Interior Designs (23 page)

"Cathryn, I had hoped—"

"Drew, I'm sorry. I really am. I know you've been successful in arranging your working hours around spending time with Selby, and I'm glad. I understand that it's what you want and what you've always planned to do if she were here. But don't you see, I can't do that. I have other demands on my time, other important things to do." She gestured impatiently at the papers on her desk.

"The fresh air and exercise would do you good," he said quietly, his eyes exploring her face as though it were entirely new territory, a land uncharted.

"I wish I could go," she said unhappily. "But I can't."

Drew lifted his hands helplessly, then let them fall. "All right," he said. "All right."

She watched Drew walk down the hall, listened to him call to Selby.

"'Bye, Cathryn," called Selby before the door closed behind them, leaving the studio silent except for Cathryn's long sigh.

This had happened before more than once, Drew and Selby expecting her to drop everything to do something with them. Instead of feeling pleased at being included in their plans, Cathryn could only feel deep irritation at their wanting her to conform to their schedule. Wasn't Drew using Selby's adorable presence to manipulate her? Or was he just trying to share himself and his daughter with her? Cathryn could see it both ways, but from either perspective, she felt conflict.

She had thought that having curtailed her time spent with Drew, she'd be able to work steadily again. It hadn't turned out that way. She'd sit at her desk, supposedly working on a color scheme but her mind a blank. The only colors she was able to summon to mind were the myriad blues of Drew's eyes. She'd get up and walk around her office, trying to summon visual images of the rooms, their occupants, the way the sun shone in the windows at various times of the day. She did yoga exercises, hoping for a measure of serenity, but her mind would not be freed of Drew and Selby.

"I don't know what's wrong," she told Rita one day when things weren't going right. She felt sluggish, apathetic.

"Maybe you need a vacation," suggested Rita.

Maybe I need Drew,
Cathryn said to herself in desperation, and she called him for the first time in a week. He didn't answer his phone, however, and she hung up feeling lost and alone. He'd always been there when she needed him before. Before Selby came.

* * *

He showed up at her apartment one night later that week. It was a telling comment on their relationship that he didn't appear at her door unannounced as he usually did but had Turney call ahead.

He couldn't, Drew thought, turn up at her door sure of his welcome. He wasn't sure of anything anymore, much less that she'd want to see him on the spur of the moment the way she had before. Everything, it seemed to him, had changed.

She opened the door, and he thought he saw a gladness in her remarkable eyes. Then a mask of self-control slipped over her features, banishing spontaneity and replacing the Cathryn he loved with a stranger he barely knew.

He gathered her into his arms, feeling how stiff she was. He winced inwardly at the knowledge of what her inflexibility meant. It was over for them, he knew it. He'd known this rigidity and withholding of a self before with Talma. But he couldn't just walk out the door. There were things that had to be said.

"We need to talk," he said heavily.

"Come in and sit down," she said, dreading this. Just looking at his face, so golden from the sun, his eyes boring into her with that uncanny perception of what she was feeling and thinking, made her dread the conversation even more.

They sat on the couch in front of the long windows, the ocean and sky beyond. She had never looked lovelier to him than she did at this moment, despite the unhappiness evident between them.

"Cathryn, I've been thinking about marriage, and I want you to know that it's still what I want more than anything else in the world." He suddenly reconsidered. Perhaps he shouldn't have started out that way. Maybe it would have been better to begin with preliminaries.

She was utterly bewildered by her contradictory feelings. If she loved him, she'd want to marry him, wouldn't she? In spite of everything?

"I love you, Drew," she said, her voice sounding to her as though it came from a long way away. "I love you, but I can't marry you."

"Is it Selby?" he asked, his curt tone belying his desperation.

She closed her eyes and then opened them. She stood up and walked to the wide window, looking out at the ocean. The ocean was rough this evening, huge breakers hurling themselves onto the shore. Some fool was windsurfing down the beach, sailing alone on a fragile craft, weaving his way through the treacherous surf. Then, as she watched, he capsized in the wash of a too-high wave. She felt like that windsurfer. She'd been sailing along on what seemed like a worthy craft but had been washed out by something that was, in the end, too big to handle.

She turned to face Drew. "It isn't Selby. I love her. You know that. No, it isn't Selby. It's me. Being involved intimately with two other people takes time. I can't give up the things that make me who and what I am. It's not just earning money, it's the part of me that I would be losing if I didn't do all that I'm capable of accomplishing."

There was no doubting the sincerity with which she spoke, but it seemed to him that she was leaving something out.

He went to stand beside her, taking care not to touch her. "You wouldn't have to give up your work. Just slow down a bit to make time for other things. And aren't you forgetting something? You've learned what you can be through your work. A thoroughly professional interior designer, a successful one. You design interiors for everyone else, Cathryn, but your own interior is empty. Give yourself space to grow, to be something that you haven't ever been."

"You mean as Selby's stepmother?"

He nodded, watching her intently. "And as my wife," he said.

Cathryn's shoulders slumped. "I've never fancied myself a mother type," she said quietly. "You know that."

"You're wonderful with Selby," he told her gently.

He wanted commitment, she realized, and nothing less. And she couldn't give it. With this man, she had wanted the communion of their bodies and the touching of their souls. She'd wanted more than she was willing to give.

