Alexandra Waring (47 page)

And Denny arrived with his roommate Bill, and another guy named Rob, who was apparently Jessica’s date. (“Why did Denny bring his roommate—ow,” Langley said, getting it in the ribs from his boss and friend Jackson. “What?” Langley said. Jackson rolled his eyes and Cassy leaned over to whisper something in Langley’s ear. “Oh,” he said, looking around at Denny and Bill again.)

Everyone had arrived—that is, except Alexandra and Gordon and Jessica; the latter, everyone understood, was floating around somewhere with a Brazilian drug runner, and the first two, according to Kate Benedict—who was up on the radar deck of the ship with her boyfriend—were coming out in the launch now.

“They were out on Long Island today,” Cassy said, standing at the railing with Langley and Jackson, sipping on a white wine spritzer that had been brought to her on a silver tray.

“She is a most attractive young woman,” Lord Gregory Hargrave said from behind them. All three of them turned around. “Mrs. Cochran, I believe I owe you an apology,” he said, smiling, offering his hand to her.

He was a very good-looking fellow, Lord Hargrave was, and it certainly helped his cause to know that he had not only inherited his title but that he had made it worth something again by parlaying mortgage land deeds into a media empire appraised at close to a billion pounds. He was clean shaven, with very white skin and the barest blush of red in his cheeks; his eyes were clear and pale blue; and he had the most attractive head of silver hair. And Lord Hargrave was not in a white dinner jacket; Lord Hargrave’s dinner jacket was demurely black.

“I hope you will forgive me for not properly identifying myself the last time we met,” he said, “but I was told that, had you known who I was, you might not have granted me permission to observe your newsroom.”

Cassy smiled, shaking his hand. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Lord Hargrave.”

“Greg,” he said softly, leaning forward to smile at her.

“Watch it, Sir Smoothie,” Jackson said, patting Lord Hargrave’s shoulder with the back of his hand. Out of the corner of his mouth he added to Cassy, “Gotta watch out for these guys. Give the king a drink of water and a thousand years later they think the world still owes ‘em.”

“Charming fellow, he,” Lord Hargrave said to Cassy, smile expanding.

“There
is
a Lady Hargrave, you know,” Jackson told Cassy. “Locked up in some castle somewhere—so don’t tell me I didn’t warn you. Excuse me,” he added, touching her arm and then slapping Lord Hargrave’s back as he moved away, “but I want to meet Alexandra.”

Lord Hargrave stepped in next to Cassy at the railing to watch as the launch pulled alongside the ship. “I must say,” he said, “I was most impressed by your Miss Waring. She has a remarkable speaking voice for an American—that is to say, it has character but doesn’t carry the hard edge we have come to associate with the American manner of speaking.”

Cassy smiled, swallowing a sip of wine. Lowering her glass, she looked at him and said, “I didn’t know there was an American manner of speaking.”

“Exactly,” Lord Hargrave said, bowing slightly. “I did not wish to offend.”

The party had suddenly grown quite festive. The grips and gaffers and technicians and secretaries and assistants and executives and correspondents and producers were all mixing on the aft deck; everyone was smiling and drinking and laughing and snacking; people’s eyes were sparkling, faces were sunburned, clothes were festive and spirits were high. The orchestra under the awning struck up the theme music to “DBS News America Tonight” as Jackson helped Alexandra step aboard, and people started crowding over to see her.

Alexandra’s smile grew wider and her eyes brighter as people made a fuss around her, over her, about her. And she was worth the fuss. Her hair was sensational; her little bit of suntan against the navy and white strapless floral dress made her eyes their drop-dead bluest, her teeth their whitest and the rest of her appear all body-brown-beautiful and long-limb extraordinaire. And just below her shoulder, amid the bare, smooth brown skin, was the mildly shocking reminder of the shooting in the form of her scar. The strange thing was, it only made Alexandra seem lovelier, her skin more beautiful, her neck longer, sleeker and the silver bar necklace around it more precious. And stranger yet, everyone seemed to want to touch it—the scar—as they came over to say hello. They would look into her eyes first and then glance down and see it. Immediately they would wince (as if Alexandra had been injured only just that second) and—after sucking in their breath between their teeth—they would make a motion to touch it, murmuring something like, “Oh, ow—how’s your shoulder? Does it hurt still?”

