No More Lonely Nights (54 page)

Her friend looked up, a wide smile on her face. “Tonight’s the night?”

Dominique looked skyward in pretended exasperation. “Don’t make a big deal. It’s just cocktails.”

Felice laughed. “Cocktails with Senator Mark Patout. Alone. That’s a big deal, in my—” She came to an abrupt stop and her smile disappeared as her gaze shifted to a point over Dominique’s shoulder.

With a prickly feeling in the back of her neck, Dominique turned to find Sylvia’s hostile gaze boring into her.

“I want a word with Felice,” said the blond woman dismissively. “In private.”

Dominique stepped out of her way, trying not to look flustered. Sylvia made her feel as though she’d been caught red-handed, when she hadn’t done a thing! In a small act of rebellion, Dominique poked her head into Felice’s office and said pleasantly, “Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sylvia’s head snapped around and she glared at Dominique.

“Good night, Sylvia,” Dominique said in the same musical tone. She continued down the hall to the ladies’ room, not waiting for a reply.

With a jaunty flourish, she swung her hip into the door and pitched it open. Then she opened her purse and set to work on her face. A little gray eye shadow, some of the pale coral lipstick that was so fashionable, a touch of peach blush. Satisfied, she put away her makeup kit and pulled out her comb. Her hair was cut in a loose, shoulder-length style that made the most of her natural waves. A flick of her wrist was all that was needed to bring it to life. She dropped her comb into her purse and prepared to close it. Then, at the bottom, she spotted an atomizer of perfume that she hadn’t used since Clay left her. Dominique was momentarily stymied. What message did she want to send? Certainly not one of over-eagerness. She gave up on the perfume and refastened her purse.

Back in her office, she debated leaving at once. It would be nice to walk to the Madison, get some fresh air. On the other hand, she could put in another twenty minutes at her desk, then take a taxi. There was certainly enough work. Opting for the second choice, she replaced her purse in its drawer and pulled open the folder in front of her. It was the file on the embassy gala. Dominique smiled as she recalled the Comtesse de la Croix’s enthusiastic reaction to her idea of involving local businesses in the event. Sylvia had been closemouthed throughout the meeting the day before, and even more so since then. But it had been a delicious victory for Dominique.

Just as Dominique was thinking of her, Sylvia appeared at the door of her office, her face grim. Dominique looked up in surprise. Sylvia usually communicated with her by memo. What did she want? Quickly, Dominique smoothed her features into an expression of polite expectancy.

“There’s a problem at the Cosmos Club,” Sylvia said in clipped tones.

“Mary’s event?” Dominique mentioned the name of one of the account executives as she glanced at her watch. “Isn’t that due to start in an hour?”

“Yes. You’ll have to go over right away.”

Dominique half stood. “Oh! But I have plans. Can’t someone else go?”

Sylvia raised one eyebrow. “I’m sorry about your plans,” she said in a way that indicated the opposite. “I can call Mrs. Filmore and ask her whom else we might send.”

Dominique straightened and squared her shoulders. Don’t threaten me, she wanted to say. Instead, she snapped, “Why would you do that? I thought these decisions were yours.”

Sylvia looked taken aback for a moment. Then her eyes narrowed and her mouth clamped into a thin, hard line. “I need people I can count on in emergencies. Who’ll change their plans when necessary. Maybe you don’t understand that about this job.”

Tight-lipped, Dominique replied, “I understand very well.” She wanted to tell Sylvia exactly what she thought of her: that she was malicious and petty. That Dominique knew she was only trying to spoil her evening because she was jealous. Dominique bit the inside of her mouth lest she say something she would regret. She couldn’t afford to lose this job!

She leaned forward and snatched the phone from its cradle. “I’ll leave right away,” Dominique said woodenly. “I need to make a call first.” She glared at Sylvia until the other woman nodded and left the threshold.

Gabrielle curled her finger over the top of Dominique’s morning paper and confronted her mother with an expectant look. “Mom, you promised we’d go look for my Christmas present.”

Dominique couldn’t help laughing at her daughter’s impatience. She put down the paper and glanced at Solange. A conspiratorial look passed between them. Solange had already bought Gabrielle a blouse and the album on her Christmas list: Carole King’s
Tapestry.
Dominique had promised the girl a pair of shoes, jeans, and a sweater.

“I’m tired,” Dominique teasingly complained.

