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Authors: Belva Plain

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BOOK: Promises
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When they parted at her front door, he asked to see her again and gave her a gentle kiss. The fact that he did not fumble or grab intensified the gravity of what was happening. Back in her room she examined herself in the mirror; it seemed to her that she was seeing something different and new in her face, an
alteration
, and a kind of wonder. This surely had to be what is meant to “fall in love.” And she knew she was too sophisticated to scoff at “love at first sight”; undoubtedly, it could happen. It did happen.

The second time they met he took her far downtown to a Chinese movie. He had been in China, and afterward at dinner in a Chinese restaurant, she was full of questions. His answers were clear and unpretentious. She had met too many men who, with their comparably slight experience, were yet too satisfied with themselves; Keith’s simplicity was therefore all the more impressive.

Other men were boys compared with him. Not only the teenagers she had once known at home, but the much older people she was meeting here and now, were boys. Keith was a man. She was filled with respect. And that night, they went to bed.

A gardenia plant in full, creamy bloom arrived the next day. It came with explicit instructions and a warning:
This plant requires tender, loving care.
It seemed to her as she watered it and wiped its glossy leaves that the admonition was also apt for the care and guarding of human love. It was true that her sexual experience had been limited—by prudent choice, to be sure—yet it had been broad enough for her to recognize differences. The night with Keith had been a revelation of skill and tenderness. She was enchanted; she was overwhelmed with gratitude for the incredible, haphazard accident that had brought them together. All this had evolved out of a broken porcelain lamp! Imagine!

So began the lovely, mellow weeks of early summer. Together, they wandered through the city’s far-flung places, from art galleries and dance recitals in renovated downtown factories to Thai or Russian restaurants and Irish pubs.

“I like to get off the beaten path,” Keith said. “It takes no imagination to keep going back to famous places. We’ve all seen them often enough.”

Nina’s neighbor in the apartment across the hall, noticing that he left at ten o’clock one night, remarked, “Your friend doesn’t stay very late.”

“He lives near here on Fifth Avenue with his mother.”

“Not really with his mother?”

“Yes. She’s been ill, and so he’s moved back with her for a while. He’s that sort, very kind.”

“And very rich, I should think.”

The woman was too curious, but there was no malice in her, and Nina was merely amused.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, Fifth Avenue, after all.”

“Probably he is. I suppose so.”

“Is it serious?”

“I hope so.”

“Not bad for you, if it is. Not bad, living on Fifth Avenue.”

Now Nina spoke brusquely. “I don’t care at all. Not at all.”

This was true. Any inference that her emotions could be influenced by money made her wince. She had her independence. She cherished it and was proud of it. Everything she possessed had come to her through her own efforts.

In the second month after meeting Keith she had moved from the studio apartment to the present one.

“Nice as this is,” he had said, “in my opinion you deserve better. I’d like to see you in a building with an elevator and a doorman.”

“I can’t afford it,” she had told him.

“Let me help you.”

“No, Keith. Thank you, but absolutely no.”

“Just in part, then. A joint venture.”

“I couldn’t possibly.”

Then, curiously, he asked why not. She knew why not. Because it would be quite simply, and for lack of a better word,
cheap.
Love should never be mixed up with money. She knew quite well what Margaret and Adam would say about that.

She did not, however, tell him anything more than “I’m a very independent person. I see you haven’t learned that about me yet.”

“I think I have. You wouldn’t even let me give you that little silver bracelet in the craft shop window.”

“Flowers and chocolates will be graciously received,” she told him, laughing.

“That sounds like something out of an ancient book of etiquette.”

“As a matter of fact, it is. I used to read my grandmother’s mother’s Emily Post.”

“A proper lady, you are. Except in bed. Then you’re hardly proper at all,” he said with his by-now-familiar twinkle.

“That’s different.”

“Tell me, are books acceptable to a lady?”

“Ah, yes, I forgot about books.”

As a result of that little conversation Nina’s bookshelves were rapidly filling. It was interesting that, once away from formal education and required reading, she had become a reader. The great books that Margaret had loved, the novelists and poets, now lay about her rooms. Before her on the coffee table Balzac’s
Père Goriot
was open at the page where, in her impatience, she had put it down.

