A Perfect Stranger (2 page)
Read A Perfect Stranger Online
Authors: Danielle Steel
It was difficult to imagine being in love anymore, caring deeply about someone, difficult to imagine looking into someone's eyes and wanting to explode with joy. There had been none of that for Alex in so long that he had almost forgotten what it could feel like, and sometimes he wasn't even sure that he wanted that anymore. He was tired of the bustling career women, more interested in their salaries and how quickly they'd get their next promotion than in getting married and having kids. He wanted an old-fashioned woman, a miracle, a rarity, a gem. And there were none. There had been nothing but expensive fakes in Alex's life for almost two years. And what he wanted was the real thing, a perfect, flawless, remarkable diamond, and he doubted very seriously that there were any around. But one thing he did know and that was that he wasn't going to settle for anything less than his dream. And he didn't want another woman like Rachel. That much he knew too.
He put her out of his thoughts again now and he stood there, looking at the view from the Baker Street stairs. They were carved steeply into the hillside joining Broadway to Vallejo Street below, and he enjoyed the view and the cool breeze as he decided to go no further and sit down on the top step. As he unraveled his long legs in front of him, he smiled at the city he had adopted. Maybe he'd never find the right woman. Maybe he'd never marry again. So what? He had a good life, a nice house, a law practice that was both enjoyable and successful. Maybe he didn't need more than that. Maybe he had no right to ask for more.
He let his gaze take in the pastel-colored houses of the marina, the little gingerbread Victorians in Cow Hollow, not unlike his own, the rounded Grecian splendor of the Palace of Fine Arts well below him, and then, as his eyes left the dome Maybeck had created half a century earlier, he found himself looking down at the rooftops below him, and then suddenly there she was. A woman sitting huddled at the bottom of the steps, almost as though she were carved there, a statue like those on the Palace of Fine Arts, only this one far more delicate, with her head bowed and her profile silhouetted by the light across the street. He found himself sitting very still and staring, as though she were a sculpture, a statue, a work of art that someone had abandoned there, a handsome marble in the form of a woman, so skillfully fashioned that it seemed almost real.
She did not move and he watched her for almost five minutes, and then, sitting up very straight, she took a long, deep breath of the fresh night air, and exhaled it slowly as though she had had a very hard day. There was a cloud of pale fur coat around her, and Alex could see her face and her features come clear in the dark. There was something unusual about her that made him want to see more. He found himself sitting there, unable to look away. It was the oddest feeling Alex could remember, sitting there, staring down at her in the dim light from the street-lamps, feeling pulled by her. Who was she? What was she doing there? Her presence seemed to touch him to the very core of his being as he sat very still, wanting to know more.
Her skin looked very white in the darkness, and her hair was shiny and dark, swept softly into a knot at the nape of her neck. Her hair gave the impression of being very long, and held in place perhaps by only one or two well-placed pins. For a moment he had an insane desire to run down the steps toward her, to touch her, and to take her in his arms and loosen the dark hair. And almost as though she sensed what he was thinking, she looked up suddenly from her reverie, as though pulled back from a very great distance by a firm hand. She turned toward him, and started, her face turned up toward where he sat. And what he saw as he looked down at her was the most beautiful face he had ever seen. A face, as he had first suspected, with the perfect proportions of a work of art, tiny, delicate features, a flawless face filled with enormous dark eyes and a gently curving mouth. But her eyes were what captivated him as they looked at him unseeing eyes that seemed to fill her entire face, eyes that seemed to be filled with immeasurable sorrow, and in the lamplight now he could see two shining rivers of tears on the white marble cheeks. For one endless instant their eyes met, and Alex felt as though every ounce of his being reached out to the unknown beauty with the big eyes and dark hair. She looked so vulnerable and so lost as she sat there, and then, as though embarrassed by what she had let him see even briefly, she quickly bowed her head. For an instant Alex didn't move, and then suddenly he felt pulled toward her again, as though he had to go to her. He watched her, trying to decide what to do, and in an instant she stood up, enveloped in fur. It was a lynx coat that drifted about her like a cloud. Her eyes flew to Alex's again, but this time for only an instant, and then, as though she had been only an apparition, she seemed to walk into a hedge and disappear.