She didn't have to tell him. He knew. Slowing down wasn't in her repertoire. She was caught up in her success and the perpetuation of it. Cathryn wasn't ready to commit herself to him or to Selby, and perhaps she never would be.

He knew that he could play on her sympathies and get certain immediate results. He could plead with her, toss in a few remarks about how difficult it was to be a single father, and she would probably give a little, albeit reluctantly. He could impress his need on her and convince her that she was the one he wanted to help him survive his problems.

But those would be cheap shots, and he didn't believe in shameless manipulation of the people he loved. In depending on those arguments, he would be settling for less than either he or Cathryn deserved. He wanted her. But he wanted total commitment on her part, the kind of commitment that he was willing to give to her. She had to want it as much as he did, and anything less than her wholehearted acceptance would diminish the love they had for each other.

When she didn't speak, he said gently, "I'll go," and turned toward the door. She was painfully conscious that he expected more of her.

"Drew?" Her voice was urgent, and for one heart-stopping moment, he thought she might be going to tell him what he wanted to hear more than anything in the world.

"I wish it didn't have to be this way," she said. Even as she spoke, the desire to be held in his arms flooded through her.

"It doesn't," he said. Her eyes upon him were a cool green. He'd forgotten how indomitable she could be.

"We can see each other occasionally," she offered, knowing it wasn't enough.

"Shall I call you?"

"If you like," she said, but without much hope. She felt sick and shaken in the aftermath of her tumbling emotions.

No spark of happiness lighted his features. With heartwrenching pain, she watched him walk away from her and out of her life.

Chapter 13

"We just got married!"

It was Susannah calling and waking Cathryn from a sound sleep.

"Who got married?"

"We did—Avery and me. We eloped to San Francisco!"

"That's wonderful, Susannah. Are you aware that it's three-thirty in the morning?" Cathryn was groggy and confused. But wasn't it just like Susannah to forget about the time difference and to call in the middle of the night?

"Well, I wanted you to be the first to know. You and Judy, of course."

"And what did Judy say?" Cathryn reached over and switched on her bedside light. Slowly, slowly, she was waking up. Susannah was married again! Why should Cathryn feel surprised?

"Oh, I called you first. I'll give Judy a ring when we hang up."

"I'll call Judy in the morning and tell her the good news," said Cathryn hastily. "No need to disturb her whole family at this hour."

"Maybe not. You don't sound impressed, Cathryn. I thought you'd be pleased for me."

"I am. Oh, I am, Susannah. I hope you'll be very happy." She said this as sincerely as she could, knowing full well that, with Susannah, this marriage had every chance of bombing out like all her previous ones.

"So when are you coming to see us in Connecticut? You said you'd redecorate the house. Will you?"

"Well, I—"

"Come on, Cathryn. You
did
say you would. And I want you to meet Avery. He's eager to get to know you. How soon can you get there?"

"To Connecticut? Susannah, I have schedules, meetings, a conference." Cathryn stopped and thought. The League of Interior Designer's conference, where she was going to speak, was happening in New York. It was an easy commute from the city to Greenwich, Connecticut, where Avery—and now Susannah—lived.

"You know," Cathryn said, warming to the idea, "I'll be in New York the first week in October. I could fly up a few days early, if you like."

"Could you? Oh, Cathryn, how wonderful! Please do." She lowered her voice. "I can't stand living in that awful house any longer than I have to. Avery says I can fix it up any way I like. Oh, I can't wait to see you!"

Cathryn smiled at Susannah's enthusiasm. "I'll check out the possibilities and let you know if I can make it. In the meantime, aren't you supposed to be on your honeymoon?"

"Yes," and Susannah giggled. "Avery bought me a black chiffon negligee with ostrich feathers. You should see it on me. I look like a
Playboy
centerfold."

Cathryn laughed. "In that case, Avery and not I should see it. Hang up, Susannah."

"Good idea. Let me know when you're arriving, will you?"

"If I'm arriving," corrected Cathryn.

"When," insisted Susannah.

"All right, when," Cathryn said, sighing.

Oh, well, why not?
Cathryn thought. It would be fun to see Susannah and design an interior to suit her irrepressible personality. She hadn't had any fun lately, now that Drew was out of her life. And it would be good to feel the comfort Susannah could give her at this difficult time in her life. Susannah, at least, would be less judgmental than Judy, if only because Susannah had experienced plenty of man problems of her own.

After Susannah's phone call, Cathryn didn't fall asleep again. Distractedly, she contrasted Susannah's happiness with her own misery. Susannah had made the commitment to marriage four times, whereas Cathryn had never seen her way clear to make that same commitment once. A sudden worry surfaced in Cathryn. Would seeing Susannah really be a comfort, or would it remind her sadly of risks not taken?

* * *

New York City evoked glamour and excitement for Cathryn. People scurried through the airport, each person intent on his own life, his own business. The very air crackled with a sense of mission and purpose. It was so different from the unhurried atmosphere of Palm Beach at this time of year, when the town was just beginning to stir in preparation for the winter season.

The gleaming black limousine Susannah had sent for Cathryn was impressive, to say the least. The chauffeur accomplished the twenty-eight-mile drive to Susannah's new home in short order. Even after the sumptuous oceanfront mansions of Palm Beach, Avery Clark's estate on the outskirts of Greenwich struck Cathryn with awe. The curving drive wound through acres of woods before ending in front of an immense stone facsimile of a Norman castle.