Read Her One Obsession Online

Authors: Roberta Latow

Her One Obsession (16 page)

There was a knock at her bedroom door. It was Yukio. She slipped into a dressing gown and back into bed then told him to
come in. He did, bearing a mass of long-stemmed white roses. The card read:

I will always think of you as my most splendid lady.

Yours, Talbot

She looked at the roses, held them close to her face and breathed in their perfume. Then she handed them to Yukio, saying, ‘Put them in the pantry and get out our most beautiful vase, I want to arrange these myself. Have you had breakfast? I’m going to make scrambled eggs and toast. Shall I make it for two?’

‘Yes, please,’ answered Yukio, who sensed something had happened to get Dendre back in the kitchen. She had hardly gone into the pantry to cook anything in all the eight months they had been living here. Everything had been sent up from the Sherry Netherland or they had settled for Chinese take away.

Dendre was dressing for her meeting with Gideon when the telephone rang. It was her father calling from Florida. There was nothing unusual about that; her parents’ calls were as frequent as they had always been when she was married to Gideon. They had been marvellous about her divorcing Gideon, especially as divorce was absolutely unacceptable to them. She credited their behaviour with the fact that they knew she had left Gideon so that they could come back together in a better marriage than before.

Frieda had cried and asked, ‘What will I tell my neighbours, family, friends?’

Her father had been listening on the bedroom extension. He had answered for Dendre. ‘Tell them nothing, Frieda. Think of this sad event as a chess game that Dendre is playing. And you know our Dendre, she never plays a game unless she’s got more than a fifty per cent chance of winning.’

‘This is crazy! My daughter is in the middle of the worst tragedy in her life and you tell me to think of it as a chess game! Is that what will win her husband back, I ask you?’

‘Yes,’ both Herschel and Dendre had replied.

There had been a long moment of silence from Frieda before she announced, ‘So be it. I never did understand chess. So I won’t ask any more questions. Just let me know when you’ve won the game.’

And, to their credit, neither her mother nor her father asked what was happening between her and Gideon. Herschel opened their telephone conversation now as he always did. ‘So what’s happening? Are you and the girls all right?’

‘The girls are just fine. I’m very well, just dressing to go out to lunch with Gideon.’

‘Is that good news or bad?’ asked her father.

Until he had asked the question, Dendre had not thought whether it was good or bad in relation to what she was about to do. But now he had made her think about it, she realised that it was profoundly good.

‘Good news, Dad.’

‘You mean you’ve got the king on the run, or is it check mate?’ asked Herschel.

‘I’ll call you tonight and tell you. The game isn’t over yet.’

‘I wish I were a betting man.’

Dendre laughed. ‘Well, who would you put your money on if you were such a man?’

‘Well, it wouldn’t be Adair.’

‘Dad, I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

On that note they said goodbye.

Gideon arrived at her rooms at one o’clock. Yukio let him in and Gideon said, ‘I certainly miss you and Kitty. My home life’s a mess.’

‘I suppose it would be cruel to say I’m not surprised, Gideon. Adair is a lot of things but I don’t think she appreciates domesticity,’ replied Yukio.

Gideon laughed. ‘No, she doesn’t understand home and hearth.’

Dendre had heard all this from the bedroom where the door stood open. She took one last look in the mirror then went to greet her ex-husband.

She had chosen her clothes carefully: black suede mini skirt and pre-Columbian gold jewellery. Pieces that Gideon had bought for her; reminders, she hoped, of the many wonderful years they’d had together. For the first time since they had been divorced Dendre saw a look in his eyes and a smile on his lips that were both loving and carnal.

‘For a naive little girl from Brooklyn, you’ve come a long way.
You look so stunningly smart! Still a woman without labels, still a woman who can surprise me,’ he teased.

‘Why is it that when I’m with you, I always feel like that woman from Brooklyn who married Gideon Palenberg? It’s such a comfortable feeling so, you see, you don’t have to remind me, Gideon,’ she said sweetly.

‘I’ve missed you since the day you left me. I’ve wanted to tell you that a thousand times.’ And he started to walk towards her.

Gideon loved her. She had always known that, and so had he. Dendre’s heart was bursting with joy. He took her in his arms and kissed her on the lips. The kiss was not erotic but full of love and tenderness and yearning for her. He held her in his arms, gazed into her eyes, then stepped back and told her, ‘I never appreciated how much I love you.’

‘Yes, you did, but you never wanted to admit it to yourself. Please, Gideon, let’s not talk about the past. And before you say any more, let me tell you several things I would not want you to hear from anyone else. Let’s do it over lunch, in a more public place where I can keep my nerve.’