Gabrielle groaned. “You’re never tired!”

Dominique yawned elaborately. “I may go back to bed. After all, it’s the weekend.” She gave her daughter a sidelong glance.

“Mom! Christmas Eve is tomorrow!”

Dominique opened her eyes wide. “It is?” She looked outside, as though the bright morning sunshine contradicted her daughter’s words.

Solange laughed. “Stop torturing the child!” she said in French.

Dominique pushed back her chair and stood up. She stretched as she gazed out the window. Frost sparkled over the little herb garden, now a winter brown, but the ivy draping the back wall was still deep green.

“Okay,” Dominique told Gabrielle. “Unload the dishwasher while I dress.”

For once, Gabrielle scrambled to her chores.

Dominique smiled as she watched her. Then she turned to Solange. “Join us?”

Solange’s expression turned secretive. “No, thank you. I still have some Christmas shopping to do. I believe I’ll take a walk down Wisconsin Avenue and see what I can find.” Solange loved that busy strip of Georgetown. She had found a sidewalk café, Au Pied de Cochon, where she would go in the afternoons for an espresso and a chat with the French waiters, all of whom adored her.

Thirty minutes later, Dominique and Gabrielle were in the car headed toward a mall in the Virginia suburbs. They chatted happily until Dominique pulled into the parking lot of JC Penney. Then Gabrielle’s eyes widened in horror. “Mom, I don’t want to get my stuff here!” she cried. “Everyone at school will think I’m weird!”

Dominique clicked off the engine. “Why?” she asked coolly.

“Mom!” Gabrielle said with exasperation.

Dominique turned to her daughter and said gently, “Gabrielle, I know the girls at school come from wealthy families, but try to understand our situation. It’s not like when your father was with us.”

Gabrielle tightened her lips in an unconscious imitation of Clay. “I don’t see why we had to move away from Dad!” she cried. “None of this would be happening if we were still in New Orleans.” Every so often, Gabrielle had these outbursts. Dominique understood the girl’s distress, but the episodes were painful for her, too.

Dominique’s voice hardened. “It
was
happening when we were in New Orleans. Why do you think I had to sell the house?”

Gabrielle hesitated a moment, then said in an accusatory tone, “Dad said you wanted to start fresh.”

Dominique’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. Clay was twisting the truth to make her the villain.

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes and studied Dominique, her expression unforgiving.

Dominique gritted her teeth. “I was perfectly content where we were. Your father has given you the wrong impression.”

Gabrielle made a sound of disbelief and turned her head away.

Dominique drew in her breath, too outraged to speak. Her palm itched to slap the girl. “Don’t turn away from me like that, young lady! And don’t ever make that sound—like you think I’m lying.” Her voice was steely. “I’ve never lied to you and you know it.”

The girl’s head snapped back to face Dominique. “Then why won’t you tell me exactly why you and Dad split up?” she hurled. “You never have, you know!”

Until now, Gabrielle had naively accepted the fiction—put forward by Clay—that Marie had somehow materialized after the separation. Dominique had never contradicted it. But, for the first time, Gabrielle was asking a direct question. And Dominique wasn’t prepared to shoulder the blame in order to preserve Clay’s image. In a voice that was deadly quiet, she said, “You’ve met Marie.”

Gabrielle shook her head, panic creeping over her features. She didn’t want to accept the truth. “No, I mean, why did you and Dad decide he should move out? I know he met her after—”

Dominique held up a hand like a person stopping traffic. “Just a minute!” Her eyes glittered with rage. “Your father,” Dominique said in a brittle voice, “left me. I never wanted him to.” What a coward not to own up to his actions!

Gabrielle’s mouth dropped open. The roses in her cheeks faded abruptly to white. “But… I thought…” Dominique saw confusion in Gabrielle’s eyes as the girl fought against the revelation. Then her expression grew dark. “He lied!” Her cry betrayed her disillusionment. Parents weren’t supposed to lie! “He cheated on you and then he lied!”

The sight of Gabrielle’s misery made Dominique’s anger collapse. She reached for her daughter, her heart aching in sympathy. Gabrielle had only recently discovered a Clay who was more patient and pliable—more fun. But a Clay who was false! Who had lied to her just as he had lied to Dominique. Oh, but the circumstances were different! In spite of Dominique’s disgust with Clay, she was convinced he had lied to Gabrielle to preserve the father-daughter relationship. And she had to persuade Gabrielle of it. The girl was old enough to know the real circumstances of the split, but was anyone so mature that they were not hurt by a parent’s dishonorable action?