The party began in earnest and the guests fanned out over the ship, exploring what there was to do, where there was to go. There was the orchestra, of course, and dancing and drinks out here on the aft deck; below, there was a bar, and a dining salon with a buffet set up, and also an open gaming room with billiards, darts and pinball machine; there were the port and starboard decks and bow to roam, as well as the upper deck, the bridge, and the staterooms and bathrooms below.

“Mr. Peterson,” the loudspeakers on the ship said, “this is your captain speaking. We believe this may be Jessica Wright approaching on the port-side bow.”

Sure enough, it was Jessica, cruising in on some sort of long, narrow speedboat, now coasting in on its wake. (Painted along the side of this speedboat, it said—in very flashy lettering, complete with bolts of lightning—”57 SHARK RIVER RAVAGER MIAMI.”) The orchestra struck up the theme of ‘The Jessica Wright Show” and RRROOOMMMBAAARRROOOMMM went the powerful engines of the speedboat as the squinty-eyed, viciously smiling fellow at the controls maneuvered it alongside the ship.

Holding her high heels in one hand, Jessica stepped up onto the side of the speedboat. “Believe it or not,” she said, reaching up for Denny’s arms, “my virtue is still intact. No thanks to Pancho Villa here.”

Mr. Squinty laughed through viciously bared large white teeth.

“Up we go,” Denny said, lifting her onto the ship. (There was scattered applause.)

“I’m sorry we lost you,” Jessica said, giving Denny a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m not,” Denny said.

“I told him you would give him some more money, Mr. Mitchell,” Jessica told Langley, moving on. “Hi, Bill,” she said, giving Denny’s other half a kiss. “Hi, everybody. Hi, Alexandra Eyes,” she said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “My,” she added, looking Alexandra over and then pulling her to stand beside her. “Okay, everybody—guess which one of us is the anchorwoman?”

Everybody roared. Jessica, in a flimsy yellow mini-dress, shoes in hand and her hair wind-whipped à la speedboat, was looking a little like a refugee from a disaster movie.

Jessica said she was freezing and within moments Alexandra had talked one of the stewards out of his white jacket. Jessica, with her new outfit, went inside with Alexandra to pull herself together, while Jackson announced that they were pulling up anchor.

“So you’re really going to do it,” Betty said, sliding in to stand next to Gordon at the bar. “I saw the ring—it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, accepting his drink from the bartender. “Would you like something?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” Betty said, showing him her glass.

Gordon sipped his scotch, looking at her. She really was looking great tonight. It always surprised him how attractive Betty was when he remembered to look at her. “So where’s Jerry?”

“Barry,” Betty corrected him. “He’s waiting for me over there.”

Gordon turned around to look. He was sitting at one of the tables in a corner with two plates of food from the buffet. He turned back to Betty. “He looks like a decent sort of a guy,” he said.

“He is,” Betty said, reaching for some peanuts in a dish on the bar. “That’s why I don’t seem to like him very much, I think. Why do they put this stuff out? They must hate women—all this junk food does is get us fat.”

“Run that by me again?” Gordon said.

She was chewing. She swallowed. “I don’t like him very much and I don’t know why. The only thing I can figure is that it’s because he seems to like me. I don’t know,” she added, shaking her head, sipping her drink.

Gordon smiled. “We’ll find you a nice guy in London.”

She looked at him. “Will you?” she asked him, smiling.

“Sure,” he said.

“Yeah,” she murmured, moving away, “I bet.”

“I will,” he called after her.

She only smiled, drifting across the room toward Barry.

“Having a good time?” Langley asked him, coming up to the bar.

“Huh?” Gordon said, turning around. “Oh, hi.”

“Gin and tonic,” Langley told the bartender. He turned, leaning his elbow on the bar. “So, what do you think?” he asked him, looking around the bar.

“I think it’s great,” Gordon said.

“Yeah,” Langley sighed, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. “It’s too bad my wife missed it.” He looked at Gordon. “Where’s Jessica?”

Oh, with Alexandra somewhere, I think,” Gordon said. “Jackson wanted some pictures of them—”

“No, there she is,” Langley said, raising his hand.

Jessica saw them and made her way over—still in the steward’s white jacket—sipping from a glass with one hand and scooping up an hors d’oeuvre off a waiter’s tray with the other.

“Hi,” Langley said.

