The Carlton Club (35 page)

Lynne’s tears stopped as she listened. She stared at him with curiosity. She knew James so well. She knew that James, the James she had loved and trusted, didn’t lie.

“I almost believe you,” she said softly. “Somehow you honestly thought this didn’t break the rules, that it transcended the rules.”

James waited, barely breathing. Lynne was talking to him now, not as the little girl hurt by the father she hated but as Lynne, the woman he loved, the woman with whom he had created a union of love and trust.

But Lynne didn’t say any more. She just stared at him, loving him, hating him and wanting him. Wishing it all was different.

“Will you give it a chance, Lynne?”

“I don’t know.” Yes.

“We can’t lose more than we’ve lost if you leave now.”

“Oh yes we can,” she said instantly, without thinking.

“What?”

“We can lose it again,” Lynne explained, flustered for a moment. “We can get it back and lose it again. It’s already happened once.”

“It won’t happen again, Lynne. It won’t. It can’t.”

Lynne sighed. It was a great risk. Maybe too great. She could only give it a month. She couldn’t let him find out. Not unless she was sure of him and of his love. How would she know?

She would know. But she had known before. She had known, confidently, that he loved her. Until one day he changed.

Now he was back.

“James, I am so afraid,” she whispered.

He moved to her then, carefully holding her hands, gently touching her tear-damp cheeks.

“I’m afraid, too. I’m afraid of losing you.”

Shreve and Company, one of San Francisco’s oldest jewelry stores, located two blocks off Union Square near Gump’s and Abercrombie and Fitch, was cluttered with shoppers. It was Christmas Eve. Decisions had to be made. A gold necklace for a girlfriend, diamond and sapphire earrings for a lover, an eternity ring for a wife, gold cufflinks—they could be engraved later—for a husband or a boyfriend.

Mark was there to pick up Kathleen’s engagement ring. The store manager had promised that, despite the Christmas rush, the flawless three carat brilliant-cut diamond would be in its six-pronged white-gold Tiffany setting by Christmas Eve. The diamond was not a family heirloom. It was simply a perfect diamond that Kathleen’s father had purchased years before as an investment.

It had already quadrupled in value. But when William Jordaine saw the look in Kathleen’s eyes when he told her that she and Mark could have it, as long as Mark didn’t object, it became priceless. And valueless. Because it would never be sold.

Mark didn’t object. He was genuinely unthreatened by Kathleen’s vast wealth.

Janet was in Shreve and Company on Christmas Eve to buy a pair of pearl earrings. It was a combination Christmas and birthday present to herself. Since her shopping spree in New York in October, Janet paid more attention to her appearance and to things that made her feel good. She had been thinking about buying a nice pair of pearl earrings for two weeks.

But not today, Janet decided after a few moments in the store, after gazing over the sea of anxious, indecisive shoppers. She shook her head slightly and turned to leave. Janet met Mark at the revolving door as he was leaving, the purple velvet box with Kathleen’s ring tucked safely in an inside pocket.

“Janet!”

“Hello, Mark,” she said, then almost immediately was swept out the door by the press of the crowd.

Mark was behind her, but he paused to let several women enter the revolving door ahead of him.

Janet stood outside, uncertain whether to leave, to lose herself in the crowded sidewalk, or to wait. Why wait for him? Why not?

Mark smiled when he saw her, obviously pleased that she had decided to wait.

“Hi. It’s pretty crowded, isn’t it?”

“Too crowded,” she said, suddenly wanting to escape from the crowds. And from him? No. Seeing him didn’t make her hurt. Not yet.

“Would you like to go for a cup of coffee? A hot buttered rum?”

In Omaha, at Christmas, they would drink hot buttered rum in front of a roaring fire. In Omaha, at Christmas, they had snow. In San Francisco, at Christmas, it was fifty degrees and the sun was shining.

“Sure,” Janet said, glancing at her watch. She had time before the evening show. “Coffee would be nice.”

The Christmas Eve crowds were in the stores, at the cash registers and cluttering the sidewalks, but the restaurants were empty. It was the last minute. The frenzied shoppers could not stop to eat. No more procrastination.

Janet and Mark found an almost empty bakery with a small dining area decorated with white wrought iron chairs and tables with green and mauve linen. Homey. Quaint.

“This is nice,” Janet said, referring to the bakery. Maybe referring to seeing him.

“It’s nice to see you,” Mark said, meaning it, aching a little. “How’s the show?”

“We’ve added five matinees for this week alone!”

“It’s an incredible show. You are incredible.”

“Oh, you’ve seen it?”

“Opening night.”

“What did Kathleen think?” Janet asked, amazed at how easily she said Kathleen’s name. “I got the impression from Ross that she and some of the other board members opposed the changes we made. Too iconoclastic.”

“Kathleen was raised on
Peter Pan
in all its innocence.”

“We all were.”

“Anyway, all her doubts were erased when she saw it. In fact, she’s seen it about five times. It’s what she does when I’m on call.”

“Have you seen it again?”

“No,” Mark said, looking down at his coffee, away from her wide gray eyes. He could see it once, see her once, but after that it would be too hard.

“Leslie says you’re moving to Boston.”

“Yes. To do a cardiology fellowship.” Mark paused. Leslie had probably told her the rest, but still he hesitated.

Janet didn’t.

“And you’re getting married,” she said.

He looked at her quizzically. He was talking to Janet about his marriage to Kathleen. It felt strange. Wrong.

“Mark,” Janet said, suddenly smiling, suddenly feeling better than she had felt in a long time, “I’m happy for you. I honestly am. We had our chance. It didn’t work. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have other chances.”