Gideon felt sick with fear. He had never had that feeling before. He realised he loved Dendre and the pain of that love struck him like a blow. He followed her from her suite and out of the hotel, dazed by his feelings. He could wait no longer. As the doorman opened the taxi door, Gideon pulled her aside.

‘I love you, Dendre, more than any other woman. You’re my world – I need you, want you. We’ll begin again. Please marry me again? A corner of my life has been empty since you left and Adair has neither the love nor the inclination to fill it.’

‘Can I answer you after we have had lunch?’ she told him, her heart pounding, tears of joy brimming in her eyes.

The doorman and the taxi driver had heard it all and were touched by Gideon’s declaration of love. Dendre entered the taxi and before Gideon could follow, the driver said, ‘You don’t often see love in the streets of New York. My guess is, she’ll say yes.’

Gideon relaxed suddenly. A guess from a New York City taxi driver and all was well with his world again. In the taxi going to the Four Seasons neither Gideon nor Dendre spoke a word. Yet there was no tension in their silence. They had always been comfortable without words.

While paying the driver, who was given a huge tip, Gideon turned to Dendre and said, ‘Adair talks too much, it grates on my nerves.’ They burst out laughing and Dendre felt a moment of sheer bliss. Gideon was out of love with Adair! She took his hand and together they mounted the steps of the Seagram Building to go to lunch.

Gideon ordered champagne before turning to her. ‘I hate this place – I find it pretentious. Not right for you or me. That was why I chose it. We won’t know anyone, ergo we won’t be disturbed.’

He’d no sooner finished speaking than hovering next to them was the architect Philip Johnson. Gideon jumped up and before Johnson could open his mouth said, ‘Philip, I don’t mean to be rude but we want to be alone.’ Johnson walked off in a huff.

‘He’ll never forgive you for that,’ said Dendre.

‘So?’ answered Gideon, draining his wine after touching the rim of his glass to Dendre’s.

‘Quite right. You’ve always been right about people, and the world, and me, Gideon.’ Dendre couldn’t help but notice how happy he was to hear that. He reached for her hand but she drew it away.

‘Gideon, the reason I have asked you to take me to lunch is that I want you to know what I have been doing since we divorced. Remember when I called you and asked for the money to buy a new house and you sent it to me?’

‘Yes,’ he answered, looking very puzzled.

‘Well, I didn’t buy a new house to live in here in the city. Though I did buy a building.’

‘I don’t understand? I know you wouldn’t take money from me for one thing then use it for another thing entirely. So what kind of a building did you buy?’

‘A multi-storey car park! Please don’t ask any more questions. Let me just tell you. Once I realised the enormity of the divorce settlement, and having listened to Haver talk sense about it needing to be handled properly, I began to consider my options. Haver was ruthlessly honest with me and obviously considered me too dumb to deal with what had become my collection. He showed me how greedy and unkind, ruthless and manipulative, dealers are. He opened my eyes to the art world and how it would suddenly
court poor stupid Dendre Palenberg. I very quickly caught on to who were the good guys and who were the sharks. It was all rather interesting but made me more concerned than ever about my collection.

‘I thought it over and came back to the one idea that seemed to work for me. The paintings were mine to do with as I wanted. Then some other factors came into it. You had given me the collection and that you did so seemed to me proof of how much you still loved me. An acknowledgement of how important I was to you. That was what I so wanted from you the night you received your medal from the President.

‘I talked to several museum people, who of course all wanted to have the collection, but I did not trust them to do what I wanted. Then it came to me: a private museum, open to the public by appointment only. I had intended always to let Haver deal with selling any of my collection as well as yours. That made good business sense – something with which he did not credit me. Then I told Ben Borgnine about my plan, in confidence, and he helped me. He suggested I go to several private museums in Europe and talk to the owners, which I did.

‘I stole a curator from the Museum of Modern Art for my museum, and I.M. Pei to design the building. On the top floor is an apartment for me or the curator.

‘Now, in answer to your proposal made so lovingly in the street, Gideon – I never really left you.’

‘I always knew you were clever, but you never believed it yourself,’ he told her. ‘I’m astounded at what you have done, and so very happy for you. You will make an enormous impression on the art world. But you still haven’t answered – will you marry me?’

‘Why? To go back to the kitchen, walk behind you as no more than your shadow? I’m afraid it’s too late for that. But to walk
next
to you, be loved more than you have ever loved another woman – yes, I certainly will, as soon as you’re free to marry me.’

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