“Hi,” Jessica said, eating. She pushed her way between them and turned around, resting her back against the bar. Both Gordon’s and Langley’s eyes slipped down to her bust for a second and their eyes met on the way back up, prompting Gordon to turn away, grinning. “This is a great party, Mr. Mitchell,” Jessica said, oblivious to what had just transpired.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” he said.

“So,” Jessica said, looking at Gordon, “Alexandra Eyes tells me she was playing daughter-in-law today.”

Gordon smiled. “Yeah. She was great. My parents really like her.”

“Everybody likes Alexandra Eyes,” Jessica commented, looking to Langley. “Ever notice?”

Langley nodded, accepting his drink from the bartender. “But it seems like an awful lot of America loves you, Jessica,” he said, taking a big swallow of his drink.

“Thanks, Mr. Mitchell,” she said. To Gordon, “He’s catching on fast about how to handle us—you notice?”

It was getting very dark. The lights of Manhattan twinkled, the waters swirled dark, the lights and music of the ship were gentle, exotic. Standing at the railing next to Cassy were Kyle and Dr. Kessler and Mrs. Kessler; they were talking about what, Cassy didn’t know, so lost was she in the mood of the night, in the air, in the light and shadows and sounds of the water.

“May I talk to you a minute?” Alexandra whispered in her ear.

Cassy started, turning. “Oh, hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Alexandra said, voice low. She turned to the others, sliding her hand into Cassy’s. “Will you excuse me if I borrow her for a minute?” And then she pulled Cassy along the deck to a place on the railing where they were comparatively alone. “Okay, then,” Alexandra murmured, turning toward her, releasing her hand and leaning one elbow on the railing. “It’s the moment of truth—I’ve only got about a half hour left.”

Cassy smiled. “Scared?”

Alexandra nodded, turning to the railing, looking out across the water. After a while she turned to Cassy, holding her hand up so Cassy could see the ring on it.

“It’s beautiful,” Cassy said, taking her hand, turning it slightly to see the diamond glitter. Then Alexandra’s hand closed around hers and Cassy looked up.

They looked at each other for a long moment.

And then Cassy smiled, pulling her hand away, dropping her eyes.

“Hi,” Rookie Haskell said, zooming in to lean on the railing next to Cassy.

“Go away, Rookie,” Cassy said without looking at him, “and we’ll come find you in a minute.”

“Bye,” Rookie said, sailing off.

Alexandra lowered her head to the railing, resting her forehead on her hands. “I wish I hadn’t been through this before—announcing my engagement. I wish this felt new, as if I knew this was an irrevocable decision, a done deed, something I could not change.”

Cassy reached over and patted her on the back. “Everybody gets scared at this point.”

Alexandra was quietly laughing, head still down on the railing. Her back was beautiful in the light, her arms too. “It makes me wonder what would have happened to me had I married Tyler. Where I would be now. But then, every time I think about that, I wonder why I think I’m someone who should get married.”

“Gordon’s not Tyler,” Cassy said quietly.

“And let’s hope I’m not the Alexandra Tyler was engaged to,” she sighed, straightening up.

Cassy looked at her and Alexandra laughed.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Alexandra said, touching her arm, “no one’s asked me to run away this time.” She paused and then added, very quietly, her smile disappearing, “No one’s asked me to run away with her this time.”

Cassy was finding it a little hard to breathe, looking into Alexandra’s eyes like this. But it was important that she say something, and so she tried. “You get married because you want to get married,” she said quietly. “There will always be people wanting you to run away with them, Alexandra. Always. You’re the kind of person people long to have belong to them, probably because they know you never will. So if a wonderful man who loves you very much understands that, the way Gordon does, I think you think long and hard about how much your love for him counts, and the likelihood of ever finding someone like him again.”

“And it’s what you really think I should do,” Alexandra said. “What you really want me to do.”

Cassy nodded.

“Cassy—” Alexandra started to say, reaching to touch her arm.

“He can give you everything you can’t get by yourself,” Cassy said quickly, turning back to the railing, looking at the lights of Manhattan. “And there is so much more you can have with him-than you could have with anyone else.”

Silence.

“Cassy,” Alexandra said.

Cassy turned to look at her.

“Don’t worry,” Alexandra said. “I’ve always known what my options are—for the way I want to live. But I want you to know that that doesn’t mean I’ve ever discounted what I’ve felt—or what I might otherwise want to do if I were anybody else but me.” She paused, glancing at some people walking by.