When the telephone rang, she jumped to it, praying that it wasn’t Keith to say he couldn’t come. It was Margaret.

“I thought maybe I’d catch you at home with your feet up after a long, hard day.”

“It was a long day, but not hard, since I love what I do. And my feet aren’t up. They’re in new shoes. I’m expecting Keith to dinner any minute.”

“Then I won’t keep you. I had nothing special to say, anyhow, nothing more than a chat. What have you made for dinner? Steak and potatoes, or is he watching cholesterol and fats like practically everybody else?”

“What have I made for dinner? Nobody cooks anymore, not around here at least. The takeout places are fabulous. I’ve got blackened fish, vegetables, and a
stunning lace tablecloth. You should see my new place. I’ve two big rooms and a kitchen. It’s really lovely. Can you come soon for a weekend?”

“You know I’d pick up and travel at the drop of a hat. And Adam would, too, just for a chance at a couple of operas. But he can’t possibly get away right now.” Margaret’s clear soprano dropped to an anxious tone. “Things aren’t going well at the office, Adam says. Everybody’s worried about what may lie ahead. Meanwhile, they’re working people to death. He keeps slave hours. Really. Some nights he doesn’t get home till eleven-thirty or after, and then he’s up in the morning before six to get to his desk. It’s inhuman. We hardly ever have dinner together anymore, which is especially hard on Danny.”

No matter how far you went from home or how long you were away, you were connected, especially if there was any kind of worry. Feeling a sudden sinking around the heart and knowing what the reply would be, Nina asked, nevertheless, whether there was anything she might do.

“Nothing, dear. Nothing. I’m sure it’ll come out all right in the end. We’ve been through crises before. Remember Hong Kong? That was the absolute worst.”

Margaret was tenacious. Left to her it
would
come out all right in the end. Thinking so, at the same instant another thought flashed: Instinctively, one conceived of
Margaret
as the source of confidence, not Adam. Perhaps it was because he was more sensitive than she.…

“Danny’s birthday’s coming up soon. What shall I give him?”

“I’ll find out and let you know. But don’t go spending a fortune.”

“Only what I can afford.”

“You’re too generous sometimes, Nina. I want you to save for yourself.”

“Darling, don’t worry about me. Oh, there’s the bell. It’s Keith. Talk to you tomorrow, maybe. Or Saturday. Bye.”

“Who was that on the phone?” asked Keith. “I heard you say ‘darling.’ Do I have a rival?”

“Idiot. I was talking to Margaret.”

He kissed her; cold lips and cold cheek pressed hers.

“Ouch! You’re freezing.”

“It’s freezing out, starting to snow a few flakes.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll warm you. How was your day?”

“Not bad except that I’m starved. What’s for dinner? We should have gone out, but you insisted. I like your velvet pants. Can I do anything?”

“No. I’m all ready. You can uncork the wine. Is it okay? I’m only just learning about wines, although I should know more. Adam always had good wines.”

“Nothing wrong with a Sancerre. I’d say you’ve already learned very well.”

It was cozy there, with the lavish little table between them, the cat asleep under the window, and the old clock’s tinny bong as it struck seven. Man and woman together at the end of the day, she thought. Husband and wife, she thought, embarrassing herself for being so hasty, and then rebuked herself, mocking:
Hold on. A little feminine modesty, please, and wait till you’re invited.

“Are you going back west over Christmas?” Keith asked.

Not knowing what to say without knowing his plans, she hesitated.

“I’ll be in Florida. My brother has a place there. He lives there all year round.”

She said promptly, “Yes, I’ll take a few days. I miss them all, especially the kids.”

“They always sound like such special people when you talk about them.”

“Well, they are. And our relationship’s rather special. Margaret’s fifteen years older than I am, sort of halfway between being a mother and a sister. Maybe more of a mother,” Nina reflected. “She’s a completely giving person. She gave up medical school out of love. Took care of her mother and her mother-in-law, teaches school, reared three good kids, plus me, for heaven’s sake.”

“She sounds almost too good to be true.”

“She’s true, all right. But Margaret’s no martyr type, believe me. She’s too strong for that. The whole thing is, she adores Adam. She’d go through fire for Adam.”

“And he adores her too?”

“Oh, absolutely. I guess that’s what’s made such a good home for all of us. It’s been the foundation. People always say the Cranes are ideal together.”