Dominique hugged her daughter close, and Gabrielle clung so tightly that she almost squeezed the breath from her.

“Your father was afraid you’d think less of him, that’s all,” Dominique murmured.

Gabrielle straightened abruptly, though she continued to grasp her mother’s upper arms. Her face crumpled with disgust. “I hate him!” she declared vehemently. “How could he do that to you?” Her eyes filled, but she blinked back the tears.

The expression on Gabrielle’s face re-ignited Dominique’s own fury at Clay. At that moment, she could have shot him with no remorse. She didn’t trust herself to answer her daughter. She could feel the venom poised to flow out of her.

Gabrielle’s mouth started to tremble. She bit her lip and fixed Dominique with a determinedly hard gaze, as though bracing herself.

Dominique couldn’t bear to see Gabrielle’s eyes turn cynical. She was too young! There was all the time in the world for disillusionment. Why did it have to happen now, when Gabrielle was so impressionable? And yet, why should Dominique find excuses for Clay’s inexcusable behavior? The blow he had dealt Dominique wasn’t confined to adultery. He had torn her life apart.

Dominique burned to empty her heart to Gabrielle, to someone. But in the long run, that would most damage Gabrielle herself. “Gabrielle, I know it’s hard to understand, but what your father feels for me now—the fact that he left—doesn’t take away from the love he feels for you.” She put her hand under her daughter’s chin and looked into her eyes. “You know that, don’t you?”

Gabrielle jerked her head back. “Why are you protecting him?” she cried. “He cheated on you! We had to sell our house and move up here. Why don’t you hate him?”

I do! Dominique wanted to shout back. The words were on the tip of her tongue. She was so tempted. She could avenge herself by turning Gabrielle against her father. It was Dominique’s only means of retribution, Clay had robbed her. She could rob him, and in the process, assure the loyalty of her daughter. She would no longer have to put up with stories about Marie’s accomplishments or Clay’s wonderful new life. Gabrielle would hate them both.

Dominique’s body was tense with the strain of suppressing her thoughts. She had a hand on each of Gabrielle’s upper arms and she could feel the slender limbs under her fingers. Suddenly, she realized she was clutching them too tightly. They were so delicate—not yet grown. Gabrielle was still a child, after all! She was lost and confused by a rupture she couldn’t understand. What could be more despicable than to rob her of the only anchor left in her life—her family. Her parents. Both of them.

Dominique slid her hands down the length of Gabrielle’s arms and took her daughter’s hands. She gazed into her eyes, and knew that the girl’s anger was nothing but bravado. Gabrielle was frightened—badly frightened. She had been raised to believe in certain principles, and one of the very people who had raised her was defying them. That made him bad, didn’t it? Gabrielle’s own father, whom she had always believed to be fundamentally good, now appeared to be fundamentally bad. Weak. Selfish. A liar. If that was possible, then who was there left to trust?

It was too much of a burden to inflict on Gabrielle. Why don’t you hate him? Gabrielle had asked, loyally prepared to do so herself.

“Gabrielle,” Dominique said gently, “I don’t hate your father, because we have a lot of good memories together.” She paused. “And… we have you.”

DOMINIQUE lifted the hem of her gown and stepped off the escalator into the monumental corridor that was the Kennedy Center’s Hall of Nations. Enormous, colorful flags from many countries were suspended overhead, lending a ceremonial flourish to the grand space. Along the white marble walls were placed long tables to be used for the cocktail buffet. Dominique drew close to one of the tables, examining the centerpieces provided by the Dutch embassy. They were three-foot-high compositions of fruits and flowers—masterworks of artistry.

But Dominique could afford only a moment’s pause. She was to meet Mark at six-thirty and there was still so much to check! She felt dwarfed as she made her way down the hall, around a corner, and into the wide lobby that served the Kennedy Center’s theaters. She automatically looked toward the bank of vermilion doors that would later be thrown open to admit the guests to a special performance of
Cabaret,
A rush of adrenaline coursed through her, as it always did before a big event, and her step quickened. She hurried around the corner and into the Hall of States, also hung with flags. Good, the tables were already set up, as they had been in the other corridor. Waiters scurried about with trays of food, ice, and cutlery.