The Love Machine (53 page)

She shook her head. “I’m on my own from here on in.”

His pleasure was real. “How long can you stay in town?”

“Until the fourteenth of January, if I wish.”

The car had pulled up to the Plaza. He looked at her earnestly. “
I
wish it. Can we have dinner together tomorrow?”

“I’d love it, Robin.”

He kissed her gently and led her to the elevator. “I’ll call you before noon. Sleep well.” And then the elevator door closed and he was gone.

She heard the phone ring at eleven. She let it ring a few times. It had to be Robin and she wanted to be fully awake. When she answered it, the even tones of the desk clerk asked her at what time she expected to check out.

“I’m not checking out,” she said angrily. “I’m staying on for at least two weeks.” Then she hung up and punched the pillow into place. She would go back to sleep—she didn’t want to wake up until Robin called. But the phone jangled again. This time it was the assistant manager.

The smooth voice was apologetic. “Miss Stewart, your reservation ends today. We were told that you would notify us if you intended staying on. Unfortunately the hotel is one hundred percent booked. Had you told us—”

She was wide-awake now. Good Lord, she had forgotten. Well, she’d find another hotel. The assistant manager was eager to be helpful. He would personally try to relocate her. Fifteen minutes later he called back. “Miss Stewart, the situation is very tight. The Regency, Pierre, St. Regis, Navarro, Hampshire House—all
of them are booked solid, not even a double room is available, let alone a suite. I haven’t tried the commercial hotels, I didn’t know how you would feel.”

“Thank you very much. I’ll see if Century can do something.” She put in a call to Sid Goff. When she told him the situation, he seemed totally defeated. “Maggie, I warned you to let them know. Let me get on the phone and see what I can do.”

She was packing when Robin called. She explained her predicament. “I’ll probably wind up in Brooklyn, the way things look. Sid Goff hasn’t called back yet, and if he can’t come up with something, no one can.”

“Tell Sid Goff to forget it,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Twenty minutes later he called from the lobby and told her to send down her bags.

The limousine was waiting. When they were settled in the car he gave the driver his home address. She looked at him curiously.

“It isn’t the Regency,” he said. “But a maid does come in every day and it’s comfortable enough—even for a star like you. I’ll stay at the club.”

“Robin, I can’t do this to you.”

“You haven’t.
I’ve
done it.”

She liked the apartment. Unconsciously her eyes drifted toward the king-sized bed and she wondered how many occupants it had known. He handed her a key. “Feel free to come and go as you choose. I’ll come by to take you to dinner.” He pointed to the bar. “All I ask in lieu of rental is your services as a bartender. If you want to be my girl you’ve got to learn to make a vodka martini. Three ounces vodka, a drop of vermouth, and no lemon peel. I like olives.”

She started obediently toward the bar. “Maggie!” He laughed. “It’s just past noon. I’m talking about this evening.”

She had the martinis ready at seven. She had also bought two steaks and some frozen asparagus. After dinner they watched television and he held her hand as they snuggled on the couch. When the eleven o’clock news came on, he went to the kitchen and brought back two cans of beer. Then he said, “This is
your
place. Tell me when you want me to leave.”

“Whenever you want to go,” she said.

He pulled her to him. “I don’t want to go—”

He took her in his arms and kissed her. All right now, she told herself: tell him
you
don’t feel in the mood and
he
doesn’t rouse
you!
But she clung to him and returned his kiss and when they went to the king-sized bed they came together eagerly. But this time his tenderness was not caused by the vodka, and when the moment came and his body went tense he didn’t shout
Mother—and
she didn’t throw the pitcher of cold water on him.

The next five days with Robin were unbelievable. They went out to dinner each night. Sometimes they bundled up and took a long walk and once they went to a double feature at a local movie, but each night they made love and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

She thought about it now as she watched him sleep. She slid out of bed, put the coffee on and stared out at the grayness of the East River. She had never been this happy and she had fourteen more days. But why only fourteen days—why not forever? Robin was in love with her, there was no doubt about it. They had never discussed that terrible morning in Miami; somehow she sensed it was a closed subject. But what they were having now was no one-night stand. He was comfortable with her, he enjoyed being with her—maybe it was up to her to make the first move. Of course it was! How could he ask her to give up her career? She’d have to make him understand that for the first time in her life she was happy.

“It is a terrible-looking river on a gray morning.” He had come into the kitchen and was standing behind her. He leaned down and kissed her neck. “Come to think of it, it’s a lousy-looking river even on a beautiful day. The sun seems to point out its failings. Those awful little islands, and the tugboats.”

She turned around and hugged him. “It’s a
beautiful
river. Robin, I want to marry you.”

He held her off and smiled. “I must say this is an auspicious way to start a new year.”

“It would work, Robin, really it would.”

“Perhaps. But not right now—”

“If you’re thinking about my career, I’ve thought it all out.” He smiled and reached for the coffee. “I’ll make eggs,” she said quickly, “and there’s orange juice.”

“Stop making noises like a wife,” he said easily. Then he took his coffee cup and disappeared into the bedroom. She didn’t follow him. She sat at the small table and stared at the river and sipped her coffee. Well, he hadn’t said no—but he certainly was far from enthused at the idea.

Ten minutes later he came into the kitchen. She looked up in surprise. He was wearing a turtleneck sweater and had his overcoat on his arm. “I’ll be back in an hour, I have some work to do.” He leaned over and kissed her head.