Keith reached across the table and took her hand. “You’re the sweetest girl, Nina.”

“Not that I mind, but you are supposed to say ‘woman’ nowadays, you know.”

“The hell with it. Sometimes I think you are still almost a child, naive and trusting. And yet at other times I think of you as ambitious, smart, and sexy. A young woman of the nineties. You confuse me.”

“Well, you should have seen me today. Pardon me for boasting, but I’ve got to tell somebody, meaning you,
that this morning I signed up a ninety-five-thousand-dollar order for a penthouse redecoration. The whole place is to be done in Art Deco. Even the woman’s jewelry is Art Deco. Can you imagine all that platinum filigree? Anyway, I thought Ernie and Willie would jump out of their skins, because she’s a tough-minded customer, and they had been sure she was just shopping around, wasting time.”

“You’ll be a partner someday if you keep this up.”

Nina sighed. “I hope so. They like me and I like them. They’re critical, touchy, funny, and very kind. When I had the flu—that was before I knew you—they sent dinner in for me every night. You ought to see where they live. The whole building belongs to them, you know. They have a duplex apartment above the shop with a marble staircase between the floors. White marble. It’s all quite dramatic, quite eclectic, with French antiques, old portraits, modern sculpture, flowering shrubs, the works. They give great parties. Maybe I’ll take you next time they invite me. If you want to go,” she added quickly.

“Right now I want to go in there with you,” Keith answered, pointing to the bedroom.

For a while they lay together in the profound peace that follows the joining. Keith had sent a second gardenia plant, which she had placed near the window, close to the bed, and the air was sweet with its fragrance. The lamp’s light was reflected in the window, from which there sounded a faint intermittent rattle.

“Sleet. I’d better get up. I hate to leave you,” Keith said reluctantly. “I wish I could stay all night like this.”

“Can’t you?”

“Clothes. I have to get back. It’s nine-thirty, and this may turn out to be a real storm.”

“Luckily, you’ve only a few blocks to go.”

“Five more minutes.” He looked at the glowing figures on the bedside clock. “Then I’ll jump up at once.” He paused. “I was thinking … Nina, after Christmas do you suppose they’d let you take a few extra days?”

“I’d just be getting back from a holiday. Why?”

“I have business in Prague. I thought maybe you’d like to go with me.”

She sat straight up. “Like to! Like to! Europe? Would I ever!”

“Well, ask them. I’ll bet that your Willie and Ernie would say yes.”

She considered for a moment, then, shining with delight, said slowly, “You know, I really do believe they will. I’ll make them say yes.”

“Darling Nina.”

At thirty-seven thousand feet they had left winter far below.

“I read the international weather report this morning,” Nina said. “It’s even colder in Prague than it is here.”

“Don’t worry. I think you’re well prepared for either one of the poles.”

“Ernie told me to buy a shearling coat. I always wanted one, anyway, and never got around to it.”

“I can’t imagine why anybody would choose to go to Europe in January unless for the skiing,” Ernie had said. “But do buy a shearling while you’re at it. I always think black is appropriate, with an adorable hat to match.”

The coat and the adorable hat now hung in the closet and a new leather carry-on was tucked under the seat. The flight attendant had brought cocktails, the last announcement had come from the cockpit, and over all there was an agreeable atmosphere of safe adventure.

“I can’t believe it,” murmured Nina.

“Can’t believe what, darling?”

“That we’re really on our way. Let’s see, we’ve been out for half an hour. Didn’t he say we fly seven hundred miles an hour? Or was it more? So we’re at least three hundred fifty miles out over the ocean.”

Keith smiled. “I get such pleasure just from watching your expressions, the way they go from wonderment, so serious and wide eyed, to that smile of delight. It’s like taking a child to a toy store.”

No, she thought, it’s far, far more than you know or than I’m going to admit to you.

The truth was that, as they streamed through the lonely black darkness, here in the miraculous warm comfort of the first-class cabin with his arm touching hers, she was feeling
married.
This must be what it meant to be
one.
It must be what Margaret felt when sometimes, in the evening, she looked over at Adam as with eyes shut he lay back in his reclining chair, listening to music; then Margaret, watching him, would smile her small, contented smile.

BOOK: Promises
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