All I wanted to do was talk.”
“We can talk. Just tell me where the money has gone,” she said as she folded her arms.
Sam got annoyed. “This is useless.” He threw up his hands. “Call me when you’re ready to talk and to listen.” Sam got up and left the apartment in a huff.
As he pressed the elevator call button his cell phone rang. “Hello?” He answered abruptly.
“Hello, Sam? It’s Abby. Is this a bad time?”
Sam was actually relieved to hear Abby’s voice. “No not at all, Abby. How are you?”
“I’m fine, although you don’t sound so good. I can call you back.”
“No. Don’t be silly. I’m on the phone now. What’s up?”
“I wanted to know whether you’d be available to meet for a late lunch today.”
“Sure.”
“Great. How about we meet at Pete’s Tavern at, say, 2:30?”
“That soun
ds good to me.”
“Terrific. I’ll see you there.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Sam said as he stepped into the elevator.
“Okay. So long,” Abby said.
“See you later.” Sam hung up the phone. Maybe this day won’t be a total bust. He smiled as he pressed the lobby button.
***
Abby sat quietly in a booth at Pete’s Tavern. Located on 129 East Eighteenth Street in Gramercy Park, Pete’s Tavern opened its door in 1864. Although its most famous patron was O. Henry, who wrote the classic Gift of the Magi there at his favorite booth by the front doors in 1902, the tavern had roots in modern television history with features on CNN, Seinfeld, Law and Order and Sex and the City.
Abby chose the late afternoon to avoid the busiest part of the lunch rush. However she knew the restaurant would be just busy enough so it wouldn’t seem like she and Sam were secluded.
Abby was nervously stirring her seltzer with a straw when she noticed Sam heading toward the booth.
“Hi,” He smiled warmly as he sat down.
“Hi.”
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”
“No.”
“I’m so glad you called me. I’ve been thinking about you.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, too, and that’s why I called you here to meet me face to face.”
“I don’t know if I like the sound of that.” He said cautiously.
Abby steadied her nerves with a deep breath. “I’m sure you had reasons for ending your engagement, and that’s your business. However, I want to make it clear that there won’t be anything happening between us beyond working together.”
“Why?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
“I know I just broke off my engagement. People break up all the time. It’s nothing new.”
“You are not most people. You are Sam Best. There is no way this is going to go soft.”
“Why should I care what people think?”
“You have a lot at stake here. Not the least of which is your image.”
“My image might be important, but it’s not more important than my heart.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “My heart is telling me that there’s something between us. I feel it and I know you do, too.”
Abby let her hand linger in his for a moment before she pulled it away. “I don’t let my impulses lead me around.” She reached into her bag, pulled out a business card and placed it on the table. “Here’s my email address. I think it’s best we work this way.” She stood up and began to walk away when Sam grabbed her hand.
I Take This Woman Page 15