For a long moment Alex stared at where she had been, rooted to the spot where he sat. It had all happened so quickly. Then suddenly he stood and ran quickly down the steps toward where she had sat. He saw a narrow pathway leading to a heavy door. He could only guess at a garden beyond it, and there was no way of knowing to which house it belonged. It could have been any one of several. So the mystery ended there. For an impotent moment Alex found himself wanting to knock on the door she had entered. Perhaps she was sitting in the hidden garden behind the locked door. There was an instant of desperation, knowing that he would never see her again. And then, feeling foolish, he reminded himself that she was only a stranger. He stared at the door for a long pensive moment, and then turned slowly and walked back up the stairs.
Even as Alex put the key in his front door, he was haunted by the face of the crying woman. Who was she? Why had she been crying? From which house had she come? He sat on the narrow circular staircase in his front hallway staring into the empty living room and watching the moonlight reflected on the bare wood floor. He had never seen a woman so lovely. It was a face that could easily haunt one for a lifetime and he realized as he sat there without moving that, if not for a lifetime, he would certainly remember her for a very long time. He didn't even hear the phone when it rang a few minutes later. He was still lost in thought, pondering the vision he had seen. But when he finally heard the phone, he ran to the first landing with a few quick bounds and into his den in time to dig the phone out from beneath a stack of papers on his desk.
Hello, Alex. Instantly there was a moment of silent tension. It was his sister, Kay.
What's up? Which meant what did she want. She never called anyone unless she wanted or needed something.
Nothing special. Where were you? I've been calling for the last half hour. The girl working late in your office told me you were going straight home. She was always like that. She wanted what she wanted when she wanted it, whether it suited anyone else or not.
I was out for a walk.
At this hour? She sounded suspicious. Why? Something wrong? He sighed softly to himself. For years now his sister had exhausted him. There was so little give, so little softness to her. She was all angles cold and hard and sharp. She reminded him sometimes of a very sharp crystal object one would put on a desk. Pretty to look at, but not something one would ever want to pick up or touch. And it had been obvious for years that her husband felt the same way.
No, nothing's wrong, Kay. But he also had to admit that for a woman as indifferent as she was to other people's feelings, she had an uncanny knack for sensing when he was down or out of sorts. I just needed some air. I had a long day. And then, attempting to soften the conversation and turn her attention slightly away from him, Don't you ever go for a walk, Kay?
In New York? You must be crazy. You could die here just from breathing.
Not to mention mugging and rape. He smiled gently into the phone and he could sense her smile too. Kay Willard wasn't a woman who smiled often. She was too intense, too hurried, too harassed, and too seldom amused. To what do I owe the honor of this phone call? He sat back in his chair and looked at the view as he waited patiently for an answer.
For a long time Kay would call about Rachel. Kay had stayed in touch with her ex-sister-in-law for obvious reasons. The old governor was someone she wanted to keep in her court. And if she could have talked Alex into going back to Rachel, the old man would have loved it. Provided, of course that she could have convinced Rachel of how desperately unhappy Alex was without her and how much it would mean to him if she'd only give it another try. And Kay wasn't above that kind of pushing. She had already tried to maneuver a meeting between them several times when Alex had come to New York. But even if Rachel had been willing, of which Kay was never entirely sure, it had become clear over the years that Alex was not. So, Congresswoman Willard?
Nothing special. I just wondered when you were coming to New York.
Why?
Don't be so blunt, for chris-sake. I just thought I'd have a few people over for dinner.
Like who? Alex saw her coming and he grinned. She was amazing, his sister the steamroller. You had to say one thing for her, she never quit.
All right, Alex, don't get so defensive.