“On New Year’s Day!”

“There’s a tape at the office I have to edit. I work better when I’m alone, especially when the whole building is empty—it gives me a sense of privacy. And, Maggie, I hate to impose on you, but do you think you could face an eggnog party at five?”

“An eggnog party?”

“Mrs. Austin’s New Year’s Day party—I’ve blown it three times in a row. At least I remembered to send a wire last year. But I’ve got to make an appearance this time.”

“Oh, Robin, I sent back most of the fancy wardrobe. It was all borrowed finery and I’ve been living in a beach house—all I own is slacks and a few black dresses. What is in that closet is
it!”

“I like a girl who travels light. The black dress will be fine.”

“But it’s a wool dress—”

“Maggie”—he came to her and stroked her face—“you’d pass anywhere in anything. Now, go do the dishes and help earn your keep.”

Then he left the apartment.

It was cold but he walked. Archie Gold hadn’t wanted to come out, but Robin had been insistent. He was sure Maggie hadn’t heard him on the phone, the kitchen was at the other end of the apartment and he had kept his voice low.

He reached the office just as Archie arrived. “Robin, I don’t come out like this for my regular patients. You walked out on me a year and a half ago, and now you suddenly call and tell me an emergency has come up.”

Robin eased into a chair. “I need your advice. Maggie Stewart is in town. We made it together. It was great—she’s living with me.

Archie lit his pipe. “Then there is no problem.”

“The hell there isn’t! She wants to get married.”

“Most girls do.”

“It wouldn’t work. Look, there’s more to marriage than shacking up with a girl. That is, for a girl like Maggie. In the past five days she’s told me everything about her life—her first marriage, her past relationship with Parino, the guy in California, and the beach house. She’s leveled all the way.”

“And what have you done?”

“I’ve listened, chum. And I’m not about to talk. Let’s see, how would I start? Oh by the way—my name isn’t really Robin Stone.”

“It is legally your name.”

“Sure—but somewhere inside of me there’s a little bastard named Conrad.
That’s
me, too. And Maggie wants kids … the whole works,” Suddenly Robin slammed his fist on the desk. “Dammit, Archie! I was going great until I met you—I enjoyed sex, I operated just fine!”

“You operated as a machine. Now Conrad is fighting to merge with Robin. The man that kept Conrad locked away wasn’t alive—he felt nothing. You admitted that yourself. And now for the first time you’re at odds with yourself. But it’s a healthy sign: You’re feeling emotions, conflict, worry. And that’s normal.”

“I liked it better the other way. I told you when I walked out of here last time that I’d make the name Robin Stone count for something. And I will. But I don’t need Conrad! I want to forget about him.”

“Robin, why don’t you go to Hamburg?”

“What the hell would I do there?”

“You know your mother’s name. Look up her family—maybe your origins would surprise you.”

“Conrad’s mother was a whore!” He spat it out.

“She
became
a whore. To support Conrad. You may discover that you’re proud to be Conrad!”

Robin stood up. “God damn you, can’t you understand—I don’t
want
to know Conrad. I don’t want to worry about hurting
Maggie Stewart! I don’t want to miss her when she goes to the Coast. I don’t want to miss or need
anyone!
I never have before … and I never will.”

Dr. Gold stood up. “Robin, don’t run out on yourself! Can’t you see what’s happening? You’ve started the process of giving—of combining love with sex. The experience has upset you. That’s normal. But don’t run from it. Of course there will be problems—but the day you can turn to someone and say
I need you
will be the day you become a complete person. And Maggie is that someone. Robin—don’t shut her out.”

But Robin had already slammed the door.

It was cold, but Robin walked back to his apartment. His mind was blank and he felt a strange calm. Maggie was in the living room, wearing the black dress. He looked at her curiously. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Four thirty.”

He smiled, but his eyes were cold. “Well, take off the dress. We’ve got a good hour before we have to show at that party.” Then he took her into the bedroom and made love to her. When it was over he looked at her with a detached smile. He seemed oddly pleased with himself. “You don’t know it, my girl,” he said evenly, “but Robin Stone just made love to you, and it worked.”

“It’s always worked,” she said softly.

“This time it was different.” Then he slapped her bare bottom. “Move it, baby, we’re due at an eggnog party.”

III
JUDITH

TWENTY-SIX

J
UDITH AUSTIN STEPPED OUT OF THE TUB.
She caught sight of her body in the mirrored walls … she studied every angle. She was reed-thin, but dieted constantly. At fifty, one didn’t dare chance the risk of spreading. Connie was lucky—she skied, on the Alps and on the water, and she was firm as a rock. It had been nice having Connie around, but thank God she had gone back to Italy to spend Christmas with the prince and the children. It had been an endless round of parties. Everyone was so damned impressed with a title. She shook her leg before the mirror. Yes, the flesh on her thigh was getting soft. Connie’s thighs were like a rock. Maybe she should take up some sport. But the sun and wind had caused fine wrinkles in Connie’s skin. Judith leaned closer to the mirror: just a few tiny lines around the eyes. In a good light she could pass for thirty-eight, maybe even thirty-six. She headed the best-dressed list and was still known as one of the most beautiful women in New York. And Connie’s last visit had unleashed a new burst of national publicity—“the most beautiful twin sisters in the world.”