Janet stopped, amazed by her own words, amazed by the hope in what she said. Hope for his happiness. And for her own.

“Are you involved with someone?” Mark asked carefully.

“No,” she said tossing her blond hair, a little embarrassed. Then she said, seriously, honestly, “Not yet.”

But someday. Maybe.

After she left Mark, kissing him lightly on the cheek, wishing him only happiness, Janet walked back to the theater. Her spirits soared. She had seen him and it hadn’t hurt. Not too much. Seeing Mark made her remember the possibility of love, the hope of love. Not with him. But maybe someday with someone else.

Janet felt free, happy, almost whole again as she turned into the front door of Union Square Theater and into Ross.

“Oh! Ross. Sorry!”

“It’s OK,” he said surprised, intrigued. What was going on? Where was the famous off-stage reserve? “You seem a little up.”

Janet shrugged amiably. The glow didn’t fade.

“I guess I am,” she said as she breezed through the foyer toward her dressing room.

After ten feet, she stopped and spun around.

“Ross?”

“Yes?”

She walked back toward him, her heart pounding.

“I wondered if you would like to come over for dinner.”

“Sure,” he said calmly, carefully. “When?”

Janet hadn’t thought it out. She hadn’t thought at all. It was an impulse. “Some night when we don’t have a show.”

“That’s almost never. At least in the near term.”

They were running the show every night except Christmas throughout the holidays. Maybe longer. The demand was that great and so far the cast was willing.

“Tomorrow night,” she said suddenly.

Christmas. It was the only night they weren’t performing.

“Tomorrow is Christmas,” Ross replied before the meaning of her suggestion fully registered. It meant that Janet had no plans for Christmas.

Ross planned to meet Stacy’s flight from New York at seven in the evening and take her to the Carlton Club Kids Christmas Celebration. Expendable plans, he thought, looking at Janet. Except that he couldn’t really cancel his plans with Stacy at this late date.

“I know,” Janet said, shrugging, suddenly feeling foolish, the glow a little dimmer. “It’s just a night when we don’t have a show.”

“I have plans for the evening but none for the day. How about breakfast or brunch or lunch?”

“Brunch. At my cottage. It’s a bit of a drive.”

“That’s OK. Now what’s wrong?” he asked. Janet was laughing.

“I don’t have any food! And the stores are going to be closed tomorrow morning, aren’t they? I really don’t have time to go grocery shopping now before the show,” she said shaking her head, smiling.

“This is a great invitation,” Ross teased.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time. Maybe we should do it some other time?”

“No,” Ross said lightly but firmly. “Let’s go into the office right now so you can make me a shopping list and draw me a map. I’ll go to the store while you’re in makeup. I can refrigerate what needs to be refrigerated here and we can put the groceries in your car after the show.”

Janet followed him into the theater administrative offices. She still felt good. This felt good.

“Let’s see. Eggs. Milk. Cheese. Butter.”

“Pretty low cholesterol so far.”

“Oh! What do you want to eat?”

“No, I’m teasing. It’s fine.”

“All right. Chocolate cake mix. Double fudge frosting mix.”

“Whoa.”

“It’s my birthday.”

“Christmas?”

Janet nodded.

“In that case,” Ross said, “we’d better add champagne to this list.”

Long before Ross arrived at the cottage at eleven Christmas morning, Janet regretted her impulsive invitation.

I don’t know him. I have nothing to say to him. Nothing personal. We can talk about the show. Then what? I wish I hadn’t—what? Seen Mark? Felt so good?

Janet didn’t know except that the good feelings were replaced by anxiety as she waited for Ross.

But Janet’s worry about conversation was unnecessary. Ross had a lot to say and many questions to ask as he poked around her cozy cottage while she made omelets.

“Who owns this?”

“The people in the big house down the road. They’re away for the holidays.”

“How did you find it?”

“I was on a drive.”

“Way up here?”

“I used to go for a lot of long drives after Mark and I separated,” she said, then blushed.

“Is there anything between you and the ocean except those hills?” Ross asked, swiftly changing the subject. He didn’t want her to retreat.

“No.” She smiled, relieved, appreciative that he didn’t press her about Mark. Even though she felt better, good, she did not want to talk about Mark. “Just very pretty land that all comes with the rent. We can take a walk, later, if you have time. It’s so beautiful.”

Ross studied the photographs of her from
South Pacific
and the productions she did at the University of Nebraska and in community theater in Omaha.

“This was really all you’d done before you showed up for the audition last year?”

“I guess it was enough. I think I learned a lot from those amateur groups. No one was a prima donna. No one was a star. Especially in the community theater in Omaha. We were a family.”

“Plenty of prima donnas started in community theater. You just don’t have the prima donna personality.”

He asked her about her childhood. She told him, briefly, pleasantly. Then she asked him about his. Ross told her, expansively, because his anecdotes made her laugh. He kept talking because of the soft interested look in her eyes as she listened. And because of the way those eyes glowed when she laughed.

They walked all the way to the ocean. Janet showed him her favorite spots. She led him along her favorite path through the lane of eucalyptus trees.

“This is where I practice,” she said, spreading her arms toward the green rolling hills and the blue ocean beyond. “And no one can hear me except the seagulls and the rabbits and the deer.”

“Sing something for me,” Ross said lightly.

Janet frowned, her eyes squeezed shut. The pain of a memory had hit her, unexpected, surprising, unsettling.

“I can’t,” she said finally, opening her eyes. She sang all day every day for Ross at the theater, but this was different. Private. Intimate. It was what she used to do for Mark. It wasn’t something she could do again. Not yet.

Ross smiled, sorry he had said something to upset her, but relieved that it had passed quickly.