Who's defensive? I just wanted to know whom you want to have with me to dinner. What's wrong with that? Unless of course there happens to be someone on your guest list who might just make us all a little uncomfortable. Should I guess initials, Kay, would that make it easier?
She had to laugh in spite of herself. All right, all right, I get the message. But for chris-sake, Alex, I ran into her the other day on a plane back from D.C. and she looks just great.
She should. On her salary so would you.
Thank you, dear.
Anytime.
Did you know that she's been asked to run for councilwoman?
No. There was a long silence. But I'm not really surprised. Are you?
No. And then his sister sighed loudly. Sometimes I wonder if you realize what you gave up there.
I certainly do, and I'm grateful every day of my life. I don't want to be married to a politician, Kay. That's an honor that should be reserved only for men like George.
What the hell does that mean?
He's so busy with his practice, I'm sure he doesn't even notice when you're in Washington for three weeks. Me, I'd notice. And he didn't tell her that her daughter noticed too. He knew because he talked to Amanda at great length whenever he went to New York. He took her out to lunch, or dinner, or for long walks. He knew his niece better than her own parents. Sometimes he thought Kay didn't give a damn. By the way, how's Amanda?
All right, I guess.
What do you mean, you guess'? The criticism in his tone was easy to read. Haven't you seen her?
Jesus Christ, I just got off the fucking plane from D.C. What do you want from me, Alex?
Not much. What you do is none of my business. What you do to her is something else.
That's none of your business either.
Isn't it? Then whose business is it, Kay? George's? Does he notice that you never spend ten minutes with your daughter? He certainly doesn't.
She's sixteen years old, for chris-sake, she doesn't need a baby-sitter anymore, Alex.
No, but she needs a mother and a father desperately every young girl does.
I can't help that I'm in politics. You know how demanding that is.
Yeah. He shook his head slowly, and that was what she wanted to wish on him. A life with Rachel Patterson, a life that would relegate him to being the First Man. Anything else? He didn't want to talk to her anymore. He'd had enough of listening to her in just five minutes.
I'm running for the Senate next year.
Congratulations. His voice was flat.
Don't get too excited.
I'm not. I was thinking about Mandy, and what that might mean for her.
If I win, it'll mean she's a senator's daughter, that's what. Kay sounded suddenly vicious and Alex wanted to slap her face.
Do you think she really cares about that, Kay?
Probably not. The kid has her head so high in the clouds, she probably wouldn't give a shit if I ran for President. For a moment Kay sounded sad and Alex shook his head.
That's not what matters, Kay. We're all proud of you, we love you, but there's more than that' . How could he tell her? How could he explain? She cared about nothing except her career, her work.
I don't think any of you understand what this means to me, Alex, how hard I've worked for it, how far I've come. It's been killing, and I've made it, and all you do is bitch about what kind of mother I am. And our dear mother is worse. And George is too busy cutting people open to remember if I'm congresswoman or mayor. It's a little discouraging, kiddo, to say the least.
I'm sure it is. But sometimes people get hurt by careers like yours.
That's to be expected.
Is it? Is that what it's all about?
Maybe. She sounded tired. I don't have all the answers. I wish I did. And what about you? What's happening in your life these days?
Nothing much. Work.
Are you happy?
Sometimes.
You ought to go back to Rachel.
At least you get to the point quickly. I don't want to, Kay. Besides, what makes you think she'd want me?
She said she'd like to see you.
Oh, Christ. He sighed into the phone. You never give up, do you? Why don't you just marry her father and leave me in peace? That would get you the same results, wouldn't it?
This time Kay laughed. Maybe.
Do you really expect me to run my love life to further your career? The very idea amused him, but underneath the outrageousness of it, he knew there was a grain of truth. I think what I love best about you, big sister, is your unlimited nerve.
It gets me where I want to go, little brother.
I'm sure it does, but not this time, love.
No little dinner with Rachel?
Nope. But if you see her again, give her my best. Something in his guts tugged again at the mention of her name. He didn't love her anymore, but now and then just hearing about her still hurt.
